TLC #44: Sept. 11, 2002
Dear
Hearts and Gentle People:
It's a
sad day of remembrance in our country, but you would be proud of your hometown
today. It is Small Town America at its best. The day began with a community
memorial service at the Methodist Church with the police department and fire
department as the honored guests. Then at 8:40 there was a County-City memorial
on the steps of the Courthouse. I could not help but think of all the similar
ceremonies that have been held on those very steps. The courthouse and church
bells tolled at the three times of attacks on 9/11/01. There were brief
speeches, patriotic music, and big lumps in the throats of those in
attendance.
Later, at
noon, there were military ceremonies in front of City Hall. The Wentworth corps
was there, with its band, plus the VFW (past), Army representatives (now), and
the cadets (future). Again speeches and patriotic music, plus a flag ceremony
performed by about 20 cadets. They had a huge flag (we're talkin' Perkins here),
which they unfolded in the prescribed way - then they ran back and it furled
out. There was a gasp of wonder from the crowd it was so touching. I hope you
can visualize this from my pitiful description.
And it's
a lovely day here, blue skies and fleecy clouds and temp in the 70s. Tonight
there are more ceremonies out at the Lake with music and an old flag
"retirement" ceremony. In my humble and unbiased opinion, Lexington
has done it just right.
By the
way, the official SLT Photographer "Snaps" Hulver has taken some
photos of the noon ceremonies. He also sent photos of "...all the old
familiar faces that this heart of ours
embraces."
I will
send them separately, since some of you have trouble opening the text if photos
are attached.
As for
what else is going on: if you live close enough, you might want to make a trip
over for the next in the series Legends of Lexington. George Stier the Elder
will present a history of Lexington from 1900-1940 at the Presbyterian Church on
9/19/02, 7:00-9:00. It is called "Into the 20th Century and Beyond: History
and Storytelling." (Son Butch is now called George the Younger, and he's
current president of the Chamber of Commerce.)
Fair Days
and Fine Company, a recreation of an 1854 Lafayette County Fair, will be held at
the Anderson House grounds (Battle of Lexington State Historic Site) on
9/28/02.
This
weekend is the (now) annual Vintage Homes Tour, 9/14 and 9/15. And next month is
the Apples, Arts & Antiques Festival 10/13-10/15. We stay
busy.
Before we
get into the recent mail, I must correct a misinterpretation. In our new
"Confessions" department, I printed one anonymously. However,
it came right after a letter written by Mike McDonald. He tells me people think
he was responsible for the boiler-to-Maid-Rite incident. My apologies to him
and to the real culprit.
Mike writes:
I laughed so hard while
reading the boiler/car collision story near Maid-Rite that I nearly cried.
As this story followed some of my comments, some people are already giving me
credit for this incident. Unfortunately, I am not guilty but in many
ways I wish that I was.
Let me tell about an escapade
of Jack Gueguen's and mine. Jack and I were altar boys at the Catholic
Church and in the 7th grade at the Catholic school in late October, 1945.
John Gueguen, Jack's father, counted the money collected after the last mass
each Sunday morning. Jack and I were usually serving at that mass, and we
got involved with counting the money. Jack and I were in school one Monday
morning when Sister Philomena called us up to her desk and we were told to
report to Father Charles Dibbins at the rectory because he had an errand for
us.
We went to the rectory and
were told that we should take the collection money to the Lexington Savings
& Trust Bank. Father Dibbins handed the bag with all the coins to Jack, and
he grabbed the bank book with all the bills and a rubber band around it and,
finding no pocket to put it in, shoved it between my mackinaw jacket and my
shirt. The jacket was fairly snug so this seemed odd but OK to
me.
Jack and I started off to the
bank. It was a beautiful fall day with leaves covering the ground and the
sidewalk. A fairly strong breeze was blowing the leaves while we strolled
along. We were in front of Mary Jo Smith's house at the (northwest) corner
of Main and !7th, and just walking and talking (no playing, honest) when the
stack of bills fell out of my jacket and hit the sidewalk. The stiff
breeze joyfully picked up the bills and the leaves and blew them all over the
yard and all over the street with Jack and me chasing each one, stamping on it
and then stuffing it in a pocket.
In no time, several cars and
at least one truck stopped and several men were chasing bills, stomping them and
picking them up and handing them to us. After what seemed to be half a
lifetime, and completely certain in my mind that we had lost many of the bills,
the three men looked at us, shrugged their shoulders, and without saying a word,
got back in their vehicles and left us standing in Main St.
There were so many leaves it
was impossible to be sure that some bills were not lost. We looked around
the area and finally gave up. We started again toward the bank and when we
got to the Mainstreet Theatre, we decided to go across the street and sit on the
wall by the sidewalk and discuss what we should do. We wanted to take all
the wadded up bills out of our pockets and count them, but the wind was so
strong we were afraid we would lose some more bills.
So with heavy hearts and
feeling very much like dead men walking, we went to the bank. We went up
to a lady teller that I knew, and Jack gave her the coin bag and I gave her the
bank book. I can not really describe the look on her face as we both kept
pulling crumpled bills out of every pocket that we had. I fully expected
her to ask us what had happened or to give us a tongue lashing, but she merely
kept taking every crumpled bill and smoothing them out and not saying a single
word. I doubt that she ever had another customer like
us.
Finally, after we had each
checked every pocket and emptied it, she took all the money back to a desk and
started counting it. Jack and I just stood there waiting for the bad news
on how much money we had lost. After about five minutes she returned to
the window and told us we were short by 5 cents. For a moment, time stood
still and we were stunned. All the bills had been found! But how
could a coin be lost? Jack and I looked in our pockets for a nickel but
neither one of us had any money. After standing there forlornly for a few
minutes, the teller told us she would put the nickel in for us. Needless
to say, Jack and I were never asked again to take the collection money to the
bank.
When I told Wayne
Tabb he should write a book, he said:
I have contemplated writing a
book someday. When I tell stories (like down at my local hardware store hangout
on Saturday afternoon), I get many suggestions to the effect of putting these
things down on paper. Or, "Wayne, you gotta write a book".
Over the years I am getting
affirmation that I did have a unique "free" growing up. Some of
the things that I did would now land this generation's parents in jail for
"neglect" or "child abuse". I did get my share
of lickins, but I still managed to get by with a lot of stuff. My mom
was/is very puritanical and very conservative on the one hand, but she could
also be very liberal in allowing me to be "me." I can truthfully
say that the way that I grew up could be compared more to Samuel Clemens than
say someone like Gerald Ford. I was pretty good at getting my fence
whitewashed.
After highschool I was into
hotrods and dragsters. A few friends and I had a garage on 9th street that
held about six cars. Bill Utz and Bob Garrison had dirt track stock
cars. Bob was doing okay, but Bill was having trouble winning because he
couldn't get his engine tuned up to full potential. He messed with it for
a few weeks, not having any luck at all. Finally I talked him into letting
me have a go at it. We took the car out south of town where they were just
getting the sub base rolled out on the new road that now skirts around
Lexington. I think it's 224. It was hard packed like a track and would
make a perfect test bed.
These stock cars have no
fenders or hoods, just an exposed engine with lots of belts and a fan that could
take off an arm if you got hung up in it. All of this is stuck in between
the front wheels and the car frame. We started the car up and allowed it
to warm up a bit. I got up on top of the engine and straddled it like
riding a horse and told Bill to "hit it, man." Off we
go.
The engine was smooth at slow
speeds. We got up to about fifty and it started missing very badly. I
leaned over the front of the engine compartment, putting my hand down between
the fan and the front of the engine, down behind this whirling fan and started
tweaking the distributor. The fan was probably four inches from my throat.
In a few seconds it started smoothing out. More speed..more turning of the
little nut on the distributor...still more speed....until we reached maximum
RPM. I rode the engine for about ten miles tuning and tweeking
it.
That was on a Friday
morning. The next day we went to the Marshall track and we won...Bill
became pretty famous after that, just retiring from racing last year. I
like to feel that that little ride on the front of his old '37 Ford stockcar
made a difference. Maybe it did..or didn't. Anyway it was fun...Almost as
much fun as my first sky diving adventure.. (with Mickey Dishman).
I smell another
story coming! Later he added:
Hi there again, Scribly one.
Norma Gadt wanted to
know the fifth grade teacher at Central. Her name was Mrs. Early or
Earlie. Her hair was dark and cut fairly short. Miss Torrence is
still alive. At least she was ten years ago. I saw her in Columbia, Missouri, on campus. I don't know why I was
messing around down there, especially while living in Texas, but anyway I was
sitting on a wall and darn if she didn't come strolling up a walk, looking not
too much different than I remember her in grade school. Her hair was still
cut the same and a lot of blonde left in it. When I saw her I knew who it
was immediately. I called her by name and she knew me in a "New York
Second." She was still teaching too. Now, there is a woman who
I was really in love with. (snicker, snicker). She lived less than a
block from us and I managed to walk home with her almost every night after
school holding her hand. I thought I was in heaven and my name was King
Kong. Oh, BTW.. How many of
you have all of your individual Central School class group pics? Gene Boyer
wanted a set of them and I have never gotten around to getting them scanned or
copied. Classes 41-46 I think. Maybe someone can help
"poot" out there.
Gary
Miller:
On the subject of The Mainstreet
Theater. I remember two men being there most of the time. The
younger one, I believe, was the owner and his name I don't remember. The
other older man took the tickets, prowled the theater keeping order,
etc. I believe his name was Marks (Marcks).
We always called him "Mr. Marks". I also seem to remember that
he lived in an apartment above the theater. I also remember that toward
the end of its life, and even as early as 1962-63, that the roof was leaking to
the extent that the theater always smelled musty. I will try to find the
owner's name and get back with you.
Jan Jiovenale '57
Tubiolo:
Just had to chime in about who
the Central School teachers were. I don't remember Mrs. Baird, but Mrs.
Park taught 4th grade and Mrs. Winkler taught 5th when I was there.
It seems that Mrs. Park taught as a substitute part of the 3rd grade year, but
my memory isn't real clear on that.
Also, as I remember, Blon
Bryant was the manager of Mainstreet Theater for many years. Between the
Mainstreet and Eagle Theaters, I think I missed very few Saturday horse opera
matinees for many years. I recall that the Mainstreet had an iron railing
in front of the orchestra pit and some of the bolder little kids would do
forward spins on it while waiting for the lights to go down. I tried once
and hit my tailbone on the concrete lip of the pit when I let go - probably why
I've enriched countless chiropractors ever since.
New Subscriber Donna
Lutz '58 Dye
writes:
It has been such
fun to enter the world of TLC! However, my mind is whirling with so many
memories, due to absorbing 41 issues in the span of five days!! Hope I
don't rattle on like a crazed woman!
First, I want to
thank Jim O'Malley for mentioning the Palace of Sweets. I've never heard
anyone but my mother talk about it. She was a waitress there, and I have a
vague recollection of going there after school to see her and have a coke or ice
cream. Seems like they had a tall counter (more like a bar) and
that's where I liked to sit. I think I must have been in first or second
grade at the time. It's such a distant memory that sometimes I doubted it
really existed.
And Mary Pat, I
too, remember the Lindsays' St. Bernard. Ann (Fiora), Nancy (Wingate) and
I (the name was Lutz then) dreaded passing Lindsays' house on our bikes.
Just when you thought you were in the clear; out he came from nowhere!
Drool flying in the breeze and hot breath on your ankle! But 16th Street
was a great place to be......of course, Nancy & I were around the corner on
State St. but we were part of the gang. I remember playing
hopscotch, skating in college park, playing paperdolls at Ann's on summer
afternoons because we weren't allowed to play out in the
h
heat.* At your (Mary Pat's) end of the block we
could play team games, because there were the Neers, Watermans, Holmans and
Gueguens. We would break for lunch and then start all over
again.
(*I must interject here
that no pansies lived "on" Bloom Street - the Bloom Street Gang
included South St. and Amelia, sometimes Oneida. Our crowd was outside on the
hottest of days, romping and playing games and probably driving the childless
neighbors dingy. - Ed)
My first job was
at the Mainstreet Theatre. It was my Senior year. and I was behind the candy
counter. It was great fun (except for cleaning the popcorn machine). Diane
O'Malley was in the ticket booth at the same time. Mr. Marcks worked there
and he taught me a tongue twister (If a Hottentot taught a Hottentot tot to
talk.......yada yada) that I still remember and share with my
grandchildren. Other memories of Mainstreet include the usual, such as
going to the movies every Sat. and Sun. We had at least one Miss Lafayette Co.
contest there, and I remember a famous cowboy made a personal appearance. Can't
remember who, but he shot his pistol and my ears rang the rest of the
night.
Mrs. Todd's dance
studio had a recital at the Mainstreet one year. The Gueguen girls,
Marilyn Hesler, Susan Abboud, Mary Ann Mullen, Bonnie Burnett and, I think, Gay
Lierman were all students. We did the Nutcracker. I was the king rat.
hmmmmmm. It was so exciting for us. It was a real theatre with
dressing rooms and costumes----we thought we'd hit the big
time!
A few words about
Miss Bess, the piano teacher. I noticed the comments about her rapping
knuckles. Is there anyone out there who really got their knuckles
rapped? I'm not coming to her defense, as you will see later, but just
wonder if she ever really did that.
You see, she gave
me piano lessons one summer. I had heard so many stories about rapped
knuckles that I was terrified of her. I think she was located above Reed's
clothing store. Anyway, the mental image I have of her is that she was
very thin, fine dark hair that was kind of wild, and I thought she was part
witch. Well, she must have smelled the fear in me because she never rapped
my knuckles once. She did, however, give me the nickname, Chicken! This
can be categorized as "Most embarrassing moment!!!". I don't
remember one song that I learned that summer. All I remember is that
several times that summer, as I was walking uptown, I would hear behind me,
"Chicken, oh Chicken!". It was Miss Bess calling
me. One time I was in front of Mattingly's, and she started calling
me from the other end of the block and wouldn't stop until I answered her.
I think I would have much preferred a good rap on the knuckles!! I started
walking on Franklin Ave. just to make sure she wouldn't see me. Ah well, I
can laugh now.....
Don LeJeune writes:
You are doing a great job at
keeping the Older Lexingtonians informed. Keep up the GOOD WORK. I left
Lex. in 1955 and went to work for an aircraft manufacturer in Fort Worth Texas.
Convair was the name of the company. I worked there for 4 years, then came back
to MO Where I worked at several different jobs.
The jobs I worked were: for
LeJeune's Garage on 9th. St.- Mo.State Highway Dept.- Lake City Ammo Plant last.
I retired in 1992 and moved to the Lake of the Ozarks. I do stay in touch with
Gary Johnston. We email each other or call on the phone. You probably don't
remember me but I used to cut the grass for your Dad & Mom. That was a long,
long time ago. Glad to hear that they are going to name old 13 highway after
your Dad. He kept the people in Lex. informed as to what was happening in
Lex. through the Advertiser-News. I hope this finds you in good
health.
Thanks, Donald.
That's it for another edition, kids. Stay tuned for Snaps Hulver's
photos!
Your devoted
scribe,
Susan
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