"Elvis Revisited by a fan"

    

August 7 will be the 36^th anniversary of the death of Elvis Presley and there will be many fans make the trip to his Memphis Graceland to pay their respect.  Many of them were not even born when he died but his music lives on.

     Like most young men of the time I resented the attention he received from the young ladies while loving his music.  Anyway that was true until I was drafted through Memphis induction center and sent to Ft. Hood for basic training.  I was assigned to the same company that Elvis was sent to in the 2^nd Armored Div.

      I was 3 years behind him but the memory and adoration of him by the men and NCO`s who trained him were still fresh and they let us know.  Normally a celebrity would be resented by them but not him.

He could have gone to the Navy, Marines, Air Force or even the Army and spent his time in Special Services as an entertainer but it was his request to be treated like any other GI in a regular unit.  All the branches wanted him for his popularity.

     At the time pizza parlors were popping up all over the country and each town outside a military base had restaurants willing to deliver 24/7 at no extra charge.  If he ordered pizza he ordered it for the whole company and not just him and his friends.

     It was pretty common in Army units to have inspection on Saturday morning and if the whole barracks passed inspection they got the rest of the week end off.  Each soldier had to have on one pair of boots and have the second pair on the floor by his bunk and both better have a high shine.  Elvis bought an extra pair of boots, already shined and just for inspection, for each man in the company.

     It seems when he went on pass or leave they had to send MPs with him for protection.  They told of one example of him taking care of business.  They went into town on pass and when they got out of the taxi he was gone.  He was spotted running to help a GI who was being beaten by three or four civilians.  By the time they got to him the fight was over.  That Judo master, former truck driver, had single handed whipped them all.

      He had a juke put in the dining hall and the company kept up the music.  No cost to play.  It was still in the mess Ft. Hood when I was there.

     Another thing that impressed me was when he was assigned to mow the company’s portion of the parade ground.  Now these were old reel push mowers without power.  He got a friend to go to town and have a new power mower delivered to each of the four companies.  I am surprised the Army allowed this one.

     Needless to say I was a fan after that experience.  It takes a good man to impress all those old lifers.

     I hear that when he got back to Memphis he had to rent a bowling alley after midnight so he could have some peace to bowl which he loved. He had the same problem for dining.  He was anything but private but he had to go to extreme to get some quiet fun.  I believe the adoration of his fans was what killed him by forcing him to go to narcotics to escape his fans.  They would swarm everywhere he went and if not restrained they literally tore his clothes off of him.

     A Right Hand Salute from a reluctant fan Elvis.  You were a man’s man and a soldier`s soldier.

“Random Thoughts”

  

 

 In the forties we would place a card under or beside the DDT treated number.  It had numbers on it 25, 50, 75 to let the ice man, Wally Turner, know what we needed.  He would bring it in and put it in the ice box from his team pulled wagon.                                                       

     The milk delivery came even before we got up in the morning.  I think it was Waymond Greer even then.  He drove a truck out of Fulton and would leave our milk beside the door on the porch.  I always wanted to be the first to the milk for I wanted the cream off the top.  The bottles were glass with with a cardboard stopper.  The cream content, of which there was a lot, rose to the top and stuck to the cardboard.  I would scrape it off and eat it.  It was delicious.                         

     I may have mentioned this before but, if I have, I am repeating it.  At my age it is allowed.  Johnny Walker, Johnny Miller, Bobby Vaughn, Tommy Clapp and I all loved fishing and also all had bass rods and fly rods for bream.  There was a small shallow pond surrounded with nice willows, located about where the track snack bar is now, and it was loaded with frogs, tadpoles and perch about three inches long.  Just for sport we would leave our rods at home and cut a willow limb that served as a pole.  We adorned it with cotton sewing thread for a line and a bent straight pin for a hook.  Sometimes we would adorn it with red worms or grubs and use a wooden match for a float.  Other times we used it like a fly rod and would put a trailer on the hook that was the red cellophane strip from a Lucky Strike cigarette package and no, none of us smoked then.  The cellophane was red then and green during the war.  I always heard it was because the red dye was hard to get because of the war and green was easier to get.  The saying was that Lucky Strike went to war with the green pack.  We were able to pull them out constantly and threw them back.  I think we enjoyed this as much as fishing for bigger fish.  On this one trip to the pond we noticed a brand new American wire fence with three strands of barbed wire and cross ties for all the post.  We climbed that and proceeded up to the pond when we heard an rumble.  Over the hill came a herd of the scariest creature we had ever seen.  Tom Boggle had brought in a herd of Brahma cattle and none of us knew what it was but they were so ugly we took off running.  We did not remember climbing back over the fence we were so scared but when we were safely on the other side we were still carrying our makeshift willow rods and bait can.   These cattle had been hauled in from Texas by rail to Clinton and switched to truck.  When they smelled water they took off and we were between them and the water.

     While I am on fishing I cannot help but think of the time Eddie Roberts and I were fishing his grandfather, Mr. Harry Whayne`s pond for bass and bream.  We went to put a fish on the stringer and all we had on there was fish heads.  A big ol snapper turtle had eaten our catch.  We being boys decided to have some turtle and turtle soup.  We put the fish on and back in the water.   When the snapper came back for seconds Eddie picked up on the stringer and I grabbed its tail and lifted it into the boat between us.  Now if you have never been in a boat with forty pounds of pure, hissing and mad snapping turtle, I do not recommend it.   He intended to be top dog.

     Ed had a stiletto knife and we decided one could get him to grab the sculling paddle and pull while the other drove the knife into his neck.  Well that ol turtle bit a chunk completely out of the blade of the paddle.  We got him to bite the handle end and lifting with the paddle and me grabbing the tail we put him back where all three of us wanted him by then.

     Saw a picture of a 1948 Champion Studebaker the other day and reminded me of my first ride.  It just happened to be a 48 Champion too.  Cost me a week’s pay but really was dependable.   It had overdrive and got really good gas mileage and was equally good in mud as on the highway.

     On one particular day I had a jug of baby snakes in the back seat and happened to hit the brake a bit hard and it rolled into the floor and broke.  I did not run into any problems until I mentioned that I caught all of them but one, or else I miscounted.   After that a few boys and no girls would ride with me so I had to sell my old fliver and find something else to drive.

     I just read a blog by Vicky Carter about the year 1957.  I hated school and during Christmas break that year (I can still say Christmas right) and my senior year I decided to drop out of school.

     I went to work for Berlin Coat factory and was happy there.  After a few weeks Mr. Jimmy Aquisto plant manager and Mr. Phillips got together at Rotary club and decided I should return to school.  Mr Aquisto offered me a much better job but I would have to have my diploma to get it.  He said Mr. Phillips had agreed for me to come back to school and he would let me make up all the weeks work I had missed.  I did return and got my diploma and while in the Army got sixteen hours of college credit.  I cannot express how much I appreciate these two men.

      Jimmy had a very colorful vocabulary and some resented him for that but he was really nice to work for and I was disappointed when he was fired right before I graduated.  It was Berlin’s loss and the community.

     I have often said of Mr. Phillips that he was principal, coach, PE teacher and guidance councilor as well as friend and I will always appreciate what these two fine men did for me.

“More Explorer Scout ramblings”

Being a member and leader in the post meant that I was expected to be an example at all times. We often met with the Raleigh, Tenn. post to have a dance, and the Explorer Sea Scout Ship in Cairo, Ill. would join us there. We would each stay with one of the Raleigh members. We would alternate visits with each group taking turns as host. I was already friends with one of the Tennessee scouts and dated his sister some, so I always stayed with them. One of the scouts there was the son of the CEO of Plough Inc., and he was licensed to drive. Six of us decided to go to Mississippi and buy some fireworks. On the way through Memphis, (you know, the "No Noise City"), we decided to throw some firecrackers out the window. We were nearing an intersection, and I did not throw a firecracker. No, I had to throw a cherry bomb. It rolled and rolled, in slow motion it seemed. I spotted the patrol car it went off under, just as it got to it. Buckman, forgot his first name, decided to try to get away and started street changing. When the squad car was out of sight, he pulled into a drive and turned off the lights and we all ducked. In a minute or less the squad pulled in behind us. There we were in our uniforms. After reminding us of the scout oath and how many charges there were, he said that if we would meet him outside the No Noise City, he would help us shoot them. Whew! No charges, but he did make us feel a bit smallish.

When we went on our first long camping trip, we made up a schedule where we would take turns. For instance, I would cook on one day and the next day it would be my turn to wash dishes. Then I got some time off. I really did draw cooking the first day and for breakfast I believe it was two-and-a-half dozen scrambled eggs that went to the garbage pit. Luckily we had cereal and milk on hand. At least we were able to eat the toast that was toasted on an open fire toaster.

From then on it was my job to see to it that camp was set up properly with the sump and pit dug. After that, I was not allowed near food in preparation.

Not too many years ago, my wife left me a can of soup on the stove and a pan to fix lunch while she was gone. Inadvertently, she also had an oven and microwave safe bowl on there. I poured the soup in the glass bowl and added a can of water and placed it on a front burner of the gas cook stove. In a few minutes it showed signs of coming to a boil so I picked up a big ladle and began to stir. About two turns later, Boom!, Pyrex glass chards and soup flew from one end of the kitchen to the other. Somehow, none of it was on me. I had told her ahead of time that I was not a cook. How was I to know not to use Pyrex on a gas burner?

Our Explorer Scout post consisted of five or six grades in school, and I am really surprised we did not keep in touch after we all graduated. I think we were closer than the usual class was. Even when not at a scouting function, a lot of us from different classes would be together. Whenever I run into one of them, it is more like seeing a favored family member than a friend. A lot are gone now, but every time I think of the scouts I remember them. I also think of them when I pass Beulah as we spent many days planting bushes, in that area, for erosion control.

We decided to go back to Wolf Island to camp for a weekend and to see how the cottonwood seedlings we had planted were doing. I think getting to cross the Wolf Island chute on the rope pulled ferry had a little to do with it as well. We got more kick out of it than the ferry across the river that was diesel powered.

On this particular trip we carried a live goat to BarBQ. As soon as we got there, we dug the pit and started the coals to start the meat early Friday afternoon for eating Sunday.

Before leaving Clinton, we had church services with one of the local pastors. We had a different one each trip. On Sunday morning, Phillip McClure would hold church services wherever we were. None of us doubted he was a minister, even then, and a good one to boot. Church around a campfire with 10 or 15 teens is a moving experience and he was a big part of that.

Sunday morning we took the goat off the spit to keep it from burning and wrapped it up to retain the heat. We placed that near the coals. We did not expect the canvas around the outside to keep it insulated from the heat, and when we opened it for lunch we found that the ants had also found it. We washed it and re-basted it, put it back over the coals for a while, and then ate it anyway. May have been the unusual seasoning, but it was delicious.

We kept the Teen Town over "Pop" Johnson’s Pool Room going for a long time. There is no way to count the hours put in by our scout leaders and their wives, both in scouting and the Teen Town. Howard and Judy Rogers, Gene Dowdy (unmarried then), Wilson Cannon and Martha, Doc and Betty Barber and J.W. Chandler (also not married yet) all took turns as chaperones but would be there a lot of the nights that they did not have to chaperone. Later, Jerrald Chandler and Bette got married with two Explorers as ushers. I could not dance, initially, and Betty Barber and Martha Cannon could not stand that. They were both wonderful dancers and made me meet them after school every afternoon, and they taught me to dance at least a little. During the classes I always talked them into doing the jitterbug for me, and they were fantastic jitterbug dancers. I mean really fantastic.

"Memories of days gone by"

     I have always been fascinated with old barns.  Lately I have been taking pictures of the ones I can find for I knew they were disappearing fast.  To my shock and surprise there are even fewer than I realized. 

     Two years I worked for Bill “Red” Grogan hauling hay and while a hot and dirty job I loved the barns even then.  They were all different and had personalities to me.  I remember where a lot were and nearly all of those are gone as well.

     Whenever we went to my grandmothers in Carlisle County Tommie and I would head straight to the barn.  They had a few cattle so there was a hay loft and grain bin.  I have no idea where they got it but they had a big corn snake that stayed in the grain bin and took care of mice.  It was very gentle.  It was almost impossible to see it against the corn.  We would head up the ladder to the hay loft and move the bales around to build hideaways and forts.  Usually it was family gatherings and we would have cousins there as well.  Corn cob fights were standard.

     A conversation with Nicole Kowalczyk about, how much we both love coffee brought her grandparents Henry Jr. and Hilda Brazzell to mind.  The Brazzells were good friends and I spent many hours as a kid and as an adult sitting at their table drinking coffee.  Hilda made sure her pot was always full fresh and strong, very strong. 

     Now there was coffee and then again there was Hilda`s coffee.  I have heard of coffee you could stand a spoon in but you could float a rock on top of hers, but it was never under or over heated and never bitter.

     We all loved literature and the discussion was often what we had read.  Hilda was with the library service for years and Henry would read a pocket novel every day while walking the sidewalk delivering the mail.

     When I worked at Evans grocery we would all gather when it was time for him to cross, what is now James Phillips drive, at 51 hwy and he never looked up or missed the curb.  Understand there was much less traffic but he had hearing that was amazing and knew if a car was coming.  

    As I had rather hunt squirrels than anything else that was what we discussed a lot. That was something Henry and I shared.  He was the best squirrel hunter I knew.  I think his excellent hearing helped with that accomplishment.

     I always heard that Hilda would send him to kill a limit of six squirrels and let him have six shotgun shells.  It was said that if he came home with five squirrels and no shells she would want to know what happened to the other shell.  Hilda was frugal but I am not too sure about her doing that.  He did rarely miss though.

     Hilda loved working at the library and I loved having her there.  I would request a book and she would have it in three days.  I asked for information once on the theology of the Trinitarian churches and she got me at least seven books on theology of different churches.   The one thing I decided, if you accept Christ as your savior and believe in the three persons, there is not much difference that is not manmade differences.

     Saw a Doberman in Paducah and it reminded me of all the dogs on the mail route that I carried.  I got along with most and usually had one following.

     One day I was on Charlotte and about to turn onto Bailey St. when ahead of me I saw a Doberman coming toward me.  I had never been around one and had heard tales.  I looked around and no trees to climb.  There was nothing to do but hope I could keep the leather mail bag between me and him.  There were three or four small neighborhood dogs with him and though they were all friendly they barked.  I just knew the barking would excite him but instead he knocked down the biggest and friendliest one and stood over it threatening it not to move.  This went on for days and he would come close but at the last minute he would quiver and back away.

    After a few days, Charles Hardison, who lived on the street, met me on the porch.  He sat on a step and I squatted down to rest a minute while we chatted.  That Doberman walked over to me and sat down with his shoulder against my hip.  I think If Charles had moved toward me he would have been in trouble.

     The people who owned him were dog people and rescued him to raise him in a warm friendly atmosphere to prove that they are not naturally vicious.  The only thing was, where the dog came from, he had been intentionally mistreated and kids had run him down with bikes so he hated bicycles and tricycles.   Their point was proven as far as I was concerned for I never saw a problem with him.