Back in the 1960's the Federal Government wanted to improve the conditions of those who lived in sub par housing in their opinion. Local communities wanting to cash in on the "free" money applied and housing was built in areas that qualified, and what those exact qualification were I am not sure, but Sedalia received a grant to build apartment type dwelling on the north side of town. For many years the area was just referred to as the "Projects." I think it might have had a different name but it never took hold if it did.
I was asked to become a member of the board of directors. I accepted and one or two nights a month I would attend a meeting and voted on matters that the head administrator brought to our attention. Everyone took their position very seriously and thought long and hard about the decisions they were asked to make. After all we were dealing with people's lives.
The Director of the board's name has long escaped me as all the other member's names. I do remember the administrator because his son was a student of mine and he was a minister in a local church. All of this is much ado about nothing because the real point of the muse is making fun of how a group of people, no matter how well intended can make fools out of themselves.
The Director honestly did not like the community always referring to the projects as the projects and thought if we would give the streets a name in and around the buildings that it would help lesson the stigma of living there, which was always the case where poor people gathered, especially if 99% of them were black. He was very sincere.
We thought on the issue and since it was the time Scott Joplin was becoming identified with Sedalia more and more some of the streets were named after him and names associated with the era and Jazz. The trouble came in when it was suggested that the reamaining streets be named after the board members.
I thought it was a terrible idea but so as not to hurt every ones feeling I went along, perphaps secretly wanting my name to go down in history some where. The Sedalia Democrat the next evening had a front page story which headline read "Board Honors Themselves."
The next time you are in the area and see McAnally Ct, that is my street and you can tell everyone you know a guy who claims that street is named after him, and so it was sort of, I guess I named it after myself though.
http://www.amazon.com/Tales-Homer-Conley-Stone-McAnally/dp/0615779808/ref
Monday, June 3, 2013
Friday, May 31, 2013
Murder in Sedalia
My memory is a little vague concerning the names of who shot who, so I am not going to use any of the names I think I know but really don't know, you know like Jack Webb said, "to protect the innocent."
There was a house if ill repute, shall we say, on the north side of the tracks years ago. The house was very famous or infamous and everyone knew it was there and why it was allowed to operate was never really explained.
A young man found out that his former girl friend had gone to work there. He didn't like the idea and showed up at the house and caused some sort of scene. The owner of the place took offense at the man's presence and behavior and shot him dead.
The owner was arrested and for such a big event in Sedalia I cannot remember what the out come was.
The one thing that does stick in my mind is that the sister of the young man killed was in my eighth grade class at the Sedalia Junior High and so was the son or step son of the man who killed the boy. They were in the same class, same period etc. There must not have been any particular problems because nothing stands out that there was a problem in the school between the two famalies.
If anyone can fill in the blanks I would be interested in knowing.
There was a house if ill repute, shall we say, on the north side of the tracks years ago. The house was very famous or infamous and everyone knew it was there and why it was allowed to operate was never really explained.
A young man found out that his former girl friend had gone to work there. He didn't like the idea and showed up at the house and caused some sort of scene. The owner of the place took offense at the man's presence and behavior and shot him dead.
The owner was arrested and for such a big event in Sedalia I cannot remember what the out come was.
The one thing that does stick in my mind is that the sister of the young man killed was in my eighth grade class at the Sedalia Junior High and so was the son or step son of the man who killed the boy. They were in the same class, same period etc. There must not have been any particular problems because nothing stands out that there was a problem in the school between the two famalies.
If anyone can fill in the blanks I would be interested in knowing.
Sunday, May 19, 2013
Sedalia-Heber Hunt Chocolate
Students remember some teachers but what they don't realize teachers remember some students. I for one remember all my students but not by name. Recently I received a class picture of the first class I ever taught and I knew everyone of them. There was only one without prompting that I could put a name. Here is why - It was around some holiday and it was the custom back then that the students would bring the teacher a small treat like candy or a small token. A couple of boys brought me a box of chocolate covered cherries. My wife and I liked chocolate covered cherries so as soon as I got home we opened the box. I took one of the pieces, bit into it and discovered it was paraffin with a not to good tasting chocolate covering. Well I saw the humor in it and I wish I would have taken the box back to school the next day and passed it around telling the class how delicious they were and give credit to the boys who gave it to me. However the boys admitted the next day after being much to eager to ask how I liked their gift, that one of their grandmothers had helped them make the "treat." I didn't make an issue out of it of course because I thought it was funny. One of the mothers came up to me after school one day soon afterwards and told me that I had permission to do anything to her son short of breaking bones and drawing blood. I never did of course, but Brian Dickman beware I might find myself in the northwest portion of the US some day. I have a good memory and a long one. I don't think I will order a pizza from you unless you taste it first.
Monday, May 13, 2013
Sedalia - Heber Hunt
It was not planned that I would go live in Sedalia. Yet it seems that one persons misfortune turnss sometimes in to an others fortune.
I was waiting around for my military orders to come through that would undoubtedly send me eventually to Viet Nam. I had resigned myself to that venture. My wife at the time was teaching art at Smith Cotton and she came home one evening and said she had heard there was a job opening at Heber Hunt elementary school.
My student teaching had taken place under Larry Whiteside at Smith Cotton so I was a know quantity in the district and they only wanted someone to fill out the year due to an illness of a 6th and 7th grade teacher.
I applied for the job, the principal "Bud" Thomas hired me and I started teaching. I am not sure how much I really taught anyone but I remember the classes seemed to have about as much fun as I did and I met some very nice and interesting people that I would eventually weave into the fabric of my books and short stories.
As luck would have it I received a letter from the army saying that they had more officers than they needed and that my full time service was no longer required.
I signed a contract for the next year and was very excited that the school district was going to build a new junior high school. Perhaps I could get a job there I thought after it is built.
I was waiting around for my military orders to come through that would undoubtedly send me eventually to Viet Nam. I had resigned myself to that venture. My wife at the time was teaching art at Smith Cotton and she came home one evening and said she had heard there was a job opening at Heber Hunt elementary school.
My student teaching had taken place under Larry Whiteside at Smith Cotton so I was a know quantity in the district and they only wanted someone to fill out the year due to an illness of a 6th and 7th grade teacher.
I applied for the job, the principal "Bud" Thomas hired me and I started teaching. I am not sure how much I really taught anyone but I remember the classes seemed to have about as much fun as I did and I met some very nice and interesting people that I would eventually weave into the fabric of my books and short stories.
As luck would have it I received a letter from the army saying that they had more officers than they needed and that my full time service was no longer required.
I signed a contract for the next year and was very excited that the school district was going to build a new junior high school. Perhaps I could get a job there I thought after it is built.
Tuesday, May 7, 2013
Crisp Lake Chronicle, Circa 1950
MY UNCLE BILL.
A farewell party was held for Uncle Bill last Saturday evening at Hutcheson Park on Lake Drive. Uncle Bill has been the head Post Office official at the postal station in Fairmount ever since his return from the war. He was a natural for the job because he had done the same thing for the Army APO - European Theater, in London, England. Uncle Bill says he is not real happy about the transfer but would make the best of it given the fact that it was politically motivated. "You play with a snake and you are going to get bit," was one of his replies. He claims it was politics pure and simple and had nothing to do with his performance. He said he made a mistake and told his cousin Walter on his mother's side that he had voted for Dewey and not Truman in the last election and Walter told Mr. Jones the precinct captain who in turn told Bill Serman. Well that is possible I guess but upon further inquiry I found out the real reason for the transfer to the Kansas City office. It was no secret to anyone living in and around Fairmount that Uncle Bill had acquired the habit of drinking a beer with his lunch each day. It was against postal rules to drink in a government facility so he would take his sack lunch over to the Calico Cat each day to imbibe in a brew but never more than two. So as not to inconvenience the postal patrons he would leave his cousin on his wife's side, Homer, in charge who was the custodian but whom he had trained to sell stamps with instructions never to sort mail or do anything else around the office - only sell stamps. One day however after arriving at the Calico Cat Uncle Bill found a birthday celebration in progress for Herb McIntosh. Two beers turned into six so my informant recalls because Herb's brother Hal was buying and Uncle Bill told folks he could not be rude and leave the party early. Besides Homer was capable of selling stamps and anything else could wait until the next day. The whole matter could have been a non incident except when Uncle Bill did not return at his normal time Homer decided to take his lunch break anyway. He left instructions on the counter along with a role of stamps and a jar. The instructions stated that customers should take however many stamps they needed and leave the correct change in the jar or bring the money by the next day. Leaving the post office unattended and the stamps on the counter would not have been a problem either either except just by chance a Kansas City postal inspector was on his way to the Independence branch and thought he would stop by the Fairmount station just to say hi! The audit that followed found that there was nothing missing at our local branch. Homer has been transferred to Sugar Creek and Uncle Bill to the Kansas City main office. His assignment is on the mail train that runs between Kansas City and Chicago where he helps sort and put the mail bags out for pick-up and delivery for the towns in between. Uncle Bill says that the job is OK in and of itself but the main problem is that the mail car is always attached to the rear of the train and there are too many train cars in between it and the club car where they keep the beer.
A farewell party was held for Uncle Bill last Saturday evening at Hutcheson Park on Lake Drive. Uncle Bill has been the head Post Office official at the postal station in Fairmount ever since his return from the war. He was a natural for the job because he had done the same thing for the Army APO - European Theater, in London, England. Uncle Bill says he is not real happy about the transfer but would make the best of it given the fact that it was politically motivated. "You play with a snake and you are going to get bit," was one of his replies. He claims it was politics pure and simple and had nothing to do with his performance. He said he made a mistake and told his cousin Walter on his mother's side that he had voted for Dewey and not Truman in the last election and Walter told Mr. Jones the precinct captain who in turn told Bill Serman. Well that is possible I guess but upon further inquiry I found out the real reason for the transfer to the Kansas City office. It was no secret to anyone living in and around Fairmount that Uncle Bill had acquired the habit of drinking a beer with his lunch each day. It was against postal rules to drink in a government facility so he would take his sack lunch over to the Calico Cat each day to imbibe in a brew but never more than two. So as not to inconvenience the postal patrons he would leave his cousin on his wife's side, Homer, in charge who was the custodian but whom he had trained to sell stamps with instructions never to sort mail or do anything else around the office - only sell stamps. One day however after arriving at the Calico Cat Uncle Bill found a birthday celebration in progress for Herb McIntosh. Two beers turned into six so my informant recalls because Herb's brother Hal was buying and Uncle Bill told folks he could not be rude and leave the party early. Besides Homer was capable of selling stamps and anything else could wait until the next day. The whole matter could have been a non incident except when Uncle Bill did not return at his normal time Homer decided to take his lunch break anyway. He left instructions on the counter along with a role of stamps and a jar. The instructions stated that customers should take however many stamps they needed and leave the correct change in the jar or bring the money by the next day. Leaving the post office unattended and the stamps on the counter would not have been a problem either either except just by chance a Kansas City postal inspector was on his way to the Independence branch and thought he would stop by the Fairmount station just to say hi! The audit that followed found that there was nothing missing at our local branch. Homer has been transferred to Sugar Creek and Uncle Bill to the Kansas City main office. His assignment is on the mail train that runs between Kansas City and Chicago where he helps sort and put the mail bags out for pick-up and delivery for the towns in between. Uncle Bill says that the job is OK in and of itself but the main problem is that the mail car is always attached to the rear of the train and there are too many train cars in between it and the club car where they keep the beer.
Monday, April 15, 2013
The Crisp Lake Chronicle
Crisp Lake Chronicle
The Crisp Lake Chronicle was an underground newspaper published in the early to late 1950's. It's circulation never mounted to much and the best I can determine from reading the now yellow toned pages it was a paper that printed all the news that was really unfit to print anywhere else.
Some might call it a gossip rag, others might say it was a collection of a bunch of stories that were meaningless to anyone other than the reporter, still others might say everything was made up and untrue. I on the other hand believe every word of what I read in the CLC and look at it as little slice of Americana.
What is really strange to me is that other than my grandfather's collection there does not seem to be any record of it ever existing. The Examiner has no mention of it in its archives, the Jackson County Historical Society has no record of it among their catalog of the Inner City News, nor does the Internet give it any mention. It is like a conspiracy. It is a mystery.
So I feel it is my obligation to resurrect some of the articles and place them from time to time in my blog. Social historians will applaud me, my readers will gain some in site as to what it was like back in the 50's living in and around Fairmount, Maywood, and even Englewood but even more so on Crisp Lake proper, and some might even be offended if they have a thin skin about their ancestors.
The big mystery however is that in all the papers I have perused so far there is not the slightest mention of who the reporter was or who actually was the publisher or distributor.
The few old timers left in the old neighborhood claim they have no knowledge of the publication and change the subject when questioned about an event that was claimed to have happened.
My grandfather left a note on the outside of the box the papers were in that said not to open until 40 years after his death. A note in side the box, just opened recently, says that anyone reading the contents could do anything they wanted with the information contained in the CLC because most of the people mentioned would be dead or to old to read anyway.
First edition coming soon.
The Crisp Lake Chronicle was an underground newspaper published in the early to late 1950's. It's circulation never mounted to much and the best I can determine from reading the now yellow toned pages it was a paper that printed all the news that was really unfit to print anywhere else.
Some might call it a gossip rag, others might say it was a collection of a bunch of stories that were meaningless to anyone other than the reporter, still others might say everything was made up and untrue. I on the other hand believe every word of what I read in the CLC and look at it as little slice of Americana.
What is really strange to me is that other than my grandfather's collection there does not seem to be any record of it ever existing. The Examiner has no mention of it in its archives, the Jackson County Historical Society has no record of it among their catalog of the Inner City News, nor does the Internet give it any mention. It is like a conspiracy. It is a mystery.
So I feel it is my obligation to resurrect some of the articles and place them from time to time in my blog. Social historians will applaud me, my readers will gain some in site as to what it was like back in the 50's living in and around Fairmount, Maywood, and even Englewood but even more so on Crisp Lake proper, and some might even be offended if they have a thin skin about their ancestors.
The big mystery however is that in all the papers I have perused so far there is not the slightest mention of who the reporter was or who actually was the publisher or distributor.
The few old timers left in the old neighborhood claim they have no knowledge of the publication and change the subject when questioned about an event that was claimed to have happened.
My grandfather left a note on the outside of the box the papers were in that said not to open until 40 years after his death. A note in side the box, just opened recently, says that anyone reading the contents could do anything they wanted with the information contained in the CLC because most of the people mentioned would be dead or to old to read anyway.
First edition coming soon.
Wednesday, March 13, 2013
Caught in a Trap and Defriended
Remember that old Elvis song ..caught in a trap, cannot walk out I love you to much baby... or something like that. Well it has happened to me on this blog. Some guy or phantom electronic bug started sending me great comments about one particular post I made. I was at first flattered but was puzzled as to why that particular post was causing so much interest. Well I still don't know why, but the person, persons, or thing that keep sending me kudos is trying to get me to respond back and perhaps buy something he, she, it are selling. I have resisted the temptation and I really don't care. Perhaps he, she, it, lingers long enough on my post to spike up my AdSense account.
I have been defriended twice on Facebook. Both were my fault. I did not realize in either occasion how thin skinned people were. The first time was by a woman who kept trying to convince all who would listen that the conservative view point was the only view point worth having and that Obama was not an American and all the other stuff you hear about. That part didn't bother me very much but many of those who took the bait were very bitter and those who responded to the bitter comments the lady made were more bitter and it sort of got out of hand. I finally responded and said for both sides to lighten up, Facebook was supposed to fun etc. Well I may not or may be correct on that score but the lady (whom I had known years ago when square dancing) wrote back and said some words that I don't recall presently but was very upset but sincere and informed me she no longer could be my friend. That was the first defriended. My fault for trying to bring reason to people who were being unreasonable (in my opinion that is)
The second time I told a joke that I had heard over 20 years ago at least, but I inserted it into a squabble about football teams in one state being better than one in another state. Of course I had to interfere again and inserted my joke. One of the guys took homage to my jest and told me something like my brain was like a Beebe in a box car and he was defriending me right then and their. The other guy made not comment and I still hear from him. I did get a small lecture from one guy I have always respected since a recontact was made via FB. He said I was a little out of line. Probably so but no disrespect was intended. Oh well I have stumbled along the last few moths having two less friends in my life, I guess I will last a few more months. I will try not to say things from now on that irritate people (Ha!)
I have been defriended twice on Facebook. Both were my fault. I did not realize in either occasion how thin skinned people were. The first time was by a woman who kept trying to convince all who would listen that the conservative view point was the only view point worth having and that Obama was not an American and all the other stuff you hear about. That part didn't bother me very much but many of those who took the bait were very bitter and those who responded to the bitter comments the lady made were more bitter and it sort of got out of hand. I finally responded and said for both sides to lighten up, Facebook was supposed to fun etc. Well I may not or may be correct on that score but the lady (whom I had known years ago when square dancing) wrote back and said some words that I don't recall presently but was very upset but sincere and informed me she no longer could be my friend. That was the first defriended. My fault for trying to bring reason to people who were being unreasonable (in my opinion that is)
The second time I told a joke that I had heard over 20 years ago at least, but I inserted it into a squabble about football teams in one state being better than one in another state. Of course I had to interfere again and inserted my joke. One of the guys took homage to my jest and told me something like my brain was like a Beebe in a box car and he was defriending me right then and their. The other guy made not comment and I still hear from him. I did get a small lecture from one guy I have always respected since a recontact was made via FB. He said I was a little out of line. Probably so but no disrespect was intended. Oh well I have stumbled along the last few moths having two less friends in my life, I guess I will last a few more months. I will try not to say things from now on that irritate people (Ha!)
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