Saturday, March 25, 2017

First Block of Atlanta Street

This is the first block of Atlanta Street in downtown Marietta.  I was born on this Atlanta Street about two blocks away.
Fifteen to twenty years ago I liked to go downtown early on Sunday mornings and bike or run all over the area.  It was a comfort zone.  I started life here.
One Sunday morning I was running up the first block of Atlanta Street when head of me at the end of the street and the corner of what was Washington Avenue, now Roswell Street, ran around the corner into my site.  In the first door way, he darted to, and flattened himself out.
Then a police car came into view from where he ran from.   It slowed down and looked down Atlanta Street and did not see the guy they were after and kept going forward.
About that time I ran by him, flattened against the door.  He did not look at me.
I'm glad we did not make eye-contact. 
I think it was a "Whew!" for both of us.

On the left was Marietta's first firehouse.  Now, it is Johnny McCracken's Pub which has expanded and does quiet well and very well on Saint Patrick's Day.  Some believe the premises is haunted.

Up the stairs used lead to WBIE Radio station, owned and operated by James Wilder.  Interesting fellow.

I remember as a toddler this right building was the bus station.  When I was about 6 years old the Greyhound Bus Station was built around the corner and at the foot of the hill at Roswell, Anderson, and Green Streets.

And where I stood across the street to take these pictures was the Marietta Police Department, which was no bigger than an average retail store on the Square.

Friday, March 24, 2017

Clearpool Camp Lake, Carmel, NY

My uncle Roy Petty was the director of Clearpool Camp for inner-city kids.   One spring day we visited him and after we realized every were having lunch in the chow hall, we stripped down to our skivvies (that is Navy talk for underwear)  and hit the water with a big splash for swinging out on a rope and letting go.


Don Lash

Clearpool Camp Chow Hall, Carmel, NY

Wednesday, March 22, 2017

Throwback Thursday: Annie Tyson

This is Aunt Annie Tyson (1893-1979).  She is our grandmother Minnie Tyson Hunter's sister.  She married Thomas Orlando Crowder.   They had two children, Evelyn and Horace.  They lived in the Fair Oaks area of Marietta.

In this picture Annie looks to about 12 or 13.  By her expression she looks as though her boyfriend might have just jilted her.

Gentrification and the Runaway Tricycle

The Clay Homes, Marietta, Ga 132 low income families

Same area, space Clay Homes bulldozed away.

Same area space, upscale townhouses

This huge vacant lot was the homes of 132 low income families.  It was The Clay Homes Projects.  I lived there about six years.
Now it is the home of upscale townhouses.
That is Gentrification.

Same area space upscale townhouses are being built.

This is the hilly drive that led from the back of Western Auto Store and Marietta Provision on Atlanta Street to Waddell Street in front  of Pete Steele's Store. 
When I was four or five years old I learned if going down a hill on my tricycle if I raised my feet f the pedals I could coast. And the steeper the hill the faster I would go.
I was doing just that going down this hill when everything went black. 

I woke up on our couch with everybody around me. 

A lady driving down Waddell hit me and sent me flying.  It was completely my fault or dumbness.

Tuesday, March 21, 2017

The Helicopter Heist

I always liked this picture.  I took it because the peaceful sunset it has and the "Horse" helicopter in the foreground.
The helicopter represents a story:
Our squadron, HU-4, mostly flew the "Horse" kind of helicopter.  It seems there were always one parked out front of our hangar, like this one.
On my first day (Sept 1963) assigned to HU-4, after being assigned a bunk and a locker I met my new Cube Mate Marblow.  Marblow was a short little guy, sure of himself, that looked like Michael Myers.  He was from Maryland.  That must have been on a Friday.  Marlow asked me if I had seen New York City yet.  I said no.  He said, "Well lets go!"
We took a bus to New York City.  We got off the bus at Port Authority on 42nd Street.  The first thing we did was take a series of subways over to the Bronx or Brooklyn, and visited an old time friend's wife.  I think his friend was away in the service too.
Then we went back to Manhattan around the tourist traps such as Times Square and 42nd Street.  To make a long boring story short a man bought us drinks in a bar.  He came over an joined us.  He was very dignified.  He asked where we were staying and we told him we were taking a bus back to the base.  He said, "Nonsens!"  It was too late.  He had room for  only one of us and he would pay for the room of the other one of us.  He suggested Marlow stay with him.  That sounded good to me.  We walked to the William Sloan W.M.C.A. House and at the front he paid the desk man for me a room.

The next morning I walked all around the tourist area of Manhattan taking it all in.  Sometime in the late afternoon I went to meet Marlow at the Port Authority.  While in their bar I tried drinking a Manhattan, then another one.  Then I got my courage up to go to the telephone booth, look up to see if Harvey Kurtzman's name was in it, and surprisingly it was.  I was tipsy enough to call my hero, the creator of MAD, Harvey Kurtzman.  He lived in Mount Vernon.  We talked.  I was very polite and distant.  I'm sure fans call him a lot.  Marlow finally came and we took the bus back.
  Neither one of us ever mentioned what he and his "Sugardaddy" did.

 When we returned to base I walked up the hill to the EM Club.  The personnelman who checked me in was at the club.  He was always smiling and had a penetrating stare.  He invited me to sit at a table with him.  He introduced himself  as Don Lash.  He told me he was from Chicago and was on two years active duty, the same as I.
I told him about going to New York City for the first time.  He knew just the questions to ask to make me squirm.  I didn't want to get Marlow into trouble, but Don kept asking direct questions.  Finally we were getting loaded and Marlow's "surgardaddy" was getting to me an old subject.

The more we drank the more we talked and before it was over the beer was doing all the talking.
We, or the beer, decided we could probably fly a helicopter, we wouldn't know until we tried.  We knew there would be a "Horse" in front of the Duty Office at the hangar.  We decided we could probably climb inside and find the start button before someone noticed us.
We started walking towards the hangar, about three quarters mile away.
I thought, "How the hell am I going to back out of this without looking like I am backing out?"
I think Don was thinking the same thing.
Before a block away from the EM Club we walked by a someone in the Squadron Don knew.  We stopped to talk to him and walked with him back to the barracks. 
Don skillfully changed our target without even mentioning it.


Don and I remained close friends for about a dozen years after our Navy time together.

Monday, March 20, 2017

Spring Arrives Today!

The Roof and The Phantom

The Roof of the Fox Theater on Peachtree Street in Atlanta.  On a tour of the Fox the docent led us out to the roof and I took a picture.  It was pivotal to the Gypsy Ball Room, the balcony of the theater, and the apartment of the Phantom of Fox.
I suppose people came out here on warm nights to get a break from the ball room, or during intermission for a quick smoke and maybe there was a bartender.  Those round things look like table tops.

And maybe Joe Patten was mingling with the people.  Joe was known as The Phantom of the Fox because he lived there and the owner (Atlanta Historical Society) could not evict him.  One time he got the Mighty Moe Organ back up and running.  And another time he saved the Fox from going up in flames and saved much of the values and furniture.   For that he was promised by whomever owned it at the time he   that he could live there for life, which ended almost one year ago,  April 7, 2016.

Sunday, March 19, 2017

Go Go Chuck-B.-Goode, R.I.P.

Chuck Berry, the rock and roll pioneer, died yesterday.  He had his own beat and it seemed to be surrounded by happiness.

We saw him in concert years ago (before kids) at Six Flags Over Georgia's outside pavilion.    We arrived a little ahead of the scheduled performance and as usual were the first ones there.  We watched the laborers set up the stage, moving speakers, a piano, and other items on the stage.  Wait!  One of those helping lift the piano and move it was the one and only Chuck Berry.
His daughter, a beautiful young lady, co-sung with him many songs that night, and I was somewhat amused some of the lyrics were sexual suggestive.    Digest that one.  Wow!

Chuck died at age 90.

SUNDAY FUNNIES!! Skip Williamson Rides Again!

As you know,  Skip Williamson, pioneer underground Comix cartoonist,  died last Thursday,  March 16th.  Just eleven days earlier, March 5th, another underground pioneer Comix cartoonist, Jay Lynch (1945-2017) died.  It makes you wonder if the "Rule of 3s" will happen doesn't it?  If so, who will be it be?  Nobody I hope.

Cartoonists may die but their cartoons don't.  Here proof that the late Skip Williamson is providing.

click on image to be able to read the balloons to help make sense of it all.

Saturday, March 18, 2017

Skip Williamson (1944-2017), R.I.P.

Pictures taken November 2001

Skip visiting Jon Benet Ramsey's grave

A friend died Thursday, March 16, 2017.  He was full of  life.  I hated to hear of his death.

from Wikipedia:

According to The Comics Journal, "He died at Albany Medical Center at 12:30 pm on Thursday, March 16th. “We were both romantics,” she [his widow] said in a phone call during her ride home to Vermont. “We are fucking ying and yan. We are those things that nobody knows. He was the bright light in my life.” The official cause of death was renal failure and complications from heart disease and diabetes, but it was an antibiotic that killed him, according to Adrienne, who declared, “He was in perfect health before he went into the hospital.” She described how Skip recently cut a toe while trimming his nails with his antique Confederate-era jackknife. It became infected and swollen and a local doctor prescribed Bactrin, which damaged his liver and kidneys. The doctors in Albany were trying to counter the effects of the medication when he died."[4]

I wonder if he bought this antique Confederate-era jacknife from Wildman Dent Myers (above left), who is famous for selling such  things?

Poster of Skip Williamson's creation Sammy Smoot

SATURDAY FUNNIES!! The Eyes of March

WHOA!  Today is Saturday.  In error I was thinking it was Sunday when I released this.  When I told my wife Anna of my error, she said, "Instead of leaping ahead one hour you leaped ahead a whole day!"

click on image to read (and help for it to make sense)

The Idles of March was last Wednesday, or there abouts. To keep up with current affairs we are presenting HUMBUG's version of the news program in the 1950s YOU ARE THERE as they might have done Caesar's assignation over 2000 years ago.

This story was originally published in HUMBUG Magazine #3, October 1957.  The story was written by editor Harvey Kurtzman and illustrated by Will Elder.

Yesterday, St. Patrick's Day, we had lunch at Semper Fi Bar and Grill, who are known for their hamburgers. 

Semper Fi has a U.S. Marine and U.S. Military theme.  It attracts military-mind-set people.

In the spirit of the day we wore green.
I did not see anyone else wearing green.  Were they wanting to be pinched?

Just joking, just joking!

Friday, March 17, 2017

Tribute to Joe Stewart from Tuba Skinny

I told you my late friend Joe Stewart, who died last week, was into big New Orleans jazz, namely the focusing on Tuba Skinny ragtime band.

Joe and I spent many emails talking about the band and in particularly the two female members Shaye and Erika.  We were amazed at their musical abilities.
Here is an email from Brad Verter, who is organizing the memorial,  I received today.

 Today at 3:11 PM
Joe B. Stewart was deeply devoted to a New Orleans band called Tuba Skinny, and wrote about them frequently on his blog:
When he passed, I wrote to the band's leader, Shaye Cohn (if you're a jazznik, you'll have heard of her grandfather, Al Cohn) and requested that she dedicate a song in Joe's memory at their next set.  She went above and beyond, assembling the band to records a spiritual to play at his wake.  It's online at: v=6gEOOUxPI2o
Even if you never met Joe, you'll be touched by the song.  I was moved to tears.

An old softie,


Colonial Park Cemetery, Savannah

Pirate or Masonic?

This historical plaque is not about Buttons Gwinnett, who also was killed in a duel.  Buttons was a signer of the Declaration of Independence.  

This is James Habersham's crypt.  I mistakenly thought that he was a signer of the Declaration of Independence.  Wrong, he was a Loyalist.  However his sons did fight for Independence


Markers lost from their graves.


Thursday, March 16, 2017

Throwback Thursday: Adeline St John and Isaac Wright

Loveula Adeline St. John Wright

Isaac Wright 

Anna's great great grandparents on her father's mother's side.

Adeline was the daughter of James St. John (1756-1850) and Elizabeth Boomer (1757- 1850s).

Isaac was the son of Isaac S. Wright and Charity Catherine Fox.

Adaline and Isaac were married 19 Apr 1855, West Virginia.  But I think at the time it was Virginia.  West Virginia did not form itself until 1861.

They has 12 children, 5 daughters and 7 sons.

Isaac served in the Confederate Army.  They are buried in Enon Cemetery, just north of Woodstock, Georgia.

Wednesday, March 15, 2017

People Watching

At the doctors' office waiting room today we immediately recognized one of Cobb County's long time leaders.  He is still a lawyer, he has been city and county attorneys, and a state representative 
Watching him I remembered reading he used to love to dance and one time almost got into a fight with a Cobb co-legislator Harold Willingham.  But he looks too stiff to dance or fight now.
For his age he looked remarkably good.  Good posture and all.  Although, he could not turn to look at someone without turning his whole body, he might be having spine problems.  His heavy dark coat was buttoned up all the way to the neck, if he had on a bow-tie I did not see it.

With him was his care keeper, a lady much shorter than he is.  The care keeper, being a care keeper, knew about health matters.  One of those health matters was that a medical waiting rooms is probably pretty much infested with germs.  She had a medical mask on.

She also knew if you touch anything sterilize your hands.  She pressed the elevator button and squirted some cleanser from a dispenser onto her hands and rubbed her hands together to get the cream worked in.  She told him to do the same.  She showed him how to use the dispenser and he squirted the antiseptic  cream onto his hands.  He looked horrified.  She told him to rub it in by rubbing his hands.  He looked around to wipe his hands on something, still looking horrified. 
She looked at him and told him something and he calmed down and rubbed his hands together.
The elevator came and they entered it and away they went.

He had trust in his care taker.

Larry and UnSeriously

Out side of Brandi's Hotodogs when we met for lunch and found it close.  It was 4th of July week.

Larry Bradford looking serious.  Seriously folks!  In high school I don't think Larry had many serious moments.  He was always making up and cracking jokes, seemingly, as often as he took a breath   And with sound effects, such as Popeye's cackling laugh and on and on.  He could pick a new name that just popped up and make it funny by going on and on about it.  Take Zagnuts for instance.

Now, Larry is making up for it.  I have not talked to him lately, but about two years ago he was volunteering at a homeless shelter on Tuesdays. 

Good for him!


Beware of the Ides of March!

Tuesday, March 14, 2017

Buegrass Jams in Front of Australian Bakery - Tuesday Nights

Bluegrass Jamming in Front of Australian Bakery Every Tuesday Night, South Park Square, Marietta, Georgia. 

Bring your banjo, waxed-comb, washboard, whatever.

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