Movie RESPECT about Aretha Franklin Staring Jennifer Hudson

We just watched the movie RESPECT on cable, the story of Aretha Franklin starring Jennifer Hudson. We thought it was very good, insightful, did a good job of covering history in that time frame and made you want to jump out of your seat and start dancing. It also had a few scenes with wife beating but I had no inspiration to jump up and do that. Once they discussed the magic of the musicians and their instruments need to have a little jam session to tune their instruments and minds to each other. Each musician and his instruments must for its own language for every other instrument musician. It is magic. Martin Luther King, Jr. was in the movie several times. Aretha was a MLK backer with her music and donations. Which reminded me of a certain night; On April 4, 1968, Anna and I went to the Bottom of the Barrell to hear Odetta in concert. I do not remember what kind of establishment The Bottom of the Barrell was, we did not have a chance to order. They announce Odetta cancelled her concert, Martin Luther King had been assassinated in Memphis. We got our refund and left. After we stopped someplace to ear it was dark when we arrived in Marietta. I was curious about downtown Marietta, what was going on there with the latest news. On the Square We slowly drove north towards the Strand on East Park Square At the stop light at North Park Square I saw a crowd of men standing and talking. Trouble? As I drove past them studying what ever I forgot about the traffic light, and it was red. I ran it and a car almost hit me. I slammed on my brakes and Anna fell forward (that was before seatbelt law). I instinctively held my arm out and blocked her from crashing into the dash. I turned left in front of The Strand and we got the hell of there. See RESPECT if you haven’t and find time. We thought it was great. Especially, if you like Rock and Roll music.

Why I was nicknamed Rock Hunter

Copied and pasted from a previous Chicken-fat blog: I am a frugal person, I recycle a lot, Thirty years ago we named our first son Rockwell Tyson Hunter. From time to time some one will ask why did we pick such a name. Well, my middle name is Tyson, and so it is my father's, and it is also his mother's maiden name. Now for the name Rockwell. Back in 1957 when I was in high school, one day a new kid came to class. I forgot his first name but his last name was Crane. He was tall and Lanky. He sat next to me in class and I asked him was he related to Ichabod Crane. He gave me a hateful look. Then, that same day, at lunch several of us were up around the baseball field hanging out. Crane walked up near and stood at a distance. Trying to friendly and to welcome him as one of us, I said, "There is old Whooping Crane!' He came at me swinging his fists like a lopsided windmill with broken blades. He had no fighting sense about him. He only knew when you are in a rage you attack giving it all you have by swinging your fists. I am not much of a fighter either. But I do know how to dodge a something coming at me, especially when the route of the on-coming fist is so predictable. So, I merely danced around dodging his fists, and from time to time hit him in the face with no problem at all, he knew nothing about blocking oncoming blows either. I won the fight. I had no damage look about me at all, no blood, no body scratches or marks, where Crane on the other hand had a bloody nose, and puffed up swelling around the eye and his clothes were torn and dirty. There was a movie playing at downtown Marietta's Strand Theater at the time, starring Jayne Mansfield and Tony Randal. The name of the movie was "Will Success Spoil Rock Hunter?" And not many months before the movie "Somebody Up There Likes Me", the story of Rocky Graziano, prize fighter starring Paul Newman. Both movies plus Craine and my actions called somebody who witness the fight to say, "Will Success Spoil Rocky Hunter?" My new nickname caught on and spread quickly. I was Christened "Rock Hunter" by my peers. I went by the name Rock for the next ten to fifteen years, and still when and even now when I happen to run into a long lost friend, chances are he/she knew me as Rock. So, it was only fitting that I named Rocky Rockwell. And some place else in this blog world Crane may be at this very moment posting his blog which ends by saying "... and that is why we named our first son Icabod."

The Hunter House's History Minus the Bullet Holes

This is the Hunter House in the Choestoe District of Union County, Ga. It has been handed down in the Hunter family for generations. I think John Hunter’s son William Johnson Hunter (1813-1889) built it. And William handed it down to Jasper Francis Hunter (1863-1897). Jasper handed it down to William Jess Hunter (1886-1982). I got to meet Jess Hunter in 1981, the year before he died. His daughter the late Austine Hunter gave me a tour of the old house. See the newer part on the left? That was Jess’s living quarters. On the right is the original house, being preserved as much as possible. Austine pointed out in the front room and on the wall of the staircase were bullet holes. She said the bullet holes happened during a family squabble generations ago. They had a contract with a contractor to do some improvements in the old house, yet keep its integrity. The next time I was in the area, I dropped by to see how the restoring was coming. I went into the house and the bullet holes were gone. The bullet holes got “restored” away. Darn! Those bullet holes were part of the history of that old house. If you see something you would like to have a picture take it riht then! It might not wait on you.

The Georgian Terrace and the Divine Sister

Note: click on image to make overwhelming. This is the Georgian Terrace. It is across Peachtree Street from the Fox Theater. I took this picture in July 2005 just before we took a tour of the Fox Theater. The Georgian Terrace looks like a nice joint of dignity. It looks like a place the upper crust of Atlanta would recommend friends to stay or have receptions, chamber concerts and whatever else those folks do instead of using their own homes. When I think of the Georgian Terrace I think of the BUG. The lottery numbers before the lottery was legal in Georgia. Back when I was a Postal employee and worked all night I heard a lot of night-time radio. I remember one local radio show whose primary sponsor was Sister Grace*. After listening to Sister Grace* it was easily to know she preached the gospel She loved Jesus and all his disciples and she could quote them all to fit any occasion. Listening to her more and you know she and God and Jesus communicated. They had regular talking sessions and they shared things with Sister Grace*. Like thee number up the upcoming illegal lottery numbers. And being the Christian she was she was willing to share those numbers with you. She was wise enough to not to mention the BUG by name, but after so many innuendos you would get the idea what she is trying to tell you. All you had to do was go to a certain room at THE GEORGIAN TERRACE and have an audience with the good sister and she would share a number with you. She would share with you if you would share with her, a small tithe donation, of cash was preferred. She said it will be a number to bring you happiness and fulfill your dreams. She also said, in so many vague words that it is not just a number, it is script number from the Bible. *actually, I forgot her name, it may or may not have been Grace. But the first part was “Sister”, I remember that!

Bob Bettis & Family

Left to right: Ida Lavonia Prance Bettis (1878-1958, Isaac Landrum Bettis (1898-1975), and Robert Phillip "Bob" Bettis (1868-1961). Ida is Anna's father Paul Prance's father's sister. Their farm was what is today Bob Bettis Road. They are buried at Sandy Plains Baptist Church Cemetery, Sandy Plains Road, Marietta. . Bob Bettis Road was Bob Bettis's driveway, which led to his home and farm. But now it is a road which crosses Sandy Plains Road. This past week was a wreck there at the intersecrion. Somewas was killed. It is not the first time there has been a serious wreck there. Bob Bettis Road is no longer a driveway. It is past time for a traffic light.

June 7th, National Junebug Day

These two are doing their part. Photo by me.

D Day Uncles

Stanley Hunter, my father's brother, and Roy Petty, my mother's brother, my two uncles that was part of the Normandy Invasion on D-Day, June 6, 1944

Ethel America "Janie" Petty Hunter's Birthday

My mother would have been 104 today. My mother was born 100 years ago today. Yep, my mother, Ethel America "Janie" Petty was born June 6, 1918, in Gillette, Wyoming. Eighteen years later she married and her last name changed to Hunter. One time I Googled Gillette to see what they are known for. They were the Women's Mud Wrestling Capital. She died in 1996.

Lem & Maude Wright Guffin

Lem Guffin (1887-1969) and Maude Wright (1885-1975). Maude is Ann's great aunt. Maude and Lem was married 13 August 1916, below is their Wedding photograph.

HAPPY JUBILEE!!

SUNDAY FUNNIES!! MAD's 14 Country Gentl..what?

Editor/Writer Harvey Kurtzman and Jack Davis making fun of another TV Show, which is no longer aired, so you may not understand.

The Late Willy B

Years ago we used love to go to Grants Park to the Atlanta Zoo. I was always magnetized to the Primate Section. Many times I have stood studying the magnificent Willy B. (c1959-2000), silverback gorilla. Before the outside Primate Center was built Willy B. was confined to barred cell with a hanging tire and a TV set. He looked terribly bored and disgusted. Every once in a while he would slam the hanging tire with the back of his arm in anger. After an outside area was created he looked more content and peaceful, especially, during the time he was slowly systematically introduced to the opposite sex of his species, which in gorilla years he was past middle age. But, by instinct he knew what to do. He fathered several rug-rats . As I said, I stood before him studying and photographing his body movements and facial expressions. We finally learn how to communicate by universal sign language. Like this one, "See my child?" And Here he is telling me, "UP YOURS!"

Laser Abuse

We heard on the news today about how people are abusing laser lights. There have over 9000 abuses of laser light over a certain period of time. Laser lights have messed up plenty of pilots’ eye-sights, which almost cause them to lose control of flying the plane. They have caught some laser abusers and fined them $1100 each. They went on to say that they have collect $110 000 in fines. If my math is cirrect they have caught 10 people and made it stick. But speaking of laser light abuse I know of one interesting abuse. Someone I know went to a Trivia Night at a local bar. One guy there had a laser light playing with it, shining it in people’s faces, and so on. One guy warned the laser light kid that if shined in his face, well, he had better not. And he did, regardless of the warning. The abused guy and the agbusee guy went out in the parking lot and settle itr, followed by probably most of the Trivia players. The way I heard it, the guy who warm the laser kid simply pulled out his gun and shot him. I don’t know if anybody was killed or what. The guy I know of, had to go to court not long ago as a witness in the trial.

Billy Joe Royal's 1st Singing Gig

Copied and pasted from a previous post: on my blog chicken-fat.com PCB and Billy's First Singing Gig For a while now I have been copying old LP record albums into the computer into a MP3 format. Before we had children we accumulated about 500 albums of all types. Now, this is a way to archive them. Today I copied Al Hirt's Swingin' Dixie. But while going through my collection to pick from, I came across an album of an old friend, who shall remain nameless. For the purpose of this entry I will call him Billy. I grew up with Billy and his brother. We and other friends in the same little circle had some hell raising times. I remember on a country road one time Billy was driving behind me and I was driving about 70 mph and he eased up and he made his front bumper tap my rear bumper. It scared the heck out of me. Several times in high school we got caught drinking in the parking lots of evens and Billy was an expert lying out of it getting us off free. Billy loved to sing. He could imitate any body, soul, rock, or country so close, if one didn't know better you would swear the sound was coming from the person that made it famous. The night after school was out for the summer in 1959, Billy, his brother, three friends, and myself crammed in Billy's '50 black Ford and drove to Panama City, Florida, otherwise known as the Red-neck Riviera. That is where most of our high school friends were going. We did not have much money. I had only $30 and that was more than anyone else in the car. We found a motel called Key of Rest Motel, which was a dump. It had no paved parking lot and you had to share a bathroom with the next room, and no air conditioning and the buildings were made of concrete blocks with no type of insulation, but that was fine for $8 a night. There were six of us, but the owner-lady charged by head. We told her there were four of us, which was $2 each. After we made the deal we went to the nearest package store and bought some Spearmen 8 six-packs of beer for $1.50 a six pack. While driving around the area we ran into 5 or 6 more friends that did not have a place to stay. We invited them to stay with us. Then we played on the beach and layed in the sun. I noticed that a sign on the beach put up by the City of Panama Beach, Florida, said, "No Colored Maids Allowed On Beaches With Bathing Suits". I thought that was very sad. We were living in a cast system and didn't even know it. That night was a place called "The Hangout" which was a shelter overlooking the beach and the Gulf. The music was loud and people were dancing. Teenagers drunk their beer in the shadows and the police looked the other way unless there was trouble. About 11pm we returned to our room at the Key of Rest Motel. I think there were about ten or eleven of us. We were feeling the effects of cheap beer and also feeling the effect of a Florida sun-burn. We could not possibly sleep against each other in a crowded room. One of us went through the bathroom to the other door to the other room and knocked on it. Nobody answered it. He eased the door opened and looked inside. It was all clean and ready for occupancy. About half of us moved to the newly discovered room. Needless to say, we had no pajamas. We slept in our jockey shorts. In the middle of the night the door to the unpaid room opened. It was the lady owner showing the room to a newly wed couple. There was a bunch of screaming and hollaring. We were evicted. The lady-owner checked our suit cases before we were allowed to leave. It is a good thing she did, she found four towels. We had no place to go so we went to the beach. Panama City Beach has very beautiful soft white sand. So, each of us nestled us a comfortable mound of sand and fell asleep. As I was sleeping I thought I heard the sound of a lawnmower approaching. Then, we were all showered with a chemical. What we didn't know was each night or early morning the City sprays the beach for insects... they ride by in a crop dusting kind of contraption that shoots out some type of insect killer. That was about all of Panama City Beach we could take for that year. As I remember, we left sometime before noon that upcoming day. We went to see Billy and his brother's uncle and aunt in Valdosta, Georgia. We ended up staying in the area for a week. After a couple of nights they decided there were just too many of us to sponge off them, so another uncle and aunt came and picked three or four of us up and carried us to their home in Tifton, Georgia. The uncle that lived in Valdosta sung in a country and western band in a furniture warehouse every Tuesday night. Billy had never sung in public to a big gtoup of people before, but he was going to give it a try. The Tifton uncle and aunt carried us back down to Valdosta Saturday night for Billy's first time singing in public. Billy did great. The crowd went wild. Also that night, Billy and his brother's mother and sisters came down from Marietta to hear him sing. That next morning their mother carried us all back home to Marietta, except Billy, he stayed there for the summer singing. After that he got a job singing in Savannah and later put out a record which became a hit and through the next dozen years or so he put out a string of hits and became quiet famous, here in metro Atlanta, anyway. Later, he became fairly popular in Las Vegas and Nashville. He stills sings professionally, and occasionally I hear him on the radio, but I don't think he has put out any top 40 kind of stuff in a while, but they still play his old top 40 songs.

Today is National Pen Pal Day

Today is National Pen Pal Day. I think with email there are probably more Pen Pals than ever, even if they don’t know they are pen pals. And you don’t have to trouble yourself with postage and so on. Back in my formative years I felt it was my responsibility when a friend moved out of town with his parents or go into the Armed Service to keep that person updated with the latest news from his old stomping grounds and keep him/her entertained with my warped humor. From about the 4th grade on I was always juggling pen pals. Then after I left the Navy I had a few Navy Pen Pals. Then, with my on-line pursuit of MAD Comicbook fans here come more pen pals. And the same with my genealogy pursuit. Then last but not least, when our son was dating his future wife Sabrina somehow I don’t remember, but Sabrina’s aunt Thelma in Texas sent us an email or we sent her an email, either way, it was an email of something factual, then it was followed by a response which ended up in several responses, and one day I did not response and she emailed a day later wanting to know if all was OK. Our chain of email pen paling had begun. About 15 or so years later one day Thelma did not reply to my daily email. We called Sabrina and told her. She tried calling Thelma and no response. She called the local police and they went to check on her and found her in a coma. Sabrina and other kin went to Texas. Thelma died. I miss her and her daily facts and opinion. I had to readjust the empty gap in my routine. Also It is National Oscar the Grouch Day.

Cotton Tail?

On my walk this morning up ahead of me a fox ran across the road. Interesting , it had a fluffy black tail with a white fluffy tip, like Peter Cotton Tail, the Rabbit. True. I wished I was quick enough to take its picture. I wonder if this was the result of an affair between a fox and a rabbit?

John Rafas Hunter & Family

This is John Rafas Hunter (1870-1940), son of William A. Hunter/Trammell and Emaline Ray and his wife Lillie Belle Hill (1875-1973). Lillie lived just a few months short of 98 years. They are both buried at Bascomb Methodist Church, near Woodstock, Cherokee County, Georgia. The first picture, taken about 1891, their children: Elaine Jenny Hunter and Emma Viola Hunter. The next picture was taken about 1905. The children: The back row Elaine (1891 - ? ) and Emma (1896-1992) The front row: Walter Clarence* "Brother" Hunter and Ida Guyrine Hunter (1901-1919) *John's brother Frank also had a son named Walter Clarence, about the same age. That may be the reason Frank's Walter Clarence Hunter went by "W.C." John's son Walter Clarence was nicknamed "Brother". Neither Walter Clarence Hunter went by their given name. Elaine married Paul Willliam Poor and the moved to Lorain, Ohio, where they spent the rest of their lives. They had five children. Emma married Andrew Joseph Abercrombie. They first lived on Sixes Road in south Cherokee County, then they moved to Birmingham, Alabama to work in the steel mills. They had four children. Ida Guyrine died of a rare disease at age 18. Walter Clarence went north to work in the steel mills. He married Elsie Elizabeth Mohle He died in East Chicago, Il, at the young age of 31. They had two children.

Marietta National Cemetery

Pictures by me. MARIETTA NATIONAL CEMETERY - Horace Crowder is my first cousin, once removed. He is the son of Tom and Annie Tyson Crowder. He was killed during the Normandy Invasion and died in front of his best friend and first cousin Stanley Hunter. He had a son named Terry which I doubt if he ever met. I think Terry and his mother moved to Ohio and he would visit his grandmother, my great Aunt Annie in the summers. We were about the same age and played. I remember Terry's birthday was on Leap Year, February the 29th. I kidded him about being only 3 years old when I was 12. At his aunt's funeral he told me he was living in San Francisco. Incidentally, he barely remembered me or my existence. Norman Carsley is my late friend Sam Carsley's father. He was born in England, and probably had dual citizenship. His part of the ship was hit by a Japanese Kamikaze plane. His body was never found. His wife Hazel Baldwin Carsley never gave up hope that he would return. My father was Sam's surrogate father, which Sam reminded me all his life how much he appreciated that. Henry Cole. Henry donated the land for the National Cemetery when there was an immediate need for Northern soldiers burial grounds. Within the grounds is a plot for the Cole Family. Henry owned a hotel on the northwest corner of the Square. It is/was believed by many that Henry Cole was a Union spy. Psst! Click on each picture to make it bigger and more meaningful.

Charles & Paul Foster Saluting

Charles and Paul Foster. This is Anna's uncles, her mother Marie's two brothers, the youngest is Charles Jones Foster (1925-2012) and saluting Paul Everett Foster, Jr (1922-1995). In school Paul worked part time as a projector operator at the Strand Theater in Marietta. He joined the Marines and fought in the Pacific. After the war he reenlisted in the Air Force. After that tour he joined the Marietta Post Office where he retired. He married Barbara Shea, no children. Charles also worked for the Strand Theater while he was in school. He was in charge of getting the weekly programs printed and delivered. During WWII he enlisted in the Army, went to Pilots school and flew supplies in Europe during the war. Afterwards, he continued being a pilot for TWA until he retired. He married Florence Rogers and they moved to Kansas City. After he retired they moved back to Marietta. After Florence died he married Jane Johnson. Charles an Florence had three daughters.

SUNDAY FUNNIES!! MAD Comic's #20 take on PAUL REVERE'S RIDE by H.W. Longfellow

This is about the 5th or 6th I ran this story. Directed by editor Harvey Kurtzman and art by Jack Davis