Liberals Are Good

 

SUNDAY FUNNIES!!! HELP Magazine, DOGPATCH

Art by Will Elder, Story by Ed Fisher.  Normally if the art is by Will Elder the story will be by Harvey Kurtzman.  But not this time.  This was written by the famous NEW YORKER cartoonist Ed Fisher (1926-2013).

This story has been on Chicken-Fat's SUNDAY FUNNIES before, but in case you missed it.

Leroy Burton Poor, cousin

 

Hunter first cousins – Our second cousin: Leroy Burton Poor (1925-2018) has died on July the 19th. Our grandfather Frank Paris Hunter and his grandmother Arminta Jane Hunter Poor are siblings.

Mayes Ward Obituary:

Leroy Burton Poor, Kennesaw, passed away peacefully on July 19, 2018. Visitation will be held from 1:00 – 2:00 pm, at Mayes Ward Dobbins Funeral Home, Marietta, on Sunday, July 22. The service will follow in the Chapel with the Rev. Phillip Young officiating. Interment will be immediately after at Cheatham Hill Memorial Park in Marietta.

Leroy was born on March 28, 1925, in his parents’ home on Mill Street in Woodstock, Georgia, the fourth of five boys born to Albert and Ruby Lee Poor. Leroy grew up loving the outdoors, fishing, hunting and exploring with a keen sense of adventure and curiosity. In 1942, at the age of seventeen, Leroy convinced his father to sign for him to follow two of his older brothers, Albert Jr. and James by joining the United States Navy to defend his country. Never one to talk much about his wartime experiences, questioning from his sons and grandchildren revealed both peaceful and harrowing times as a Sailor. On June 8, 1944, Leroy’s first ship, The USS Rich, sank off the coast of Normandy after making contact with three German mines. Leroy was the only one of his 7-man gun crew to survive the explosion and sinking of his ship. After recovering, Leroy was assigned to the USS Lacerta where he served in the Pacific Theater experiencing several major actions including the Invasion of Okinawa. After the war in 1946, Leroy married the love of his life, Annette Hicks, who he had known as a child but with whom he reconnected after the war. Leroy and Annette were happily married for over 70 years before her passing. They raised four boys and spent their retirement years pulling travel trailers all over the country. Leroy was retired from Lockheed after 32 years as a Tool and Die Maker.

He was predeceased by his parents, Albert Sr. and Ruby Lee, his step mother, Ethel Brannen Poor, his brothers, Albert Jr., Lewis and James, his wife Annette and his daughter-in-law, Wonda.

Surviving are his brother, Col. (Ret.) William T. Poor, his sons, Terry (Cynthia), Albert, Danny (Sue) and Charles Poor. Additional survivors are 7 grandchildren and 14 loving great grandchildre.

Milton Martin

 

Just a day or so ago a storm named Milton was raging in Florida.

When I thought of its name I thought of an old friend named Milton.  Milton Martin.  There is a Milton Martin car dealership of Gainesville, Georgia, but I don’t think it is the same Milton.

We moved from Manget Street to Richard Street in about 1954.  I was in the 8^th Grade. 

A block away was The Boston Homes.   The Boston Homes was a rental project.  It was on a side of  hill.

Richard Street went to the “4 Lane” aka “41 Highway”.

I made friends with people who lived in The Boston Homes.   Two of my new friends were Milton Martin and Gene Brown. 

Milton and I had the same sense of humor and seemed to catch on to the other’s wit. 

As I said Richard Street ran into the 4-Lane, across the 4-Lane was a thick patch of woods.  About 4 of us built a little cabin, or “Hide Out” in the thick, which would later be the area the amusement park White Water would be.  I remember one time, after the Hideout was built we stocked it with girly magazines.  The girls wore low-cuts.  Some of our younger friends could not understand why you coud not tilt the picture sideways and peep down their low-cuts.

Milton and I had a silent game going on that only we understood.  We pretended we were making a movie of all our friends, without their knowledge.  When one was doing something stupid one of us would make a buzzing noise like a movie camera might make… only us two caught on.

Almost next door to Milton was a young man named Crowe.  I think he lived with his parents.  He worked at WFOM FM Radio.  Later years I think he was one of the top officers of the  radio station.

I think Acworth Beach opened in 1954 or ’55.  On Easter that time my sister Frances, who had her drivers’ license decided to go to Acworth Beach and lie on the beach to get sun.  Milton and I decided to go with her.  We did very little beach or swimming time, but instead walked around the beach park.  Not far away we saw a bunch of row boats turned upside down on the ground.  There was a “Boats for rent” sign.  I think we were their only customers that Easter Morning.  We rowed across the lake to the other side.  We discovered there were a lot of little tributaries coming into the lake.  We rowed up and down the little water paths, seeing trees hanging overhead and so.  It was awesome. 

What we did not realized until hours later we were sun-cooked.  We were red as lobsters.  And the next day at school I was in pain, I could hardly move.  In time I peeled.  But some near 70 years later parts of my body exposed to the sun that day are darker and you can definite see my bathing suit lines.

Milton was a couple years older than I.  I remember when he became eligible he joined the Air Force.  I remember the night before his physical examination he ate plenty of bananas.  He was afraid he underweight to join the military.

It must have worked. 

Away he went, I don’t think he returned.

Miss Shouse, Mrs Kinney 5th grade teacher

 

Miss Shouse My 5th Grade Teacher

The first female I had a crush on was laid to rest yesterday. Miss Alberta Shouse Kinney was my 5th grade teacher. I wasn't the only boy in class that watched every move she made. I think there were about five or six or us, and it was very secret - we didn't even tell each other we belonged to a secrete Worship Miss Shouse Club.

One time in class she asked me would I like to have a pet pigeon. “Would I ever!” I said something of that effect.

After school that day I walked with her to her apartment. We went down Waterman Street to Atlanta Street, up Atlanta Street, through the downtown area, and after we passed North Park Square the street named changed to Cherokee Street. About four or five blocks down we turned on to Forest Avenue, where her apartment was. Her apartment was in an old two story house, I think that specialized in renting to teachers.

I felt proud walking with the pretty perk lady by all the old and drunk men that seemed to always be in hanging out front of the courthouse.

The night before, somehow she rescued the poor pigeon from being drowned in a downpour rain. She had the bird in a cardboard box with little holes punched in it.

I carried the box with the pigeon home, which was probably close to a two mile walk. We lived in an older house on Manget Street, across from Larry Bell Park, with my grandfather. There was a little bathroom on one end of the back porch. It was the first bathroom before the house was upscale to a inside bathroom. Since no one used the back porch bathroom any longer, I considered it my den.

I put the pigeon in the old bathroom with some bread pieces and closed the door for the night. The next morning I rushed in to feed and water it again and there was only a bunch of feathers. Either a rat or my grandfather’s cat managed somehow to get in and ate it or maybe it escaped.

That morning in class Miss Shouse asked me how the pigeon was doing. I told her the pigeon was doing good (if you consider the pigeon no longer with us as “good”). I felt if I told her the real fate of the bird she would think less of me.

Thinking back I think Miss Shouse reminded me Jane Russell. She was graceful, glamorous, and dark headed, just like Jane the Goddess. Maybe that had something to do with my thoughts.

Either before the pigeon or after it that year, at recess the late Van Calloway shoved me against the fire escape.

When my forehead hit the metal rail or something of the fire escape blood gushed. The impact cut a gash in my forehead. Miss Shouse helped me walk to the second floor to the teacher’s lounge. There she had me lie on a cot and she had some kind of towel on my cut and applied pressure. She sat holding it until my daddy could come and carry me to the old hospital. If I remember correctly, Doctor Haygood closed the wound with five or six stitches. After the bandages were removed my forehead looked something like the Frankenstein Monster, which wasn’t bad for an attention-getter.

Miss S carried me to the teacher's lounge and padded and kept a towel on my head. She had my head in her lap. I found out how nice and soft unrelated women can be. We stayed in that position until my Daddy could get there in his police chief's car to rush me to the hospital.

Darn! I was enjoying using her thighs as a pillow.

With me getting the full concerned attention of my teacher made my pain go away. I knew when daddy came in quickly the pleasure was over.

At the time Daddy was the Chief of the Marietta Police. The Marietta Daily (except Sunday) Journal had young male reporter by the name of Bill Kinney. Daddy took Bill with him on the biggest moonshine raid ever in Cobb County. The still was about where Wal-Mart, just north of Windy Hill Road, is now. I heard rumors that Bill got tipsy by the smell of the shine. Bill Kinney was courting Miss Shouse and she soon became Mrs. Kinney.

Not long ago, I emailed Bill Kinney and told him about the pigeon episode and confessed his wife thought the pigeon was well cared for and I didn’t have the heart to tell her otherwise. He understood.

Hello Eddie,

While doing some research online today, I came across the article that you wrote about my mother, Alberta ShouseKinney.

It was a very nice piece, and I appreciate the care that you took in writing it.

She loved teaching fifth grade and shared stories about her days at Waterman Street School with us. In fact, I believe she told me a version of the pigeon tale.

I don't know your full identity, Eddie, but I just want to thank you for writing a nice article about my mother.

Sincerely,

Pat Kinney Barner

Eddie,

Certainly you can reprint my e-mail, but let me share with you what may be "the rest of the story." (And you can print this.) As both of them tell the story: Mom was walking in front of the old courthouse when a pigeon sent its droppings down the middle of her face and onto the front of her dress. This insult could not go unpunished. So when Daddy learned of this indignity, he secured the aid of a young boy who captured a pigeon, placed it in a box and delivered it to her with a note saying "The culprit has been apprehended." So Eddie, It is possible that you were the recipient of the miscreant pigeon, though we will never know for sure.

Thanks again,

Pat

Preacher's House in Varnell, Ga

 

This house is in the middle of Varnell, Georgia. Varnell is between Dalton, Tunnel Hill, and Cohutta, Georgia. There was a fish hatchery nearby, Prather's Mill, and a lot of farms. This house used to be white and it was the preachers house. It is vacant now. My grandmother and her daughter and grandson lived next door in what now is a vacant lot.

On the other side of the preacher's house were railway tracks and a water tower for the trains. When I was about 5 years old and visiting my grandmother I went next door to play with the preacher's daughter who was about my age. A little while later someone noticed we both were missing and they hollered for us. I stuck my heard out from the opening in the top of the water tower and asked what did they want. I don't remember that they flipped out, but I think they probably did. I know I would have.

I think we were on a ladder on the inside leading down the water.

Below the house then was a big spring with tiny rocks and tiny little back periwinkle shells that kept the water clean. My sister and I used to go there, which was just about 100 feet away and bring back water. I don't think they had running water. I think they had an outhouse which I thought was amusing.

My sister and I returned to Varnell in 2007. There was still only one store in down but it was now a big convenience store and a country family didn't own it, a Far Eastern Indian did. He wanted to know what we were doing.

Before my time and even before my mother's family moved to Varnell, in the early 1900s, two Mormons came to Varnell handing out literature. Sometimes people are not so tolerant of outsiders handing out pamphlets. The men folk carried the two Mormons down by the spring and shot them dead..

Haunted House was at Dobbins AFB

 

This house is no longer. It has been torn down. It did belong to a family who owned a lot of land in the area. The area being Dobbins AFB and Lockheed Martin. When the government took it over and it was vacated, then the next rumor was it was haunted. It was turned into an Officer’s Club. Some claim in the rest rooms they felt a “presence” Like someone or something was very close to them in the restrooms. I have been there one time for a birthday or a retirement party. I did not sense a presence. When I wen t to the rest room. That was before I heard rumor. If had know of the rumor I might have sensed ghosts, if only I knew what to imagine.

Someplace on the Lockheed Martin Air Force property I heard my Hunter kin had a farm. One time an uncle of mine went onto the property with a shotgun. He was drunk. He told the Lockheed Guards the property was rightfully his and now get off!

Guess who won.

Cuba Cards and Steaks

 

Just reviewing some early pictures.  This is about 1971 when we lived in Smyrna, Ga.   This is at the dining room table playing Canasta with a Cuban couple. 

You have not played Canasta Cards until you play with Cubans.  They screamed, laughed, shook their arms to show their exciment.  Every draw was a life or death act.

The Cuban couple owned a ranch in Cuba.  They rubbed the Cuban government wrong and they had to go.  They took a midnight boat to Miami. 

Their daughter’s husband was a fellow timekeeper for the Post Office in  Atlanta.  He had to work the night this picture was taken.

I remember the night this picture was taken I cooked steaks on a Hibachi, T-Bone or Porterhouse, next to the caport.  The man came out  and we talked as I flipped the meat.  I suppose that is a universal tradition, when having company in nice weather the man of the house cooks outside and the visiting male keeps the cook company and talk about man things.

He spoke Spanish or Latino and I spoke Southern Fried.  We had a hard time understanding each other so we smiled at each other a lot and nodded enthusiastically. 

Then when putting the steaks on a platter one slipped and fell on the ground.  I showed him I was angry at myself and I would eat the dropped steak.  He shook his head and signed that no, he would eat the fallen steak.  He insisted.  I insisted.

I forgot which of us won but we agreed it would be our secret, the women folk had no need to know about it.

 

BOOK REPORT (comicbook): WEIRD SCIENCE Issues 7 – 12) Vol 2.  WEIRD SCIENCE was a comic book in the 1950s published by EC Comics, who also brought you other sci-fi comic plus Horror Comics (TALES FROM THE CRYPT, etc). war comics, and last but not least humor & satire comics (MAD & PANIC).

When William Gaines father Max,  was killed in a boating accent, William ended up running EC Comics, which then EC stood for Educational Comics but soon stood for Entertainment Comics.  William was not happy with his new responsibility and planned to sell it.  But as it turned out he and artist/editor teamed up and put out some very entertaining books and money making comic books.  The science fiction line was not a money maker.  They lost money.  But Science Fiction was where William and Al’s heart were. 

I read this book on-loan from my Kendal ipad through the LIBBY system.   It had about two dozen very interesting scifi stories.  The artists includes Wally Wood (excellent sci fi illustrator),  Al Feldtein, Harvey Kurtzman (creator of MAD Comicbook), Joe Orlando, Jack Kamen and more.

Some of the stories were openly stolen. Publisher William Gaines said “everybody did it back then), and some was much like O’Henry Stories.

I think I have read all these stories in my preteen youth but they were still just as entertaining.  They are withstanding the test of time.

My Grandpa Frank Hunter & G Grandpa Wm Hunter

 My grandmother, Minnie Tyson Hunter died July 1948. Almost two years later, March 1950, my Grandfather Frank Paris Hunter died.

When Grandma died we moved in with Grandpa. For twenty month I Had some great interactions with him. He taught me to ride a bike; He pushed me hard up a hill and turning around going down hill he let go and I kept my balance; Once I backed up too close to the fireplace early in the morning a hot cinder popped out and poof! My pajamas flamed up and he grabbed me and threw me down and extinguished the fire, how I don’t remember. My legs were covered with blisters for a while. He saved my life!

He was a drinker. He kept homebrew hidden under the house by brick pillar. He hid his drinking, and we pretended not to know about it.

Sometimes when he drank he got teary. One time in a tearful way he told our last name was not really Hunter. He told me his father was adopted as a baby in Franklin, North Carolina.

About 25 years later when our oldest son was born and we named him I remembered what Grandpa said, “our last name is not really Hunter”.

So I took up the past time of genealogy to find out what our last name really should be.

Grandpa’s father, I knew, is buried in Carmel Baptist Cemetery in Woodstock, Georgia, and he was married to Emaline Ray.

By his tombstone I knew he was born in 1842. In the Georgia Room of the library I looked at the 1850 of Franklin, Macon County, Noth Carolina, hoping to find a William A. Hunter, age 8. No such name was listed.

At the time a neighbor wprled for Southern Bell Phone Company. He got me a telephone book for Macon County. I knew he married Emaline Ray. So I sent every Ray in their phone book did they know of a William Hunter that married Emaline Ray. I enclosed stamped addressed envelopes. There were about 30 Rays that I sent the enquiry to. I got a few back wishing me luck and one with the information I wanted.

The response said something like this. “I hate to tell you this, but your ancestor was named William A. Trammell.. After the Civil War he and his brother Van Trammell shot and killed a man and escaped Franklin, NC, for they were wanted for Murder. And William changed his last name to Hunter.

The letter was not completely true. Van Trammell was his uncle, not his brother. The person killed last name was Lambert of Lambert’s Cove. It was about a year after the Civil War and they had a heated political argument which Lamert was killed. Uncle Van Trammell did the killing and William was somehow pat of it.

William fought in the Civil War, being wounded on Kennesaw Mountain and recuperated at a private residence in Woodstock, Ga. (in the Anderson Community of Cherokee Co., Ga).

They both fled the state. They, and William’s wife Emaline and children fled to Texas. They had a hard time making it so they went back East. Grandpa was born in Paris, Texas. Paris is his middle name.

Uncle Van Trammell settled in Arkansas, near the Texas state line

William A. Trammell changed his name to William A. Hunter, which it should have been anyway. Franklin’s constable, Jason Henderson Hunter, impregnated Rebecca Trammell, daughter of Jacob V Trammell. Rebeca sued Jason H. Hunter for bastardy and won, Jason had to pay $100 a year for child support.

William A. Hunter remembered how friendly the folks in Woodstock, Georgia, was to him so he and his family moved there. He died in 1928.

William and Emaline Ray Hunter house is on Main Street in Woodstock, Ga., which is now a tool rental company.

On the TV series LINCOLN LAWYER one of his client is LISA TRAMMELL triggered my brain into spilling all this out

Natural Curves on a fence

 My father-in-law's fence by his Garden, many years ago.