Sunday, May 31, 2015

Plains, Ga. 1976

On November 19, 1976, Anna and I went to Jimmy Carter's home town of Plains, Georgia.  Jimmy had just be elected president and that was a good excuse to try out my new 35mm Minolta Camera I had bought  recently.
Of course we had wanted to capture the outside of the president-elect's home and maybe the president-elect himself, but that didn't happen.
But we did get  his mother Lillian Carter and his brother Billy Carter images captured on film, which made the trip worthwhile.

Since then I have had at least two, maybe more blog posts about the pictures.

Now, the cat is out of the bag or the beans have been spilled:   Some of my Plains pictures taken in 1976 will be in a Arcadia book about Plains.    Up until now I was keeping my mouth shut because I didn't know how committed it was, but apparently it is.

Bob Buccellato is putting the book together for Arcadia Press.  Bob contacted me for permission to use the pictures
, so here we are patting our foot waiting to see our stuff published.

Here are a few of the pictures that will probably be in the book (if I was doing the selecting).

Mrs. Lillian Carter is the white-hired lady, Billy Carter is wearing a red jacket, and his service station speakd for itself.

Saturday, May 30, 2015


Recently we learned that our dog Willow is a diabetic.  We have to give her insulin shots twice a day.  We also had to adjust her diet, less carbs and more protein. 
Which brings up the name of today's comics, DOG FOOD.

It came from the pages of EC Comicbook Publishing Company CRIME comicbook in the 1950s.  The story was illustrated by Johnny Craig.

Saturday Night On the square

We went to Glover Park two nights in a row to hear concerts.  Friday night was crowded.  The music was big band and crooning.  Tonight it was an orchestra playing show tunes,  movie themes, classical, and others, which I suppose would be call pop.
We saw several interesting things worth raising our eyebrows over. 
1.  A man in high 30s or early 40s walked up toting a skateboard, sat down at an outside table and ordered pizza, sat there alone and ate it.  Using a skateboard is probably a very good way to get exercise, keeps you on your toes so to speak.

2.  Two women, each with a large dog had a face-off, High Noon style by the old bank building.  Both was hollering at each other to yield to other one and their dog.  Finally, one gave in a crossed the street.

3.  A couple of years ago within a week or two time we went to Martins for breakfast, Come and Get It for lunch, and Olive Garden for dinner.  We saw the same woman at all three places working at grunt jobs, like sweeping or picking up garbage in the parking lot.  And we kept on seeing her as time went by.  I think she was holding down three jobs.   Today at Marietta Pizza  we saw her again and with a male companion.  The male  companion, whatever  his role was to her, wore a very light straw western hat.  I think they had words at Marietta Pizza and she ate at table outside and he ate at a table inside.  One time he came out and snap at her and she snapped back, so he went back inside.  Later at the concert we saw them waking in tow of each other, but not looking like they  happily in love.  No love made in heaven with these two.

The music at the concert was nice and relaxing. 

Friday, May 29, 2015

Small World, Another Episode

Tonight we went to Glover Park to listen to the big band and crooner sound of  Douglas Cameron and his band. 

Just when it started a guy, part of a larger group sat down beside me.  We did not speak for about one hour.   We just didn't know each other.

Before this guy sat down, I  spoke to Vickie Turner Hunt and took her picture.   She sat behind us and I wasn't sure if Vickie was part of this big group or not.  Once when Vickie was walking back to her seat she said something like, "Eddie, Have you met my brother Steve Turner?"

We had a lot to talk about then.   I thought I was going to have to tell the Douglas Cameron Band to hold it down so Steve and I could talk about everybody we knew in common.

Steve's picture is below.

My 10 Minutes of Fame

I'm Famous!  For about ten minutes.

My long time long distance friend ,Par, who manages several blogs published a post about me.   He told me a few days ago he was planning it, and apparently,  I didn't offer him enough NOT to, so he carried out his extortion threat.

No, seriously folks, I am very flattered and feel like screwing my right toe into the dirt and saying, "Oh Shucks!"

Thank you Par, you have great taste!

Now to see to blog about me, click below:

Click Here!

Thursday, May 28, 2015

Battle of Kennesaw Mountain Personally Changed this Family's Destin

In about two to three weeks will be another anniversary of the Battle of Kennesaw Mountain.  It will be 151 years this year.  My great grandfather William Hunter's  life changed that week and   his   200 to 300 descendants'  hometowns was destined to be Marietta and Woodstock.  If he was not shot in the knee during the battle we might  all be Texans now. 

Let me explain my reasoning:
Our Hunter ancestor that first came to this area was William A. Hunter. was first in the area when was in the CSA,  fighting on Kennesaw Mountain and got shot in the knee.
He recuperated in a private home near Woodstock.  He was there long enough to make friends with his caretakers' neighbors.
After the war he returned home to Macon County, North Carolina.  There, his uncle Van Trammell  got into a heated argument about the Civil War and he killed the person.  William was a witness saying Van could not have killed him because he was him all day.  Proof was provided against his statement and Van was wanted for murder and  William was wanted as an accessory to murder.
First they fled to Arkansas to Van's brother's home and  William went on to Texas.  He brought his family.  He had a hard time providing for his family and returned to Woodstock, Georgia, to look up  friends he had made when he was recuperating.  They helped him get emplopyed.

If William had made a go of it in Texas.....Yippee Ki Yay, Y'all!

Wednesday, May 27, 2015

Nice Doing Business With You

Today I walked into the store we bought our refrigerator several years ago to buy a new water filter for it.  Several salesmen were standing around talking.  It didn't take long to see that I was the only customer on the big showroom floor.
I picked out the water filter I needed from a display rack.  I read in the manual I need to change it every 6 months.  On second thought, I decided to buy two filters, the last two they had of that type.

One of the salesman posted nearby wanted to know if he could help me.  I told him I wanted to buy "these two water filters".

"I see" he said thoughtfully.  He continued , "Did the red light come on or the water started tasting strange."

"No, the manual said I needed to change it every 6 months."

"You could probably have got another month of use out of it."

I thought we probably could have, there are only two of us living in the house now.

I said, "Well, actually I am a week past six months." I lied - actually I was only 1 day over six months.   I thought that might make him happy.

He said, "And you are buying two?"

"Yes, a year's supply.  I saw these are the last two left, so I grabbed them."

"We get new shipments in every week, between those we might run out of something, but have it back in stock within a week."

I didn't have much to say to that, I suppose I could have said, "Really?"
He led me over the cashier who rang up the sell. 
The person that I think was the manager oversaw the whole transaction. 

As I grabbed my plastic bag the  maybe-manager shook my hand and told me it was nice doing business with me.

The short little cashier came around the counter and shook my hand too.  I wondered if we were going to all hug?  The salesman that oversaw my picking out the filter waved at a distance.

I left.

I don't think they get many customers.

Arnold Parrish Left Us.

Arnold and Joe Tucker

Howard Burnette and Arnold

I hated to hear about Arnold Parrish dying.  I have known Arnold and his family all my life.  His family and my family lived close together in the Clay Homes.

We always chatted at the Bell and Varner Reunion and wherever else we would run into each other.  I ran into him a lot at Kennestone Hospital where he was a volunteer.   I was always amazed how young he looked.  He looked and acted that someone much younger than he was.

The last time I saw him was about two or three months ago at Johnboys.  We kept looking at each other.  I was trying to decide if it was Arnold and I think he was doing the same.  Finally he said, "Eddie, how is Frances (my sister)?"

I don't think I have ever seen Arnold with scowl or frown on his face.  His facial muscles were not trained that way.

He was such a positive person.  The world is a better place because of him.

Tuesday, May 26, 2015

My 2 Week Yuma and Hollywood Hills Jaunt

In the summer of 1967 I went with my Naval Reserve Squadron to a Marine Base in Yuma, Arizona.

When we first stepped off the plane the dry heat felt very differently than our  Georgia high humidity heat.

When we were unloading our duffle bags, equipment,  and things onto a tram the guy that drove the tram to the plane was somebody I knew.  His last name was Moody.   We both were in the HU-4 Helicopter Utility Squadron.  He had just made first class before I went off active duty.  I remembered he was from North Carolina.  About ten years later (1976-7) when I started doing genealogy research I found  out Moody is one of my surname lines.  Oh well, too late now to ask him about his roots.

I was a personnelman, which included yeoman duties.  One of those duties was pick up the mail daily and bring it back and sort it.  I had to walk almost a mile, there and back, to get office to get the mail.  It was walking on a trail through the a little piece of a  desert.  I could have got transportation but I insisted on walking it every morning.  It was my daily solitude moment.

One night a bunch of us  somehow got  one of the Marines stationed there to drive us about 20 miles south to Saint Louise, Mexico.  It was very interesting.  I have no idea how we got back to the base that night.

My immediate supervisor was Chief Spg.  I will give him the name Spg because it is similar to his real name.  The reason I don't want to use his real name because he was a pain in the ass.   He wasn't a bad person, he meant well.  He was friendly but always was disorganized - he reminded me of Rodney Dangerfield.

I found out I could hop a free flight to Anaheim, California, free on a Marine helicopter, Friday after we got off work.  I made my plans.  I'll be packed, and I would slip off early and hop a free flight to Anaheim.  And no Chief Spg for a couple of days.

Imagine my surprise when I climbed aboard the helicopter and there was Chief Spg already in a seat.
On the flight we sort of avoided each other.  I think he thought I wanted to get away from him and he was right, I felt guilty.

We landed at a Marine Base very near Disneyland.
I stood on the edge of the highway just outside of Disneyland's gates and hitchhiked.  It took a while to get a ride.  I could hear loud music, oohs, and aahhs, from the rides.

I  was hitchhiking for down in the heart of Las Angeles.  I got a room in a hotel and went bar hopping alone.  I finally ended up in a lonely bar called the Jungle Room.   I enjoyed walking around seeing all the strange L.A. people.  I also went to a U.S.O. dance.  It was the first and last time I went to a U.S.O. dance. 

Saturday was more walking around L.A. sightseeing.  I was approached by several panhandlers and was sized up by several dubious looking characters who looked to me like they would love to do me harm, size me up.
I decided it would be much safer and cheaper to sit in the window of the hotel  lobby and watch interesting people pass. 

After sitting a while Chief Spg walked by the big window.  I sat motionless hoping he would not see me.  He glanced my way, but kept on moving his gaze and walked out of the window view.

"Whew!"  I sighed.

Then in a blink of the eye, there he was again, in the window looking at me waving.

I acted surprised, which I wasn't really acting, I thought I got away with dodging him.

He came on in and we talked.  He asked if I would mind if he shared my room for the night.

"Of course not!" I lied.

We went out and ate someplace, which I forgot,  and he paid the bill.  This arrangement might not be so bad after all.

Someplace that evening Chief Spg said the wrong thing to somebody and he almost got pounced on but I sensed trouble brewing and we exited quickly... I remember it like I just typed, but I don't remember the details.

That night he slept on a couch in the room and I slept in the bed.  He snored and kept me partially awake.  The next morning he paid for breakfast at the breakfast room in the hotel.   We then went back to the room and after we cleaned up he started making phone calls.

He was searching for an old friend he was in the Navy friend and they kept up their communications.   He lived in Hollywood Hills and he told the Chief if he was ever in town, call him.... which that was what the Chief did.
The chief's friend came and picked us up in front of the hotel.  He was driving an expensive car.  He took us through the winding roads of Hollywood Hills.  He pointed out several famous people's houses.  He lived   in a nice house too.  He was an executive engineer  for Disney Studios.
His wife was Asian and very friendly .  While the Disney Executive and Chief Spg were busy catching up with old times that left the wife to entertain me.   She was a very good hostess and  was very interested in everything about me.  We spent three to four hours together talking about various experiences and subjects.

She showed me the house the back yard and over on one side was a tall chain-link fence and two huge dogs barked and growled at me.   However, they liked her.  she told me the dogs belong to their neighbor  Steve McQueen and that was his house behind the bushes and trees.  I suggested we could climb a tee and wait on him to step out to tell the dogs to shut up and then we could wave at him.  She thought that was funny and had several bursts of laughter over it.

It was a very nice visit and it was worth putting up with Chief Spg.

The chief's friend took us to the bus station. Sunday evening we took the bus back to Yuma.  I slept most the way I think.
The next week one of our squadron's pilots went down in a jet and he was killed.  It took a whole day of searching to find him and a lot of the men in the squadron used desert vehicles all over the rocky mountains looking for him and his plane.  Unfortunately, they found him and the plane.  He was dead.

That was my last two-week warrior weekend.

Monday, May 25, 2015


Tuba Skinny's RUNNING DOWN YOUR MAN.  That sounds romantic!

Fife in War

The fife is a symbol of one of the musical instruments played in the Revolutionary War. 

It was also played in the War of 1812.  In the War of 1812 my g-g-g- grandfather Greenville Pullen (1788-1860)  was a military musician who tooted a fife.  Here is what I have on him and his fife:

He was in the War of 1812.   Enlisted in Milledgeville, Ga., in 1814 for a term of eighteen months.  He was discharged at Fort Jack, near Savannah, Ga.  He enlisted as a private and later was appointed musician, a fifer for the company.  Records show he was discharged after both arms were broken in an accident while at work on barracks.

-Paul Pullen

Maybe Greenville didn't play very well and some of his barrack friends thought if both arms were broken he would not be able to hold the fife.



Sunday, May 24, 2015

Double Feature Reviews

Last night was Double Feature night at the Hunter House, Sandy Plains Road Branch.  We have not had the time in a long time to watch a move, so we watch two, trying to catch up.  We watched  SELMA and THE COBBLER.

Man!  SELMA was about a terrible time in history when blacks were simply refused the right to vote because the color of their skin.  Legally they had the right, but the officials required much more when a black person tried to register.

I would say that was creative artistic liberties to dramatize or bend reality, but I know from first hand experience it was reality of the past:  When I turned 18, in 1959 I went to the courthouse to register to vote.  The person who had me fill out the form, had a good old boy personality , smiling with southern politeness.  I think he might even said he knew my father and his brothers.   When I filled out the form he said there was one more requirement.  He gave me a little piece of paper and told me to read aloud what it said.  It was Lincoln's Gettysburg's Address.
"Four Score and Seven Years ago...."
He interrupted.   That's good, you passed.
I said, "I haven't finished reading it."
He said in his good old boy smiling charm, "You read enough, if you had said, "FOE SCOE and seven years" I would have to disqualify you."  We don't want illiterates voting, no telling who they might vote for."  And winked and  laughed.

I think he thought he was being a patriotic American.

About seven or eight years later when equal voting rights was in the news it was brought out that a Morehouse College English professor (black of course) failed the literacy test.

Those times were terrible times if you happened to be born black.   And it took a movie like SELMA to bring it out.  I think there was a case of over-acting when the violent scenes were shown, but that could have been over-directing more than over acting.

THE COBBLER was a funny movie, almost like a fairy tale.  The Cobbler, played by Adam Sandler,  found a way he could instantly change identities.  It sort of got confusing at the end, who was who.  But a good escape.

It reminded me of the vintage MANDRAKE THE MAGICIAN newspaper comicstrip that Mandrake could cloud people's mind with his identity by hypnotizing  them.

Fort Sumter, the First Shot In the Civil War

This is Memorial Day Weekend.   This weekend we are trying to show appreciation for the American military.    So, here is another true war story, illustrated.
The time we went to war with ourselves.   We won.  We lost.  The actual first shot was fired at Fort Sumter in Charleston Bay, South Carolina, on April 12, 1861.  It was the first shot to start this nation's Civil War.
By the way, once we took a tour of Fort Sumter Island, out in the Charleston Bay.  Did you know it is not a natural island?  Huge rocks were shipped down the coast from New England and the rocks and boulders were dumped in the exact spot over and over.  Can you imagine how huge of a project this was?  Without the use of power machinery.... it boggles my mind to even think of the huge task involved.

The story was written by  EC's FRONTLINE COMBAT  Comicbook's editor Harvey Kurtzman, but to be honest, History wrote really wrote it.  Will Elder and John Severin  were the artists.
Kurtzman, Elder, and Severin were long time friends and business partners.  They were three of the five original artistic staff of MAD Comicbook.

click on each image in order to make it larger so you can make sense of what it is about.

From EC's FRONTLINE COMBAT Comicbook, #9

Saturday, May 23, 2015

Robert Gerald "Jerry" Hunter 1941-1966

Jerry Hunter was born about four months before me.  He lived with his family in Douglasville.  As small kids we sometimes played together as kids.  Honestly, we did not hit it off, we had two different lifestyles.  I was what would I call now a "free range" kid.  I had freedom do wander where I wanted and come back when I wanted (within reason).  Jerry, on the other hand, was raised to ask his parents' permission to leave the yard.
I think that the well-disciplined way of life paid off for him.  He graduated from Douglasville High school with honors and also graduated from Citadel Military College in Charleston as an military officer and a pilot.
He gave his life in the Viet Nam War.  He was shot down .
From the magazine LOOKING GOOD DOUGLAS COUNTY, Vol 1, Number 3, March/April 1988. Article JERRY HUNTER: he gave his life.  By Vicki Harsbarger.
Jerry Hunter, 25, was about to complete his 34th mission of the Vietnam War.
The two months he had spent in Vietnam had been filled with missions such as this one.  Supply lines were sought, supply lines were bombed.
The F-105 was a one-man jet requiring much expertise of the pilot.  He delivered his bombs directly on the targeted bridge.  The enemy fire hit the plane, he bailed out.  The pilots watched as the parachute disappeared from sight in the trees.
From the ground, a beeper signal was heard by the pilots.  They attempted a rescue, but enemy fire struck from the area of the area where the parachute had landed.  A second plane was hit, and the pilots were forced to return to base.
Two months later, American soldiers were able to search the place where Robert Gerald Hunter went down.  Laos natives took the men to the place where his body was buried.
Jerry began his final journey home to be buried in the town where he was voted most talented of Douglas County High School; where he dreamed of one day attending the Citadel; and where of dream of becoming a pilot began with an essay written on how Lindbergh's flight across the Atlantic would affect the future of aviation.
Awards came early for Jerry Hunter.  He was honored with other superlatives at Douglas County High School, with his claim to fame the title of Most Talented.  He was well known for his artistic talents, and worked as editor of the school yearbook.  He starred in the senior play.
"If anything happens to him, he's doing what he wants to do", his wife of one year, Laura Ann Milby, had said of Hunter.  His parents, Robert and Zelma, had suggested that he choose a line of work in keeping with his Citadel degree in business administration, but he would not settle for less than his dreams.
"He wanted to be the best." Zelma Hunter reminisces.  "He always wanted to be a good pilot.  He said if he made a good place for himself in the Air Force he would make a career of it or he would be become a commercial pilot," she said.
The handsome flyer passed all manner of physical tests toprove his fitness of pilot training, which he received at Moody Air Force Base in Valdosta following his graduation from the Citadel with honors.  Minor surgery was suffered twice by Hunter in order to fly the F-105, Mrs. Hunter said.
"He didn't want us to worry," Mrs. Hunter says lovingly of her son.  "I'd ask him on the telephone if he'd been shot at, wanting him to say no. He'd say, "Yes, but  they missed.  Don't worry about it, Mom, sometimes it's fun."
During the week while the Hunters awaited the return of Jerry's body, the Chamber of Commerce acting on a motion by Church of Christ Minister Richard Waggoner, passed a resolution recommending that the park be memorably named Hunter Park.
On July 18, 1966, the Hunters' hopes died with the news of their son's death and his returning body.  On July 22, funeral services were held at the Church where Jerry became a Christian, First Baptist Church of Douglasville.  The church was overflowing as the first Douglas County military and 11th Citadel victim of the Vietnam war was laid to rest.
Over 100 flags flew at Douglasville businesses, painstakingly placed there by the remembering hands of the Jaycees.  The town was subdued as businesses closed for the afternoon.
As faces were in unison at Rose Memorial Gardens Cemetery toward the casket containing the remains of Robert Gerald Hunter, the sound of planes roared overhead, urging the mourners to gaze upward.
Four planes flew across the horizon in unison, three planes returned.

This plane is a fixture at Douglasville's Robert Gerald Hunter's Memorial Park



Thursday, May 21, 2015

Mark Bagley, My Claim to Fame

Mark Bagley is the husband to my first cousn Pattie Hunter.  Mark is a comicbook artist, specializing in super heroes.  He is best know for his excellent work doing SPIDERMAN.

Here he is written about in THE WASHINGTON POST:

Click here!


Wednesday, May 20, 2015

So Long David Letterman!

So long David!   I don't know if anyone can fill your shoes.  I watched you once and I think you are very good, at what you do... or did.

Now  plenty of people are interviewing you and you are invited on a lot of talk shows.  Someplace in one of these interviews I heard you say you have a hard time remembering who you had on your show.  Of course, some people would stand out, but a lot of people didn't.  You were very cordial to them, but when they walked off the stage, out of sight, out of mind.  You  said sometimes you couldn't even remember who was on that night when your wife asked.

Which brings to mind, I am just curious, do  you remember the night I was a guest on your show?  I am one of the most forgettable people in the world and besides that I am invisible, so I would not be surprised if you did not remember me.

However, I was there, and I haven't got paid yet.  Please forward this to payroll, or whomever pays the guests
And, if you don't mind, instead of embarrassing yourself not remembering I was on the show one time, write a note and attach to this saying, you remember me.

Yours Truly,

Eddie Hunter

Tuesday, May 19, 2015


We went to Downtown Marietta yesterday to see a lawyer.  The building the lawyer's firm is in was a stable for travelers back before electricity, engines, and all other modern things.  Then after street cars and trolleys were invented and became operational it became a Street Car Terminal, something like a small version of New York City's Grand Central Station.  

See the artful metallic ceiling?

As you can tell I was on a smart phone picture snapping frenzy.  We don't get out often.

click on image to enlarge.