We moved in with our Grandpa Hunter in 1948. Either that summer or the next Summer Larry
Bell Park opened their new public swimming pool.
Daddy got Frances and I yearly passes and I think that was a
daily thing for us was to go to the pool.
Frances was a good poised swimmer.
I swam, but without form I think.
Almost every day we could count on a good time at the pool.
It didn’t hurt that the Sullivan family were in charge of
the concessions. The Sullivan family
lived three doors down from us in the Clay Homes and their son Eddie and I had
birthdays within a couple of days of each other, and for two or three years we
would go with them and their wooden flat trailer to Sweetwater Creek near
Powder Springs, where I almost drowned – wait!
That is another story.
At Larry Bell Park Swimming Pool the main life guard was
Charles Dawson. Until recently I used to
see him at the annual Bell Reunion every year.
Charles turned 80 a few years ago.
Many kids came from Marietta Place to hang out at the
pool. Marietta Place was just across
Fairground Street east of the park. I
lived on a street width from Larry Bell Park on the westside, On Manget Street.
There was a guy who I think lived in the Marietta Place who
was a Bully to me. Vernon is his name.
Every time I got close to him he always said something
smart-aleck, or called me Fatso, or just generally rude, and sometimes pushed
me. I don’t remember Vernon actually
going into the pool, he hung around outside sitting on a hand rail.
I remember one time on East Dixie Avenue at Atlanta Street,
besides Hick’s Grocery he and a friend of his walked towards me. Vernon got in front of me calling me names
and his friend got behind me and stooped over or go on all fours, and Vernon
pushed me and I fell and banged my hard.
I was terrified of the ass-hole and he knew it. Bully!
I had a friend that lived on the other end of Manget
Street. He lived on the corner of Manget
and Waterman Streets. His name was
Frankie Hunter. His father was Francis
Hunter. And my grandfather, also lived
on Manget Street was Frank Hunter. I’m
sure there were some mail delivery mess-ups. We are not related that we know of.
Frankie Hunter was a good friend. He had a hot temper. Several times we had scuffled and if Frankie
got hurt he would lose his temper and attack me head on. Each time I easily whipped him. I wasn’t afraid of him.
Frankie and his family were new to Marietta. They were from Boston. Theday we went to the pool for the first
time. Vernon saw Frankie was with me and started picking on
him. Frankie with the short fused temper
hit back. That unnerved Vernon and they
went down the hill behind the pool, about where the tennis courts are now, to settle
it. Frankie whipped Vernon ass.
After that event I reasoned out, “Why should I fear
Vernon? I can whip someone who can whip
him.”
The next day at the pool Vernon I saw Vernon sitting on the
rail, his usual perch. I considered
walking by and pushing him backwards off the rail, like he did me with his friend
stooping behind me. But, frankly, I was
scared to, afraid I would get into trouble.
So, I walked by him, ready for a rude nasty remark from him,
I was going to bark back and try to get him to go down behind the pool with
me.
He looked the other way.
Maannnn!
I think Vernon reasoned this out the same thing I did, and could probably see the hatred in my eyes towards him.
He avoided me from then on.
Or UNTIL I ran into him at the Bell Reunion sixty some years
later.
I walked up to him and introduced myself and told him I
heard he was a regular at the Bell Reunions and I thought if I ever come we
might have to have a fight.
He patted me on the back, “Lets not do that.”
He had mellowed.
I have too, but I didn’t forget.
We were on speaking terms until the Bell Reunion played itself out.
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