Bully at the Swimming Pool

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.

Far Eastern Indians and Coupons

I frown upon profiling. I think it does more harm than good. However, having said that, sometimes I just cannot help myself. Over the years I have felt that Indians (Eastern) independent business owners hate coupons. I got the idea that they are so honest they believe in a honest days work should be paid equally. You get what you work for, no freebies. It goes along with their frugal life style. I remember once I was in a yogurt store and the owner just accepted a coupon from a couple of teenagers . After they left to me he started fussing about coupons and everybody had coupons, trying to get more than they paid for, bla bla bla bla. Then I ordered and poured out the yogurt he smiling told me the price and I presented him with a coupon. His smile froze. Recently, we accidentally picked up a free magazine named PARDES. We didn't accidentally pick up the magazine, we intentlually picked it because it was free. The accidentally part was that it was an INDIAN magazine - Far Eastern Indians. The magazine is full of stories and recopies that would appeal to the Indians. There are also ads that would appeal to them. One is a full page ad on PUNJAB Restaurant. It has a 15% coupon. When I saw it had a coupon I let out a big HEE - HAW!

Anti Herschel Walker Ads are making him a house word

Gene Talmadge by Jack Davis. In Georgia these days there are a lot of anti-Hercshel Walker political ads. Just about all the ads show Herschel telling plain fibs or lies about what he did. They just keep coming. Remember Georgia Governor Gene Talmadge? He openly brought his cows to the Governor’s Mansion to graze the grass. He brazenly and openly did other things like that. Instead of justifying his bold acts he said something like this to the reporters:. “I don’t care what you say about me, just spell my name right.” They spelled his name right. Regardless how awful Gene was he was household word an and was reelected. I think they made Gene’s name a household. And a lot of people have a tendency to vote for familiarity. Which might mean these anti-Herschel commercials might be spelling his name right (he is already a household name here in Georgia.)

8 Years Ago Post: Missing Phil Maloney

Thinking about Phil Maloney. I became fairly good friends with Phil Maloney when we worked together for a few years. He and Dick Hunter's kids grew up together. He was an expert with computers, or from my viewpoint he was. Several times after work he came by to help me with some mess I created with a program or something. He was quiet, he put a lot of thought into something before he said anything. This is something we postal workers got a kick out of when he told us: Before Sprayberry Post Office was built the Postal Service had to acquire the land, of course. On the land to be acquired was an old abandoned house. I remember the house well, at Halloween a civic organization had a haunted house there one year. I remember taking Rocky there when he was under five years old. Apparently, after they used it for a haunted house Phil and his friend moved in. To acquire the property and the house (the house had to be bulldozed) the Postal Service had to pay Phil and his roommate two years rent, even though they were living there in abandoned house illegally and free; some kind of squatter's law. I will miss Phillip Maloney.

SUNDAY FUNNIES!!

Posted 9 Years Ago on Voiding.

New Old Word for the Day: VOID. This morning I went to a Urology group to have my urine flow measured. The rate of flow and then was checked on how much urine was left after I quit urinating. I was to drink 40 + ounces of water before I reported, which I did. The instructions me not to void until the procedure started. VOID? That is a new meaning to an old word. To VOID means to piss. So when you turn in some kind of request and some administrator stamps VOID on your application, he or she is saying "Piss on it!" The nurse put me in a bathroom and told me instead of emptying my bladder into the toilet, I should aim for the big funnel she pointed out. At the small end of the funnel was a little gadget that measured the pressure of the liquid (voidance?). When I started a graft begin to print at the same time. If I peed hard the graft line would go up a little hump then back down. I made a few little humps. When I quit peeing the printer quit printing the line. I wonder if I gave it the "ending shake" would it record that too? Like putting a period mark at end of a report. Later the nurse told me ideally my line I printed would look like the semi-circle like a rainbow.....up, up, and then down, down, then stop where the pot of gold would be. Afterwards they checked the contents of my kidneys and I left probably over 10 or 12 ounces. There will be more tests to find out what the problem is and how to solve it. As soon as we left the doctor's I had a strong urge to VOID. The rest of the day I wanted to VOID. While standing in the men's room while VOIDING I think I could have VOIDED up the side of the wall to the ceiling if I aimed right.

Brer Rabbit and the Terracorta Soldier

You heard of the Joel Chandler Harris's Uncle Remus's tale of "Bre'r Rabbit and the Tar Baby" haven't you? Well, this story is similar but the name of it is "Bre'r Eddie and the Chinese Terracotta Sentry" that I spoke to just outside the doors of the High Museum in Atlanta.

Harold or No Harold, That Is The Question

On the soap opera DAYS OF OUR LIVES there is a character you never see. His name is Harold. Harold is the servant at the Stephano mansion. If a visitor visits unannounced in the middle of the night Harold is told to fix him a hot meal. If a large number of people come in the mansion anytime Harold will cook up a buffet fit for a king in a matter of minutes. When they say that Harold did something you don’t actually see him do it, but it is understood he did what he was ordered to do. So, in the real TV Soap opera behind the scenes there is no Harold. So the No-Harold gets credit for doing whatever when nothing was done. They said Harold was doing something, of course, you used your own imagination accepting he did it. I bet when the credits are rolled on the TV screen nothing is said about what actor played Harold. Ahah! That is proof Harold is a figment of your imagination. I think I’ll apply to DAYS to be Harold or I will spill the beans if they refused. And I’ll demand a big salary too. I will do just like the present No-Harold does, nothing. I might even win an Emmy!

Mighty Mouse Flew Into a Door

On Facebook I posted the latest picture of our grandson Benjamin at his dance class. He was wearing a red cape. That reminded me of a picture of his father Rocky, wearing a Superman suit with a red cape at his birthday party years ago. I said, "Like Father, Like Son". Then, being the self-centered lout that I am, I thought, "What about me?" I am a father of a son mentioned there. Did I ever do the Superman thing when I was young? "Hmmmmmmm" (me stroking my chin thinking way back). I don't remember doing Superman with a cape. But I did do MIGHTY MOUSE. I played I was Mighty Mouse. That was in the early 1940s before TV. I was fairly new when I played MM, probably age 4 or 5. We lived in the Clay Homes. My sister Frances and I shared a bedroom. We had twin beds. I remember I had a cape on, just like Benjamin and Rocky, but I think mine was a towel. I jumped from bed to bed, springing from one bed upright, and with my arms out like super heroes do, get parallel then land on the other bed on my head. One time I missed and my head hit the dresser and blood spurted everywhere. I was rushed to the Old Hospital (3 or 4 blocks, we probably walked) and stitches was put across my left eyebrow. I haven't noticed if the scar of no hair across my eyebrow is still there or not. I was proud of my stitches and gauge. When someone first asked what happen I told the truth they laughed at me and I felt humiliated. The next person that asked me, which was Mrs Cannon, who lived upstairs in the next unit, I told her I ran into the door. I'm not sure but I think I have never heard the "ran into a door" excuse before. From then on, when I heard someone give the "run into door" excuse I felt pride.

Patricia Whiten, Horrified

This photo of Patricia Whiten was taken in 2009 at the meeting to decide if we were going to have an annual Varner Reunion. Patricia died just a couple of years after that. I’m sorry I do not have the date. Back in the summer of 1958, give or take, I had to so to Summer School, in order to advance to the next grade in high school. So did Patricia. I gave her a ride every day. All us summer school students horsed around more than we should. We chased each other in our cars, making squealing turns, and squealing brakes and so, you get the idea. One morning on Polk Street behind the Mountain View Cemetery I was chasing someone, I forgot who, and suddenly the person stopped. I slammed on my brakes and the car I was driving spun around. But I got it under control. Then, stopped, I let outa big “WHEW!” Patricia looked horrified. She let out a string of curse words chewing me out that went on and on. I deserved every word she threw at me. Then we were friends again, within a minute afterwards.

Sandra Deal Died Today

Georgia’s First Lady several years ago, Sandra Deal died today. I took this picture of her at the Governor’s Mansion Opened House for the Holidays decorations.

Brad & Me, or is it Me & Brad?

I did not take this picture.. I don't do selfies very well. This is Bradley K. Martin and me. You can plainly see that Brad and I share the same view. Although, from the camera point of view I am right, but maybe from Brad's point of view I am left. But, from my point of view I am not right or left, but in the middle. Oh me, life is confusing.

7 Years Ago, a self applied plug

Hey Eddie Hunter didn't know if you saw this but your photos are on both the front and the back of the book's cover Thank you again for the images And the book should be out by Christmas A bold unashamed plug on a book I supplied about 20 of the photos in.

SUNDAY FUNNIES!! From HELP Magazine

Movies: You Know Who Will Die, Art by Jack Davis (click on each page to make it bigger and readable and maybe make sense)

National Honey Bee Day

Today is National Honey Bee Day. Honey that the bees process from nectar had all kinds of health benefits. And even more so with local honey. The pollen it collects is already adapted for you. The experts say honey bees are on the decline. Blame the insecticides. If they are extinct is a bad thing for us. They go, we go. We depend on the honey bees to distribute pollen to keep plant life growing.

The late Wildman Dent Myers Squawking

Yesterday evening at the Marietta Museum of History Van Pearlberg touched on one person who could probably be Van's adversary but they are not, in fact they get along great, Dent "Wildman" Myers. Dent , like my late mother-in-law is a compulsive collector, to the point of hording. The reason Pearlberg brought up Dent is because he has a great Mary Phagan/Leo Frank collection. At the dog park this morning I told Joe about what Van said about Dent and Joe knows him as far back as Lockheed. He said Dent is a genius and very knowledgeable. He was very good at making a part if one was needed. Joe also told me Dent one time jumped up on his manager's desk, bent his arms at the elbows , flapped them, and squawked like a chicken.... for whatever reason. To Dent, it was the thing to do at the time. Here is a picture I took of Dent and my old friend, underground comix artist Skip Williamson in November 2001.

Everybody Has a Name (also a number)

Today, I walked into the waiting room. Anna already had a seat, I had to park the car. So, with socially distantly rule I decided to sit on the other side of the room. Before I could sat down Anna said, “Eddie, sit here!” She pointed to an empty seat beside a man. He said, something like, “Sure, sit here, another “Eddie” won’t matter.” As I sat down I said, “So, you are Eddie too?” He smiled. I said, “My real name is “Edwin.” He glanced with a polite smile, like saying, “So?” It look like he silently thought “Enough is enough.” I decided not to give him a brief summary was why I was Eddie. But if you got the time I’ll tell you. My grandmother Minnie Tyson Hunter was named Ed Tyson. He fought in WWI. My daddy was named after him and then I was named after Daddy. Daddy was Edwin Sr. And I am Edwin Jr. Daddy went by “Ed” and I go by “Eddie” . But getting back to Ed Tyson, the WWI great uncle, his real name was Edward Tyson. So, when naming Ed after Ed, somebody made a mistake when putting it down on paper. Another nickname I have is “Rock” but that is another story.

HAPPY NATIONAL 'TATER DAY!

Sign of the Times

SIGN OF THE TIMES In the check-out line at Kroger’s this morning a mistake was made. I don’t know what the error was made. The lady whose groceries was being tallied apologized to the lady behind her, who said more or less, for her not to worry, she will pay the difference. I think probably the lady did not have enough money to cover the entire amount. The generous lady behind her, “No problem, I’ll pay the difference.” The first lay thanked her and thanked her. I got a better look at the person. She was old with plenty of unnatural bumps on her face and about two of her front teeth was missing. Financially she was having a hard time. After thanking and thanking suddenly she said, “Or did you do that just because you are in a hurry?” She realized the moment she said that she realized she was biting the hand that fed her. Then she changed the subject, sort of, she said she had to borrow some money to pay for the groceries and thought she had enough. Then she said, “I could just hug you, but that isn’t allowed anymore.” The generous lady laughed and said, “Please don’t"

Al Hurt Club (on the outside), New Orleans

I took this picture of the Al Hirt Club, in New Orleans, Bourbon Street, I think, in January 1965, when I was there with the Navy. Later that evening I walked by the club again and it was packed and music with a Dixieland beat banging away. I stood outside and listened for a while and made a mental note to buy an Al hirt album, which I ended up buying two and still enjoy listening to them. I remember reading one time that during the Madi Gras parade somebody in the crowd threw a whiskey bottle at him and it busted his lips, which, put him out of commission for a while, I suppose - a horn player needs his lips in good condition. According to Wikicpedia, Al died in 1999.

Today is National Black Cat Appreciation Day

Late Racisr J.B. Stoner

During my adult life I have taken thousands of pictures. Many, probably most, went unshared. Well, I am going to try to remember to share some or at least one daily. Some are good, some are not so good, and some you might think are terrible. I attempted to do this before, and the novelty wore off quickly. Here we go again! Racist J.B. Stoner speaking. Larry McDonald sitting.

Live and Learn

In high school, in the 11th grade, I think, I had a math or algebra class taught by an nervous high strung lady, Mrs. Vickery. Somehow, at that period of my life, I was good with numbers. I figured out my own secret formular to quickly come to the answer of a multi number math problems. It was all based on the multiplication table and the difference between the certain given number and 100, or a thousand. I slipped, I forgot. But then I was good at it and it certainly impressed Mrs. Vickery. One time she had me stand up and she quickly fed me arithmetic problems verbally and I quickly spat out the answer. She was proud of me. During this period, at times, we had one on one conversations. She told me some secrets or personal things about herself when growing up. One of the things she secretly told me that her first name is Nell and her maiden name is Hall. She said in high school, I think in the north Georgia Mountains, all the boys tormented and made fun of her and said, “Nell Hall! Nell Hall!! She said it is wonder it did not drive her crazy. I showed my concern. Then I shared confidentially to a friend. I told him not to tell anybody. A day or two later in her glass we were doing whatever is done in classes and from the bushes on a hill outside her windows the words “NELL HALL!” was hollered out. We were on the 2nd level of the Winn Street Building , west side. There was a steep bank, with bushes and trees on top, about even with our class windows. NELL HALL was shouted over and over. The only thing she could do was look at me with hatred and tremble and shake. I had betrayed her confidential information. I realized I made a terrible mistake that I couldn’t backtrack myself out of. Some things you just have to live with. I don’t remember how I got out of that class alive. I am currently reading the book KURT VONNEGUT PITY THE POOR READER by Susanne McConnell. Ms McConnell was Vonnegut’s assistant for many years and seems to know him inside and out. One of the things she said that Vonnegut was very disappointed when his mentor teacher, who he got a lot inspiration from, did not remember him. Sometime in th 1990s I think we went to pay our respects to the family of a relative who had died. While there I saw Mrs. Vickery. It was well over 30 years since she was my teacher. She had not changed hardly at all. She was there to pay her respects to another family. When I got closer I saw she was catching up with another ex-student of hers. She was all smiles and gushing sweet. I waited my turn, and when she focused on me I started off by saying, “Mrs. Vickery, you probably don’t remem….” She interrupted my sentence with a scowl on her face saying, “I know exactly who you are!” and turned around to talk to someone else. She died about a year or two after the funeral home encounter. Live and learn.

Who will record the End of the World and Who Will Read It?

On this date, August 15, 1969, was the Woodstock, New York, music blast. On this date, August 15, 1973, the Viet Nam War ended.

Boys Will Be Boys

Art by Jack David (MAD) TOUR OF PART OF MY PAPER ROUTE. II know that area fairly well. Also on South Avenue my cousin Anthony Rollins and his mother and our grandmother lived on South Avenue. Anthony retired from the Cobb County Sheriff Dept as a Lt. head of the crime lab. Also Jack and Neal Barfield and the Wallace Brothers (all cousins) lived on South Avenue, I did not know them from my paper route but from Little League. On down South Avenue on the corner of Frazer Street was a man who owned a restaurant on th 4-Lane close to Hodge Brothers Army Surplus store. He kept a spider monkey in his front yard on a chain. I used to buy candy at Yancy's Store one block away and toss them to the monkey. He ate up most of my profit. Cati-corner from him was Jackie Davidson, who was a majorette in high school, about a year or two ahead of us. Her father was head of the water department.. Next door to the Davidson's was a man in a wheelchair named Grady. I took the route over from Raymond "Snookey" Partain. Snookey left Grady a free paper every day. Between him and the monkey I was being bled dry. Finally I cut out his free paper. But I didn't cut off the monkey's candy. Across the street from Grady was a 4 apartment building. It didn't take me long to figure out that a part time sports writer for the Marietta Journal was having an affair with a lady living in one of the apartments on the second floor. Back at the corner of Frazer and Alexander Streets the second house up Robert Brooks and his wife Jo Ann White lived there. Jo Ann and I are almost related, we have common relatives. (she is Larry White's sister). In a few years Robert and I would be co-workers at the Marietta Post Office. About three houses up Betty Guthrie and her family lived. The lived at the corner of Frazer and Grover Street. The 2nd house down my friend Johnny Pascoe lived. On down the hills on Grover Street on the right Lawton Evans land his family lived. Lawton and I were on the same Little League team, Southern Discount. I remember he took his sport seriously and would pitch a fit and cry when we lost. Back on Frazer Street, going back the other way: After we cross over South Avenue there were some more apartments. same floor plan as the ones on South Avenue. I remember one cold and windy day at one of these apartment buildings on the ground floor I was collecting. Then the weekly subscription rate was 47 cents and I hoped they would give me two quarters and tell me to keep the change. Anyway, as I was saying, I knocked on the door of an apartment on the ground floor. The door to the apartment was next to the door going outside, which for whatever reason was opened. I knocked on the door and the lady came to the door. She had a housecoat on. I told her "Collecting for the Atlanta Journal and she went back, got her wallet, and came back. As she was paying me a big gush of wind blasted through the opened outside door and lifted her housecoat up past her waist. She had no panties on. It was the first time I saw the female anatomy. GOOD GOD!! Over the next few days I told all my neighborhood friends that I thought would be interested. The next collection day four or five of my friends met me and walked with me on my collection rounds. At the apartment door where the lady's housecoat flew up I think looked surprised with a bunch of preteen boys looking eagerly at her. Boys will be boys

Freedom of Choice

SUNDAY FUNNIES!! House for Sale by Bud Grace

Click on to make it more readable

Brothers Ed & Jack Hunter c1918

Brothers left to right Ed (1911-1988) and Jack (1914-1990) Hunter. Today is Ed's birthday. If he was still alive he would be 111 years old today. Ed is my father. He was a policeman. He was born 111 years ago. Jack was a Pearl Harbor survivor.

Pay Phones patented, which means Telephone Booths, eh SUPERMAN?

Aug 13th 1889 - US Patent Number 408,709 is granted to William Gray of Hartford, Connecticut for coin-controlled apparatus for telephones

HAPPY ELEPHANT DAY!

Friends?

Teacher Mrs. Nesmith.

Today we were going to my sister’s house, driving on Burnt Hickory Road, she lives off the road about a block. On Burnt Hickory, off hiding partially behind a pine thicket, is a pretty two-story stark white house, which looks like it is making a statement, sort of. I heard the house belonged to Mr. & Mrs. Nesmith. Mrs. Nesmith was a science teacher I had in high school. I remember her class was on the ground floor of the Winn Street Building. Mr. Nesmith was a teacher at Marietta High School too. He was tall and lanky and always the first out of a school assembly meeting so he could grab a quick smoke. Sometimes we were walking down the wide driveway-walk behind the buildings at the same time puffing away. That was our little secret. Mrs. Nesmith was very nice and always seem to have a smile on her face…. Except one time, which I will get to in a moment. Mr. & Mrs. Nesmith lived in Pine Forest Apartments when they were teachers. They lived on Dodd Street across from the Board of Education office. How do I know this? I honestly do not remember. Lately I have been seeing a lot of people, young and old, male and female with so many tattoos on their forearms their forearms looked they had blue or purple-like skin color. Which reminded me of me in Mrs. Nesmith’s class: One time while Mrs. Nesmith was lecturing on scientific stuff, I got bored and started doodling on my note pad. The more I doodled the more involved and elaborate I got. Before long I had doodling all over my left forearm. I illustrated Mickey Mouse, Popye, numbers, rocket ships, dogs, eyes, and so on. I mean all over, with very little bare skin bare skin space left. I think somebody looked over and saw my arm and broke out giggling. Then somebody else did, then somebody else. The class was an uproar. Mrs. Nesmith stomped down the aisle to see for herself. Her face became very red and she sent me out of class to clean my arm. “Get off that stuff off!” It was the only time I remember she wasn’t smiling. I doubt if she is still alive, if so, I think she would be well in her hundred plus.

my great-great grandmother Nancy Manerva Jane Dupree Going by Fredrick Tucker

This is by Anna's distant cousin, resident of South Carolina: In observance of Women’s History Month, I salute my great-great grandmother Nancy Manerva Jane Dupree Going (1827-1903), pictured here at her Mount Joy community home in Union County, South Carolina in 1899. While four other photos of “Grandma Going” are known to exist, all of them projecting a clearer view of her countenance, I chose this one because it shows her rural environment, the only one she ever knew. As the eldest child—and only daughter—of her parents’ eleven documented children (one source indicates that there may have been four others, not counting Nancy’s two half-siblings from her mother’s previous marriage), Nancy knew firsthand the day-to-day efforts to survive as a part of farm family in the American South. During those hardscrabble days, she and her parents sought encouragement and solace in their faith. In fact, sixteen-year-old Nancy set an example for them, professing her belief in Christ, being baptized in the icy waters of the Pacolet River, and uniting with Pacolet Baptist Church (now known as Skull Shoals Baptist Church) in January 1844. Three months later her parents Griffin Dupree (c. 1795-1863) and Julia Ann Fielder Shaw Dupree (c. 1805-1884) were baptized in that same river. At twenty, Nancy married William “Billy” George Washington Going (1824-1915), himself one of eleven children, then finding his footing as an overseer on a neighboring farm. Soon Billy was financially secure enough to establish his own farm, with Nancy as his helpmate. By the time Billy enlisted in the Confederate States Army in 1863, the couple had become parents of eight surviving children, ranging in age from fourteen to one years old. In Billy’s absence, Nancy was left alone to run the farm. The feeling of isolation must have been tremendous. Nancy’s parents and all her siblings had migrated to Georgia in 1852. Her parents-in-law were dead, and Billy’s surviving brothers, save one, had also enlisted and left the county. This left her without a man in nearby range. As temporary head of the family, Nancy had to be more frugal than ever with what little money she had, as most of what Billy drew as income from the Confederacy was spent for his own needs. No letters from Nancy to Billy survive, but a few of his to her do exist, and from these we can learn a little about her situation managing the family farm. Billy wrote to her from Virginia on 15 June 1863: “I got $91.20 the other day. I paid $75.00 toward my horse. I hear that cows are selling at home from one hundred to two hundred dollars. I want you to take care of all your cows. Butter is selling here at three dollars per pound and two dollars per gallon for buttermilk and four dollars for a common chicken . . . I hope that you will get your wheat safe. Try to make all the corn you can and write how much molasses cane you planted and if you have the rice planted or not and plant all the best corn land in peas and I would like to hear from your garden. I hope that you will make a plenty to live on . . . if you need anything to live on you must buy it. Put you a shoat in the pen and see if you can’t make a fine hog out of it.” Courageously Nancy and her children endured the hardships of the war years. Billy once commended them in a letter home: “Tell all of the boys that it does me good that they are working so well this summer.” Billy was paroled at Appomattox on April 10, 1865, and like many other soldiers he made the long journey back to Union County, arriving around the 4th of July. Nancy, like many other strong and tough women in her community and state, had managed well to “keep body and soul together” during his absence. Little has been recorded about Nancy during postwar years. We know that she remained a faithful member of Skull Shoals Baptist Church until the 1877 organization of Mount Joy Baptist Church, constructed at Kelton, two and one-half miles west of her home. And we know that she still lived in a man’s world. Both married and unmarried women, particularly those with little or no education, were totally dependent on men, whether it be their husbands or fathers or brothers. In Nancy’s case, there were only two daughters to help with the typical women’s chores. In addition to cleaning, washing, cooking, milking, churning, spinning, weaving, sewing, and tending the kitchen garden and the chickens, Nancy also helped in the fields, especially during the fall season when every hand was needed to pick cotton. In 1880, Billy recorded that Nancy picked 184 pounds of cotton. He kept track of that figure so that the financial yield from her particular contribution could be issued to her for her own use. (Her eldest daughter Evelina picked 729 pounds that season.) This was probably the only time of the year in which these women were allotted income of their own. Nancy appears not to have spent a lot of her own money on niceties like store-bought yard goods. As you can see from this photograph, she—late in life—is still wearing homespun. Do you know what great amounts of time and energy were put into creating fabric at home? Here’s a clue. It took EIGHT hours of spinning to produce enough yarn to weave for ONE hour. And if you don’t know how spinning was accomplished, Google “great spinning wheel” to get an idea. I have and treasure two great wheels owned by Nancy and Evelina. Two years ago, I had the nicest one restored to functional condition. (No, I haven’t attempted to spin yet. I have distractions of which my ancestors never dreamed.) In 1900, Nancy boarded a train in Union bound for Greenville, South Carolina, to pay a rare visit at the home of her youngest son Oliver. There on Main Street, she sat for photographer J. C. Fitzgerald. It is the clearest image of “Grandma Going” that we have. Her lined face is careworn. Her left eye is covered with a cloudy film. Yet her chestnut-colored hair has very little gray in it. How do I know the color of her hair? I have a long lock of her thick hair, found inside an old family clock and labeled in my great-aunt’s handwriting. A rare treasure. Soon after her trip, Nancy’s health began to decline. Her son, Dr. J. Gary Going, wrote on July 15, 1903: “Mother is not doing very well. She has the skin trouble that she suffers with every summer.” The extent or nature of her other health problems is not known, but on October 7, Billy wrote to Oliver: “Mother are no better as yet . . . She is very sick today. She has bin sick ever sence you left here . . . she complaine of her breast and side. She says she very sick now.” Nancy lingered until the night of November 13, when she passed away at ten minutes past nine. “I know that dear old Granma went straight to Heaven,” her grandson Rev. Tom Going wrote in a letter twenty-five years later. Nancy was buried most fittingly on a Sunday in Mount Joy churchyard. At last her work was laid by. #MyAncestryStory by Fredrick Tucker

Grocery Store after Self-Quarantine

Being self-quarantine is tortuous. As far as I know I do not have COVED-19. We quarantined ourselves so we would not get it. Only seeing each other gets one wanting just to see another real human in person and have some kind of interaction, even a smile, or I would settle from a frown. We went to Krogers the other day. I was thrilled to be right in the middle of humans moving around, studying labels, looking a coupons, and so on. I did not dare speak to anybody for they make speak back then I not know if their germs could reach me or not so I might soak myself in alcohol. I did not dare take off my mask. Then on one row, I think it was the one with potato chips mostly on one side and on the side were cookies and crackers, I struck up a relationship. I saw a lady with her mask on trying to use a straw to suck up whatever she was drinking, probably a cola. She saw me looking and smiled… like “Caught!” She was going the opposite way down the aisles, so on every aisle we would say something, being creative saying something different again, like me: “Why don’t you cut a flap in your mask to stick your straw through?” Or she might say, “See you again, real soon!” Me: “Strange seeing you here!” And on and on. Until we went our separate ways.

Humping With Dino

I worked three years at Sinclair Refining Company warehouse. The warehouse, other than being a warehouse was the hangout for Sinclair representatives. I think there were about ten young representatives, all college graduates, mostly UGA graduates. They helped, with their dazzling personalities, when a service station needed or special attention. Like I said they were young, like 25 or younger. Except one named Don. Don was not as young. He was probably a salary step above the other representatives. He was always in a good mood and gave a good hardy laugh to pronounce his appreciation of whomever he was dealing with. I think he was in the real estate end of it. He also appeared religious in a soft spoken sort of way. He and I had enjoyable talks on the current news and all. When I got an apartment nearby, he was very interested and wanted to see it. It was in the Bolton Apartments on Marietta Blvd. He thought it was nice. Then about a week later he popped the big question: Did I mind if he and his girlfriend use my apartment from time to time on her lunch hour.. He said they would clean up each time before they left. I did not like that. I did not like that because he was married, happily, I thought, with two young daughters. I think they met two or three times and then things fizzled. And apparently they broke up.

Cowboy Kobus and his Lifetime Friend

I just read an article in AARP Magazine about Willie Nelson by Rich Cohen, which brought up the time he met Charlie Dick, manager and husband of Patsy Cline, which he met Patsy, and she sung a song he wrote, “Crazy”, which she got to hear before she died. Her death brought up the memories below: In October 1962 President J.F. Kennedy spoke live to Americans via live TV. He told us through what he learned from spies and aerial photos that the U.S.S.R. was arming Cuba. Kennedy ordered a blockade of the little country only 90 miles from Florida. By the way newscasters were whispering seriously like they were almost scared they would be heard, about war possibilities. “Now is the time for all good men to come to the aid of their country..” I typed in typing class hundred of times. But in October 1962, it was serious. But when they said “good” I’m not sure I am that good of a person. So, I substituted “young” for “good”. Now is the time for all young men to come to the aid of their country. I enlisted in the Navy Reserves at NAS ATLANTA in Marietta. The Navy technician in charge of finger printing, Military I.D. cards, and Dog Tags was a friend, co-high school student and co-Big Apple Grocery Store employee. I had my boot camp in December and it was planned that I would go active duty for two years in July 1963. Before I went into an active duty and God knows where, I wanted my friends and I to go to the Grand Ole Opry in Nashville. Then I had a PV544 Volvo. We decided to go to Nashville in it. It was small, we would probably get better gas mileage. But it had brake problem. My friend, who also was going on the trip said bring it by his mother’s house and we (him) would put new brakes on. Which I brought by his house. And we (him) put on the new brakes. On the trip, this was before Interstate expressways, we went the old Dixie Highway. Miles north of Chattanooga the road going up hills and mountains got steep. Coming down one steep hill my brakes gave and our uncontrollable speed picked up getting faster and faster and faster. Thank God for truck runaway ramps back then. It saved our lives. Ed screamed until we came to a stop. I’m not sure of the date we went but it was before March 5, 1963. Patsy Cline died on March 5, 1963, and so did Cowboy Copus. We saw them perform at the Grand Ole’ Opry. We drove into Nashville and got us a room at the Andrew Jackson Hotel, next door to the Ryman Auditorium, home of the Grande Ole Opry. We went down on the streets of downtown Nashville to find a place to eat. We ate at a Five and Dime Store, maybe Woolworths. The booth we were witting in was facing the sidewalk. A tall unkempt man with a guitar slung on him was just outside the window looking at every bite we took. We invited him to join us. He mimicked that he had no money. We motioned that we would buy him a meal, which he immediately joined us. He told he and Cowboy Copus grew up together and were good friends. Cowboy told him if he ever got to Nashville he would see that he got to play on stage at the Grande Ole Opry. We wished him good luck. Shortly after that we were in the balcony of the Ryman Auditorium stomping our feet to country music. We saw giant cereal boxes and famous singers, lined up one after another. Cowboy Copus was the M.C. and kept the show time moving rapidly. Then I looked down on the first floor and saw the familiar dirty old raincoat and the guitar. I punched my friends to look. The old drunk we bought his dinner was walking up the aisle toward the stage. An usher stepped out from nowhere and asked him something. The man pointed up towards Cowboy Copus and said something. Another usher joined them. They bot listened to hm and half way politely nodding and rudely shaking their head. They forcefully removed the bewildered man. Cowboy Copus, playing up on stage did not miss a beat. Patsy Cline played that night. My memory is confused. I think her and Cowboy Copus were killed in a plain wreck in Camden, Tennessee, either that night or the following Saturday night. Afterwards we went to a jam session at something like Earne’s Music Store and then to a bar/lounge called the Jungle. Our waitress flirted with us for tips and somehow learned she had six or seven kids at home that her husband was minding over while she worked, not that that had anything to do with anything.

William A. Hunter, William A. Trammell, Same Person

William A. Trammell and William A. Hunter, same person. My sister Frances and I had the unique pleasure of living with our grandfather Frank Paris Hunter for almost 2 years, along with our parents. Of course. During that time he taught me how to stay balanced on a bike, and other adolescent skills. He kept his “hooch” under the house. One time when he was loaded he told me he did not know our real last name, because his father was adopted and took the name of his adopted family I remembered that. About 25 years later when Rocky, my oldest son was born, I decided to get into genealogy to find our real surname and our heritage I knew already my grandfather William’s name on his Tombstone was William A. Hunter and born in 1842. And somehow it was common family knowledge that he was born in Franklin, Macon County, North Carolina. The Georgia Room of the Cobb County Library had census microfilms. Censuses are taken every ten years, like the last census was 2020 and the next one will be 2030. The census report each family member by name and age. I got the 1850 Census of Macon County and looked name by name for a William Hunter, age about 8. I couldn’t find a such name. I went through it again, it was not there. It was common family knowledge that his wife was Emaline Ray, also a Macon County Native. I got a Macon County phone book (don’t ask me how) and saw there was about 30 to 40 Ray families listed. I wrote each Ray family telling them what I was looking for, namely Emaline Ray and enclosed a self-addressed, stamped envelope. My plan was do 10 a week. Some Rays used the self-addressed-stamped envelope to wish me luck. About half-way through it I received a letter with the letterhead RAY’S SMOKED HAMS. He said he did not know, but he thought his cousin probably would because he was into family history. He said I wouldn’t have written him because he doesn’t have a phone. He gave me his address, which was Otto, NC, which is also in Macon County. I wrote him and he replied, which said something like this: “Your grandfather was William A. Trammell.. He and his brother Van killed a man and they were wanted for murder and escaped to Texas.” First of all, he was my great grandfather, not my grandfather. I went back and looked at the 1850 census and sure’nuff found a William A. Trammell, age 8, living with his grandfather Jacob Trammell, and a bunch of kids, including a Jacob Van Buen Trammell. So, Van was his uncle, not his brother. I knew William fought in the Battle of Kennesaw Mountain. His name is listed as a CSA soldier. In fact, I found his company: William joined the Confederacy. On, 1 May 1862, he enlisted in Macon County, North Carolina, into the 39th North Carolina Infantry, Company I. He was nineteen years old. He enlisted with the name he had used since birth - William A. TRAMMELL. The first year of his war efforts has yet been uncovered. On 19 May 1863, he was admitted to the First Mississippi C. S. A. Hospital in Jackson, Mississippi, for Febris Intermiten Quotidian. In layman terms he was having a reoccurring fever daily. He returned to duty 25 June 1863 after spending a month and six days in the hospital. While on furlough, 19 April 1864, William A. TRAMMELL and Emaline RAY married. William was twenty-one and Emaline was eighteen just one week. Shortly after they were married William returned to his Unit. The Unit went to be part of the "Battle of Kennesaw Mountain", near Marietta, Georgia. Note- About one hundred to one hundred and twenty-five years later over a hundred of William and Emaline's descendants would be living within a few miles of Kennesaw Mountain. William's unit, the 39th Regiment, Company I, was fixed on the crest between Big Kennesaw Mountain and Little Kennesaw Mountain. His bosses: Corps - Loring Division - French Brigade - Ector William and two of his friends were at a spring kneeling down drinking water. Shots. One of his friends dropped with a bullet hole in his head. He and his remaining living friend got up to run. More shots. William was shot in the leg. He fell while his friend fled. The boys in blue ran by him in pursuit of his friend, evidently assuming he was dead. According to the records William was shot in the knee July 18, 1864. That, incidentally, was the same day that the President of the Confederacy fired General Joseph E. Johnston of that campaign and replaced him with General Hood. On his questionnaire for a pension a question was what date he was wounded and William replied "July 18, 1864". Another question asked where was his unit at the time he was shot and he replied "Peachtree Creek" (Atlanta) which is historically accurate. Unfortunately, the questionnaire did not ask the applicant where he was when he shot, only where his unit was, which could be two different places. A note: There are eight active springs on Kennesaw Mountain and several dried up ones. Peachtree Creek or Kennesaw Mountain? Or Chickamauga, Georgia? Ms Thelma Swanson, a TRAMMELL/RAY descendent/researcher, found that the North Carolina Troops Roster, page 108, shows that he was wounded at the Battle of Chickamauga, Georgia. The Chickamauga Battle was held in the Northwest corner of Georgia, September 19th and 20th, 1863. I personally think this could be another William TRAMMELL listed (Mrs. Swanson later stated that it could have been William K. TRAMMELL wounded at Chicamauga). On August 6, 1864, William appeared on a receipt roll at Marshall Hospital in Columbus, Georgia. He was put on wounded furlough. He told his grandchildren that he recuperated in a private home in Andersonville, Georgia. Andersonville was not far from the Marshall Hospital in Columbus (about 20 to 30 miles). The Andersonville Confederate Center had the facilities for a hospital and a prison. The cruel conditions at Andersonville Prison still shock people. Men were forced to suffer and die in painful and cruel ways just for fighting in a cause they believed in or had to fight. Some of the prisons in the North were just as bad - one that comes to mind is Camp Chase, Ohio. Another academic question: Which Andersonville? During the Civil War times there was a Andersonville Community in Cobb County at the northern border of Cherokee County, where Highway 92 is today, only about three or four miles east of where he eventually settled in Woodstock. He said that in that private home where he recuperated the lady that nursed him was named Amanda Jane. A few years later he would honor that lady by naming his only daughter after her. After he got well enough he somehow gained possession of a mule and walked (or limped) back home to Macon County, North Carolina, which if the Andersonville was in Cobb-Cherokee County it would be slightly over a hundred miles away, if the Andersonville was in Southwest Georgia it would be close to three hundred miles away. Apparently, he arrived home before November 1864 (based on the incubation period and birth date of their first born Charles). He was about twenty-two when he returned from the War. For the next couple of years William and Emaline lived just south of Franklin, North Carolina and had two children. Posey C. Wild was a close friend. He was the close friend who was with William at the time he was shot by Union Soldiers by the spring, and was lucky to flee with his life. After that event, 10 August 1864, Posey was promoted to Second Lieutenant. Another close person to William was his uncle Jacob Van Buren "Van" TRAMMELL. Van was only a few years older than William and they lived in the same household during their childhood lives. With William and Van living in the same house; with the same last name; and close to the same age - some thought they were brothers. With that, this story has been handed down through the generations in the RAY Family: "Van TRAMMELL and his brother William were trying to collect pay for a horse that had been stolen from William. The man refused to pay. William hit the man with a gun and killed him. Van left for Arkansas and William for Georgia." The man who William and his uncle Van Trammell killed was named Lambert. - Surname TRAMMELL from nformation submitted by Darlene Lackey. June 18, 2004, posting no. 1405. Actually, Van went to Round Prairie Township, Benton County, Arkansas. The William A. HUNTER family went to Texas. In Texas, William acquired "twelve or fifteen" tracts of land and tried being a cattle rancher. He had problems supplying water and had to give it up. William Trammell and family returned to where he recuperated but changed their family name to Hunter. Then upon more research over court records I found that in 1842 Rebecca Trammell sued the city of Franklin’s town Constable for Bastardy. The judge said Jason Henderson Hunter would have to pay $100 a year in child support. Jason and his family left town rather hurriedly. I’m quiet sure Jason Henderson Hunter and Rebecca Trammell are Willilam Hunter/Trammell’s parents. Jason Henderson Hunter had an interesting life. He was a Federal Soldier during the infamous “Trail of Tears” in about 1838. Franklin, NC; Cape Giraldo, Ms, and Greene Co., Ak were all big gathering places for the Native Americans. Strangely, Jason moved to Macon County, NC, Cape Giraldo, Mo, and Greene County . Ak In the Civil War Jason Henderson Hunter formed his on company which he commissioned himself “Colonel” His expertise was battling Yankee Gunships on the Mississippi River. His immediate officer over him was “Swamp Fox” Thompson who organized she short lived Poney Express. He was a state representative of Greene County, Arkansas and another time Bolinger County, Mo. Probably what will ad up mostly in his heritage is his fertilization He had 3 wives, at least 4 mistresses and over 20 Children.

Numbers Don't Lie

While on-line there is a little button I can press to tell me what the attendance was on my blog Chicken-fat yesterday, last week, last month, for the year, and a grand total of visitors, which as of yesterday was 1,893,729. And lately I have averaging about 150 visitors a day, with some days shooting up to more than 300. But averaging also included all numbers, even low ones. Yesterday attendance was only 76. I think they finally got my number.

Frank Paris Hunter (1889-1950)

Frank Paris Hunter continued. This is directed at Frank Paris Hunter's grandchildren that were born after he died, before you got to met him. He died 20 March 1950. He died in the Old Hospital on Cherokee Street, in a top floor corner room on the south side over looking Victory Cab. He was 70 years old, 16 days away from being 71 He was a machinist. He worked for Glover Machinery where he got Daddy a job there, which was a mistake, Daddy was not very mechanical inclined which he handed down to me. He also went to work for other big companies that operated in Atlanta and Alabama. After he retired he apparently worked part time at a mattress company on Butler Street. Butler Street no longer exists. It is now a continuation of Atlanta Street. At the mattress company Frank became friends with a handful of drunks that also worked part time, off and on. This bunch of men was about Grandpa's age but they looked raggedy. I think they may have been homeless sleeping in boarding houses when they had some money. The may have been Marietta's first homeless. They might have inspired the building of homeless shelters in the Marietta area. The old men had no vehicle. Sometimes in the day time they would stand out in front of our house until I went and got Grandpa. "Grandpa! Your friends are here!" He would come out and they, as a bunch wondered down to the creek in Larry Bell Park. I think later, after Grandpa died his son W.C. began hanging out with the bunch of men. I saw W.C. with them at times walking towards the creek. W.C. was a WWII casualty. Since his he was wounded in the head and had to have a metal plate installed in his head. He spent the rest of his his life being a mental challenge.

Me and My Motorcycle

This is the weekend for the DOGWOOD ART Festival. We went in 1975. That year parts of the festival were at Lenox Square and parts at Piedmont Park. Anna was pregnant with Rocky at the time. I remember at one booth I bought her an egg with a little human baby prying itself out of the crack in it. It had a chain with it, it was meant to worn like a necklace. It looked almost divinely inspired. We were so impressed with it after the festival I tracked down the creator. Who worked at Tuxedo Pharmacy on Roswell Road in Atlanta and bought another one. I forgot why, we did not need two, it must have been for a pregnant friend. Also at the DOGWOOD ART Festival, at both places, the park and Lenox, I saw the same woman looking at me smiling a knowing smile or maybe an insane smile. More about her later. That same time period, I had my Honda CL350 motorcycle for sale by an ad in the paper. A man came to looked at, he liked it and said he would pay my asking price without any haggling. He wrote me a check and said I would have to wait until a week, his payday, to cash it, he said, “I’l be honest with you, I’m broke now.” I waited to his payday to cash it. I transacted the check at a driveup window at a bank on Chattahoochee Blvd in Atlanta, ino my checking account . Afterwards, I drove around front, parked and went into the lobby to draw out some spending money. By the time I got inside the bank had already ran it and it bounced. They recognized me and gave me the check back, still warm from bouncing. I did some detective work. I went to his children’s school (Park Street School) and to the post office and paid a fee to get his change of address. He didn’t leave one. But at Park Street School I leaned from his kid’s teacher that the family moved to Oklahoma, about the day after he took possession of my motorcycle. At the time Buddy Darden was the county’s DA. I went to his office and talked to an assistant DA Sam Huff. Samd Huff told me once I accepted the check that I knew was bad at the moment I was accepting credit, thus no longer a criminal matter, but a civil matter. Well, shit! Sam Huff went on to be an exert BBQ Chef and has had a number of BBQ restaurants. It appeared that the best BBQ restaurants owners in and around Marietta once apprenticed under Sam Huff. Getting back to the radiant old hag with the vicious pretty smile: During that year I often thought about her and Karma. Was she there to serve a little Karma on us… kind of like a “tit for tat” So to speak? I mean, I took a financial beating selling that motorcycle for nothing, so maybe something good was due. I am not sure of time frame I am about to tell you about. I am not sure if it was before or during the pregnancy. I worked at the Atlanta Post Office through the night, getting off at 8:30am. One morning on the way home crossing Bankhead Highway, I was going under the greenlight, when a man in a pickup truck ran the red light (same light) and t-boned me. It hit me with such force it knocked me into a vacant lot next to a McDonald’s parking lot. The man that hit me was thrown through his windshield and was killed instantly. He was on his way to the drug store for a refill of whatever he needed and apparently passed out while driving. I think my Gremlin was hit with such force it (and me) turned over at least one time, maybe more. Oddly, my car radio was playing Bob Dylan’s “BLOOD ON THE TRACKS”, which was suitable because my face was covered in blood. I was upside down on the other side of the carf. I did what I always did back then when something just happened to think about. I lit up a Winston cigarette. By this time a crowd ran outside from McDonald’s, probably to get a closer look of the blood. Being hit in the side by a pickup truck knocked me to the other side and caved in the Gremlin’s side. If I were wearing a seat belt I would have been crushed. The other driver went through his windshield and was killed instantly. He too, didn’t have a seatbelt on. This one wreck was an argument for and against seatbelts. The next thing someone reached in and yanked the Winston out of my mouth. It was one of the ambulance drivers. They rushed me to Cobb General Hospital. They called Anna at worked and she rushed there. In the examination room doctors and nurses probed me. My face was cut up from the shattered window glass. No broken bones, but I did have a big headache that hung on for about 10 days. After the medical people released me Anna called her mother to come and get me. She was working on something timely important. They wheeled me to the waiting room to wait. While sitting in the waiting room and aged lady came in sat down. I told her I was waiting on someone. Then a teenage boy came in and looked around. The elderly lady asked him was he looking for someone and he said yes.. The old lady pointed at me and said, “Well, there he is!!” I said, no I was waiting on my mother-in-law and the teenager said no, he was looking for somebody not me. The old lady explained why she made the mistake; I was waiting for someone and he was looking for someone and yetta yetta blab bla. Then the teenager, tall and skinny, walked behind her and spread his arms out like a giant hawk and waved them back and forfth behind the lady. She kept on talking and did not realize he was imitating a giant war eagle of some kind behind her making a show. I cracked up giggling. She looked started. The pain medicine ER gave me did not help, as far as making me keep a straight face. I lived! That may be where the Karma I was owed kicked in.

SUNDAY FUNNIES!! MAD #15's WILD ONES, so to speak.

Art by Wallace Wood. Story by MAD'S editor Harvey Kurtzman. Click on each page to make them bigger, readable, and maybe understandable.

Anna Nicole Smith Crime Scene on our Cruise years Ago

This is the late Anna Nichole Smith's estate in Nassau, in the Bahamas. I took these a short time after her death. The gates were closed to keep nosy people like me at bay (literally). But, as you can see, with lattice gates for protection nosy people like me find a way.

Petty Family Group Picture in Varnell, Ga about 1949

My Petty family (mother's side) in about 1949*, in Varnell, Georgia: 1st Row L to R: LaVonn Petty (daugh of Leonard); MaryBeth Petty (daugh of Wallice, Wallace's arms around her, she died in 2008); Georgianne Petty Grant (died 1966); Cecil Grant (died 1958) (husb of Georgianne); Osmo Petty (died 1978); and Eddie Hunter (me - son of Janie Petty Hunter). 2nd Row: Jeannette Phillips Petty holding son Billy (wife of Leonard) died 2004); Leonard Petty (died 2001); Wallace Petty (died 2007); Thelma Cox Petty (died 1994); Anthony Rollins being held by his mother Opal Petty (died 1992); Janie Petty Hunter (died 1996); Viola Ridley Petty (the grandmother, mother, brother, or mother law) (died 1968); and Frances Hunter(daugh of Janie Petty Hunter), Frances arms around Harriet and Rhonda Petty (daughters of Wallace Petty). 3rd Row: Mary Jo Johns Petty(died 2000), wife of Tom Petty; Tom Petty (died 1979); Walt Ridley (died 1953), brother to Viola Ridley Petty: Ed Hunter (died 1988), husband of Janie Petty Hunter; Roy Petty (died 2000); and Sara Petty (not yet McLemore) (died 1999) *based on a baby in the picture that was born December, 1948. That would make me age 8 in the picture.

6288 and 2000 Other Memories Taking Up Valuable Space

6288! One morning in our hotel room with the local news on TV I heard of a murder on Barn Swallow Drive or Court. My brain instantly thought 6288! 6288 is the Postal carrier number for Barn Swallow Court in Marietta. It is in-grind knowledge that is no longer useful, plus over 2000 other streets taking up my brain space. AARRFGFGGG!

Fight on Glover Street

Throwback Thursday- I came across this picture and it bought back memories. The house a couple years ago was burned down in a fire department training exercise. It was on Glover Street at the corner of Manget Street. I lived on Manget Street with my family from about age 7 to age 14, with my grandfather. But Glover Street wad my hangout. All my friends lived on Glover Street. Then Glover Street was dotted with old houses and a country store. Now, only one residence house is there, the rest is warehouses, Cobb County Board of Education, and at least two auto shops Back to the early 1950s: The Rich family lived in this house. Their side yard became a hangout for teenagers. The teenage boys openly smoked, cursed, and were full of wise-cracks: I was envious. I think most of them had quit school. They were also up to no good. Several of us younger kids, about 10 or 11 years old hung out on the edge of their bunch trying to pickup on their lingo; we were street corner hangout trainees. Another kid, about a year old, also named Eddie came often to Glove Street to visit his grandparents and stay a few days each time. He lived in Douglasville. Eddie was mentally challenged. The teenagers, picking up on Eddie was not all there, thought they would have a little fun told Eddie I said some bad things about him. Eddie and I were like dogs in a dog fight to them, nothing more. Eddie came at me swinging. With one hand. Eddie had a nervous problem, when he got nervous he was put his mouth on the back of his hand and slobber on it. With one arm he was swinging with the other hand in his mouth, he was not protecting his face. I hit him one hit in the face. Blood ran from his nose. He ran down the street to his grandparents. Ian home too. The teenagers told me his big sister came walked back up very angry wanting to know who broke her brother’s nose. They told me they covered for me. She wanted to call the police on whoever did it. I thought I got away with it. Months later I saw Eddie and he was friendly. Apparently he had forgot about it. Then we went behind his grandparent’s house into their barn. We climbed up in the loft. I did not know it at the moment the plywood floor was not nailed down, The wide boards just laid unnailed across the rafters. Then one of my “friends” reminded Eddie I was the one who blooded his nose. Suddenly Eddie pounced on top of me and started choking me. I could not breath. I thought I was going to be killed right then. Then, my Guardian Angel must have stepped up to give me a helping hand. With us scuffling around on the plywood that was not nailed down, one end shifted away from the top of the rafter it rested on, then tilted down towards the barn’s dirt floor and dumped us like a dump truck. I hit the floor running. And ran home. About a year after that Tony Hester’s mother took Tony, Gene Sanges, and me to Douglasville to visit Eddie. Mrs. Hester must have been friends with Eddie’s family. I think Eddie’s parents were dead and he lived with his uncle and aunt on a chicken farm. Eddie showed us all about egg cleaning and the machines that sorted the eggs. Eddie was learning a trade, good for him. We also Walked over the farm through the cattle lazily hanging out. There was a big water hole for the cattle. I thought “What if Tony or Gene remind Eddie about the broken nose again?” I didn’t get close to the water and made sure I had a clear running area in front of me. The day ended peacefully. About ten years ago I ran into a Glover Street friend back then and we played “what ever happed to…?” I asked about Eddie. My friend told me he heard Eddie was in prison with a lifetime sentence for murder. Gulp! I could have been Exhibit A.

Meet Ruby Laura Tyson

Meet Ruby Laura Tyson. A new old picture of a relative. Ruby was born 1904, in Gordon, Palo, Texas. Her parents are John Forrest Tyson (1863-1936) and Ida Judson Gilbreath (1863-1907). From the dates I have, Ruby was only about 3 years old when her mother died. She married Frank Williams born 1902). I do not have any information yet of their destiny. I think it is a good picture.

Opal Petty (Mama's sister) Interview

The first picture is the Petty kids on the prairie of Gillette, Wyoming, about late 1918 or early 1919. I believe they are from front, left to right: Opal, baby Janie (my mother), Tom and Wallace holding the prairie chicken (Wallace is very recognizable), Osmo, and Georgette. The second picture of the man on a donkey or whatever is their father William Elijah Joseph Petty. This is an interview with my aunt that I did in 1980. It is so long I don't expect anybody to read it - I just expect me to put it here for the record. Interview With Opal Petty Date: 6 April 1980 Interviewer Edwin Hunter E Interviewee Opal Petty O E: When were you born? O: April 12th, 1913. E: Who was your father? O: William Elijah Joseph Petty. E: And what was he like? O: He was a wiry quick tempered man, but he was a very good man. He was good to the children unless somebody made him mad (chuckling) then we got a whipping. E: What are some of those experiences? O: Well, one time Osmo, my brother just younger than me, had started to slop the hogs and Papa asked him where he was going, you know, said something to him and Osmo smart talked him and he just ran out there to jump him and give him a whipping and Osmo; would pick up the slop and run a piece and from where he was. And then he would set the slop down again, and Papa would make a grab for him and Janie, your mother, took it up.....she went there and (inaudable) Papa for a fight and we all got tickled. Mama was having a fit. So Papa took Osmo in the living room and I kept Janie in the dining room and I got some scratches on my face while he was trying to correct her, she was just a spitfire....ha ha. Next morning was Sunday morning and I got up and I looked at myself and saw the scratches and I thought it would be nice if I had a black eye. And I painted me a black eye with ink. (inaudable) didn't know the difference. When I camedown to the table Mama said, "What's the matter with your eye?" And I said, "I got it in a fight yesterday evening." And he thought he had done it. And Mama said, "I advise you to just wash that ink off just a little bit at a time." Ha ha. E: Do you remember Wyoming? O: Yes, I was three years old, but the biggest thing I remember is hearsay, you know. We went to this little town Cisco. We were going to leave I guess I don't know where Cisco is... we were going to take the train. And Osmo was eighteen months old and he had a little white suit, he fell in a mud on top. She looked around to see what happened to me and I was coming down the street pulling all these wagons. We took the train and we saw three of four families left from there going west to Wyoming to homestead. Each family had a big basket with fried chicken, biscuits, cakes, and you know, what have you to eat on the train. And when we got to Wyoming, we pulled into this small place town. It was mostly saloons and they rode the horses right in and they were out there when they were unloading our trunks and things. They were having a big fight right out there in front of the saloon, a fist fight. I remember that.....(pause). E: What else do you remember of Wyoming when you were little? O: We lived out on the prairie we took up homesteading out there. We lived in town first and we went out and built this I guess it was a one room house I never have figured out just how big it was but I think we had two stoves in it. The wind blew hot all the time. We had a well down at the foot of the hill, what they called in (inaudable). In the winter we would move into town. Janie was born in town. The older kids went to school. While we were in town my two oldest brothers, Wallace and Tom, they and some of their friends cut some blocks outof snow and built an igloo. And built a fire inside to keep warm.. And it melted down on them. Ha ha. And then we moved back out, going back to the Prairie. He come back into town to get us and I had the measles. They moved in the wagon of course, it was twenty four miles from town. They made me lay down in the wagon with my head covered up, because the Sun was suppose to ruin your eyes. Of course, they boys would say, "Look at that antelope look at that rabbit " And of course, it was driving me crazy be cause I couldn't see. But we had a real good time. We stayed out one winter and Papa and some of the other people around....Papa gave them the land and they built a schoolhouse ....... it was on our property....a one room schoolhouse. There were eleven in school. I was the youngest. Osmo didn't go to school, he wasn't old enough.. And they hired a school teacher. She was about seventeen. They had to pay her because they didn't pay for having school teachers out that way. She would come in take up time on the book had a clock there and she left us in the hands of my oldest sister, tell us when to go home and she brought a Victrola over there and she brought a sack of candy everyday and we just played over there and played that Victrola. Ha ha. But they found about that and fired her. But, I don't know, we had a real good time. The boys all rode horses. We had horses. We raised sheep. We had a few sheep, but we raised corn, potatoes, and wheat. And when it come thrashing time all the ranchers around, they would come and thrash when the thrasher would come to your house, and all the other people then would go to another house where the thrasher would go. One time while we were living there, it was in the summer time, here come this covered wagon through, there were about three covered wagons and they stopped and they had guns and all and they demanded that Mama cook them something to eat. one of them said that he was Jesse James' cousin. I don't know if he was or not. But Papa sat up all night and Mama had a sack of beans there that the cat had peed on...ha ha....and she cooked those beans. And we got snickering about going to eat those beans. Those guys camped out there in their wagons but they rode around the house all night. They left the next morning. E: Did they harm anyone? O: No. They never did hurt anybody. But, he didn't know what they might. He sat out there all night with a shotgun. One winter when we stayed out, he thought he had put in enough provisions, groceries and things, to last, but around Christmas time we ran out of groceries. He could go and carry coal on his back because there was a coal mine right close to us. He just go out there and dig coal so we had coal. He went in to get more supplies, groceries, and to get Santo Clause for us, Christmas, and it came a blizzard and he couldn't get back out. Well, it came Christmas Day and we didn't have anything to eat but some dried beans without seasoning in them and Mama had one egg. She made us a one egg cake. And then she carried us over to the schoolhouse and we played some records. So, that was our Christmas Day. When the blizzard let up the neighbors rode horseback over there to bring us something to eat because they knew we were out of groceries. But I don't remember being all that hungery. E: Didn't y'all leave because your father was sick? O: Yes, the doctors said to go to a different climate. He had contacted T.B. from being out in the weather so much. One of the neighbors had a brother that lived in Virginia. So, we sold the place and went to Virginia. You see, where we lived out in Wyoming there weren't any threes. You could see somebody coming from miles around. Just like a a speck. We didn't have fruit that grew on trees. We had fruit but they came in boxes. We got to Virginia when all them trees and berries and all kinds of fruit and we rented this place E: Where in Virginia? O: Dellyon, Virginia. Just a small place, we went wild. We weren't use to all that free fruit like that. And then we all got sick, naturally. Then he bought this old colonial home. It set off the road. It looked like one of these you see in the movies. Colonial Style house. Two storied house. It had this big spacious front yard with the driveway with the lawn on either side. He plowed up the front yard and planted it in tobacco. Ha ha. We went to school. Arthur Goldfield was the name of the school we went. A lot of black people lived around there. Their school was further on from ours. When we would get out of school we would go and ____inaudible ____ ______inaudible______ and take a nail and punch holes in it. We would take those lids and lay in the ditch and wait for the blacks to come by and jump up for a fight and rake that down their arms and legs. Wasn't that mean? So we got a whipping when they caught up with us. The blacks come and told it. That is where Roy was born, in Virginia.. Now, Janie was born in Wyoming. The neighbor kids told us that house was haunted. Said there were ghosts down in the basement. I wouldn't go down there. Roy said he went through there a couple of years ago and said the house was still there. Said it was awful run down. Then we left there Papa decide to come back to Georgia. So, we done that. He put Mama and all us kids on a train, and come to Crandal where Grandma lived and he, Wallace, and Tom came through on a covered wagon. It took them about three or four weeks to come through. Wallace and Tom said they had a real good time. When we got there Wesley met us at the railroad track, at the railroad station and he had a surrey. Do you know what a surrey is? E: A horse and buggy? O: It is a two seater buggy with fringe around it ... its takes two horses to pull it. They used to have those around all the time. I thought that was so fine you know ... when we got there at Grandma's she was showing everybody where to sit at the table and we got ready to sit down she had an epileptic seizure, but we didn't know it, us kids didn't. She fell out with one of them and scared Osmo and me half to death. We ran outside and would not come back in. I was always afraid of her from then on. But he rented this house over on the river. We still didn't have much to eat there. We were trying to get started. We got out there to help him on the house. We sat down to eat and we didn't have much for lunch that day but _______inaudable_____ brought their lunch. They were sitting on the porch eating and we would say, "Pass the chicken....pass the....", you know, just different things .... we did have next to nothing...ha ha. Then he went to Cohutta and took over this Mr. Bryant had a dairy over there I believe... had over twenty cows and Papa was going to manage it for him. We had to get up at three o'clock in the morning to milk the cows then we had to go to the field and work and then we had to come in before dark and milk the cows again. The milk had to be at the depot by seven o'clock in the morning. I know when we started to school up there in Cohutta (chuckle) there was a crowd of us...haha...People would ask me first one of them would come up and said something and then they would say, "Who was that?" And I would say, "That's my brother" or "That's my sister". Somebody said, "You sure got a lot of brothers and sisters". And I said, "Well, they are not all my brothers and sisters, part of them are my half brothers and half sisters." And they would say, "Which ones are your half brothers and sisters?" And I picked out the ones I didn't like right then and made them my half brother or half sister. Ha ha. E: Did you know Jane Petty's husband? O: Daniel? No, he died when I was a baby. He had red hair, he died the year I was born. E: Thomas Jefferson Ridley? O: That was Mama's father. He died in...in E: 1939. O: I was working in Summerville then I guess. E: Do you remember anything about him? O: Well, in his early days he was a big drunkard. When Grandma died he married this old maid schoolteacher. She wore high neck dresses. And she fussed at Mama all the time because her dresses were so short. She said her girls would't be worth nothing because she went around half naked all the time. But she left him before he died. E: What was her name? O: Dorothy...Dillingham. I believe that is right. Look in your book and see. E. I don't have it. Didn't he have a farm on a river up there? O: Yeah. He had a farm up there on a river. It was right out of Dalton...closer to Chatsworth I guess. Because we were up there one year in the rental house. E: On his property? O: Yes. E: When y'all just came in from Virginia? O: No, just before we bought that place in Cohutta. E: I heard your Grandpa Ridley was cranky. Is that right? O: Yeah. He had all kinds of fruit trees...apples, peaches, plums, also grapes. He would not let us touch them or anything. He made wine out of the grapes. E: For himself, or to sell? O: For himself. He wouldn't let us touch them but we would sneak off and pick them. He caught us. He didn't like it. He would fuss about it, tell on us....but we didn't let him catch us many times. E: Do you know anything about the Pullen Family? O: Yes. Which ones do you want to know about? Some of them I know about, some I don"t. E: Thomas Jefferson Ridley's wife was Maryetta Pullen. Her mother was Frances Bookout and her father was Greenville Pullen. O: Frances. that's part of Mama's name. Viola Frances. That is where she got her name.. Part 2 of the Interview: E: Do you know where the Pullens came from? O: No I don't. E: Do you know where the Ridleys came from? O: No they all were from up in Chatsworth. around in there someplace. Now, the Pettys came from Elijay and around in there ....Fannin County. Now, Grandma's Daddy's mother was name Jane. Jane Garrett. They were from Fannin County. Some of them come and see us. Said we were related, But I didn't know them. E: Did you know anything about the Mashburn Family? O: No. E: Know anything about the Killians? O: Grandma Ridley was a Killian. And Kate's first name was really Killian. Grandma Ridley and Grandma Petty all died when I was a baby. Now, Grandpa Petty, I was three weeks old when he died. He kept on waiting to see the baby because it had red hair that was me they carried me over there when I was three weeks old, before the day was over he died. E: When you first went to work for pay, where did you work Dalton? O: Yes. I worked in a hosery mill there. I worked during school vacation. The last year that I went to school I worked that summer. Georgia was working there and she got me a job. E: How did Georgia meet Cecil Grant? O: In Dalton. And I didn't know anything about money when I got paid Georgia would take my money and give me a little change out of it and she would take the rest of it and give it to Mama and Papa to run on. I worked for a pair of ___?__ and an ice cream. That's what I got out of it. E: What about Tom? Was he working to help out too? O: Tom was a self centered person. He didn't help out with anybody. I never will forget when he was in school.he didn't finish school....he went off to Detroit to work I beleive...and he run out of money and couldn't get a job and he wrote home and said he was blind. That's when we lived on the farm. And Papa sent him the money to come home home on. He met the train....we were all out in the front yard waiting. Thought Papa would be leading Tom. Well, he wasn't no more blind than I am. That was just his temperment. He just told anything to suit himself, absolutely. I know one time there on the farm...I think it was Fourth of July, we usually tried to have the crops laid by, and Tom, I don't know where he was working, but he wasn't living at home, Wallace was. We were all out there in the field working and here comes Tom walking out in these red fields with white shoes, white pants, and a white straw hat on. That made Wallace so mad he said he thought about wallowing him down in that dirt. He was paying us a visit. Ha ha. He wasn't a homebody, he was a taker, not a giver. Now, that may sound kind of bad with him dead and gone, but the truth is the truth. E: What about Georgia? O: She was more or less a taker too. E: Wallace? O: Wallace was a silent partner you might call him. He didn't have to say it, but he was always there if you need him. Wallace was real quiet. E: Osmo. Didn't you and he go to Detroit together? O: He was up there working and hed wrote me to come up and go to work. He said he would send me money to come on which he did. It was on a Saturday, I wasn't expecting it. I wrote and told him I would come but I wasn't expecting to go that soon. I was staying at y'all's house. E: On Manget Street? O: No. You weren't born. Frances was a baby. I got this money telegram. I had to get up there and get it cashed. I had to leave Marietta by six o'clock that night on the bus. And he would meet me in Detroit the next afternoon late. I had my hair rolled up when I got it and I had a little over an hour. I took a cab up there and got the telegram cashed, ran back and packed things. And I had my hair rolled up, caught another cab to the bus station and took a bus to Detroit. And I took my hair down in Cincinniti. E: Did he have you a job in Detroit? O: I got my own job. He had an apartment. He and Stanley Petty. I went up and stayed with ;them. E: Where did they work? O: Some brass company. Robert Pratt or something like that. Some brass I'm not sure. E: Where did you work? O: I got a job in a hosery mill that time. I didn't stay up there all that long then. I came back home, and I went back. Leonard was up there. Osmo was in the service. Leonard wanted me to come. E: Did Osmo have a wild life up there? Drinking a lots? O: He sure did. Ha ha. That's why I come home. Ha ha. E: Didn't you say he got into a lot of bar room fights? O: Yeah, ha ha. I was just telling Janie this afternoon about Stanley and Osmo were living together when I moved in. Osmo when he got his pay would get drunk. I got to where I would go over to where he worked and get his pay...but, if I didn't beat him to it he would spend it all. One time when I went over there well, he hadn't met Gerry then E: Who's Gerry? O: That was his first wife. She came over to my apartment. She worked where I did. I said, "I got to get over to Shaw's Bar before Osmo spends it all." She said, "I'll got with you." We walked in and there was this girl sitting up there with him. I sat down, Osmo turned around and said, "Who are you?" And I said, "I've come after your pay." And he said, "Who's that with you? And I said, "That's your wife don't you recognize her?" And boy, that old girl got up and left. Ha ha. So Gerry sat down and said, "Since I'm your wife, buy me a drink and hand Opal your pay." He did. E: Then they got married? O: Not then, but he married her latter. He married her twice. E: Did they have any children? O: No. She was an all together different person from Osmo. E: What was her last name? O: Gerry...you know, I can't remember. E: He married twice didn't he? O: He married Gerry twice. Then he married Violet. E: Are all his children by Violet? O: Yes. E: What are their names? O: Viola, Osmo, Roscoe....see, Osmo was a twin....and he just had two boys.....so he named them after the twins, Roscoe and Osmo. Viola, Roscoe, Osmo, Brinda, and Gyrtle....that's six. E: How many did he have? O: Seven. Two boys and five girls. E: Do they all live in Indiana? Besides Viola? O: No. Some of them live in Florida. E: What about Rosco. He lived with Roy for a while.. O: But not for long. Roy sent him home. He went into the service somebody said. I don't know. E: Is Roscoe the oldest son? O: No, Osmo is the oldest son. Viola was the oldest child. I don't know them very well. E: Yeah, I only saw them about once or twice in my life. When I was about nine or ten they came through Marietta a couple of times. O: I seen Roscoe one time and that was when Osmo, they called him "Moe". Moe and Brenda...and some of other kid ran off and they come down here and Osmo found out they were gone and had the law pick them up. He felt that they were heading towards Marietta. They picked them up...and Leonard had to go up there and pick Moe and Brenda out, but he couldn't get the other kid because he wasn't related to him. Then Osmo came down. Held him there until he came. He brought a letter from the other child's parents and he and Leonard had to go up there with the letter to get that one out. E: When was that? O: I know it has been over four years ago.four or five. E: Well, Osmo died about two years ago. O: Two years ago...a little over two years now. I never did know well, he could have committed suicide but somehow or another I just can't beleive it. What I am going by is that he was still sitting at the table. Now, if he had shot himself at close range like that it would have knocked him outof the chair. So, that's what I'm going by. And I tell you, they lived such a life up there, and I guess they were just considered trash and ;the law didn't take a hand in it, thought, "Well,, that's well and good, that's one more out of the way." E: Osmo drank a lot... O: And always in a fight. E: Did he have any scars from all his fights? O: No. When we were living in Detroit together one night there Osmo was all dressed up, and Stanley was too, they wanted to go over to some bar the next street over and I was with them and Osmo gave me a nickle for the jukebox. And when I went there to put in I dropped it and this couple sitting at the table a big truck driver type and you know how short Osmo was and a woman....you know...some kind of....you know. She got down trying to help me hunt the nickle.."Find anything?" And Osmo came there and said, "You get away from her you " and he called her a name "That's my sister, don't you touch her." So the big old truck driver got up and took it up. Osmo had inaudable _______ in him just like a little fice dog. So the guy said, "You just go ahead and mind your own business". And Osmo said, "you shut your mough, or I'll shut it for you." He said, "Lets see you". And Osmo drawed back and hit him and then they got in a fight. The truck driver swung and Osmo hit me in the eye and blackened it. The bartender was call ing the police. And I said, "I'm getting out out of here." When he went over there he was all dressed up with a suit and a pair of inaudable work gloves. I got him outside and he said he for got his gloves he was going back to get them. I told him I would go get them. I went back and got them. And got home, I sat him down to play cards and he turned around and saw my black eye. He said "Where did you get that black eye?" And I said, "Over at the bar." He grabbed his inaudable and I grabbed my coat and was right behind him. He went across the street to this resturant ran right through it through the kitchen and got a meat cleaver and took out the back door up the alley and I was right behind him. Got over there... He outran me, but I walked up....saw him and that couple was sitting up there on bar stools just laughing and talking. I walked in. That old woman said, "We're friends now." And I said, "Come on Osmo, lets go home." And that guy said, "Well, we're fixing to leave, we will take 58 you home." I said, "No, we just live a block over there." He said, "We are going to take a taxi and we'll drop you off." That old woman kept saying, "We're old friends." Just a kissing (making motions kissing up and down her arms). I thought I wanted to go home and take a bath...her kissing up and down my arms...but I would ride in their taxi, anything for peace. I said, "You get out of my sight." Osmo said, "Do you think I am going to stay here?" I said, "Yes!" And I just drawed back and hit him in the face and knocked him out. I used to do that all the time up there. That's the only I could handle him. He would be so drunk it wouldn't take much. I know one time there was a crowd over and he was going to inaudible and I said, "I can stop him. We were with Charlie and his wife. His wife said, "Can she?" Charlie said, "Yeah, you just watch her, she'll land him in a minute." His wife said, "I'm going to try it on you." Charlie said, "It won't work on me, I'm from the South." Osmo had to be drunk before I could do it. That's all I could do. Stanley was the big coward. See, Osmo would start everything and when he got it started Stanley would run. Stanley would ag him on. But when Osmo got it started Stanley would run. That's all water under the bridge. To tell you the truth Osmo was the smartest one of the whole family. As far as being smart. He had a brillant mind. E: I never heard that before. O: That's true. He had a brillant mind. He got to drinking and let that get ahold of him. E: I'm almost out of tape, I guess I better close this out. I think we got some goot stuff here. O: I hope so. Did I help you out any? E: Yes, you did, very much. Thank you. END OF INTERVIEW