Perry County Archives

August 3, 2012August 3, 2012

Eyeing The Rock

The Mississippi River keeps creeping lower and lower. On July 19, the Cape river gauge read 11.23. On August 2, it was down to 9.35. That’s not good enough. It needs to be at 7.0 feet in Cape to be able to walk across to Tower Rock, locals tell me. Here’s where you can check the river stage at Cape. By the way, you can click any photo to maker it larger.

Itchin’ to go

Members of the Southeast Missouri Geocaching fan page are just itching to get on top of Tower Rock so they can claim bragging rights to an exotic cache. If you’ve never heard of the hobby, here’s a website that does a good job of explaining it.

I was going to meet Cacher Randy Friday to see if we thought it was safe to make it to The Rock for the rest of the group on Saturday. Unfortunately, I have to swing by LeGrand Bros. Transmissions first. My check engine light came on and I wanted to make sure it wasn’t something serious before being That Guy stuck on the side of the road with his hood up and a mournful expression on his puss. You might recall the sad story of my transmission from last year.

Anyway, a nice guy hooked up a $9,300 computer to my car, went for a short test drive and said I needed a new throckmorton that bolts onto the franjipannni. The good news is that it’s on the exterior of the trannie and shouldn’t take more than two heartbeats and a hamburger to fix. (Once the part gets here, that is.) The best news is that it’s covered under warranty.

So, if Sir Randy gives me the All Clear, I’ll sound the trumpets and a whole herd of folks will be hanging all over The Demon The Devours Travelers on Saturday. If not, they’ll try next weekend. I just won’t be there to see it.

Surely they need a souvenir

Maybe they’ll stop by the Altenburg Lutheran Heritage Center and Museum where they can pick up a souvenir copy of my book on Tower Rock.

FRIDAY MORNING UPDATE

Cacher Randy called around 10 a.m. to say that it’s a no-go. He waded out until the water was waist-deep (deeper than I would have gone) and felt the current “tugging” at him. He decided to turn back. Wise decision. He also noted that the bottom was slippery.

How do I get there?

A reader asked how to get there. This map shows you the scenic way I get to Altenburg on my bike. In my Tower Rock book, I describe the path from Altenburg to Tower Rock this way:

Tower Rock isn’t some place you stop on the way to somewhere else. You have to REALLY want to go there.
You start by passing through Altenburg on Missouri Highwy A.
After going up and down some steep hills, just before you get to what’s left of the German pioneer village Wittenberg (population: two buildings and three people), you’ll see a small sign off to the right pointing to Perry County 460, a steep and washboarded gravel road.
Off to your left, you’ll pass the Texas-Illinois Natural Gas Pipeline bridge, called the longest suspension pipeline in the world. It carries gas from Texas to Chicago.
Not far from there, the road narrows. Now things get interesting if this is your first trip. You’ll make a sharp 90-degree bend to the left and cross over the BNSF railroad tracks and make an immediate right-hand 90-degree turn paralleling the river. There are no warning devices, so Stop, Look and Listen before getting on the tracks.
The stretch along the river is narrow and there’s a steep drop-off to the water, but you seldom meet a car. Eventually, you’ll come upon a parking area at the Tower Rock Natural Area, donated by Mr. and Mrs. Charles Bussen to the Missouri Conservation Department.

July 18, 2012July 18, 2012

No Tomatoes Were Thrown

Perry County is experiencing a bumper crop of tomatoes this summer, so I was a little uneasy about facing an audience at the Lutheran Heritage Center and Museum in Altenburg. Folks up in the ridges aren’t shy about expressing their opinions, and I was hoping not to come home dripping rotten tomato juice.

The purpose of my visit was to have the audience help narrow down some print selections for an exhibit this fall and for me to gauge response to to my talk about regional photography.

I didn’t do a head count, but museum director Carla Jordan said about 40 people attended, about twice what we had anticipated. It was a good group. I went longer than planned, but I didn’t hear any snoring and I didn’t hear any boards creaking that would have given away anyone who tried to sneak out early.

Brother Mark and his friend Robin Hirsch came down from St. Louis. Robin was kind enough to shoot a couple of these photos.

Last resident of Wittenburg

Joanne Holley, in the front row, left, is the last resident of Wittenberg. Her husband, Dave Holley, storyteller extraordinaire, died April 11, 2012. Two of the videos featured him and one was dedicated to him. Her daughter, Kristie, and her grandson are also in the row.

Talking photo technique

Cape photographer Tom Neumeyer stopped by to talk technique and share shooting war stories. Central High School Class of ’66 classmate Dick McLard reminded me that Thursday is the monthly brunch, but I have other commitments that day. Wife Lila would certainly be there if she was in town.

Carla’s introduction was so flattering that I wondered if she had grabbed my eulogy by mistake. Warren Schmidt was equally kind at the end of the evening. Gerard Fiehler humped stuff out of my car and helped get the speakers working.

Sick cat excuse

Mother is an old hand at the museum, but this was Friend Shari’s mother’s first visit. LaFern Stiver admitted that she didn’t know how she was going to occupy herself in what she thought was going to be a tiny, small-town museum since I had to go a couple hours early to set up. She was pleasantly surprised to see what a great job Carla and her staff do in pulling together the exhibits.

If you’re in LaFern’s bridge club, don’t be surprised to find yourself being hauled up to Altenburg one of these days. (Shari couldn’t make it down from St. Louis. She said something about a sick cat. That sounds vaguely familiar. I think she may have used that same excuse when we were in high school.)

July 14, 2012July 14, 2012

Y’All Come To My Party

If you don’t count key lime Daiquiri parties that burned out three blenders in the mid-1970s, I haven’t been involved in many parties. Here’s an invitation to one being held at the Lutheran Heritage Center and Museum in Altenburg Tuesday, July 17, at 7 p.m.

I’m speaking on Regional Photography and showing off my photos at a conference at the museum in October, so this is a chance for folks to help me weed down my print selections and get a sneak peek at some videos I’ll be presenting then.

Museum director Carla Jordan assured me that appetizers and cocktails will be served. Being as how this is a pioneer German community, there’s a good chance that “cocktails” means beer.

You don’t have to dress up

I’m wearing jeans, so don’t worry about pulling out your fancy duds.

One of my favorite bike rides is from Cape to Altenburg (here’s the scenic, if not most direct route). If you haven’t driven it, you’re in for a treat. You’ll be going through beautiful rolling farmlands.

One caution: Carla says keep your eye open for deer. She’s been spotting a lot of them on her drive to and from Cape. I’ve seen a few. They’re pretty grazing in the fields; they’d be a lot less attractive in the middle of the road.

There’s a quilt show, too

If you don’t think it’s worth driving all that way just to see me, the museum has a “Quilters of Lutheran Ladies Aid” display of quilts made by local women.

Quilt photo gallery

Here’s a gallery of some of the quilts.Click on any image to make it larger, then click on the left of right side of the picture to move through the gallery. Here’s a link to the museum’s website.

June 29, 2012December 24, 2022

Coins on the Train Track

I’ve always been fascinated by trains. I remember standing at the Advance train depot with my grandparents to watch the steam engines come puffing in with black smoke boiling from the stacks and a deafening blast of steam when it stopped.

Texas singer and songwriter Guy Clark describes how it was to be six years old in 1947, when the whole town turned out to see a “mad dog, runaway, red-silver streamline train” whiz though for the first time. Up until then, “Trains are big and black and smokin’ – steam screamin’ at the wheels, bigger than anything they is, at least that’s the way she feels…When they finally said ‘train time,’ you’d a-thought that Jesus Christ his-self was rolling down the line. Things got real quiet, momma jerked me back, but not before I’d got the chance to lay a nickel on the track.”

Coins on the track

When Bob, Claire, Mother and I visited Wittenberg the other day, a slow freight pulled slowly through the town, then came to a stop. I tuned the scanner in my car to the train frequencies and heard the engineer talking to dispatch about stopping for a signal that shouldn’t have been red. While they were sorting it out, I thought about Clark’s song and dropped a penny, nickel, dime and quarter on the track.

Watch the video to see what happened.

Crawling under trains at 10

I’ve been around trains quite a bit and have a lot of respect for them. When I was about 10, Dad had a road-building job down in the Bootheel and had the gravel for the job delivered by rail. He’d let me crawl under the hopper cars to bang open the door that would spill the rock onto a conveyor belt. He told me to make sure I didn’t come out from under the car until he gave me the all-clear, then he would have a bulldozer push the cars forward until the next one was ready to dump. (Just think how many regulations that would bust today.)

Where did my pennies go?

When we left to go home one Friday, I put a row of pennies on the main line, expecting to find them when we came back on Monday. When I rushed to the tracks to find zip, Dad explained that a fast, heavy train will smash the coins as thin as tin foil, then it’ll weld them onto the passing wheels or onto the track. To get good results, you had to do it on a siding or when the train was just starting out.

Kindergarten ride to Chaffee

I did the obligatory kindergarten ride to Chaffee from Cape; I rode the train from Cape to Chicago for a photo seminar right after high school; a train delivered me to Philmont Scout Ranch when I was 15; I took passenger trains to and from college in Athens, Ohio.

Over the years, I don’t know how many “last rides” I’ve photographed as passenger trains dwindled to a passing few. I rode the Silver Meteor from Florida to Chicago through a 100-year blizzard with drifts so high that they knocked out the headlight on our engine. I rode in the engine of a freight train along the east coast of Florida (where I learned that I couldn’t handle the stress of seeing so many cars drive around closed crossing gates with our engine bearing down on them.

In Gastonia, N.C., I saw a train hit a car that tried to beat it to the crossing. A 16-year-old kid died in my arms.

So, I don’t encourage you to do what I did. Still, like Guy Clark sings in his song, “Oh, but me, I got a nickel smashed flatter than a dime by a mad dog, runaway red-silver streamline train.”

Maybe I’ll leave a coin for Dad

Maybe I’ll leave one of the coins on Dad’s gravestone to show him that I finally pulled it off.