Beware Curators with Cookies

Sign on Richland Ave 10-26-2013My Road Warriorettes have been coming through in a big way. A big box of cookies from Curator Jessica from the Athens County Historical Society and Museum arrived last week. This week it was a package of the best peanut brittle in the world that Anne Rodgers picked up on her way through Marianna, FL., on her move to Texas.

I got a text from Jessica this afternoon: “Awake?” She knows that I am a frequent napper, so she always checks before calling. When I gave her the OK, she made some small talk, then said, “OK, now for the bad news.”

I wondered if she was going to tell me that this sign was for her. I wasn’t looking forward to breaking in a new Curator Jessica. No, it wasn’t that.

 No chance to take it easy

Athens Train Depot c 1968Then, I figured we had been turned down for a grant we had applied for. Nope, No news on that front.

“We’re taking down your Friends on Robinson Road exhibit on Monday, and we hoped you had something that we could replace it with.”

The first time I met Curator Jessica, I was about three hours out of Athens when she called to ask if I could pull off a major exhibit on Martin Luther King’s National Day of Mourning in three weeks. I liked her spirit, and we did it.

Three weeks is doable, but three days is stretching it, cookies or no cookies.

A tailor in 1968

F.R. Richey - Tailor - 12-21-1968We agreed that one that focused on Athens downtown landmarks, particularly where I could contrast photos from the late ’60s and early ’70s with contemporary pictures would be something quick to pull off. That’s why you get to see tailor Frank Richey looking our over Court street on December 21, 1968.

Frank’s building in 2013

Court Street 02-27-2013Frank is long gone, but the building his shop was in survives.

So, instead of a normal post, you’re going to see a huge data dump of the photos we’re considering. We figure the 100-plus photos here will cut down to about 30 when all is said and done. Not shown are two panoramas I shot last fall. They are going to be almost four feet wide by about 10 inches tall.

Waiting for Anne to call

Peanut brittle from Anne Rodgers 06-16-2014_6439If I see Anne’s Caller ID show up on my phone, I’m going to be slow to pick up. No telling what she’s going to want me to do for my package of peanut brittle.

Athens, Ohio, photo gallery

Click on any photo to make it larger, then navigate through it using your arrow keys.

Dick McClard’s Many Talents

Dick McClard glass studio 04-29-2014Wife Lila’s Class of ’66 buddy Dick McClard and I are political oil and water. We enjoy sparring with each other, but we can do it without rancor and with good humor. What I’m beginning to realize is that he’s a man of many talents.

We started talking last year about what he thought was a lead on where the mass grave from the steamboat The Stonewall might be located. Weather and pressing business kept us from getting out there until this trip.

When I stopped by his house for the ramble, he invited me into his stained glass studio where his wife, Judy, and daughter, Jennifer, were doing restoration work on stained glass windows for the Cathedral of St. Mary of the Annunciation. Dick was responsible for getting me into the church before it opened after a major renovation project.

Here, he’s showing how Belinda Schearf has been creating color window panes by building up and firing multiple layers of different colors. This is a technique used in the huge eyebrow window in the other photos.

More than just a glass guy

Dick McClard glass studio 04-29-2014Dick is quite the historian, too. He and some other folks have collaborated in tracking 40,000 McClard/McLard/McLaird/MacLaird and Related Families from 1767 through 2003 (and growing). Volume One, an interesting history even if you aren’t a McClard, is 499 pages long; Volume II, an index and family tree listing, is 1,049 pages long. It’s available in pdf format because printing it would be too costly, he said.

We spent the day roaming Cape and Perry counties, poking around in old cemeteries, meeting oldtimers he knew and avoiding political discussions. Oh, and we’re not sure if we located the mass grave we started out looking for. We’re going to have to check back on that.

Glass studio photo gallery

If you walk into St. Mary’s some day and see these window pieces, think of Dick and his family. Click on any photo to make it larger, then use your arrow keys to navigate through he gallery.

Smelterville: Rose DePree

Ruth Depree Smelterville 06-04-1967 9Here’s part of the Smelterville project I’ve been working on since the middle ’60s. I was lucky enough to track down Rose DePree in the summer of 2011 to see what she remembered about growing up in South Cape, as The Missourian called it.

[Editor’s note: an earlier version of this post contained an embarrassing error: even though I had interviewed Rose DePree in 2011, someone identified her as Ruth Depree in the 1967 photographs, so I didn’t go back to check my notes. There’s a chance there will be more people misidentified because I’ve been given different names for some subjects by different people. Memories fade and kids look different than remembered. I’m sorry for the error.]

Didn’t know we were poor

Ruth DePree 08-19-2011_3816I don’t really remember bad things. I just remember that we were all one family. It was totally different than it is today. We couldn’t address an adult by their first name. It was either Miss, Auntie or Uncle. I just remember having fun. I don’t remember bad things. I didn’t even remember we were this poor until I saw the pictures.

Three-bedroom shotgun house

Ruth Depree Smelterville 06-05-1967 12There was ten of us. My oldest brother worked in St. Louis, but he’d come back on the weekend. The rest of us lived right there. It was a shotgun house. There was two bedrooms in that house, I believe. No, there were three bedrooms in there. All of the girls slept in one bedroom, and all the boys slept in a room, then my mother had a room.

We had a wooden stove. We might have had lights, maybe, eventually, but we started off with oil lamps. I remember the wooden stove. Mama would get up early – or one of my brothers – and make sure the wood was in the stove, and get the house warm so the rest of us kids could get up in the morning.

I remember we took a bath in this big round tub. That’s how we took baths. We had an outside toilet. I was always the chicken. I didn’t like to go outside at night, so Mama would always have to go outside with me ’cause I wouldn’t go on out there at night. I don’t really remember if we had running water in the house. I don’t think we did. I’m pretty sure just about everyone had a pump in the back of their house. When you’d go out the back door, you’d have your pump, then a little further out, you’d have your outhouse. We didn’t know what toilet paper was. We used brown paper bags.

[That’s Rose swinging. The other children are  Leonora “Honeycone” Beal, Andy Lyons and Beatrice “Bea” Wren. The baby is unidentified.]

Cape was very segregated

Smelterville Ruth Depree and granddaughter 08-19-2011_3824Cape was very segregated. Very. Very. I remember when Martin Luther King got killed in Memphis, All the black families, it touched them. They came up to the school. I didn’t know what was going on; all of the parents came up and took us out of school. I remember my mother crying. We really didn’t associate with white folks like we do now… I didn’t really start being friends with white people – you know, children my age – until I was in about the 5th or 6th grade.

In the 6th grade, my best friend was [unknown], and she was a white girl. But, I know her father was really prejudiced. When I’d go over to her house, she’d always want me to spend the night. I heard him tell her one day, “No nigger ain’t staying in here.” I went home and told my mama. She said, “That’s the way white folks look at us. Don’t you EVER, EVER, if she ever asks you to spend the night again, you tell her ‘No.’ It ain’t nothing against the child, but with the parent feeling that way, I wouldn’t feel good about you staying there.”

When we moved up on college street, there were black and white families and we all played together. My best friend was Clara; I went to her house and her mother never acted like that or nothing. As far as she was concerned, we were just a child., you know. Kids these days don’t know nothing about prejudice. You’ve got some that have messed-up families, that still have that mentality.

[Rose is pictured with her granddaughter, Ja’Nya Brand.]

 It’s all gone

Smelterville 06-04-1967 4I didn’t remember we had street buses. My mom said she used to pay a dime to come up town to work, to clean houses and stuff.

I remember the Sterling store because when my momma got paid, she used to alway try to give us a nickel or a dime and we’d go to the Sterling store to shop, you know, downtown.

It’s all gone. There used to be a whole community there.

[Pecan Street youngsters: Rose, Alice Depree, Leonora Beal, Sheila Wren and Beatrice Wren. Click on the photos to make them larger.]

Earlier Smelterville stories

 

Family at Kentucky Lake

Kentucky Lake slides 2I was looking for some appropriate Father’s Day photos when I ran across these shots taken at Kentucky Lake. My green Datsun has 1974 Florida tags, so this must have been the summer of 1973. I bought that car in Gastonia, N.C., just a few days before I left for Florida in January of that year. Brother David, whose driver’s license was so fresh the ink hadn’t dried, was drafted to drive it while I piloted a U-Haul holding all our possessions.

The dealership agreed to have someone man the service department on a Saturday to do the initial 600-mile service, so David and I went out to put as many break-in miles as we could. He was a little uncertain about driving a manual transmission, so I told him, “Just get it in high gear and don’t worry about shifting until we need gas.”

Wife Lila buzzed along in her yellow VW Bug herding us like wayward cattle. She did great until we hit West Palm Beach where she turned right off the turnpike instead of left toward civilization. I managed to honk her down before we all ended up as alligator bait.

A trailer for togetherness

David Ken Mark Mary and LV Steinhoff at Kentucky Lake_29The first trailer Dad and Mother had on the lake was tiny. I don’t know how we managed to stuff six of us in there. We must have had to synchronize turning over.

Trying not to smile

Kentucky Lake slides 13Dad had this funny way he’d stick his tongue out when he was trying not to smile. He’s obviously pulling somebody’s leg, probably Wife Lila’s.

He couldn’t hold it forever

Kentucky Lake slides 14Eventually, the smile would bubble over. Mother’s still trying to maintain her composure, though.

A happy couple

Kentucky Lake Slides 25We had a lot of happy hours on that lake.

Dad died there of a massive heart attack while he was building a sandbox for Grandson Matthew in 1977. I’m sorry he was taken from us so early, but I’m glad it was there and not in some hospital surrounded by beeping machines.