Adam Steinhoff Archives

January 31, 2014

Putt-Putt Golf Course

There has been some discussion on Facebook about the Putt-Putt Golf Course that was located on Independence across from Central High School. I was pretty sure I didn’t have any photos of it, but I sort of played hooky tonight, which led to this discovery.

Wife Lila and I got a late afternoon invitation to go to dinner with the boys, wives and kids. It was made more special by Grandson Malcolm announcing he had won first place in his elementary school science fair. He’ll represent his school in the next level of competition soon. He and Dad Matt built a trebuchet in his backyard and calculated the best pivot point to get the greatest throw range. So, if you need to launch a bucket of boiling oil at your neighbor, give third-grader Malcolm a call. (And, he emphasized, do NOT call it a catapult. They are similar, but different siege devices.)

[Editor’s Note: that wasn’t particularly relevant to the story. I just had to find a way to brag on my grandkid.]

Thanks to Steve McKeown

A year or so ago, Reader Steve McKeown sent me a whole flock of photos his dad, James D. McKeown III had taken. I was sifting through them when I saw these Putt-Putt photos. I wasn’t exactly sure what I was looking at (Steve didn’t provide any background with the photos), when I saw the building in the background. That pretty much convinced that it was on the east side of Sheridan south of Independence. The top photo and some others have railroad tracks in them, making me even more sure of the location.

Yep, Putt-Putt

The clincher was when I spotted the words “I Play Putt-Putt” on a sign behind the woman’s head. You can see the golf club handles behind her and a box containing scorecards, different colored golf balls and a roll of tickets.

Free Parking

One of the selling points of the Putt-Putt was free parking.

Wooden chairs for the weary

In case you got tired walking the course, Putt-Putt provided chairs built for two as a resting spot.

Grand opening in 1961

The only story that popped up in The Missourian was an Out of the Past column on June 12, 2011,that reported, “Grand opening of the new Putt-Putt Golf Course, a standardized miniature entertainment at 1739 Independence St., is set for next weekend; the 18-hole course is managed by Dean Brown and Kenny Hargens.

December 2, 2013December 2, 2013

Back (Florida) Home Again

I made it back to West Palm Beach Saturday night, November 30, after leaving town on October 12. In that time, as I wrote last night, I drove 6,393.8 miles through Florida, Alabama, Tennessee, Kentucky, Illinois, Missouri, Indiana, Ohio, West Virginia, Virginia, North Carolina, South Carolina, Georgia and several side trips through the State of Confusion. I had Friend Shari as a road companion from Florida to Missouri, celebrated Mother’s Birthday season with Wife Lila, and Brother Mark and his Fiance Robin.

After that, I headed out to Athens, Ohio, to do a presentation on the birth of the student rights movement with former OU Post colleague Carol Towarnicky. Athens Historical Society Curator Jessica, who just had to see with her own eyes if Missouri in any way came close to my stories, followed me back to Cape. After roaming around in SEMO for a couple of weeks, I made a pass back through Ohio, where I got snowed in.

I slept in Sunday, unpacked the van, had some belated (and very good) turkey leftovers, then headed out with Wife Lila to see the grandkids.

Grandson Elliot, loves hearing weird sounds, something that we Steinhoffs are very good at providing.

A flower for Gran

Grandson Graham picked up a flower off the ground in his backyard and insisted that Gran put it behind her ear. The kid is going to be a lady killer, I can tell.

When I told him that his grandmother had told me that he had grown a foot while I was gone, he held his legs out to prove that he still only had two.

It might be a caulking gun to YOU

Don’t let appearances deceive you. What looks like an ordinary caulking gun turns into a laser blaster in the hands of a 2-1/2-year-old. He also has a magic wand that turns his grandmother into a chicken. You will NOT see a video of that. I have no desire to be smothered in my sleep.

Malcolm concentrating

I bought these rainbow-hued twirly things in St. Louis on my last trip. I gave one to both West Palm Beach boys and one to Mother. A windstorm took Grandon Malcolm’s out, so I brought him a new one. Here he is assembling it. He’s a serious computer geek and reader. He can also feed you the last half of Groucho’s line: “A book is your best friend outside of a dog.” [Malcolm:] “because inside of a dog it’s too dark to read.”

Your cute is leaking away

Here he is with the finished product. While I was shooting it, I warned him, “Sorry, kid, your cute is leaking away. You’re going to look like a teenager soon.”

October 1, 2013

My Silver Dollars

For as long as I can remember, Dad carried some silver dollars in his pocket they had been there so long they were nothing but slick disks. I don’t know why he carried them, but I always liked to think it was to remind him of my two brothers and me.

When Son Matt came along on September 27, 1975, I went right out and got a silver dollar from the bank and started carrying it.

When Son Adam came along on July 7, 1980, I got a second dollar. I needed a way to tell the coins apart, so I snatched up the photo department’s engraver and scrawled Adam Lynn 7/7/80 on his.

I got the date wrong

In a burst of enthusiasm, I scratched Matthew Louis on his coin. Unfortunately, I was so caught up in my new son’s birth day that I inscribed Matt’s date as 9/27/80 instead of 1975. My only option was to scratch the 80 out and put 75 beneath it.

What brought this to mind was Daughter-in-Law Sarah asked if I had an engraver. We traded emails where I said that Adam still had it from the birth of Grandson Elliot, but she was welcome to use it.

Adam responded by writing, “I’ve still not engraved Elliot’s dollar. I’m too scared to mess it up.”

In 50 years it’ll be slick

I told him the story of Matt’s coin and said that even if he makes a mistake, it adds a certain character to the token. “Besides, in 50 years or so, it’ll be slick anyway.”

I don’t know why Dad carried his silver dollars, but I know that every time I rattle the change in my pocket, I think of my two sons. I hope they do the same with their boys.

September 29, 2013

Matt’s Birthday Century

Son Matt called Friday to ask if I wanted to do a Birthday Century with him on Saturday.

A “century” is a 100-mile bike ride in a day’s time. I’ve done half a dozen of them, but not in recent history, so I had the good sense to pass. He said his direction was going to be based on which way the wind was blowing. If it was coming from the east, he’d head to Ft. Myers, on Florida’s west coast. If from the south, his destination would be Daytona Beach to the north. As it turned out, Saturday’s winds were light and from the east-northeast, so he headed to Miami. To make the ride more interesting, he was going to do the 100 miles, then have someone pick him up. That way he wouldn’t see the same road twice.

When I did a status check with Sarah, she said she had come down with a cold and would take me up on my offer to pick him up.

He ended up on Key Biscayne, off Miami Beach, with 102.05 miles under his saddle. When I started to take his picture, he said, “Make sure the cyclometer is sharp. It’s OK if I’m fuzzy.”

Wow, that’s gray in his beard

I hadn’t noticed that his beard had picked up some gray recently. Let’s do the math: 2013 – 1975 = 38. That’s getting up there. I guess it’s about time for the gray.

On the way back, I asked him to shoot the Miami skyline when we went over the MacArthur Causeway. He remembers it well, because that’s the bridge he had to ride over four times when he, Son Adam and Wife Lila did the family triathlon in 2010. (Some of the pictures are pretty, so it’s worth following the link.)

Matt said this was the first century he’s done where he felt like he still had another 20 or so miles left in his legs. I offered to let him show me, but he opted to hop in the car.

Frank Stark ride

Frank Stark was an airline pilot who was forced to retire after quadruple bypass surgery and two heart attacks. He took up cycling as rehab and worked up to the point that he would “ride his age” every year on his birthday. One of his friends said he had a nurse riding with him in the early stages of his recovery.

Before long, the Boca Raton Bike Club started looking forward to the birthday rides. When Frank died of heart failure on a bike ride just a month short of his 71st birthday, the members established the Frank Stark Celebration Ride. I shot this one in 2009. Unfortunately, Frank’s birthday was in July, not the best month to be doing distance riding in Florida.