“Mom” of The Hilltop

Back in the days before fast food joints, every town had a “Mom” and a Hilltop Restaurant. This Hilltop was owned by Mom and Pop Pennell in Athens, Ohio. (You can click on any photo to make it larger.)

Athens Messenger Chief Photographer Bob Rogers and I practically lived there. It was just up the hill from our photo darkroom, it was far enough from downtown and the university that parking wasn’t a problem, it had good homecooking and comfort foods in large quantities, and, most importantly, it was cheap. Oh, man, I just got a craving for her hamburger steak with gravy, mashed potatoes and corn.

Lots of hustle and smiles

“Pop” worked the kitchen and grill. “Mom” waited tables, handled the cash register and acted as traffic cop behind the counter. It was the kind of place where the regulars would flirt with the waitresses, then pull family photos out of their wallets to show around. The highway patrol headquarters was just down the road, so this was a good place to meet troopers on “neutral territory” to swap war stories.

A time for reflection

One day, Bob and I did a picture page on “Mom.” I took this photo, and Bob had a more arty shot of the restaurant’s neon sign shot through the window. That pretty much defined our shooting styles: I was the more literal journalist and he was an artist with a camera.

Here was the copy that ran below this photo: “You meet a lot of people in 10 years at the same location. At closing time, when business starts slowing down, Mom can sometimes be coaxed to talk about some of her favorite customers. Like the college students from years back who still visit her, or the hitchhiking servicemen she’s given money for bus tickets. The end of the day is a time for reflection, and Mom Pennell, owner of The Hilltop Restaurant, has a lot to reflect on.

The morning the story ran, we stopped in to get her reaction. We watched customer after customer come in with the page cut out so they could give her a copy. That’s when I realized that I had the ability to make someone Queen for a Day.

I’ve always said that my goal was to do stories about ordinary people doing ordinary things. I liked to photograph people who were unacknowledged by the paper except when they were born, when they got married, when they got a speeding ticket, and when they died. Somebody else could have the celebrity beat.

Good coffee in an honest mug

The Hilltop was a place where you could get a good cup of coffee served in a heavy mug. Even though the portions were big, I always managed to save space for a slice of her homemade pie or a huge ice cream sundae. At the time, I weighed all of 132 pounds, so I could get away with it. Or, maybe it just caught up with me in my 40s.

Visiting with Bob

That’s my partner Bob. We liked to think we were her favorite customers, but I’m sure that all of the regulars felt they held that honor.

It’s tough being a “Mom”

“Mom” was always upbeat in front of customers, but when she thought nobody was looking, she’d let her guard down. It was a tough job. I don’t think The Hilltop was open seven days a week, but it opened early for the breakfast trade and stayed open for dinner. On top of that, “Mom” had to do the baking. She might sit down to pass a few words with a customer, but those breaks were short and seldom. I don’t know how old she was, but even a younger person would find it hard to be on your feet as many hours as she was.

Where was Cape’s “Mom”

I’d nominate Wayne’s Grill’s Dorothy for a “Mom.”

The Colonial Tavern/Inn was Dad’s favorite morning coffee stop.

Queen Elizabeth’s Diamond Jubilee

You’ll be hearing a lot about Queen Elizabeth II this week. On the death of her father in 1952, she became Head of the Commonwealth and queen regnant of seven independent Commonwealth countries: the United Kingdom, Canada, Australia, New Zealand, South Africa, Pakistan, and Ceylon. Her coronation service in 1953 was the first to be televised. Her Diamond Jubilee celebration starts June 2.

[I thought “regnant” was a typo until I looked it up. “A queen regnant is a female monarch who reigns in her own right, in contrast to a queen consort, who is the wife of a reigning king.”]

How I got to shoot the queen

I was coming back from an assignment in Okeechobee, 60 miles away, when it sounded like someone was trying to call me on the company two-way radio. I knew there was an overpass ahead that would get me high enough to hit the office for about 45 seconds, so I checked in as I started to climb the bridge and told them to talk fast.

Between bursts of static, I thought I heard the boss ask “Do you have a suit?”

“Say again, ‘suit?'”

“Do you have a SUIT? We need somebody to cover the Queen and we think you may be the only guy on the staff with a suit.”

So, that’s how I got the assignment to go to the Bahamas in February of 1975 to cover Queen Elizabeth. It wasn’t because of my spot news prowess, my superior ability to shoot portraits or my ability to find unusual angles. It was because I was the only guy on the Palm Beach Post photo staff who owned a suit.

Is that normal?

Reporter Sally Swartz and I had just settled into our seats in the small plane that was taking us to Nassau when I took a glance out the window. I gestured for a stewardess to come over and asked her, “Does that appear to you to be an extraordinary amount of hydraulic fluid flowing back over the wing?”

“No, sir,” she replied in a calm voice. “That’s perfectly normal.” I was comforted until she took off in a dead run for the cockpit. Soon, the first officer was peering out the window. He went back to the cockpit, I didn’t notice any parachutes in the air and we landed safely in Nassau, so it must have been normal for THAT plane.

On the wrong side of the wrong side

The plane ride was the least dangerous part of the trip. A whole bunch of us journalists were herded onto a beat-up vehicle that was a cross between a van and a small bus. It was driven by someone who alternated between homicidal and suicidal.

It’s bad enough that people in the Bahamas drive on the wrong side of the road. This guy liked to drive on the wrong side of the wrong side of the road. Traffic was horrific, so when he came upon a slowdown on the two-lane road, he’d lay on the horn and pull out to pass the whole world. Either he figured he had a bigger horn than the oncoming vehicles or he didn’t care if he died so long as he could take a busload of journalists with him.

Queen Elizabeth II and Prince Phillip

Sally and I checked in, got press credentials (more about that later) and a press packet with all kinds of Queenie goodies in it. If I root deep enough, I can probably find it, if anybody wants to put in a bid.

The good news I got at the press center was that photographers weren’t going to be allowed on the Royal Yacht; only reporters. That meant I didn’t need to wear my suit.

The Royal Couple arrived. I bet THEIR plane was better maintained than the one Sally and I flew over in.

Press herded and corralled

As soon as the Royal Couple got off the plane, anyone with a press credential was herded into a holding area where we would be controlled. I saw that the Royals were getting right up with folks, so I ditched my credentials and played tourist.

That worked for a short while. Then, two very tall, very big Bahamian policemen got on both sides of me, gently grabbed me under the armpits and half-carried / half-walked me back over to the press pen. They figured if they went to all of the trouble of issuing you a little piece of paper, you’d better wear it and you’d better go where they tell you to go.

Another photographer busted

My compatriot from a Miami paper didn’t take his ID off, and they nailed him, too. I love his “who me?” expression. (My cops were bigger than his cops.)

HMY Britannia

The Queen and her husband flew in, but left on the HMY Britannia, with lifeboats as big as some yachts. I bet it’s safe to say the rule is “Queens and Princes first, THEN women and children.”

Journalist Andrew Marr wrote in his book The Real Elizabeth that the British government planned for the Royal Yacht to serve as the Queen’s refuge in the event of a nuclear war.

 The Queen does not sweat

She doesn’t even glow. I was soaked to the skin and I saw sweat running down faces in the crowd, but Queen Elizabeth II must have had all her sweat glands removed as a child. I watched her through a telephoto lens for an hour hoping to see a bead of sweat or a hint of moisture. Zip, nada, none. I don’t know how she did it.

Photo gallery of Queen’s 1975 visit to the Bahamas

Here’s a selection of photos from the Queen’s visit to the Bahamas. Time has caused some color shifts, but they still look pretty good. Click on any photo to make it larger, then click on the left or right side of the image to move through the gallery.

Super Delicious Mustard Relish

It was a couple of minutes past midnight and I hadn’t started on Thursday’s blog. My only excuse is that I had been editing videos all day and just didn’t get around to it.

Wife Lila said, “Why don’t you just skip a day? You’ll get a bunch of comments on that.”

“No, because I’d get a call from Mother wanting to know if I was sick. As soon as she finds out I’m not, she’ll chew me out for not doing my homework. Now that she’s had an iPad for a year, she’s not buying that old excuse that the cat licked the story off the computer screen.”

So, in desperation, I started looking for something to put up that wouldn’t take much work. Clicking through directory after directory, I poked around in the MISCL folder.

It turns out I had taken 481 photos of Lila making mustard relish on July 7, 2010.

Jayne Payne’s Super Delicious Mustard Relish

Actually, Lila makes it, but she uses the Jayne Payne Super Delicious Mustard Relish Recipe. Jayne was the wife of Lou, my legally blind darkroom technician.

Despite that, Lou had a certain amount of job security

  • He was a nice guy, too nice to fire
  • He had been there forever
  • He was always prompt to answer the company two-way radio (even though he tended to forget he wasn’t on the CB in his truck: “Ten-Fer, Good Buddy, cum bak.”
  • He was willing to come in at 4 a.m. to process the film that bureau reporters had shot for the afternoon paper. The pictures were so bad to begin with that it didn’t matter that he couldn’t see to focus.
  • He was reliable. I never had to drag myself out of bed at 4 a.m. because he was a no-show.

Still, when he announced that he was taking early retirement to spend time fishing out on Lake Okeechobee, we threw him the second-biggest party ever held at the Steinhoff home. (I’m the distinguished-looking guy on the floor. Lila is in the center of the photo.)

How do you get from there to here?

If enough folks care and if I can persuade Lila to help me narrow down 481 photos to a reasonable number of steps, we’ll show you how to get from the picture at the top to the picture at the bottom. Or, you can share your own favorite mustard relish recipe.

(She pointed out that green tomatoes are a major ingredient in the Jayne Payne Super Delicious Mustard Relish Recipe, but my top picture doesn’t show any. I promised her that the OTHER 480 photos have tomatoes in them.)

By the way, if you haven’t checked out her gardening blog yet, you should head over there. She’s battling bugs right now.

Best Newspaper in State

Delta Delta Delta sorority sisters Janet Maurer. left, and Karen Totty embrace at the 1966 Greek Games at Capaha Park. The caption used one of those cliches that always causes my teeth to hurt, “Mid-afternoon rain didn’t dampen the spirits of the of the more than 700 college students who participated in the games and contests.” The Tri-Delts looked like they were going to post their fifth straight win in the annual contest, but the Alpha Chi Omegas won the Go-Go Disco Contest to overcome a two-point deficit.

I’ve got about 150 frames scanned from the Greek Games (including a wardrobe malfunction never noticed before). I’ll get around to posting them one of these days. (Click on any photo to make it larger. This, by the way is NOT the wardrobe malfunction photo, so don’t strain your eyes.)

This shot won first place in the Missouri Press Association contest in 1967 and helped The Missourian win the Golden Cup Award for Best Newspaper in the State.

Best Paper in the State

A window display gave the paper a chance to brag a bit. I still have some of the cool wood and ceramic plaques on my wall. Here’s the story that lists all the details.

Not bad for a college kid

In all, I won two first places (feature photography and news); a second place for sports, and honorable mentions in sports and features. The paper won second place for best use of local pictures. The Youth Page I edited won an honorable mention. My picture of  murderer Phillip Odel Clark emerging from a house with a whiskey bottle in one hand and a pistol in the other pointing at the head of newsboy he was holding hostage was judged best news picture of the year.

After that, I had to leave town because that was going to be a tough year to top.

Working on book proposal

I’m under the gun to get a book proposal to a publisher by Monday, so I may have to slack off a couple of days to make the deadline. Interestingly enough, they are less concerned with my ability to produce the content as they are worried that I don’t have enough local ties to Cape Girardeau.

So, does anyone want to stamp my Cape passport?