Journalism Archives

December 30, 2013

The Achievement Edition

The Missourian’s big annual extravaganza was the Achievement Edition, published after the first of the year and looking back at the previous year’s accomplishments. We started working on the copy and photos well before Christmas.

Back in the old days before computers, we didn’t have filenames to keep track of stories, headlines and layouts. We used “slugs,” a line of lead type with a descriptive title. If the reporter was sending the story in several “takes” or pieces, then he or she would create a slug that might say, “murder1, murder2.” Since the composing room would occasionally miss taking the slug out, it was a good idea not to use titles that could be embarrassing (like labeling the religion news “god junk”).

Because the Achievement Edition copy was done so far in advance, it was given an additional slug “Atomic” so it wouldn’t get crammed into the daily paper. Or, at least that’s the way I remember it.

One Christmas break when I came home from Ohio University – it was probably 1967 – Editor jBlue asked if I would have time to roam all over the region shooting buildings like The Wishy-Washy Laundr-O-Mat. The 1968 City Directory says it was at 1526 Independence and that Homer R. Dickmann was the manager. At five bucks a shot, plus mileage, I jumped at the opportunity.

Start at the outside and work in

In those days, The Missourian was a regional paper. My negative sleeves said I went north as far as St. Genevieve, as far south as East Prairie and as far west as Lutesville. jBlue, always cost-conscious, instructed me to start at the far ends of the region and work inward toward Cape “so I don’t have to pay you to drive the same roads more than once.”

I was told to shoot any commercial buildings that looked new or remodeled and a representative sampling of any new homes that looked “expensive,” defined as costing more than $25,000. By the time I got done with the project, I could have qualified as a tax assessor.

I must have thought Ricardo’s Italian Swiss Chalet Ristorante looked recently spiffed up. The City Directory says it was also known as Rich House Inc. and was located at 731 Broadway. It was flanked on the left by Sisco’s Professional Barber Salon (Wm. D. Sisco), and optometrists Joe L. Mosley and James A. Drace on the right.

Sterling replaced the St. Charles Hotel

The Sterling store replaced the historic St. Charles Hotel at the corner of Main and Themis. I photographed it being torn down.

Personal Finance Loans

John H. Jarrett was listed as manager of Personal Finance Loans, 31 Main Street. The other buildings include Zickfield’s Jewelers, Tony’s Jewelry and Gift Shop and the Sweet Shoppe.

Eggiman’s

Skinner’s Barber Shop must have had a short life. It doesn’t show up in the 1969 City Directory, and there is a sign in the window that says “For Lease, Inquire at Eggimann’s.”

Eggiman’s Authorized Dealer of Maytag and Admiral Appliances (Richard L. Eggiman, mgr) was at 225 South Plaza Way. That’s my old 1959 Buick LaSabre station wagon parked in front of Eggiman’s.

Swann & Son Garage

From the off-kilter angle of this photo, I wonder if I might have just changed rolls of film and this was a shot where I was advancing the new roll of film to get past the leader. Swann & Son Garage (C. Elwood Swann) was located at 430 William Street.

Missourian Litho and Printing

Missourian Litho and Printing Co. (John Beaudean) was at 500 William.

Cape Chiropractic Clinic

Cape Chiropractic Clinic, 726 Independence, was occupied by Drs. Wm. D. and R.M. Edwards.

Dr. M. Allen Brock

The building on the right has a sign large enough to read that says “Dr. M. Allen Brock – Chiropractor.” The City Directory has Dr. Brock’s address as 148 S. Ellis, but this doesn’t look like Ellis to me. I can’t read the sign on the building on the left. If I had to guess, I’d say this is Independence.

Ford’s Meat Company

Ford’s was located almost directly across from the Steinhoff, Kirkwood and Joiner Construction Co. on Hwy 61 near Sprigg Street. Managers were Bessie N and Lloyd N. Ford.

Power substation

I think this might be the power substation located on the east side of old Hwy 61 that leads to the Diversion Channel boat ramps. It has been expanded in recent years and is protected from flooding by a huge dike around it.

Photo gallery of Cape and St. Genvieve buildings

Some of the negatives were in sleeves that said “Cape;” a few, though, said “Cape – St. Gen.” I’m going to assume that the ones with snow in them were Cape. I didn’t bother to try to identify the residential buildings because The Missourian’s microfiche in Google was missing the dates when the Achievement Edition ran. You’ll have to give me your best guess if you see something that looks familiar. Click on any photo to make it larger, then click on the sides to move through the gallery.

If there is interest, I’ll scan buildings from East Cape, Scott City, Illmo, Charleston, Bertrand, Lutesville, Marble Hill, Chaffee, East Prairie, St. Mary, Perryville, Old Appleton, Oak Ridge, Fruitland, Brewer, Thebes, Olive Branch, Tamms, Delta, Bloomfield, Aquilla, Diehlstadt, Oran, Morley, Benton, Kelso, Delta, Advance, Patton and Brownwood. Oh, and I just found another sleeve of Cape buildings. As you can see, there isn’t much of Southeast Missouri I haven’t prowled. Unfortunately, I won’t have any IDs on the buildings. I’ll be lucky to get the town right.

September 20, 2013

A Smell You Don’t Forget

It was time for my biannual body inventory at the dermatologist this morning. I had a hunk of skin cancer hacked off my face a few years ago, so I’m supposed to go back for inspection once or twice a year.

(When I showed up at the office with a huge bandage on my face back then, I answered the inevitable question by saying, “I was just sitting there minding my own business when this gang wearing masks and gloves surrounded me demanding money for drugs. Even though I paid off, they cut me anyway.” Well, it WAS true, kind of.)

After a bunch of uh-huhs and some picture taking of various and sundry body parts, he froze some places, scraped some places and sliced away at some others.

When he hit a couple of spots with a cauterizing iron, I commented, “That’s a smell I’ve never forgotten. The first fatal fire I worked was a guy who fell asleep with a cigarette smouldering in a feather bed.”

I could tell by the expression on his assistant’s face that’s not a comment she hears every day.

Just by the luck of the draw, I was scanning a queen crowning tonight when I found that fire on the same roll of film. I’m not going to provide a link to the story or any details except to say that the guy in the white jacket on the right is coroner Don Kremer. The remains of the featherbed are scattered all over the yard.

I hadn’t turned 20 yet

That wasn’t the last smoking-in-bed fatal I encountered, but it’s the one I flash back to.

I just looked at the file date on the film. I hadn’t turned 20 years old yet. That’s a long time to hold onto a memory.

September 17, 2013

Aven Kinder, Farm Editor

Aven Kinder was one of the most buttoned-down guys I ever worked with. In a business made up of characters and misfits on their way up or on their way down, Mr. Kinder (I couldn’t imagine calling him by his first name) was a model of stability.

Even though he was the Farm Editor and had to roam all over the area dodging cow pies, I never saw him with his sleeves rolled up or his tie at anything but full mast.

He had only two speeds: Slow and Steady. I never saw him get angry or get in a hurry. He was the most methodical guy in the newsroom.

I was there when he retired in 1967. after 38 years at The Missourian. The front page story about his last day said that he was honored by management and his fellow workers who presented him with a $100 savings bond. It’s hard to tell in the badly-reproduced microfilm photo, but I’m almost sure there was a flicker of a smile on his face. He doled those out sparingly.

Mr. Kinder hired on with the paper in 1929; he and One-Shot Frony were the only ones left of the original five members of the staff from that era. For three consecutive years, 1962-1964, his farm pages were judged best in the state. The paper came in second in 1965.

The story said he had no plans for retirement except to “fish a little and hunt a little.” He and Mrs. Kinder, a teacher at May Greene School, lived at 1456 Rose Street. (His obit said 1457 Rose Street, but the City Directory confirms 1456. I bet he did a spin in his grave over that.). What I find amazing in retrospect is that Mr. Kinder retired at 65 with 38 years in the business. I always thought of him as an “old man.” I retired at 62, with 45 years under my belt, 35 of them at The Post, and didn’t think I was old.

Aven Kinder obituary

Aven Kinder, 84, died Jan. 23, 1986, at the Lake Ridge Health Care Center in Roseville, Minn.

On Oct. 5, 1930, he married the former Berenice Piles at Piedmont. She died in March of 1970. On May 5, 1973, he married the former Verrell Whittaker at Advance. She preceded him in death May 21, 1973. (Those are the kinds of dates Mr. Kinder would have come over to ask, “Are you SURE of that?” The dates, sadly enough, are right. The two were married on May 5, and the new Mrs. Kinder died “unexpectedly” on May 21.)

Surviving are a daughter, Mrs. Eugene (Sherrill Sue) Wright, St. Paul, Minn.; sisters Mrs. Elna Amsden, St. Louis, and Mrs. Marie O’Neal, Scott City; and two grandchildren.

Tag: Journalism

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1. Snapshots of Cape Girardeau

2. Smelterville 1967: Where Are They?

3. Big magnet passes Cape

4. SEMO’s Dempster Hall fire

5. How to repel flies (maybe)

6. Blue Hole BBQ Sauce

7. Cape Tornado of 1949

8. Majorettes and others

9. Purple Crackle becomes the Pony

10. The Boat House

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