Posts by MaryCarol

by Joe Stout

by Joe Stout
 

 
Watermelon Patches……… reminds me of the time about 6 of us decided to steal some watermelons at a farmers patch out at Possum Trot…..We snuck up and all were about to get a watermelon………about that time the farmer came out with a shotgun and fired ……..We all grabbed the first one we could and got away…..all of us had small ones except Phil Bradley and he had a big one……..He bragged and said nobody was gonna get any of his watermelon……guess what….. his was green as a gourd…..he didn’t get any of ours either.
 
 
 

 
Swimmin……..we used to hitch a ride from Greenfield to the middle fork of the Obion River toward Sharon to swim and dive off the bridge pillar……Mr. Clarence Herron had a farm down in the Kimery neighborhood but lived in town……Mr. Clarence was known for picking up riders and taking them on down to his farm…….I had heard this told and one day he picked us up in his A Model truck…….I got in the seat next to him and 2 friends got in the back………We were intending to get out at the Kimery
road but Mr. Clarence turned and didn’t stop…….I reached over and turned the engine off and took the key and pitched it in the middle of the
road and we all went running…..
 

by Joe Stout
 

1946 seemed to be a new beginning.  The war was over and no longer were the graduating classes going to be 95% girls.
 
We also had a new bunch of teachers that were not much older than the graduating class.  There were, Miss Maddox, Mr. Holmes, Miss Rowlett, Mr. Gulley along with returning teachers Mrs. Brooks, Mrs. Payne, Mr. Orr and a new principal Mr. Tuck following Mr. L.S. Miles.
 
John Gulley taught history, phys. Ed. And was the new football coach.  During the war years Mr. Smith served as coach with the help of some former football players but he was not a trained coach.  Mr. Gulley was a strict disciplinarian  compared to what all the team had been used to in the previous years.  This season of 1946 promised to be a good year for football at Greenfield High.  One of the main problems Coach Gulley had was that his way of coaching and the lax way that had been done in the past caused many of us to resent this new way.
 
If you were born after 1940 the single wing formation that Coach Gulley taught us and used would seem strange.  This was about the time the T formation came into use.  Prior to that time most games in football would be low scoring games on both teams if they were fairly equally matched.  The single wing was a game of systematically gaining a few yards at a time and  punting to keep the opponent in his own territory.
 
Coach Gulley’s teaching was just the basics and using them to perfection as well as the most rigorous physical workout possible.  Much of our practice would be calisthenics, blocking the dummies (including using each other as the dummies by standing still) running no less than 15 laps around the outside of the field.  Watching the teams of today I wonder if there would be any players if that type of practice were used now.
 
Mr. Gulley was one of those persons that did not engage in conversation with anyone.  He would answer questions, give directions, but his use of words were the least that he could use in coaching, teaching or just everyday interaction with people.  Because of this he was given the nickname of Silent John.
 
We were to be in bed by 9 p.m. each night and John would make his usual walk (he had no car) around downtown to see that none of his players were out past curfew.
 
The Gleason game that year was a close one and in the final minutes we were behind just a few points.  We were down on about the five yard line and Travis Usery the tailback carried the ball on a plunge for what we thought was a touchdown.  “Swat” Scarbrough from McKenzie was officiating the game and he ruled that Travis’ knee touched the ground on the one foot line.  This caused us to lose the game and the fans and players were enraged.  The officials had to be escorted out of town and some of us players along with fans chased them at high speed all the way to Dresden where they went into a restaurant and the police came to protect them.
 
Those of us that participated were kicked off the team and Greenfield was put on probation by the TSSAA.  This caused what was a promising season to end up being a mediocre one.
 
Mr. Scarbrough became the mayor of McKenzie years later but he never officiated another ballgame.
 
Coach Gulley and Miss Rowlett returned the following year as teachers and began dating.  Later in the year they married.  This was my senior year and I was allowed to go out for football again and I was in the wing back position which was a pass receiving and reverse hand off type running play under the single wing formation.  But as luck would have it, James Lee “Horsefly” Rogers, our quarterback was ruled ineligible to play.  “Horsefly had played while in the eighth grade and under the rules you could only play four years.  The quarterback position under the single wing formation was not a ball handling or running position as it is in the T. formation.  It is basically a running interference and blocking position for the fullback and tailback.
 
Blocking was not my strong suit but Coach Gulley was forced to put me in this position due to the limited number of experienced players on the team.  Other than instructions from Coach Gulley and being asked questions by him in class I had never had a conversation with him.  Praise from him on the football field was a rarity or even an unknown.
 
In the game that year with Princeton, KY we were deep in their territory.  A double reverse play was called.  This was a play where the ball was centered directly to the fullback who then spun around handing the ball off to the wingback running around the left side and just after receiving the ball handed off to the left end running in the opposite direction around the right side.  The other team was fooled on this play other than the right end and their left halfback on defense.  My job was to run interference and block the opposing player.  These two opponents were side by side and were the only thing that could stop James Porter our left end from scoring.  I threw a block on the left end low below the knees cutting him down completely.  The left halfback did tackle James after a short gain.  Coach Gulley sent in the next play by Billy Wright who was my substitute.  As I was coming up to Coach Gulley I was certain he would tell me what a nice block I had made on the left end but instead he asked, “why didn’t you block both of those men.”
 
In later years at the first reunion of our class of “48″, John attended and carried on a conversation with me for quite some time.  This conversation in one night was more than the total of what we had in the two years I had known him while in school.
 
In recent years Greenfield has had what we call homecoming where we have a dinner and anyone that has ever attended Greenfield High comes for this gathering.  Silent John has never missed a “47 or “48″ class reunion or a homecoming in over 50 years until last year after losing a bout with cancer.
 
He was missed.
 

by Joe Stout
 

Roy was born in 1886 and died in 1966. Susan Stout the daughter of my gggrandfather Levi Stout was his mother.  My ancestors Levi Stout and wife Anna Earls Stout deeded each of their children a farm on February 14, 1889.  Levi was born in 1820 and died in 1908 and is buried in the Meridian Cemetery.  His wife Anna Earls preceded him in death in 1891 and there is an old marker at her grave. Prior to 1992 there was no marker at Levi’s grave when myself and Gene Porter another gggrandson placed a marker there listing the names of all his children.
 
Roy Whicker lived his life on the farm that had been deeded to his father J. A. Whicker and Susan Stout Whicker without electricity.  Roy was a well read man and some of his writings were published in the Memphis, Tennessee newspapers as well as stories being written about him.  Roy never drove an automobile but drove a horse and buggy the 8 miles to Greenfield on Saturday for his “shopping”. Roy’s shopping consisted of trading chickens, eggs, peanuts or other products for the staples that he needed.  He usually even went home with some cash from this in his pocket.
 
During the depression when FDR put in the program of limiting the amount of crop and even making government payments to plow up crops Roy would not participate.  Roy picked his cotton, hauled it to Greenfield by wagon and team, paid to have it ginned and baled, and then hauled it back home and stored it in his barn.  During World War II when controls had been lifted and the price of cotton had increased dramatically Roy sold his cotton.
 
It was during the 1940’s that TVA came to the rural communities.  When they wanted to cross Roy’s land with poles and lines he would not allow them to do so.  I recall in one of our classes in school T.Z. Elinor posed the question of how high up did a landowner own.  This was because the electric company had set poles on the right of way but the transmission lines cut across Roy’s land and he did not want this.  I believe the electric company backed off in order not to have trouble.  I still never learned how high up a landowner owns.
 
Roy wrote a column for the local papers called Jonesboro Jots and sometimes Meridian Musings.  I haven’t seen any yet in the Gazette but possibly Martha Smith will find some in the old Dresden Enterprise issues.
 
Roy had a “falling out” over the Meridian Cemetery cutting a tree near his mothers grave and decided to be buried in the Highland Cemetery.  As frugal as he was he never contributed anything to the cemetery anyway.
 
The epitaph on Roy Whicker’s grave (which he had placed there prior to his death) reads “A Man Who Had No Outside Help.”  I have to take issue with that epitaph.  What about the farm he in essence received from my gggrandparents Levi and Anna Stout.
 

by Joe Stout
 

It was 1945 and World War II was coming to an end.  In the spring I started my Sophomore year at Greenfield High School.  Several years prior in the 1930’s Greenfield had a first class band that was instructed by Mr. Doran until he moved away. Many of the Doran family were very talented musicians.  Jeanine Doran was a niece of his and was a very talented trumpet player.

 
Down in the basement storeroom of the old high school there were several instruments that had been used in those years gone by.  The old tuba, bass drum, snare drums, baritone.  It was decided to start up a band again and Miss Miriam Cooper, an English teacher was selected to be the band instructor.  With Jeanine Doran as the nucleus and carrying the melody on the various marches we were able to give an adequate rendition of a few tunes by the end of basketball season even though we had not even attempted to learn to play and march.  Our performances were limited to playing concert style on the stage in the gymnasium at basketball games.
 
Many of the members graduated that year, Jeanine on trumpet, Don Hummel on tuba, Jerry Cannon on baritone, Wilma “Butch” Cooper on bass drum as well as others.
 
The following year, 1946, Miss Cooper had left as a teacher and moved away.  We had lost at least half of the band due to graduation which meant we were basically starting all over again but this time without Jeanine to “carry” us.
 
I had played the snare drum last year and decided to continue in the band again this year.  I had basically taught myself the various rudiments of drumming from the instruction book.  With the basics of reading notes in time it was much easier learning drums than having to learn the scales.
I also obtained a foot pedal and began to learn on my own to play both the bass drum and snare drum by practicing with records at home.
 
Miss Rowlett from over north of Dresden  had come to Greenfield as a new math teacher and since she had some musical knowledge was asked to direct the band this year.  After several months of practice and well into basketball season Miss Rowlett announced to us that we would play the Star Spangled Banner at the next basketball game.
 
Despite the difficulty of the Anthem, the newness of our director, our own inexperience, and the loss of Jeanine and half the band, we were undeterred. We all arrived early in order to properly set up our instruments and music and eagerly awaited the time to play.  Miss Rowlett took center stage and proceeded to count off and lead us into the Star Spangled Banner.
 
This was the only time in the history of Greenfield High School that no one stood up for the playing of the National Anthem.
 
I’ll leave it to you the reader to figure out why.
 
From that time on we were known as Rowlett and Her Rhythm Rascals.
 
Little do we know how small things affect our lives in tremendous ways.  I later spent 35 years as a professional musician traveling for some period of time in 21 states and 3 foreign countries.  I never again tried to play the Star Spangled Banner.  I did learn to play Dixie.
 

Rowlett and her Rhythm Rascals

 

by Joe Stout
 
My mother’s father was Charlie Crabtree who lived at Flytown and was a farmer all his life.  He was what we here in the south call a “Yellow Dog Democrat.” I always called him Papa.   My father’s father was Al Stout and also lived at Flytown on the next farm to Papa before I was born and was also a farmer.  He was a Republican and served as postmaster during the term of Herbert Hoover and moved to Greenfield.  I always called him Pappy.
 
Mom and Dad went to school in the Flytown community at Mt. Airy which was through the eighth grade.  In those days not many young people were able to continue education any further than that.
 
My grandmother Rosa Mitchell Crabtree fell and broke her back when I was in high school and came to live with Mom and Dad.  I called her Mama.  Not too long after that Papa contracted T.B. had to leave the farm and after a short stay in a T.B. hospital also came to live with Mom and Dad.
 
As you might imagine my mother was a Democrat and my father was a Republican.  My father was a very quiet man and I never saw him engage in any controversy, especially politics.  Many times I’ve seen my dad sustain insults from Papa about politics and watch him just smile and give no reply.
 
Shortly after I graduated high school, Papa, along with my parents help, set me up in the country store business about 3 miles east of Greenfield in the Needmore community.  Shortly after this time, the Democrat Governor, Gordon Browning, was running for re-election and someone asked to put up a sign in the grocery store window.  It had not been up but a short time and Jere Pence and Poundsie Pope came by with a poster with Roy Acuff running as the Republican against Browning. They asked if they could put this poster in the window also.  I allowed them to do so. 
 
When Papa came in the store that day and saw that poster of Roy Acuff,  he immediately grabbed it and tore it up throwing it in the trash can.  This was the first of many disagreements I had with my grandfather.
 
On another occasion he got in an argument with a customer over politics and chased the man out of the store with an ax handle.  I lost a good customer that day.  On that day I became a Republican.
 
Papa’s only other child was my uncle Jim Crabtree.  Mama Crabtree sold eggs, butter, etc. to help supplement Papa’s farming to send Uncle Jim to college and medical school.  He became the Deputy Surgeon General of the United States and is buried in Arlington Cemetery.  Uncle Jim had two daughters, Nancy and Patricia.  Nancy was my age and Patricia was about a year younger.
 
Uncle Jim called from Washington D.C. one day to tell Papa and Mama that Nancy was getting married, and that her fiancee was a Catholic.  Now Catholic’s in our neck of the woods are scarce as hen’s teeth.  Papa’s reply was “I  don’t care what he is as long as he ain’t no Republican.”
 

by Joe Stout
 
Visions of the 1960’s protestors.
 
The late 1940’s and1950’s have been portrayed on TV as the age of innocence.  The age of family, apple pie, and “Father Knows Best.” It was the spring of 1947 and my Junior year at Greenfield High School was drawing to an end.
 
Mrs. Mildred Payne was the English and Latin teacher during my high school years.  She was the wife of Rev. S. O. Payne, the pastor of the First Presbyterian Church U.S.A here in Greenfield for several years.  Bro. Payne was my pastor and also my Scoutmaster during my scouting years.
 
Mrs. Payne was one of the best teachers that ever taught at Greenfield, in my opinion.  She was the type teacher that would allow everyday life subjects be discussed.  She was also adored by all the students and one that we could take our problems to for advice.  This was in the days prior to the use of counselors in schools, therefore she would also fit that description in today’s world.
 
The Principal in 1947 was Mr. Russell Tuck.  Mr. Tuck, as most Principals have always been, was somewhat feared by many students because it was his duty to mete out punishment.  Mr. Tuck had a habit of using Listerine very frequently.  Many times he would be seen at the water fountain rinsing his mouth with Listerine.  It also became apparent to many of us that many times he turned up the bottle when he was not at the water fountain.
 
The school board in those days was not county wide but consisted of citizens of Greenfield.  It was customary for school boards to elect teachers for the coming school year just prior to the end of the present school year.   We learned that Mrs. Payne had not been elected to teach for the school year of 1947-1948.  This in essence meant that she was fired.  No reason was given for this and of course this was a great disappointment to all the students.
 
Rumors spread throughout the school and community and a growing protest of dissatisfaction became evident among all the students.  A large group of us went to the homes of some of the school board members in hopes of getting some answers as to why Mrs. Payne was not going to be our teacher for the next year without any success.
 
Jack Gill who was a senior graduating that year was the school clown as well as a good artist and caricaturist.  Jack came up with the idea of a strike by the students to hopefully get the school board to change their decision.  In subsequent years I have been accused of being the originator of this protest, but as readers of any of my writings can attest, I would have NEVER done such a thing.  Jack was also responsible for giving most of us our nicknames.  He tagged  me with “Moedini” because I had become and amateur magician.  Many of my classmates still call me that today.
 
 
The idea of the strike in protest began to spread among the students like a brush-fire and plans were made to set up a picket line on the street in front of the High School to encourage all the students to participate in the strike.
 
When Mr. Tuck learned of this plan the seniors, who were just a few days away from graduation, were told that if they participated  they would not be allowed to graduate.
 
The day of the “strike” many of us arrived early with signs and set up on the street in front of the school.  Most of the seniors were in support but with the threat of not being allowed to graduate they did attend classes that day. I recall Mr. Gulley’s (Silent John) comment as he walked by, “Do ya’ll know what you’re doing?”
 
With the exception of the seniors and two or three other students, the entire student body remained out of classes.  We then marched down Main Street toward town carrying our signs of protest.  Upon reaching Front Street we paraded up and down the main business district. Of course this caused quite a stir among the townspeople.
 
We ended up at Dale Wright’s Cafe, the local teen hangout resembling “Arnold’s” of the Happy Days TV sitcom. Dale’s Cafe was located in the lower floor of the old “Opera House” building on Soup St.  Dale urged us to return to school and the consensus was that we would return the next day but we did get a one day “unscheduled” holiday.
 
For all of the succeeding GHS students and our children and grandchildren, just keep in mind that we are not as “straight-laced” as we might appear to be.
 
I sometimes wonder if we might have been the seed planted that brought about the turbulent times of the 1960’s on campuses all over America.
 
54 years later, the reason for Mrs. Payne’s firing is still unknown by us, so I guess we’ll never know……..
 

by Joe Stout

When I was a child in the 1930’s there was, of course, segregation here in the South. This was during the Great Depression and everyone had a hard time. I’m sure it was exceptionally hard for the Colored (that’s the name used in those days)  population of Greenfield and the surrounding area. I do recall that in those days my parents would furnish some of the Colored people milk and eggs in return for some work including being a Nanny to me.
 
During my childhood years most of us had friends that were Colored and played together quite frequently. One of my friends that lived on the street behind where we lived at that time was Lee Jr. Sain. They left Greenfield while I was still young and I heard that his wife had killed him many years ago.

Lee Jr. Sain and Joe Stout

 
Greenfield had no Colored section of town as such, but there were some houses in practically every part of town that were occupied by them. About 10% of the population of Greenfield was Colored and is still today about that ratio.
 
Here in Greenfield we had grammar school and also dear old GHS, the high school.
 
The colored, had separate schools but the only high school for them was in Martin and until the 1940‘s we had no school buses for either black or white. There were the one room, one teacher schools for all the kids that lived on the farms out in the country.
 
The local colored grammar school was located on East Main St.(Soup St. extended)  which was also Highway #124 which went to McKenzie. Professor Dodd was the Principal and teacher of this school along with Bertha Smith and Bennie Malone.


 
 
Sometime in the late 1920’s or early 1930’s they were putting on a play at their school that was about the Wild West along with tap dancing and singing. Cowboys and Indians were popular things we played in those days.  In this play there was a shootout between two characters. Someone came up with the idea to make a blank by cutting off the lead of a 22 cal. bullet.  Of course this left a small amount of lead still on the end of the bullet.
 
When it came time for the shootout one of the children fired the 22 pistol and luckily the small amount of lead did not hit anyone but did hit something on stage.
 
This of course caused quite a bit of excitement to all those attending. Professor Dodd immediately got on stage and made this announcement, “There wild be No More Wild West, the rest of the program will consist of singing and dancing.”

Bertha Smith, Bennie Malone

 
This is another phrase like “Nothing but a freight train Mr. Moseley”, that is used here in Greenfield, that many people will know what you are referring to. 

by Joe Stout
Bro. Cooper was the pastor of the First Baptist Church for several years in the 1930’s and 40’s.
 
In the short block that was between the old hotel and the church there lived a man named Rachels that was widowed and had a son about my age in the mid to late 1930’s.  His name is Leon.  Even though times were hard for most of us then it was exceptionally hard for this family.  The father was in poor health and their circumstances were about as bad as they get.  Prior to living there, they had been living in the country with nothing but a brush arbor type structure with old linoleum as the roof.
 
The Grooms boys, myself and others of our group played with Leon in those days and have remained friends for our entire lives.   I have no idea where the name originated but Leon was called Peanut  in those days when we were kids.  Those that know Leon well have not called him by that name in many years because he seemed to dislike it.
 
Bro. Cooper had taken Leon under his wing and was helpful in determining his future.  He arranged for Leon to be sent to Nashville at a facility that was the only type that could be of help in those days.  Leon was not what we now call retarded, but he just never had the chance to be brought up in the normal way most all other children were.
 
After a period of time in Nashville being cleaned up and having his health taken care of along with having glasses fitted because of his extremely poor eyesight, Leon returned to Greenfield and he began helping out at the Brasfield Drug Store, stocking up and doing odd jobs for Mr. Gent Belew and Mr. Bert Adcock.  He had living quarters upstairs over the drugstore.
 
Even though Leon’s reading skills were very limited he had a knack for keeping track of the drug store inventory by memory.  Many times Gent and later Maurice Belew, and Ronnie Bachelor would think they were out of an item but Leon could find the item in stock.  He knew the inventory without even having to look.  There are many of us he has known all his life, that he has never ridden in a car with.  Why this is so I do not know.   He had his own room built in the later locations of the Drug Store that had become Belew Drugs.
 
Basically Leon was his own boss and worked at his own pace and time.  Because of this it turned out to be a very frustrating experience for a “gummint” bureaucrat with the wage and hour department of the Federal Department of Labor.  It seems this “gummint agent” was trying, as they usually do, to catch his employers with not paying him for enough hours.  This was not from any complaint but from the usual government “meddlin.”  You would have to personally know Leon to appreciate what this bureaucrat had to go through.  Leon’s general answer to many questions is, “sometimes it is and sometimes it’s not.” or “sometimes I do and sometimes I don’t.   Needless to say the “gummint man went away empty handed.
 
In recent years you could set your watch for the time Leon would show up for breakfast at Allison’s Restaurant — 9:05 a.m.  It was also the custom for many retired and other folks that worked and could take off for a coffee break to be there between 9 and 10:30 in the morning and from about 2:30 til 4 in the afternoon.  Leon had taken it upon himself to wait on tables pouring second cups of coffee.
 
Leon was one of those people that either liked you or he didn’t and he made no bones about letting you know it.  One of these that he disliked was a most influential and prominent man in town.  As he was pouring the refills around the coffee table one day he skipped this man.  The man then asked Leon to pour him a cup.  Leon’s answer was “sorry I can’t do that” and walked away.
 
For many years Leon sat within earshot of the coffee table but never at the table.  He never joined in the conversation but most of us were always aware that he was listening to everything that was said.
 
At one time there was a period of several days that we were trying to think of a person’s name that was involved in an event that had happened in Greenfield.  You know how it is when you know something and cannot remember the name, it bugs you to death, and you cannot drop the subject until you find the answer. On about the third day of all of us asking newcomers that had not been there on the other conversations someone asked Leon who it was as he was pouring coffee.  He immediately informed all of us who the person was.  Someone asked him why he had not told us before that day.  Leon’s reply was “You didn’t ask me.”
 
For the most of his life he was introverted and mostly kept to himself.  Just in the last few years has he become more outgoing and shaking hands and speaking to everyone he likes.  One day at the coffee table Jimmy Grooms had been doing the talking for several minutes and as we were breaking up he shook hands and spoke to Jimmy, who was one of his lifelong friends, and said “What do you know Jim.”  Jimmy’s reply was “I don’t know nuthin.”  Leon then remarked “Sounded like you knew it all awhile ago.”
 
Leon is now in a rest home in Martin.
 
I’ve known a few Ph.D’s but never one that had the intelligence of life as Leon.
 
I’m happy to have had Leon call me his friend all these years.
 
**Since the original writing of this Leon has now passed on to be with his Lord.
  

Hypnotism at Greenfield High School
by Joe Stout
 
It was during the basketball season of 1945/46 that a Hypnotist was brought to Greenfield High School to perform on the stage of the study hall for all the students.
 
He got 10 or 12 of us to come onstage and began his hypnotism. The first thing I remember he had us do is to start rolling our hands over and over and after a while he told us we could not stop. I remember that I was aware of what I was doing but I could not stop. Some probably did but I don’t remember if they did or not.
 
I also remember that he got me to come up and stand in front of him with my back to him and he began to tell me that I was going to fall backwards. I also remember having a numbing feeling and I did fall backwards and he caught me. He had others imitating a chicken and doing some antics that were unusable. That is about all I remember of the performance.
 
This did create a lot of excitement in school, as we had not seen, and many of us had never heard of this before.
 
Frank Overton was a senior that year and he decided that he could do just as well as the performer. The next day he tried it on a few without success and then he tried it on Betty Jean Coats. Well he was successful on this attempt but he evidently did not know how to bring her out of the hypnotic state.
 
There was a basketball game that night and Betty Jean did play some still in some kind of hypnotic state. I don’t remember when and how she came out of it.    

Hiccups & Miss Nanny Campbell
by Joe Stout

Miss Nanny Campbell was the 7th grade teacher at Greenfield Grammar School in 1943. Her husband, Mr. Jessie Campbell, was my 8th grade teacher and also the Grammar School Principal.

One day during that year I developed a bad case of hiccups in Mr. Jessie’s class. I held my hand up and asked permission to go down the hall to the water fountain to get a drink of water. One of the old time remedies was to hold your breath and take several swallows of water. Sometimes this remedy worked but many times it did not.

As I was passing Miss Nanny’s room she was standing in the doorway as the door was open. Just as I passed her one of those loud hiccups was audible as sometimes happens when you hiccup with your mouth open. At that point Miss Nanny stopped me and told me to stand in front of her class. She then instructed me to hiccup for all the class to see and hear. Needless to say this immediately “cured” my hiccups.

Ever since that experience when others around me have the hiccups I have used this technique to cure them with about a 99% success rate. Even if it’s just one on one have the person look you in the eye and give you a big hiccup.

Try it. It does work.

Grease on the Bacon
by Joe Stout

During the three year period in the mid 1930’s when my parents operated the old hotel in Greenfield I was just starting to school on “Happy Hill.”
 
The “permanents” that lived there consisted of Herman Elam, Ms Kate Roberts, and Nick Givens among others.
 
I remember Herman mostly from his card playing which I think was bridge.  He also raised truck crop plants in hotbeds for sale.
 
Ms. Kate was like a grandmother to me and as I was an only child her son, Charles Moseley, was the closest thing I would ever have as an older brother.  Charles was not really Ms. Kate’s son but rather the son of “Pete” Moseley who was a widower when Charles was a young boy.
 
Charles made tunnels for me out of cardboard boxes, soap box cars as well as many other toys that were out of the ordinary.  This of course was before the days of the “wonder toys” we have now.
 
One that stands out the most in my memory was an “airplane swing” that he built and mounted on the big maple tree on the south side of the hotel.  It had a propeller and wings and the amazing thing was it could take off and land.  He had mounted a pulley on the big limb and the rope that held my “airplane swing” was run through it.  This way he could pull me up for take-off and lower me for landing.   
 
Ms. Kate was the owner/operator of The Style Shop.  This was the place in Greenfield that those that could afford the hats and dresses that were out of the ordinary did their shopping.  Ms. Kate made frequent trips to St. Louis buying merchandise as the seasons changed.  It was located in a very narrow building just south of the Brasfield Drug Store on Front St.  That building has since been torn down but The Style Shop is still in operation and is owned by Jan Coats Johnson.
 
Nick Givens, to a small child like me, appeared as the “Grinch that stole Christmas” or the “boogeyman” because of his gruff manner.
 
My breakfast usually consisted of a bowl of Kellogg’s Corn Flakes and maybe a cup of hot chocolate and most of the time I would be in the kitchen with the “colored cook” (That was the politically correct term in those days).
 
During breakfast one morning, at the big oval boarding house table in the dining room of the hotel, I heard Mr. Nick complaining about all the grease that was on the bacon in the big platter that was served.  He called out for the cook in his usual gruff manner and she came and got the platter setting it on the table next to the sink where she was washing pots and pans.  She then took the dishrag and wiped the grease from the bacon and platter, then returning it to the table.  The next time you are tempted to complain about food in a restaurant to an employee, just remember the grease on the bacon.
 
Mr. Givens was a photographer who developed his own pictures.  He was constantly taking pictures of people and events in Greenfield.
 
In later years I learned what a kind and caring man Mr. Givens was.  It seems that there were two sisters that were orphaned during those hard times that he supported anonymously.  As an old bachelor he married Ms. Stella Mae Brasfield who was in a wheelchair and worked as a cashier at the Greenfield Bank. This was a wonder to the citizens of Greenfield on such a happy union.  Ms. Stella Mae’s brother and his wife died tragically in a house fire and many of Mr. Nick’s pictures were in that house.
 
Much of the pictorial history of Greenfield was destroyed in that fire but some that he took and gave to others are still around.  I have a few myself of how things were.  This is Mr. Nick’s legacy.
 

Flying Solo
by Joe Stout

In order to qualify to fly solo you must make 3 takeoffs and landings by yourself.
 
It was 1952 and Chester Reid was an instructor at Tom Stewart airport in Union City. I had scraped up enough money for a few lessons in his J3 Piper Cub. I had 3 hours and 40 minutes of instruction from Chester when I went for another lesson. That day he was busy and his son took over and we shot a few landings. After about 20 minutes he got out and told me to solo by shooting 3 landings. He evidently did not realize that I had less than four hours of flight time instruction.
 
I taxied back to the runway and took off and made 2 good takeoffs and landings. On my 3rd downwind leg preparing for my final landing I pulled the throttle back for the engine to idle as is the practice in light single engine aircraft. At that time I noticed one problem. The engine was not idling nor did it have enough power to keep flying. I then worked the throttle forward and back several times and nothing happened. By this time it was time for me to turn on my base leg just before turning for the final approach.
 
For those that are unfamiliar with the phrase, “Dead Stick Landing”, it means landing with the engine off. I quickly came to realize that was the only way I could land because there was too much power to land and not enough power to keep flying. As I was on the final approach I just reached over and cut the engine off. It sure is a funny feeling when you see that propeller stop and it also caught the attention of those on the ground. I bounced a couple of times upon hitting the runway but the saying, “Any landing you can walk away from is a good landing”, came true that day.
 
It turned out that the throttle cable had come loose from the carburetor.
 
Chester and his son were happy to qualify me to fly solo.