Puppy Dogs, Come to me!
The previous two Miles' Files revisited the neighborhoods in which I learned to have fun in more youthful days. My memories of the Hazel Street and South Main Street neighborhoods of the Fifties and Sixties prompted several "listeners" to respond with stories of their own. Each one of these personal recollections would redeliver me to the scene of that particular remembrance. Thanks to Ashley (Edward) Kinney, Marian Tims, Buddy Jones, Margaret Ann Gillihan, Kay Taylor, Lee Conditt, Laura Benish, Kathy Spann, Pam Rawlings, Nancy Rhodes, Kristine Artymowski, Scott Baker, Cherry Smith, Donnie Washam, Freeman Travis and Donny Appleton for sharing antiquated thoughts with me. When Laura Benish recalled the pungent odor of the wild onions so prevalent in the Springtime in our South Main yards, I was actually able to conjure up the smell she remembered so vividly. And when Ash (Edward) Kinney asked about the big old rotted out cypress tree beyond the levee we used as a favorite hide out, I envisioned boyhood war games and swatting away the ever-present air force of mosquitoes that swarmed you as the sun would begin its evening descent.
Buddy Jones told of the South Walnut Street kids setting up a tollbooth charging vehicles a nickel each to drive down the newly paved street of which they were so proud. He also reminded me that Mary Steenburgen, one of Newport's favorite daughters, resided in the South Main/South Walnut neighborhood, but she moved away before she was old enough to play touch football. That neighborhood produced a lot of fine "character" actors, just none got to the big screen as Mary did.
The "thread" that pulled my two memorable neighborhoods together was Walnut Street. With your indulgence I'm going to walk down Walnut as I did so many times in days gone by. Walnut Street was a major artery connecting the heart of downtown Newport to the southern part of town. At the north end of Walnut was the train station (still there today, but not as vibrant). My first train ride with my dad was from that station en route to St. Louis to see the Cardinals play. In present day Arkadelphia I can hear the whistle blow on the trains as they pass through town on the same tracks that run past Newport and I remember my early train rides from the station sitting at the head of Walnut Street.
Immediately across Front Street from the train station sat the architecturally rich First National Bank (later home of John Minor Insurance). I opened my first savings account in that bank and still have my savings book reflecting many fifty-cent deposits made over the years. My Aunt Pat worked at First National operating the gigantic posting machine used in the late '50s. I also worked for that fine banking institution from 1983 through 1987 after it had converted from a national charter to the state chartered First State Bank of Newport. Each time I drive past this beautiful building I think of the red and white uniforms of the First National Little League team I played on with Jimmy Toler, Jim Reid Holden, Buster Stuart, Anson Clark, Doug Lambert, Woody Castleberry and others. Real boys of Summer!
The alleyway that ran behind the First National Bank and other Front Street stores and buildings served as the break from those businesses facing Walnut Street. That alleyway on the east side of Walnut was the location of the ticket booth for "colored people" to the Strand Theatre. Other than that reminder of forced segregation, I have fond memories of times at the Strand Theatre ... winning a real live pound puppy at the matinee of the original "101 Dalmatians, taking Mary Wynne Parker to see "Babes in Toyland" when we were in the third grade, sitting in the balcony with my friend Glenn Gay and giving his Aunt Edith Evans fits with our antics, being "shushed" by Miss Edith with the glow of a flashlight in my face, throwing partially licked Sugar Daddy's at the screen to see if they would stick to it (and they often did), meeting Sivad, the "Monster of Ceremonies" from Channel 13 in Memphis, in his hearse as he hosted a Friday night scary movie in Newport, and ... I could go on and on. I have an autographed picture of Sivad (his name Davis spelled backward) in my office here in Arkadelphia. He now resides in Clarendon, AR in retirement from his ghoulish days in television. I also remember the really sticky floors in the old Capitol Theatre two doors down from the Strand and being at the movie in the Strand the night the Capitol burned to the ground. What was playing? No clue.
Sandwiched between these two grand movie houses were Freeman Office Equipment and Brosh-Long Jewelers. I spent many Saturday mornings talking with Mr. Freeman about my coin collection and gathering information about the value of my coins. The pack rat that I am, I still have these coins neatly chronicled in the little blue binders purchased at Freeman's along with my baseball card collection, which has grown quite a bit since childhood.
The Newport City Hall was next to the Capitol Theatre and is still there today. Several memorable places were situated in the 200-block of Walnut at one time or another. Two fine restaurants once sat in this block with Bob's Grill on the northwest corner and Kelley's Grill in the middle of the block. The site of Kelley's Grill was later the Eva Graham Dress Shop where my mother worked when I was in high school. Bill Duncan's Barber Shop where I got my first hair cut, perched on a board resting on the arms of the barber chair, was in that block with Schratz Cleaners and the Pickens Law Firm nearby.
The two places I most often visited in this block were the bus station and the library. My dad subscribed to several out of town newspapers and the Daily Racing Form, of course, and these would be delivered to town on the bus. I would routinely ride my bicycle to the bus station to retrieve these papers, which included the Kansas City Star for which my dad's uncle Fred Starr was a columnist. More frequently I would visit the library to immerse myself in reading material. My library card number was 1000 of which I was particularly proud. I am known to visit the Jackson County Library today on return visits "home." Mrs. Ila Lacy takes good care of me. From these experiences, I remain a fan of good literature and I am an incurable newspaper junkie.
Moving on down the line, of course the First Christian Church still sits across the street from the library. South of Third Street was primarily residential with Minerva's Flower Shop sitting on the southeast corner of Fourth and Walnut. My father roomed in the rear of Mrs. Minerva Baatz's flower shop prior to marrying my mother and moving just around the corner to 412 Hazel. Mr. Norman Campbell's big home across the street from the flower shop is still visible in my mind. And the 400-block was fully occupied by the Walnut Street School and its playground. Exploits there have been chronicled in previous Miles' Files, but who can forget the essence of that school building and those who taught and learned there.
I visited with my first grade teacher, Mrs. Helen Shoffner, and her daughter Martha while I was home just last week on Mother's Day. That same day I got to see classmates Ruth Johnston, Cherry Smith and Mike Brand at church as well as my MYF counselor, Phil McDonald. After church I went with my mother to visit my baseball guru, Miss Margaret Van Dyke. Each trip home is a real treat for me.
After Walnut Street School was taken down, the site became a Kroger's grocery store with government offices across the street. Today, simply said, it isn't the same. Walking south from the Walnut Street School along the route I traveled often as youth to get "up town" from South Main, I see the likes of Dr. Haymond and Kathryn Harris, Robert Holden, Clyde McDonald, Buck and "Mama" Hurley, Mon Thaxton, Lonnie and Jenny Bennett, Ray Fann, Jim Spencer, Alcorn Minor, Joe Schratz, Harry Mack Adams, the Buffingtons, the Laufers, and so many more wonderful people and families. Don't know about you, but I miss the daily presence of these fine people who knew my every move as a mischievous youth.
The Methodist parsonage was in the 700-block of Walnut and in high school my mischievous pal, Drew Stewart, lived there. His father, Bill, delivered our Baccalaureate address our senior year at NHS. It was in Drew's house stretched out on the floor of the living room that I watched Neil Armstrong step on the moon in July 1969. I remember stepping outside after the Eagle had landed and staring up at the moon from the front yard of the parsonage in total awe of what had taken place on the television screen.
In the 800-block was Purdy's Flower Shop and the home of the McDowell's. Crossing Garfield Street marked the beginning (for me anyway) of my South Main/South Walnut Street neighborhood we visited in the last Miles' Files. I hope you have enjoyed this timeless walk on Walnut. I would often run down Walnut after dark returning from a late afternoon in Remmel Park and letting the time get away from me praying I would be in time for supper to avoid a scolding or worse. Looking at me today, you will know that I did not miss many meals along the way.
Walnut Street is my main artery to the Newport of yore. The side street to your heart may be Holden Avenue, Wilkerson Drive, Remmel Avenue, Malcolm Avenue, Dill Street, Normandy Drive, Main Street or some other little road on the Newport map where memories lie. Wake up those memories and take a walk. In "Walking in Memphis" Marc Cohn sings, Walking in Memphis, walking with my feet ten feet off of Beale, walking in Memphis, do I really feel the way I feel. I'm not sure how Marc Cohn feels when he's walking in Memphis, but if you will let your mind and your heart take you back to the streets of Newport during the time we were in school there, you cannot escape the feeling I have each time I take that walk. The sight of the Walnut Street School and the people who lived nearby, the smell of the wild onions in the Spring, the taste of the chicken fried steak at Bob's Grill, the sound of the train's whistle as it left the station for St. Louis, the feel of the mosquito's sting, the feeling of laughter in your heart as your senses take you back to another time when we were young.
Before I leave you, I want to remember two persons who have held my hand on my walk through life. Mrs. Lena Baker, my ninth grade Civics teacher, passed away a couple of weeks ago at the age of 91. I know she was much relieved when Scott Baker, Mike Tucker, Nancy Rhodes and I left her class. And just last week, Johnny Thomas died at a much too young 61. Johnny worked for my dad at the Lion Station across from the Methodist Church when he was a young man and later had his own station where he offered real "service" to his customers like that available when we were learning to drive. I ask that you hold their families in your heart. Take my hand and join me on the next walk.
Until then, I am still Miles from Nowhere ... guess I'll take my time! Oh, yeah.
joe
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