Cape Girardeau History and Photos » Photos around Cape

Missouri Highway Patrol

Ken Steinhoff — Sat, 04 Feb 2012 03:44:02 +0000

I’d rather see these Missouri Highway Patrol troopers here than in my rearview mirror with their red lights spinning. The negative sleeve is dated January 5, 1967, but I didn’t see it in the paper around that date. I thought it might have been taken for the 1967 Achievement Edition and, in fact, there was a story about the Troop E in the February 21 paper. These aren’t the photos that ran with the story, though.

At some time or another, I ran into just about every trooper that worked the counties around Cape, but these guys don’t look familiar. The trooper I knew best was Norman Copeland. He should have been a recruiting poster for what a Highway Patrolman should look like.

How NOT to shoot a photo

This is not how to shoot a photo of a bunch of people. I violated the newspaper rule of thumb that a person’s head should be at least the size of a nickle in the print. The subjects are way too small.

My fashion faux pas

I should have remembered that lesson when I moved to Ohio.

The society editor at The Athens Messenger went to a lot of trouble to round up some college girls to model some clothes for a fashion shoot. I don’t like to set up pictures and my idea of fashion is blue jeans and Red Wing boots, so I probably should have handed the assignment off to Bob Rogers, the other photographer. Still, I loaded the gals into my car and we headed off to a state park where we had a great afternoon shooting all kinds of artsy stuff.

The next morning, I dropped off the prints and waited for the praise for a job well done. Marge Straight, the soc editor, looked at them and, in her usual quiet, diplomatic way, said, “Ken these are very nice, but the idea of a fashion shoot is to show the clothes.” Luckily the models were amenable to another day frolicking in the woods.

I used to tell my staff that I’d never ask them to shoot an assignment that I hadn’t shot or wouldn’t be willing to shoot. I lied. I dodged every opportunity to go to New York for the annual fashion shoots.

The Tea Party in Cape

Ken Steinhoff — Fri, 03 Feb 2012 05:05:56 +0000

Cape’s a pretty conservative town (home to Rush Limbaugh and Terry Jones), so it shouldn’t surprise you that it had an active Tea Party all the way back in 1967.

No, not the political Tea Party, the lower case tea party where little girls dress up in their mother’s clothes. The Missourian ran four of these photos in the August 22, 1967, edition. The cutline, paraphrased, said, At a a dress-up tea party this week, the eye of the camera caught a group of little girls in the act of being their mothers. In the first and second photographs, Kimberly Bowers, left, and Ginger Minton actively engage in conversation.

Kimberly and Ginger

The conversation continues.

Shari Minton and April Farrar

In the third photograph, Shari Minton and April Farrar are shown partaking in party fare between sentences.

Perfecting the heel-slip

Shari, demonstrates the popular tea-time habit of slipping-the-heel-out-of-the-shoe. April and Allison Farrar, daughters of Maj. and Mrs. B.F. Farrar of Washington, D.C., are here to visit their grandparents, Mr. and Mrs. Frank Farrar, and their great-aunt, Miss Verda Farrar, who held the party on the lawn of her home at 2500 Ranchito. Ginger and Shari Minton, daughters of Mr. and Mrs. Robert Minton of New Orleans, are here to visit their grandparents, Mr. and Mrs. Robert Minton. Kimberly Bowers is the daughter of Mr. and Mrs. James Bowers, Cape Girardeau.

Tea Party Photo Gallery

Getting twenty bucks worth of photos in the paper put a spring in my step, but I had a few more shots that were cute. You’re getting them for free. Click on any photo to make it larger, then click on the left or right side to move through the gallery.

Scott City Fire Department #2

Ken Steinhoff — Thu, 02 Feb 2012 04:00:55 +0000

I was going through some of the unlabeled coffee can film this afternoon when I ran into this shot of six young men posing on a fire truck. It’s about the size of what we would use for brush fires down here, but I see it’s got ladders and hose reels, so it might have been all Scott City needed for general purpose fire fighting.

The guys look pretty young. I wonder if it might have been an Explorer Post? I’m guessing it was taken in 1966 or 1967. Click on the photo to make it larger.

$2 Million Shawnee Park Center

Ken Steinhoff — Wed, 01 Feb 2012 05:00:21 +0000

June 17, 1959, The Missourian reported that citizens and churches were trying to raise $5,500 in operating expenses for the Smelterville Civic Center to be opened in the renovated Hartle building..

Fifty-two years later, a March 16, 2011, story by Scott Moyers said that the $2 million Shawnee Park Center was going to open March 28. Quite a contrast. (Click on any photo to make it larger.)

For years, residents in the central area had the Arena Building for activities; the Osage Center and the water park was built later for the northern part of the city. South Cape, always the municipal step child, was pretty much neglected until the Shawnee Park Center was built at 835 S. West End Blvd, next to the Shawnee Sports Complex..

14,541 square feet

The 14,541 square-foot facility includes:

6,500-square-foot gym.
870-square-foot fitness room.
720-square-foot activity room.
1,540-square-foot meeting room that can be divided into two rooms.
A full-service kitchen.

Stories about old Civic Center

June 17, 1959 – A special committee composed of 70 Cape Girardeau groups planned to raise $5,500 for operating funds for a Smelterville Civic Center. The funds would come from three sources: many churches agreed to contribute 10 cents per communicant to provide start-up money; donations from civic clubs and industrial firms would be solicited, and a giant variety show using local talent would be held.
May 9, 1960 – Report of accomplishments: attendance increased from 15 to 20 children on a Saturday to over 100; demand grew so much that arrangements were made to use the May Greene School gym for Saturday athletic programs; a state-sponsored program taught many women in Smelterville the use of sewing machines; a quilting program had been started; the county medical society gave assistance and an eye clinic was held.
May 11, 1960 - Stephen Limbaugh, Miss Bertie Cleino and Rev. Owen Whitfield were elected to the Civic Center board of directors. Henry Ochs reviewed the center’s accomplishments and said that plans were being made to add washing machines and bathing facilities to the building. Gary Rust talked about expansion plans. Fred Thomas reported on Saturday activities. C.C. McClue announced a fundraising drive for June.
May 10, 1961 – Mississippi River was expected to crest at 39 feet, the fourth highest point since the modern record of 42.4 feet on May 27, 1943. [That compares with 48.49 ft on August 8, 1993.] Some Smelterville families move into the Civic Center when their homes flooded. The rise was unexpected. The river came up 6.9 feet in 48 hours.
Dec. 23, 1966 – SEMO students insured that Christmas presents were available to children at the Civic Center.

Links to old Civic Center photos

I’ve done two stories with photos of old Civic Center activities:

July 1, 1967 Sock Hop
February 22, 1967 Dance practice

Civic Center 1967

Ken Steinhoff — Tue, 31 Jan 2012 06:22:27 +0000

Here’s another story that’s fallen into Google’s black hole. These photos of girls at South Cape’s Civic Center were taken February 22, 1967 for The Missourian’s Youth Page. Unfortunately, there’s a whole range of dates missing from the Google Archives for that period, so I can’t tell you exactly what’s going on and who the girls are.

As best as I can remember, a young lady from Southeast Missouri State College showed up to lead the girls in something. I can’t tell if it’s modern dance, stretching or, in one photo in the gallery, the proper way to carry a heavy rock.

How the photos were taken

Since I don’t have any other info, let’s talk technique.

I got a little sloppy with this photo. See the legs of my tripod light stand in the back left of the photo. This must have been when I was experimenting with “hot lights” to boost the illumination enough that I wouldn’t have to use flash.

That’s a technique that I used for most of my career. Some guys are able to visualize what the light will look like when their strobes fire. I can’t. I have to SEE the light. That’s why I used photo floods or quartz lights. My theory was that if God had wanted the world lit by flashes, he’d have made lightning the standard, not the sun.

Rube Goldberg lighting

In addition to more formal lighting, I carried some homebrew contraptions.

The photo staff made up a sets of Rube Goldberg-looking portable lights that used a peanut-sized 1000-watt light bulb that fit into a special ceramic socket with two bare wires protruding from it. We’d twist those wires onto some lamp cord, attach the sockets to a huge metal clamp with pipe clamps and be on our way. The more diligent of us would solder and tape or use heatshrink tubing on the junction. They were great because you could clamp them just about anywhere and they’d throw out a LOT of light. OSHA and the loss control department would probably frown on them for a number of very good reasons.

As much heat as light

The bad thing is that they’d also produce a lot of heat along with the light.

One election day, chief photographer Jose More and I went around to all the campaign headquarters and stuck lights up so the shooters wouldn’t have to deal with it on the run. The next day, Jose and I went back to retrieve our gear.

Oops, one of the lights had shifted, leaving a large charred mark on the drywall. Jose and I looked at it, looked at each other, nodded, then slapped a huge campaign poster over the damage and bolted. Thank goodness this was still back in the day of smoke-filled rooms. Nobody noticed that the place was nearly on fire.

Civic Center Photo Gallery

If you recognize anyone, call ‘em out. If you remember what was going on, please fill us in on that, too. I shot a sock hop at the Civic Center in the summer of 1967. Click on any photo to make it larger, then click on the left or right side to move through the gallery.

Shady Grove Cemetery

Ken Steinhoff — Mon, 30 Jan 2012 06:21:19 +0000

Shady Grove Cemetery between Cape Girardeau and Dutchtown at the deadend of CR 211 is the final resting spot for more than 250 members of the area’s black community. It dates to before the Civil War. A reader pointed it out to me after I did a story on the Pecan Grove School, which is at the corner of Hwy 74 and CR 211.

When I went there about two years ago, it was in pretty ratty shape. When I returned with LaFern and Shari Stiver on a beautiful fall day in 2011, the land had been cleared. I hope careful note was made of where the tombstones were located because they had apparently been moved to make the clean-up easier. I did note red flags scattered here and there.

More information about Shady Grove

The Missourian ran a fairly long piece about the history of the cemetery in the June 25, 2008, edition.
The Find A Grave website lists 131 interments and has a map that shows where Shady Grove is located.
Diana Steele-Bryant and Sharon Sanders, librarian for The Southeast Missourian, have published a book, “Dark Woods and Periwinkle: A Glance Back at Shady Grove,” which documents 240 burials. It is available from the Cape Girardeau Genealogical Society web site.

Photo Gallery of Shady Grove Cemetery

Click on any photo to make it larger, then click on the left or right side to move through the gallery.

Cruse Cemetery Near Toga

Ken Steinhoff — Sun, 29 Jan 2012 06:53:40 +0000

We passed the Cruse Cemetery north of Toga on Stoddard County Rd 203 many a time on the way to visit one of Mother’s dearest friends, Daisy Zimmerman. When I paused there in the early 1970s, it was looking pretty shabby. (Click any photo to make it larger.)

Weeds had overtaken stones

It’s always disappointing to see any cemetery neglected, but this one is a fairly large one, with almost 200 interments in it, the Find A Grave website shows. The good news is that recent Google Earth photos show that it’s in much better shape today.

Local legend of the rich man

Somewhere along the line, I heard a story about a rich man who had been buried in this cemetery. Local legend was that the man had a fair amount of money and had always said he was going to take it with him. After he was put on the dark side of the dirt, it was said that his grave was dug up by someones unknown who thought that live crooks could better spend the stash than a dead man.

I don’t remember if anyone ever said if there was any treasure found, whether the grave was successfully dug up or any any other juicy details. The other piece of the story was that when he was planted again, this time his grave had a huge concrete slab poured over it.

I’m pretty sure I’ve seen the slab, but I can’t locate any photos of it.

Another tombstone mystery

There are lots of interesting stories about cemeteries in the Advance area. There was once a family cemetery on the town square in Advance. The tombstones all mysteriously disappeared in the middle of the night. Nobody in town would give up the culprits. Even my mother and Daisy, who were wired in, claimed no knowledge of what happened to the stones.

Daisy, left, is no longer with us, so she kept the town’s secret to the end, if she ever knew it.

Wine Cellar Still a Partial Mystery

Ken Steinhoff — Sat, 28 Jan 2012 03:07:28 +0000

No wonder the North Sprigg Street wine / beer cellar jangled the memory bells yesterday: I WROTE The Missourian story about it.

Shy Reader did some snooping around and figured out why I couldn’t find the story: The Google Archive jumps from May 16 to June 6 and this story bylined “Kenny Steinhoff” ran May 17, 1966.

John Blue must have edited this story and given me the byline. My official newspaper name was Kenneth L. Steinhoff; he probably slapped the “Kenny” on it and shipped it to the backshop to be set into lead type. Click on it to make it easier to read.

The Old Cramer Home

One of the advantages of Old Tech is that you can scrawl notes on the side of the clip. This one had the question “Cramer?” written on it, which led Shy Reader to these notes about the Cramer family.

What do we know about the cellar?

It was behind the SEMO Group Housing complex west of the 1000 block of North Sprigg
It was razed because it was a hazard to children
W.H. Meystedt said his father, Henry Meystedt, stored meat in the man-made cave from the early 1900s to 1910 or 1911
It consisted of three arched chambers, each more than 25 feet long and about 15 or 20 feet wide. It was 10 or 12 feet high at the apex.
The third chamber had been sealed off. When it was dug into from the top, it was empty.
Someone said that the cellar was used by the “Dedrux Brewery” before 1900 to store “vine beer.”
The origin and use of the cellar before 1900 is colored with rumor and speculation, involving the legendary Underground Railroad tunnels, Civil War prisoners and a possible ammunition dump.
“Kenny” Steinhoff asked if anyone who had authentic knowledge of the history of the relic of a bygone day to contact The Missourian, just like “Ken” Steinhoff did 45 years later.

Sprigg Street Cellar

Ken Steinhoff — Fri, 27 Jan 2012 05:29:19 +0000

Here’s a mystery that’s been bugging me for months. In April of 1966, construction workers working along North Sprigg Street uncovered a large cellar that was thought to have housed beer or wine. I don’t remember if it was part of the dormitory construction or if Sprigg was being widened.

I’ve looked through Missourians for a month on either side of April, but haven’t been able to come up with a story, even though I’m pretty sure one ran.

A few Stag beer cans

I didn’t prowl inside the cellar, but I could see a few Stag beer cans floating around. I think there were of more recent origin. There was a flat floor, but there was a square section in the middle that was cut out. I don’t know if that might have been a sump area where water could collect to be pumped out.

Photo gallery

Anyone have any idea about the history of the cellar? Click on any photo to make it larger, then click on the left or right side to move through the gallery.

Frank J. Brockmeyer, Blacksmith

Ken Steinhoff — Tue, 24 Jan 2012 06:37:03 +0000

“For 42 years, Frank Brockmeyer has lifted, heated, pounded, molded and tempered hot steel,” I wrote in a rare bylined story on The Missourian’s front page August 22, 1967. (The paper doled out bylines about as often as it gave raises.) Click on any photo to make it larger.

One of the last blacksmiths

Mr. Brockmeyer, who was going to turn 66 on September 17, was one of the city’s last blacksmiths. His shop – a small, sagging brick and wooden structure with a weatherbeaten door – was located at 35 South Spanish.

Massive anvils

Behind the door were the tools of the smithy’s trade: the massive anvils securely anchored to equally massive blocks of wood; the huge wooden tub filled with water; the forge, and the tongs and sledge hammers and grinders and other paraphernalia.

The forge

The work is getting harder, “but any kind of work gets harder when you get older,” he quickly added, with a smile breaking out around the curved pipe usually carried in his mouth. “Lot of people think this is easy, but you try to hold this hot steel with tongs and swing at it with a hammer. Here – feel this hammer. That’s eight pounds,” he said.

Hired as apprentice in 1925

Back in 1925, when Mr. Brockmeyer was apprenticed to Joe G. Schonhoff, owners brought their horses into the building to be shod. After the shop acquired so much equipment that there wasn’t enough room for the operation, they went to the farms to do the job. The original owners started the business in a different location in 1890.

The worst thing you can do

Those days were past. Mr. Brockmeyer said it had been 27 years since he had last shod a horse, and he didn’t appear to have missed the task. “Do you know the worst thing you can do?” he asked. “It’s shoeing a horse laying down.” Noting a perplexed look on his listener [another rare thing: Missourian reporters were not to insert themselves into the story] he continued, “That’s where you have to rope him, throw him, hogtie him and then shoe him.”

You can’t trust newspapers

I was curious to see if the paper had run any other stories about Mr. Brockmeyer. I found his obituary in the May 15, 1983, paper, the day he died at 81. He was born Sept. 17, 1901, at Apple Creek, the son of Theodore and Mary Schumer Brockmeyer. On Sept. 24, 1924, he married the former Mary Eftink of Oran, who survived him. The couple had nine children. His only son tried blacksmithing, but didn’t like it, Mr. Brockmeyer said.

The obit said he was a self-employed blacksmith, operating a shop on South Spanish from 1925 until his retirement in 1963. He couldn’t have retired in 1963, because I shot him working in 1967, back when he shared his philosophy of work: “When things get too rough, I just quit and go fishing.”