Horsing Around in Florida

Horse trailer at Canoe Creek rest area 04-30-2104I finally got on the road back to Cape. I was later than planned, but earlier than I had actually figured I’d be wheels-up. The last thing I did before pulling out of the driveway was to grab a cloth and polish my glasses. That’s when I noticed one of the nose pieces was missing.

Sunday’s not a good time to try to find someplace to fix that, and the glasses didn’t feel too weird, so I decided to find a fix on Monday.

Needed a nap

About 200 miles up the road, I felt a little drowsy, so I swerved into the Canoe Creek rest area on the Florida Turnpike for a 22-minute nap. I actually woke up a couple of minutes early, maybe because of a bright reflection shining into my eyes.

The light was reflecting off a highly-chromed trailer with a window in its side. After staring at it a couple of minutes, something inside stared back at me. I decided it was time to quit horsing around and got back on the road.

Found a cheap, clean room

I made it to Lake City, where I stopped at the Comfort Suites motel I usually stay at. I asked how much for a room, and the clerk said, $98.”

“I’ve stayed here before for $69 and $79. Surely you can do better than that for a regular customer who has recommended you to his friends.”

“I’m sorry, that’s as low as I’m authorized to go,” she said.

I voted with my feet.

A quick Internet search turned up a 2-star motel within eyesight. I wasn’t crazy about the two-star part, but the reviews of the America’s Best Value Inn were favorable. Even the complaints were nit-picking (“it’s a long walk to the ice dispenser”).

The clerk was a nice guy who had been working there for three years. “I installed the carpet in the rooms, and when I was done, the job dried up and nobody was building anything, so I applied for this job.” He assured me that it was clean.

The room is small, but clean. Hey, I’m not holding a dance party. I just want to sleep in it.

Oh, yes. The price was NOT $98. The price was not $79. The price was not $69. The price was $45.95. You can’t beat that with a stick. Another good thing: it had some of the fastest wireless Internet connectivity of anyplace I’ve stayed.

Putting Horse Before Cart

Children with cart and horseThese youngsters have the horse on the right end of the cart, but that’s about all I know about the photo. Does anyone recognize them? You can click on the photo to make it larger.

Speaking of horses, Monday was Wife Lila’s uncle’s birthday. Ray Seyer, who is old enough to know about horses, labeled Rush Limbaugh as a “horse’s patootie.” I’m not too conversant with horse anatomy, but I don’t think that’s where the oats go in.

Frank J. Brockmeyer, Blacksmith

“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 23, 1967. (The paper doled out bylines about as often as it gave raises.) Unfortunately, the page was microfilmed at a 90-degree angle, so you can’t search on that date. You have to search for August 22, then lay on your side to read it.) 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.”