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Cape Central High Photos

Ken Steinhoff, Cape Girardeau Central High School Class of 1965, was a photographer for The Tiger and The Girardot, and was on the staff of The Capaha Arrow and The Sagamore at Southeast Missouri State University. He worked as a photographer / reporter (among other things) at The Jackson Pioneer and The Southeast Missourian.

Come here to see photos and read stories (mostly true) about coming of age in Southeast Missouri in the 1960s.

Please comment on the articles when you see I have left out a bit of history, forgotten a name or when your memory of a circumstance conflicts with mine. (My mother says her stories have improved now that more and more of the folks who could contradict her have died off.) Your information helps to make this a wonderful archive and may end up in book form.


A Squirrelly Night In Kent

Black Squirrel Kent Ohio Acorn Alley 08-24-2014I think I’m going to stop letting Road Warriorettes pick the motel rooms. Remember the problems I had with Friend Shari?

Curator Jessica and I took a road trip from Athens to Kent, Ohio, Sunday so we could meet some museum folks in Kent and Massillon. We had a great drive with many stops and diversions that’ll show up in posts in the future.

Curator Jessica reads the reviews

About two hours south of Kent, I pulled into a parking lot while she researched motels. When I heard her discount this one because of bloody sheets and another one because it had more #1 ratings than #5 ratings, it looked like it was going to take awhile. I told her to wake me up when she had made a choice.

She booked us two rooms in the Clarion Inn and Conference Center in Hudson, about 30 minutes from where we have to  be on Monday morning. Then, we made arrangements to meet one of her friends for one of the best pizzas I’ve ever had.

Internet doesn’t need password

When we got to the front desk, I asked about the internet connection. I was assured that it didn’t need a password, just connect and go.

My tablet connected fine and dropped me into a screen where I agreed to something or another, and I was on my way.

The laptop I use to do the blog would connect and it would tell me that I should click HERE to open my browser (presumably to get the OK screen). No go. I tried everything I could think of: connecting, disconnecting, reconnecting, changing browsers, disabling Adblock Plus, etc. Finally, I called the front desk. Gal says to reboot my computer. Oh, yeah, I would NEVER have thought of THAT.

I tried the reboot and all the other stuff, then called the desk again. Guy answers and tells me he can give me an 800-number for tech support. I didn’t rent a room from some third-party tech support company, I rented it from Clarion Inn and Conference Center, but I say “Give me the number.”  While he’s searching for the number, I hear loud banging in the hallway. I figure somebody can’t get a door open or closed.

Router is busticated

Guy comes back on the phone and says that due to the recent storms in the area, they are having problems with the router that serves the 140-numbered rooms. He’ll move me to another room if he can.

“It’s 11:17. I have everything unpacked and spread around, I have at least an hour’s worth of work to do if I start right now, and I’m sitting here in my underwear. I don’t think you want me to go walking down the hall like that. When I check into a motel chain that is supposed to cater to business users, I expect to be able to use the internet.”

While I’m on the phone, Curator Jessica sends me a text: “Wow, there is a small drama going on in the hallway next to your room. This night just gets better.” She calls the front desk to report the disturbance.

Desk Guy wishes me a good night

Yeah, like THAT is going to happen.

Tumult outside my door gets louder, with much cussing and banging. I cautiously peek around the door and see a woman with enough tattoos to rival a map of Ohio striding down the hallway screaming, “I’m going to call the cops on everybody in this hall.”

Jessica texts an offer to bring over her pepper spray to protect me if I need it. She’s full of late-night help and information like her text moments before midnight, “Somebody on Facebook told me that today is National Go Topless Day. If it was on Facebook, it must be true, right?”

OK, it’s been 30 minutes of quiet. Now I hear door pecking, then banging again. Map-looking woman is there with two cops (or uniformed security guys, I didn’t look closely) and they are trying to get someone in Room 145 to open up. (I’m in 143.)

Maybe Jessica should have picked the motel with the bloody sheets.

Oh, yeah, the squirrel

I guess you are wondering about the picture at the top of the page. It’s a sculpture of a black squirrel in Acorn Alley in downtown Kent. Here is the background about the black fuzzy-tailed rodents and how they got to town.

UPDATE

I had an early morning call from the manager of the hotel who had see my post on Facebook. After a discussion, she agreed to comp the room because of the inconvenience. She also said she would encourage the staff to check for log entries that might indicate that a room wasn’t up to snuff.

We both agreed that the hotel had no control over unruly guests. I’m pretty sure she was talking about the drunk woman in the next room who was banging on doors and hollering, not me, but I’m not positive.

Neither of us could turn back the clock to undo the problems of the previous night, but I was pleased that she reached out for me so quickly. Nice save.

 

3 comments to A Squirrelly Night In Kent

  • Laura

    The black squirrels of Kent even received a two-paragraph mention in James Michener’s ‘Kent State: What happened and why’. Michener detailed how they were brought to Kent and rapidly multiplied, then contrasted their innocence and playfulness with the harsh realities of what occurred on May 4, 1970.

  • Terry Hopkins

    Nothing is better than a crappy motel adventure…it usually takes me 3 days to recover my sleep cycle.

  • Dick McClard

    We had caterpillars in Tennessee. Shake York shoes out and wear them while walking around in the room.

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