Unofficial Class Reunions

I think I’ve run into more classmates this visit than any other, just by the luck of the draw. It started out with the Class of 1961 and its 50th Reunion. Then, I got a call from frequent contributor Keith Robinson, who said he was in town from Kansas City. (I let him slip away without getting a photo of him, drat.)

Shari Stiver came down from St. Louis over the weekend and she, her mother and I roamed around Cape and Perry Counties in search of interesting things. The low water level on the Mississippi River let us go out on an old quarry south of Tower Rock that is usually covered by eight or 10 feet of water.

Terry Hopkins

Monday, former earth science teacher, ham radio operator, pilot and first teacher I ever called by a first name, Ernie Chiles, and Terry Hopkins from the Class of ’66 shared lunch at Mario’s Pasta House. I didn’t bother to shoot a photo of Ernie because, except for being a bit grayer, he looks just like he did when he was standing in front of a class at Central. You can click on Terry’s photo to make it larger. Terry wrote a touching piece about how important the Capaha Park Pool was to him when he was growing up.

Ernie’s plane is sick

The weather has been great for flying, so I was hoping to refresh my stash of aerials, but Ernie says his plane is down having a carburetor rebuilt. I recall that he was having to play with the mixture a bit on our last flight because the engine kept sputtering.

“I’ve never left anybody up there,” he said, reassuringly.

Reminds me of the time I was flying in the Palm Beach County Sheriff’s helicopter and we suddenly dropped like a rock to a not-so-soft landing on the beach. “What was THAT all about, Andy?” I asked the pilot.

“See that red warning light. That detects flakes of metal in the transmission. Sometimes that means nothing. Sometimes that means the thing that keeps that big fan over our head turning is chewing itself to bits. You’re better off if you figure out if it’s something or nothing while sitting on the ground.” We got a ride back in a squad car and the chopper got a ride back on a flatbed truck.

Pat Sommers

Pat Sommers and I were debate partners. I’ve written about Pat before, much to his chagrin. What you do in high school can come back to haunt you if your friend is a pack rat photographer.

While we were trading war stories about debates won and lost, Pat reminisced about the feeling of power he had when he was waving the gavel around after being elected Speaker of the House when we went to the State Student Congress. (I was elected Outstanding Senator or Representative.)

Central had a showing much stronger than what our numbers would have led you to believe possible. It came about because we put together a coalition of all the smaller schools to challenge the numerical superiority of the metro areas of St. Louis and Kansas City. That, or we just got lucky.

All this socializing is playing the dickens with my work schedule, but it’s been fun catching up with old friends.

 

They Opened the Time Capsule

When I think of the Common Pleas Courthouse markers and memorials, this 1967 photo of the Civil War memorial is the one that comes to mind. I’m pretty sure it ran, because it won a minor prize somewhere. All I know is that the negative sleeve is marked “Cook kids & Courthouse Statue 6/29/67.” When I wrote about it in 2009, I was hoping that someone would provide details, but I didn’t have the readership I do now, so I’m hoping I’ll have better luck this time.

It wasn’t until I walked across the courthouse grounds on the way to lunch downtown with Missourian reporter Melissa Miller that I realized that the park is peppered with memorials, stones and markers. (Click on any photo to make it larger.)

Monuments to Civil War, Vietman

Bloomfield’s Stars & Stripes Museum has a great quote about the Civil War: “Missourians did not have to await the arrival of an invading army to begin making war – they just chose sides and began fighting each other. Although the First Battle of Bull Run is usually accorded the distinction of being the first land battle of the Civil War, Missourians formed their battle lines at Carthage on July 5, 1861, a full 17 days before the so-called ‘first’ battle was fought.”

Maybe that’s why Cape Girardeau has both a Union and a Confederate memorial within yards of each other. A third memorial honors those “WHO ANSWERED OUR NATIONS CALL” in Vietnam.

Time capsule wasn’t forgotten

I posed the question “Did they open the time capsule” that was buried during Cape’s Sesquicentennial Celebration in 1956 with an inscription “to be opened during Bicentennial YR 2006?”

Shy Reader came up with the answer:

“This is a cringing embarrassment both for me and for my beloved Cape Girardeau. No, the capsule wasn’t opened in 2006, because it had already been opened in 1993. The city wanted a celebration. It was based on Lorimier’s establishment of a trading post here in 1793.

“An observance was held, but it was nothing like the big Sesquicentennial in 1956. The bad thing was, by celebrating early, they spoiled the chance for a really big doin’s in 2006. There were a few things that year, too, but not like 1956.”

Here’s a long story about how most of the stuff in the capsule was water damaged.

There’s a zoom button at the top right of the Google News page to make it large enough to read.

Confederate monument vandalized

The CSA monument, erected by the United Daughters of the Confederacy in 1931, has been in the news recently because of vandalism. A high-powered solvent removed most of the paint, but some seeped into the pores of the marble.

A Missourian story by Patrick T. Sullivan said “‘Go south’ was written on the front of the shrine that sits along Lorimier Street near the fountain. That apparently was a request that the marker be moved, not a pro-South message. ‘We are in the union,’ read the words on the back. ‘Obscene. Remove to [illegible] cemetary in the south.'”

Common Pleas history

1806 – 1854
COURTHOUSE AND PARK

IN 1806 LOUIS LORIMIER CEDED THIS PLOT
TO THE CITY FOR A CIVIC CENTER. THE
PRESENT BUILDING DATE FROM 1854. IT
HOUSES CITY OFFICES AND COURT OF
COMMON PLEAS. THE CELLAR WAS A CIVIL
WAR PRISON. THE PARK ACCOMMODATES
A UNION MEMORIAL, BANDSTAND, AND
PUBLIC LIBRARY AND AT ONE TIME A FIRE
STATION AND PRODUCE MART. IT HAS
FOSTERED MANY ACTIVITIES THROUGH THE
YEARS – FROM SLAVE AUCTIONS TO
RELIGIOUS WORSHIP.

William F. D. Batjer sundial

IN MEMORY
OF
WILLIAM F. D. BATJER
1864 – 1937
AND
IN GRATEFUL RECOGNITION OF
HIS FAITHFUL SERVICE AND
HAPPY INSPIRING LEADERSHIP,
THE
PEOPLE OF CAPE GIRARDEAU
DEDICATE THIS SUNDIAL
THIS
MAY 22, 1938

Mr. Batjer was former secretary of the Chamber of Commerce, Rotary Club president, secretary of the Cape County Fair Association and an overall do-gooder and social activist. He first came to Cape as a trouper playing with stock companies which gave performances in the old Opera House. He died at 73 when he was struck by a car near Texarkana while he was adjusting his car’s headlights on the side of the road.

I shot a vertical photo of Outstanding Seniors Russell Doughty and Bill East leaning on that sundial in 1966. What I most remember about the photo is that the vertical was turned into a square because of a reason I wrote about in Why Pictures Don’t Run.

Naeter Cypress from Mexico

MONTEZUMA CYPRESS FROM SANTA MARIA
EL TULE, MEXICO

DONATED BY MR. FRED AND MR. GEORGE
NAETER, FOUNDERS AND PUBLISHERS OF
THE SOUTHEAST MISSOURIAN

“Our Steel Magnolia”

IN MEMORY OF
CAROL UNNERSTALL
“OUR STEEL MAGNOLIA”

AUG. 12, 1937
DEC. 21, 2004

Police Officer Memorials

The stone on the left reads:

IN MEMORY
OF
N. J. HUTSON
CHIEF OF POLICE, A MAN WHO
STOOD FOR LAW AND ORDER
FOR WHICH HE GAVE HIS LIFE
LION’S CLUB ARBOR DAY 1923

The one on the right:

IN MEMORY OF
CAPE GIRARDEAU POLICE OFFICERS
PATROLMAN DONALD H. CRITTENDON
WHO DIED MARCH 21, 1961, AND
AUXILIARYOFFICER HERBERT L. GOSS
WHO DIED MARCH 10, 1961,
BOTH OF WOUNDS RECEIVED
IN THE LINE OF DUTY ON
MARCH 10, 1961, IN DEFENSE
OF LAW AND ORDER
EXCHANGE CLUB OF
CAPE GIRARDEAU 1962

Two memorials for Jeffrey Maguire

This tree is dedicated to the memory of
JEFFREY S. MAGUIRE
May 8, 1955 – June 9, 2004
Outstanding husband, father, attorney, friend and volunteer.
You are Missed.
COOK, BARKETT, MAGUIRE & PONDER, LC.
Attorneys and Staff

[Note: the tree must have died.]

IN MEMORY OF
JEFFREY S. MAGUIRE
MAY 8, 1955
JUNE 9, 2004
A GREAT LAWYER
AND A FRIEND TO ALL

Concrete Street Award

CONCRETE STREET
50 YEAR
SERVICE AWARD – 1962
FIRST CONCRETE STREETS
IN CAPE GIRARDEAU, MO.
BUILT 1912
AWARDED BY
PORTLAND CEMENT ASSOCIATION

Bandstand and Courthouse

Dad spoke often of attending concerts at the old bandstand.

Dr. C.E. Schuchert, Bandmaster

Dedicated TO DR. C.E. SCHUCHERT

1869-1931

BANDMASTER

SCHUCHERT’S CONCERT BAND

1905 TO 1907

1913 TO 1917

SIXTH REGIMENT BAND, N.G. MO.

1908 TO 1912

140TH INFANTRY BAND U.S.A.

1917 AND 1918

CAPE GIRARDEAU MUNICIPAL BAND

1919 TO 1930

 

A Fortress Penetrated

Saturday was a day dominated by song lyrics and emotions I can’t explain.

When I became a newspaper photographer, I was sure my press pass was bulletproof and I thought my camera lens was a magic shield that protected me from the things that my camera was recording. It was only years later, that I discovered that the lens wasn’t a shield, it was a magnifying glass that etched a movie deep into my memories, a movie that often plays when most normal folks are asleep.

Most of the time I’m the guy Paul Simon sings about in I Am A Rock.

 I’ve built walls

 I’ve built walls,

A fortress deep and mighty,

That none may penetrate…

I touch no one and no one touches me.

I am a rock. I am an island.

And a rock feels no pain;

And an island never cries.

 An auction caused a crack in the wall

Friend Shari Stiver and I were headed up to Tower Rock in Perry County when we stumbled across a yard sale. The folks there said we might like to stop at a home auction going on about a block up the road. I’m not going to mention where it was, because it’s not important and I don’t want to invade anyone’s privacy. They said the owners were a well-regarded elderly couple getting on in age who decided to sell their home and possessions to move into a smaller place.

The auctioneer was moving rapidly through small lots of odds and ends, having to work hard to get a $5 or $6 bid. When he finished, he invited everyone to step inside the modest little house to look at the furniture before he moved on to the farm equipment. The man was noted for restoring antique tractors, we were told.

Childish artwork struck me

There wasn’t much to look at inside. I was going to suggest to Shari that we get back on the road when we walked into a bedroom and I saw these scrawled pieces of art probably done by a grandchild. I made three half-hearted exposures. The light was lousy and the color balance was funky. It didn’t feel like a situation that was going to make a picture good enough to work any harder.

For the record, I love shooting old, abandoned buildings. I don’t believe in ghosts, but I can feel vibrations from the folks who have passed through those places.

THIS building wasn’t abandoned enough for my taste. I felt something looking at those pictures on the wall that caused me to suddenly tell Shari I had to get out of there.

When Shari and I walked back to the car, I didn’t tell her how those scrawled pictures hit me. All I told her was that John Cougar Mellancamp’s Rain On The Scarecrow, the story of a family farm being auctioned off, was playing in my head:

” When you take away a man’s dignity”

And Grandma’s on the front porch swing with a Bible in her hand;

Sometimes I hear her singing, “Take Me to the Promised Land.”

When you take away a man’s dignity and he can’t work his land and cows,

There’ll be blood on the scarecrow, blood on the plow.

Maybe the end is closer than the beginning

Over some fine Italian dishes that evening at Mario’s Pasta House, Shari volunteered that maybe we’re getting to the point in our lives where we’re starting to see the end more clearly than the beginning (my paraphrase). Maybe I saw those photos on the old couple’s wall and flashed on Grandson Malcolm’s scrawled artwork for his grandmother on OUR refrigerator.

Should I write about it?

Tonight I pulled up the 500+ frames I shot today and tried to decide what I was going to put in the blog for Sunday. All of the other photos neatly filed away under geographical categories: Tower Rock; Cemetery near Dutchtown; old barn near Egypt Mills…

When I got down to the three frames from the auction, I almost deleted them, something I hardly ever do. I pulled them up on the screen and felt a wave of emotion sweep over me. I called Wife Lila back in Florida and said, “I’ve got a photo that I think I’m going to run, but I don’t know if I should.” I tried to give her the 25-word-or-less version, but found my voice cracking. Finally, she said, “If it touches you, maybe it’ll touch someone else.”

So, here it is. We’ll be back in the fortress tomorrow and all will be well again.

Cardinals and Marlins – What a Difference

When Brother-in-Law Don Riley and I went to the Cardinals – Marlins Spring Training Opening Day in Jupiter, Fla., on a sunny February day, we wouldn’t have predicted that one team would end up the World Champs and the other would be in last place in their division.

(In case you’ve been sleeping, it was the St. Louis Cardinals who won big in the seventh game in one of the most exciting series I can recall watching.)

Click on the photos to make them larger. Maybe you can spot David Freese, I couldn’t.

LaRussa’s autograph

I wonder if this kid held onto the ball Tony LaRussa signed for him and if he got to stay up late to watch the Series. I hope so.

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