My Very First Time
Most folks know I was a Scoutmaster for nearly 40 years, but only a few have heard about the first Scout camping trip I ever went on. It was in 1958 at Pioneer Point, Camp Steere, two nights and the start of many, many happy memories.
A couple of my classmates, Johnny Herring & David Hubbard, talked me into it. I had been a Cub, a Webelos, and even visited a Troop Meeting or two. The closest I had come to camping was the night 30 of us Cubs spent the night in Freddie Nelson's basement .. . Never again, his folks told our Cubmaster Jim Sharpe.
But I was reluctant to go into Boy Scouts. Heck, most of those Scouts were way bigger than I was. Some of them were playing sports in High School. Mike Rodman & Rick Hyman played varsity football & wrestled at North. Gary Ashford ran track; Smitty Smith played basketball & baseball; and I
think Fred Kerr may have majored in high school girls, but he still earned a Monogram Club letter.
Anyway, Scouting was pretty much the only extra-curricular going. There was no Derita Athletics. The nearest YMCA was in North Charlotte, and being part of that early busing generation, meant that any after-school sports were all in Huntersville. So, I joined Johnny & David Hubbard and their Hunter Acres friends for a few Friday night meetings at the Cole Memorial Scout Hut. Troop 14 was the Derita Troop and Troop 22 was at Sugaw Creek Presbyterian. That's it. The other two Troops at Derita Presbyterian & Derita Anerican Legion came along much later.
Our Scoutmaster was Marvin B. Kerr. He was a tall, thin guy who maintained all of the melting pots at Florida Steel Mill in Croft. He laid all of the insulating bricks that kept the place going. It was a hot, sweaty, dangerous job, but he found time to keep us boys (and his own two Scout sons) on the straight and narrow. His son Fred even made Eagle Scout. He was also the man who lined up the parents to drive us off to the woods on Friday nights when they got off work and found still other parents to come collect us on Sunday afternoons.
There was no I-85 or I-77 back then, and it was like Camp Steere was on the other side of the world. It sat on Lake Wylie just a mile or so north of the old Buster Boyd Bridge that crossed into York, SC. To get there, you either drove through Charlotte's downtown traffic, or took the backroads out to Wilkinson Blvd, a rural road past the old Harvey B. Hunter Dairy at Steele Creek and then onto Hwy 49 South. In all, we're talking a good hour & half to two hours drive. Usually parents did it with five Scouts scrunched
in the backseat and two riding shotgun.Your trunk would be filled with the backpacks and food that we couldn't stuff in Mr. Kerr's stationwagon with his 6-8 Scouts.
At Camp Steere, we'd either backpack everything to the campsite up & down the hills over the old fire road past Pawnee Point and then on to Pioneer Point, or if we were lucky we'd take the much shorter firelane in off Hwy 49. Either way, we knew there would be a chain across the gate and no cars were going in. All of the roads were dirt when dry and mud when wet. This particular week we had had rain several days and it was mud. The Lake was up, filled with heavy run-off from downtown Charlotte and we got the lecture about staying back from the riverbanks where the water was undercutting the sandstone.
Us new guys, and there 4 of us this trip, stayed in the designated outpost campsite. Keeping us close so we wouldn't hack down any live trees, stab our toes playing chicken with our Scout knives, or let our campfire burn out the surrounding wilderness. There were plenty of signs that other Troops had not been so well supervised. The
older guys chose clearings closer to the lake where they could hoop & hollar all night without disturbing the Scout Leaders (Mr. Kerr & whichever Dad he managed to bamboozle into spending the weekend. Usually we never saw a Dad come camping with us twice). Our campsite had an old hand-operated well pump and we were lucky
if we had water by the fifth pull. It usually took a couple of us to work the handle. The toilet was wherever we chose to dig it, so long as there was a sawed-off stick with a recent date written on the end of it at that location. Occasionally, we'd find ourselves covering over someone else's mess. If they buried trash or uneaten food in their latrines, local dogs and wild animals would often did it up.
We didn't have much equipment to speak of. Some Scouts brought their own tents (those yellow light canvas play tents which would fit 3-4 boys uncomfortably and pray, please pray that it didn't rain.) The Troop had some WW2 canvas shelter halves that buttoned together across the top to form a pup tent. Most all of our cooking was done in a surplus army mess kit that each of us picked at Gotlieb's Army-Navy store downtown on 11th St,
We set up by flashlight, stopping only to eat the bag lunches that we had brought from home. That's right, no roadstops at Mickey D's, Bojangle's, or Hardee's. They hadn't been invented yet. Usually it was PB&J, a banana sandwich or bologna & cheese, if you had the fixin's at home. Soon, we'd gather round the campfire and find out what was planned for the weekend, listen to a ghost story or two, then head off to our tents. . . Not that anyone was going to sleep that night. Everyone was too keyed up! For us new guys we'd talk through to daybreak, or if you happened to drift off, noises from bird or owl would likely shock you back into consciousness.
I remember this trip best of all because Mike Rodman & his Patrol had purchased a new CocaCola insulated drink bag and they had filled it with Puffin Biscuits (the name brand for canned biscuits back then). Nobody told them you also had to use ice. Mr. Kerr had done a demonstration the Friday before, showing us how fry up
doughnuts created from biscuits, cooking oil & powdered sugar. So you know what these guys had on their minds. They had 12 cans to cover Saturday & Sunday morning breakfasts. I heard the explosions began about 2am. I'm surprised they lasted so long. Us new guys kept our distance the next day because there was a rash of raw biscuit dough getting down people's shirts and in the back of their pants..
We had a great day of activities. Mr. Kerr even took us on a nature hike pointing out tracks & bird's nests and such. But back at the campsite we heard rumblings about initiating the new guys and about a Snipe Hunt planned for after supper. I knew all about that because my older brother was a Scout and I made the mistake of sharing what I knew. That night us new guys actually made it back to camp from the Snipe Hunt before the older guys, and then it was on. Our tent mysteriously "fell down" four times that night and we "got raided" and "piled on" twice.
One of the strangest occurrences was at the tent off to the left of us. Older guys Gene Trythall & Raymond Coleman had set up there to keep an eye on us. We knew that Mr. Kerr had taken away a pack of Camel cigarettes they brought, but he didn't find the beer or the second pack of smokes rolled up in their bedrolls. Funniest sight ever was the two of them out there crawling around in their tighty-whities trying to re-light the campfire with a bunch of twigs & balls of toilet tissue. You see a nightwind had started up sometime past midnight and the thin blanket that each of them had brought just wasn't cutting it.
Come morning, Raymond was in a foul mood and his younger brother Jerry did something to set him off. They were back at their Friday night antics, having a full-contact stick-fight, each one tring to knock the other sense-less. Mr. Kerr was there quickly to break it up. But it wasn't as if we hadn't all seen the brothers go at it before. When Mr. Kerr took it to their Dad one time, the old man just said, "You know boys will be boys." I knew it was best to stay out of their way.
All in all, it was a good weekend. Mr. Kerr had us go down by the Lake on Sunday to wash up & put on clean clothes before a couple of parents came to pick us up. A good thing, too. I remember this one kid who's Mom always made him strip naked before he could enter the house after camping trips. She complained more
than once, wanting to know what all we did to leave the boy smelling like a goat. My own Mom's rule was that neither my sleeping bag or backpack was to enter the house before they had been thoroughly aired and checked for bugs or critters that might have found their way home with me. It wasn't my most exciting camping trip, but it was my first. --- Bernie Samonds
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Saturday, February 20, 2010
The Bicycle --- The Way Us Kids got around back then
Taking the Short-cut on I-85
This was back in the days before "Soccer Moms." If a kid wanted to go somewhere you either rode your bicycle, hitched a ride, or walked. This was a bicycle adventure.
My best bud for a few years (ages 10-12) was Johnny Trull, whose Dad owned a barbershop on Statesville Rd. just south of where I-85 was being built at the time. Usually, every couple of weeks or so, I'd ride the school bus home with Johnny, get my hair cut, visit with all of Johnny's friends, stay for supper, and sometimes even spend the night. We were tight.
His school bus worked out well, because Trull's Barber Shop was quite a distance from my house and there was no better way for me to get there. --- After my bus dropped me off on Allen Rd. South, it crossed the railroad tracks on to Derita Rd. and headed towards Charlotte dropping other kids off along the way including two boys that lived way down Cowboy Rd. But Johnny's bus went down Statesville Rd.
Anyway, Johnny had just gotten this new train set for his birthday and was just dying to show it to me. He asked me that day at school if I could go home with him, but we hadn't made any pre-arrangements for me to swap school buses that afternoon. So, I told him that when I got home, I'd grab a snack and just ride my bicycle over. Usually that would mean back-tracking all of the way through Allen Hills to Nevin Rd., then riding Nevin all of the way to Statesville Rd., and then back towards Charlotte for another mile or so. Quite simply, there was no quick way to get there
. . . EXCEPT . . .
They had just finished pouring concrete part of the way for I-85 from Derita Rd. (now called North Graham St.) to Statesville Rd. and the highway was still not open to the public.
What hadn't been poured, was bound to be firm dirt or maybe even gravel packed and graded --- or at least so I thought. That would take miles off my journey and I could probably ride it in an hour or less.
Turns out there was still no interchange at Derita Rd. either so I kind of pushed and half-carried my Scwinn Roadmaster down the steep bank and across the broken ground to the concrete roadway. It really looked strange. Two ribbons of light gray concrete running parallel down this wide patch of dirt that stretched in both directions as far as the eye could see. Wasn't a blade of grass standing. Not in the median, Not on the shoulders of the road. Guess they wouldn't get around to planting grass any until the spring.
It had been raining a good bit that week, so after crossing onto the concrete my shoes were caked with inches of mud and so were the wheels on my bicycle. But after some hearty pedal pumping, I was on my way, slinging off the excess mud as I rode.
Felt like I was making up for lost time until I got to the bottom of the hill where old Cowboy Rd. used to cross. The pavement stopped there and I still had a good mile of landscaped, but unpaved road ahead of me. No gravel, just dirt --- no make that mud, I soon discovered. All of it uphill.
I buckled down and put the pedal to the metal. I came roaring off of the concrete, launching myself like Evil Kenevial flying off one of his ramps. I hit the ground into a sea of mud and probably rolled about 20-30 ft. through it until my momentum died and my heavy-duty bike came to a screeching halt. It was stuck in the mud just like glue. Guess that I was lucky that it didn't sling me over the handle bars. (I'll have tell you that story later).
Shifting from shoulder to shoulder and every angle imaginable, trying to get comfortable as I could with a huge bicycle wrapped around my neck. I carried my bike the rest of the way to Statesville Rd. Seemed like another mile at least and my bike must have weighed a ton. At first there was so much mud caked under the fenders that neither tire would even turn. I finally managed to shake and scrape enough mud off the frame with my hands that I got it going again. (My last wreck sent my bike to the shop and nearly sent me & Michael Smith to the hospital. He went over than handlebars and I bounced off a telephone pole, but at least the station wagon missed us. We were still talking about that ride when I saw him at the Oak Grove Hot Dog Lunch the other day.) Anyway, this time I got it going and then it was a short ride from there to Johnny's house.
I saw Johnny's train (really cool!!). Mine was a silver Lionel Passenger Train which lit up so that you could see the people inside, but Johnny's got a freight train that blew smoke and he had a bunch of buildings that actually did stuff like loading lumber and this guy operating a crossing grate. A little later we went overto Mr. Grant's house next door. He was a CB radio operator and he let us talk with people all over the world whenever we'd drop by.
We stayed a while, but I told Johnny we needed to work on my bike before Dad got there, or else I'd be in big trouble. We went outside and hosed down my bike. Cleaned it up pretty good. Dad picked me up in the pickup that night on the way home from work. I never said a word to him about my great adventure.
That was the first and only time I rode my bicycle on Interstate 85, ever.
--- Bernie Samonds
==============================================
This was back in the days before "Soccer Moms." If a kid wanted to go somewhere you either rode your bicycle, hitched a ride, or walked. This was a bicycle adventure.
My best bud for a few years (ages 10-12) was Johnny Trull, whose Dad owned a barbershop on Statesville Rd. just south of where I-85 was being built at the time. Usually, every couple of weeks or so, I'd ride the school bus home with Johnny, get my hair cut, visit with all of Johnny's friends, stay for supper, and sometimes even spend the night. We were tight.
His school bus worked out well, because Trull's Barber Shop was quite a distance from my house and there was no better way for me to get there. --- After my bus dropped me off on Allen Rd. South, it crossed the railroad tracks on to Derita Rd. and headed towards Charlotte dropping other kids off along the way including two boys that lived way down Cowboy Rd. But Johnny's bus went down Statesville Rd.
Anyway, Johnny had just gotten this new train set for his birthday and was just dying to show it to me. He asked me that day at school if I could go home with him, but we hadn't made any pre-arrangements for me to swap school buses that afternoon. So, I told him that when I got home, I'd grab a snack and just ride my bicycle over. Usually that would mean back-tracking all of the way through Allen Hills to Nevin Rd., then riding Nevin all of the way to Statesville Rd., and then back towards Charlotte for another mile or so. Quite simply, there was no quick way to get there
. . . EXCEPT . . .
They had just finished pouring concrete part of the way for I-85 from Derita Rd. (now called North Graham St.) to Statesville Rd. and the highway was still not open to the public.
What hadn't been poured, was bound to be firm dirt or maybe even gravel packed and graded --- or at least so I thought. That would take miles off my journey and I could probably ride it in an hour or less.
Turns out there was still no interchange at Derita Rd. either so I kind of pushed and half-carried my Scwinn Roadmaster down the steep bank and across the broken ground to the concrete roadway. It really looked strange. Two ribbons of light gray concrete running parallel down this wide patch of dirt that stretched in both directions as far as the eye could see. Wasn't a blade of grass standing. Not in the median, Not on the shoulders of the road. Guess they wouldn't get around to planting grass any until the spring.
It had been raining a good bit that week, so after crossing onto the concrete my shoes were caked with inches of mud and so were the wheels on my bicycle. But after some hearty pedal pumping, I was on my way, slinging off the excess mud as I rode.
Felt like I was making up for lost time until I got to the bottom of the hill where old Cowboy Rd. used to cross. The pavement stopped there and I still had a good mile of landscaped, but unpaved road ahead of me. No gravel, just dirt --- no make that mud, I soon discovered. All of it uphill.
I buckled down and put the pedal to the metal. I came roaring off of the concrete, launching myself like Evil Kenevial flying off one of his ramps. I hit the ground into a sea of mud and probably rolled about 20-30 ft. through it until my momentum died and my heavy-duty bike came to a screeching halt. It was stuck in the mud just like glue. Guess that I was lucky that it didn't sling me over the handle bars. (I'll have tell you that story later).
Shifting from shoulder to shoulder and every angle imaginable, trying to get comfortable as I could with a huge bicycle wrapped around my neck. I carried my bike the rest of the way to Statesville Rd. Seemed like another mile at least and my bike must have weighed a ton. At first there was so much mud caked under the fenders that neither tire would even turn. I finally managed to shake and scrape enough mud off the frame with my hands that I got it going again. (My last wreck sent my bike to the shop and nearly sent me & Michael Smith to the hospital. He went over than handlebars and I bounced off a telephone pole, but at least the station wagon missed us. We were still talking about that ride when I saw him at the Oak Grove Hot Dog Lunch the other day.) Anyway, this time I got it going and then it was a short ride from there to Johnny's house.
I saw Johnny's train (really cool!!). Mine was a silver Lionel Passenger Train which lit up so that you could see the people inside, but Johnny's got a freight train that blew smoke and he had a bunch of buildings that actually did stuff like loading lumber and this guy operating a crossing grate. A little later we went overto Mr. Grant's house next door. He was a CB radio operator and he let us talk with people all over the world whenever we'd drop by.
We stayed a while, but I told Johnny we needed to work on my bike before Dad got there, or else I'd be in big trouble. We went outside and hosed down my bike. Cleaned it up pretty good. Dad picked me up in the pickup that night on the way home from work. I never said a word to him about my great adventure.
That was the first and only time I rode my bicycle on Interstate 85, ever.
--- Bernie Samonds
==============================================
Derita Families in the late 1940's & 50's
The Neighbors
I, Ann Boovy Gunson - moved to Derita in 1948, when my father had our new home built there at 2727 Gibbons Road.
When we moved in, Gibbons Road was a dirt road. The property next door to our new home was FARM LAND.
The owner of the property had a large family, and he raised most of his vegetables to feed his family. He had a beautiful garden - A real Showplace. He also had 2 old mules - their names were Luke and Nadine. He would hook Luke up to the hand plow and he kept that garden so weed free you could
not find a weed anywhere. He even, at the end of a growing season; would allow beans to dry up purposely. I remember he had Limas Beans, etc. up in the attic drying for the Winter Pantry.
He had a large garage outback of his house; he was a Mechanic by trade, and it was said He was the "BEST REAR-END mechanic in all of the area. He worked for Charlotte Transit on the City Bus Fleet.
Shortly after we moved in I became friends of one of their daughters, they had 3 girls and 4 boys. I'll refer to the girl I befriended as "Lefty Lynda." We became best of friends, and were inseparable. She was about a year younger than I, but we got along great. She was either at my house or I was at her house all the time. If we were away from home at mealtime, our mothers just put another plate on the table and we put our feet under the table as if we belonged there.
Lynda's mother made Homemade Biscuits 3 times a day. She had great big bread pans and she always made two of them full for each meal. I can still remember those Biscuits, they were big light and fluffy, never gummy. They would melt in your mouth. Sometimes she would have a jar of homemade Apple Jelly on the table to spread on them with a big dab of real Butter.
Once I asked my mother if I could spend the night over with Lynda. For some reason it did not suit her. Guess what, I went anyway. Mother waited until she knew we would be in bed, and came over to their house with a flashlight to get me. She came up to the window where we were sleeping, and knocked on the side of the house. She said, "Ann I know you are in there. You get up, do not dress, get your shoes on and come on out here.You areGoing Home!" She wanted me to know when she said something she meant it. When I got out there she had a "Little Keen Switch" (a small branch from a shrubbery). She whipped my bare legs all the way home. Needless to say, I think that is the last time I went there without permission
--- Ann Boovy Gunson ==================================================
Thanks, Ann.
That's a great little vignette on growing up in Derita in the late 1940's & 50's. I remember the biscuits that my own Mom used to make back then. Thin & crisp, but tasty. Just a hint of salt, so they worked great with jelly, butter or the sausage gravy she frequently made at breakfast time. Imagine my surprise to find that her two sisters made those larger mouth-watering type that you write about. Always loved going to my Aunt's houses for a Sunday lunch, so I could eat my fill of those biscuits. I could practically make a meal off of them.
Remember the "switchings," too. Mom would reinforce her rules by sending either my older brother or I out to cut them ourselves. Pity either of us that came back with a "limp" Switch. She was a kind, loving Mom. . . but we took some "regular reminding" not to disobey her.
I'm thinking that your friend Lefty and her siblings probably had chores to do around the farm. My Mom was the eldest daughter on a family farm near the base of Six Mile Mountain in Pickens County, S.C. Her daily chores included cooking for her Mom & Dad, her five siblings, and a half-dozen or so field hands (neighbor boys who lived with her family because their own folks could not afford to feed, clothe or shelter them); She and her two sisters fed the chickens, gathered the eggs, milked the cows, and handled the washing & cleaning, while the boys all worked in the fields. She also helped her Dad in the little family store (largely barter back then) they ran at the dirt crossroads called "Terrapin's Crossing."
--- Bernie Samonds
================================================
Refrigerators and Electricity
Derita Historian Ona Welch Pucklett writes about those early years when a family had to buy either a refrigerator or an electric stove to get power run to their house. I believe it 1917, she said, when the first lines were run to Derita to power the lights for the Derita Floral Supply greenhouses. Long before the Food Lion shopping center was built on North Graham St., their many, many glass and poly-covered growing houses covered that whole area and spilled across the street to the big lot next door to Players Sporting Goods.
As a kid, I used to play army with my buddies over on Nevin Road. We'd go down the hill to the creek between what's now Hoover Drive and Granite Creek Lane. Before long, we'd end up at the ruins of the Stephens Farm Spring House. . . a huge concrete block building with water-filled holes cut in the concrete floor where they'd sink the huge milk cans from their dairy after milking. Cool water from the creek nearby seeped into the holes and kept the milk fresh until it was picked up or needed. Before that, how folks kept things cold was a real puzzlement to me. My folks owned a Westinghouse for years. But I do recall visiting with country kinfolks in South Carolina who still had "refrigerator boxes" cooled by a big block of ice.
Being a grocer's kid, we didn't have a "Winter Pantry," but I can tell you about some local folks who did . . . But that will have to keep until next time.
---- Bernie Samonds
================================================================
Miss Lillian's Pantry
Anna Gunson mentioned her neighbor's Winter Pantry. Being a grocer's son, we didn't have one, but my kinfolks did.
In my Aunt's pantry you'd find stone ground flour, baskets of sweet potatoes, apples & pears individually wrapped in newspapers. Tomatoes pulled just before the frost hung in bunches, still on the vine. Nearby, but not too close were those spicy red peppers done the same way. And nestled in their original Kerr Mason jar boxes were all sorts of vegetables to see them through the winter. Green beans, cooked corn, more tomatoes, butter beans, pintos, and more.
I remember visiting at George & Lillian Bates' house one afternoon over on Hewitt Drive (just around the street from the Derita Post Office about where the Fairstone neighborhood sits now). Mrs. Bates taught school nine months of the year, but summers were devoted to canning. Like so many older folks who remembered the Great Depression, she kept a well-stocked pantry.
Mr. Bates was anxious to try a jar of the newly-made dill pickles. (She grew her own herbs, just like my Mom did). Well, she brought out a jar, fished out a beautiful dill with a fork and handed it to him wrapped in a paper towel. "Is this one you just made," he asked.
"They're not ready yet, got to set for a couple of weeks to be good. That one's from the summer before last," she said. "Got to finish those off before we start into the new."
Mr. Bates cocked his head, raised his finger in the air as if to make a point, even opened his mouth to speak . . . but thinking better on the moment, decided to say nothing. He just chewed on that pickle. That story maybe lost on those of you who did not know Mr. Bates. Around the house, he dressed as a farmer in jean overalls, faded shirt over a white longjohn top, sleeves rolled up, and wore a straw hat with a green plastic half-moon up front. Kept a navy blue calico handkerchief hanging out of his pocket to wipe up thesweat from his forehead or running off his nose as he worked in their huge garden and the tree farm he had started . . . But by day, he wore a business suit and dealt with bankers, construction bosses, and the big department store owners downtown. You see, he was vice-president of the Golden Eagle Motor Lodge chain, headquartered on North Tryon St. here in Charlotte. He spoke his mind, forcefully, loud and often. People listened. But he knew better than to ever raise his voice to Miss Lillian. --- Bernie Samonds
I, Ann Boovy Gunson - moved to Derita in 1948, when my father had our new home built there at 2727 Gibbons Road.
When we moved in, Gibbons Road was a dirt road. The property next door to our new home was FARM LAND.
The owner of the property had a large family, and he raised most of his vegetables to feed his family. He had a beautiful garden - A real Showplace. He also had 2 old mules - their names were Luke and Nadine. He would hook Luke up to the hand plow and he kept that garden so weed free you could
not find a weed anywhere. He even, at the end of a growing season; would allow beans to dry up purposely. I remember he had Limas Beans, etc. up in the attic drying for the Winter Pantry.
He had a large garage outback of his house; he was a Mechanic by trade, and it was said He was the "BEST REAR-END mechanic in all of the area. He worked for Charlotte Transit on the City Bus Fleet.
Shortly after we moved in I became friends of one of their daughters, they had 3 girls and 4 boys. I'll refer to the girl I befriended as "Lefty Lynda." We became best of friends, and were inseparable. She was about a year younger than I, but we got along great. She was either at my house or I was at her house all the time. If we were away from home at mealtime, our mothers just put another plate on the table and we put our feet under the table as if we belonged there.
Lynda's mother made Homemade Biscuits 3 times a day. She had great big bread pans and she always made two of them full for each meal. I can still remember those Biscuits, they were big light and fluffy, never gummy. They would melt in your mouth. Sometimes she would have a jar of homemade Apple Jelly on the table to spread on them with a big dab of real Butter.
Once I asked my mother if I could spend the night over with Lynda. For some reason it did not suit her. Guess what, I went anyway. Mother waited until she knew we would be in bed, and came over to their house with a flashlight to get me. She came up to the window where we were sleeping, and knocked on the side of the house. She said, "Ann I know you are in there. You get up, do not dress, get your shoes on and come on out here.You areGoing Home!" She wanted me to know when she said something she meant it. When I got out there she had a "Little Keen Switch" (a small branch from a shrubbery). She whipped my bare legs all the way home. Needless to say, I think that is the last time I went there without permission
--- Ann Boovy Gunson ==================================================
Thanks, Ann.
That's a great little vignette on growing up in Derita in the late 1940's & 50's. I remember the biscuits that my own Mom used to make back then. Thin & crisp, but tasty. Just a hint of salt, so they worked great with jelly, butter or the sausage gravy she frequently made at breakfast time. Imagine my surprise to find that her two sisters made those larger mouth-watering type that you write about. Always loved going to my Aunt's houses for a Sunday lunch, so I could eat my fill of those biscuits. I could practically make a meal off of them.
Remember the "switchings," too. Mom would reinforce her rules by sending either my older brother or I out to cut them ourselves. Pity either of us that came back with a "limp" Switch. She was a kind, loving Mom. . . but we took some "regular reminding" not to disobey her.
I'm thinking that your friend Lefty and her siblings probably had chores to do around the farm. My Mom was the eldest daughter on a family farm near the base of Six Mile Mountain in Pickens County, S.C. Her daily chores included cooking for her Mom & Dad, her five siblings, and a half-dozen or so field hands (neighbor boys who lived with her family because their own folks could not afford to feed, clothe or shelter them); She and her two sisters fed the chickens, gathered the eggs, milked the cows, and handled the washing & cleaning, while the boys all worked in the fields. She also helped her Dad in the little family store (largely barter back then) they ran at the dirt crossroads called "Terrapin's Crossing."
--- Bernie Samonds
================================================
Refrigerators and Electricity
Derita Historian Ona Welch Pucklett writes about those early years when a family had to buy either a refrigerator or an electric stove to get power run to their house. I believe it 1917, she said, when the first lines were run to Derita to power the lights for the Derita Floral Supply greenhouses. Long before the Food Lion shopping center was built on North Graham St., their many, many glass and poly-covered growing houses covered that whole area and spilled across the street to the big lot next door to Players Sporting Goods.
As a kid, I used to play army with my buddies over on Nevin Road. We'd go down the hill to the creek between what's now Hoover Drive and Granite Creek Lane. Before long, we'd end up at the ruins of the Stephens Farm Spring House. . . a huge concrete block building with water-filled holes cut in the concrete floor where they'd sink the huge milk cans from their dairy after milking. Cool water from the creek nearby seeped into the holes and kept the milk fresh until it was picked up or needed. Before that, how folks kept things cold was a real puzzlement to me. My folks owned a Westinghouse for years. But I do recall visiting with country kinfolks in South Carolina who still had "refrigerator boxes" cooled by a big block of ice.
Being a grocer's kid, we didn't have a "Winter Pantry," but I can tell you about some local folks who did . . . But that will have to keep until next time.
---- Bernie Samonds
================================================================
Miss Lillian's Pantry
Anna Gunson mentioned her neighbor's Winter Pantry. Being a grocer's son, we didn't have one, but my kinfolks did.
In my Aunt's pantry you'd find stone ground flour, baskets of sweet potatoes, apples & pears individually wrapped in newspapers. Tomatoes pulled just before the frost hung in bunches, still on the vine. Nearby, but not too close were those spicy red peppers done the same way. And nestled in their original Kerr Mason jar boxes were all sorts of vegetables to see them through the winter. Green beans, cooked corn, more tomatoes, butter beans, pintos, and more.
I remember visiting at George & Lillian Bates' house one afternoon over on Hewitt Drive (just around the street from the Derita Post Office about where the Fairstone neighborhood sits now). Mrs. Bates taught school nine months of the year, but summers were devoted to canning. Like so many older folks who remembered the Great Depression, she kept a well-stocked pantry.
Mr. Bates was anxious to try a jar of the newly-made dill pickles. (She grew her own herbs, just like my Mom did). Well, she brought out a jar, fished out a beautiful dill with a fork and handed it to him wrapped in a paper towel. "Is this one you just made," he asked.
"They're not ready yet, got to set for a couple of weeks to be good. That one's from the summer before last," she said. "Got to finish those off before we start into the new."
Mr. Bates cocked his head, raised his finger in the air as if to make a point, even opened his mouth to speak . . . but thinking better on the moment, decided to say nothing. He just chewed on that pickle. That story maybe lost on those of you who did not know Mr. Bates. Around the house, he dressed as a farmer in jean overalls, faded shirt over a white longjohn top, sleeves rolled up, and wore a straw hat with a green plastic half-moon up front. Kept a navy blue calico handkerchief hanging out of his pocket to wipe up thesweat from his forehead or running off his nose as he worked in their huge garden and the tree farm he had started . . . But by day, he wore a business suit and dealt with bankers, construction bosses, and the big department store owners downtown. You see, he was vice-president of the Golden Eagle Motor Lodge chain, headquartered on North Tryon St. here in Charlotte. He spoke his mind, forcefully, loud and often. People listened. But he knew better than to ever raise his voice to Miss Lillian. --- Bernie Samonds
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
The "Yellow-Haired Wildcat" of Derita
The discussion recently of the ways we all earned money as kids reminded me of something my younger brother Jerry did years ago.
Now, Jerry is a go-getter, he didn't sit still for a minute. He was always coming, going or into something. Before Jerry was dry-behind-the-ears, he had built himself a house up off Mallard Creek Rd. He had a '57 Chevrolet auto that he hauled all building supplies in, including concrete blocks.
He would get a pay-check, spend it on building materials, haul it in the car, then nail it up. Next week, same thing. When he got the house finished, it was also paid for. Well! I got side-tracked. I was going to tell something that Jerry did when he was just 11 or 12 yrs. old.
He really enjoyed being around the older men in Derita. Jerry would go visit Mr. B J. Hunter and "our" aunt Maude quite often. Mr. Hunter 'bout always had some odd-job for boys to do .He wouldn't pay much, but a quarter then would buy a pretty big bag of candy.
Mr. Hunter told Jerry one morning: "Jerry, something's getting my chicks & ducklings. Now, Jerry, if you will find what's killing them and take care of it, I will pay you for your troubles.
That just tickled Jerry real good, and he said I'll take that job. Well, Jerry jumped on his bike, went home, packed himself some lunch, picked up an old army blanket and went back. He decided to hide in the old smoke house that the pen was nailed to & watch for whatever was getting the little chicks & ducklings. He stayed till dark and didn't see a thing so he went home.
He then decided that since he didn't see anything all day, that maybe this thing was doing it at night. He rounded up a flashlight,some grub, a pocket knife, a big orange drink and got back there before dark. He climbed up in the hayloft in the barn overlooking the chickens yard, picked out a good spot and he
watched.
Now just before daybreak he heard something down there and it was not chickens. There, creeping along the outside of the fence was this big old yellow & white cat.
When Jerry saw the cat, he jumped. That scared the cat and he jumped & ran like Blaylocks bull. Jerry right on his tail with a stick that he had carved to look like a sword. Old Yeller was heading for the road.
Now just as that cat got in the road, so did an old Studebaker pickup truck. BAM!! Yellow & white hair everywhere. That poor cat was as dead as a door nail. Jerry said he was sorry that happened, but after the Studebaker man drove off, Jerry pulled out a rope, tied one end to the rear of his bike and tied the other end to the cat's tail.
Well he first drug that cat down to the "business district. in Derita, then to Puckett's Garage and over to McGlaughlin's store, and I don't know where else. He said he wanted to show everybody the "WILDCAT" that had killed Mr. Hunters' chicks
& ducklings. When he got through all the "SHOWING," the cat was as slick as a mole. Jerry had drug him so far that there wasn't a half dozen hairs left on that yellow cat. I never did find out how much Mr. BJ paid Jerry for his "TROUBLES"
--- Fred
Now, Jerry is a go-getter, he didn't sit still for a minute. He was always coming, going or into something. Before Jerry was dry-behind-the-ears, he had built himself a house up off Mallard Creek Rd. He had a '57 Chevrolet auto that he hauled all building supplies in, including concrete blocks.
He would get a pay-check, spend it on building materials, haul it in the car, then nail it up. Next week, same thing. When he got the house finished, it was also paid for. Well! I got side-tracked. I was going to tell something that Jerry did when he was just 11 or 12 yrs. old.
He really enjoyed being around the older men in Derita. Jerry would go visit Mr. B J. Hunter and "our" aunt Maude quite often. Mr. Hunter 'bout always had some odd-job for boys to do .He wouldn't pay much, but a quarter then would buy a pretty big bag of candy.
Mr. Hunter told Jerry one morning: "Jerry, something's getting my chicks & ducklings. Now, Jerry, if you will find what's killing them and take care of it, I will pay you for your troubles.
That just tickled Jerry real good, and he said I'll take that job. Well, Jerry jumped on his bike, went home, packed himself some lunch, picked up an old army blanket and went back. He decided to hide in the old smoke house that the pen was nailed to & watch for whatever was getting the little chicks & ducklings. He stayed till dark and didn't see a thing so he went home.
He then decided that since he didn't see anything all day, that maybe this thing was doing it at night. He rounded up a flashlight,some grub, a pocket knife, a big orange drink and got back there before dark. He climbed up in the hayloft in the barn overlooking the chickens yard, picked out a good spot and he
watched.
Now just before daybreak he heard something down there and it was not chickens. There, creeping along the outside of the fence was this big old yellow & white cat.
When Jerry saw the cat, he jumped. That scared the cat and he jumped & ran like Blaylocks bull. Jerry right on his tail with a stick that he had carved to look like a sword. Old Yeller was heading for the road.
Now just as that cat got in the road, so did an old Studebaker pickup truck. BAM!! Yellow & white hair everywhere. That poor cat was as dead as a door nail. Jerry said he was sorry that happened, but after the Studebaker man drove off, Jerry pulled out a rope, tied one end to the rear of his bike and tied the other end to the cat's tail.
Well he first drug that cat down to the "business district. in Derita, then to Puckett's Garage and over to McGlaughlin's store, and I don't know where else. He said he wanted to show everybody the "WILDCAT" that had killed Mr. Hunters' chicks
& ducklings. When he got through all the "SHOWING," the cat was as slick as a mole. Jerry had drug him so far that there wasn't a half dozen hairs left on that yellow cat. I never did find out how much Mr. BJ paid Jerry for his "TROUBLES"
--- Fred
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
A Boy & His Dog --- Earning Spending Money
As I Recall . . . memories of a growing up in Derita
A Boy and his Dog
I guess most every boy had a dog to grow-up with. We did. My older brother and I shared our bedroom in Derita with Chubby, our little 4 legged brother of sorts, who slept with us, ate with us, played with us and went most every place we went except school. We sure did love that old dog. But, Chubby was slowing-down, and he was 12 yrs. old when he didn't get out of bed one cold, winter morning. I want you to know that ours' was one sad household for a spell.
Our Mom worked in the former Derita post office when it was across the (RR) track from the current one. Back then, the old building also housed Derita Hardware, andthe Dry Cleaners. Well, Mom accidentally adopted a new companion one day when old Spot just wandered in. Now Spot was a "sooner" for sure. He just walked-in, got fed, got sleepy, and stretched out on a canvas mail bag and took a nap. Mom always did have a soft heart for any hungry animal. So, Spot found himself a home in the Derita Post Office.
One cold, rainy day after school my little brother Jerry rode his bike to the Post Office and while Mom was busy, Jerry picked-up Spot, put him in the basket that he had on front of his bike, and they took a ride. I happened to come in a little later and Mom asked me to please go find Jerry & Spot, as they had no business out in this rain. Now, they didn't go far. I found them both at Mullis Grocery, OUTSIDE. Jerry said he felt sorry for Spot because he was shaking from being cold & wet.
Well, Jerry went in the store to get Spot some dog food, but he only had 15 cents, so he just got a pint of milk. Of course Jerry had to feed Spot the milk, and was doing it in his shirt-sleeves because he had wrapped Spot up in his own coat. Yes, Spot was high, dry & content in his basket and Jerry was soaking wet, broke, but "Happy" as a lark!!........ --- Fred
============================
Earning Spending Money
My Classmates knew that I often worked afternoons and weekends at my folks' grocery store on Beatties Ford Road. Worked everyday throughout the summer. But I also had other money-making schemes.
Dad always told me that if your stuff didn't sell, you could always eat the inventory.Well, I once raised carrots & radishes. Rabbits ate my carrots and the radishes didn't sell. . . Ever tried to eat 6 lbs. of leftover radishes?
Also started a worm farm. Was going to sell worms as fishing bait. Ants killed off the first batch. Built the new cages well off the ground. Saved table scraps and
coffee grounds to fatten them up. Read that corn meal was good for that too. . .
But NOT Self-rising meal, I learned too late. It has salt in it. Re-stocked one more time and had two big trays of growing soil when I headed off to Scout Camp for the summer. Figured I could keep breeding & selling them all summer.
First week there were three large African-American Troops at camp. They took one look at Lake Calhoun and they bought every worm I had by lunchtime on Wednesday. . . I was stuck there the rest of the summer without a single breeder.
Mark Kilby & I also tried to corner the Christmas tree market one year, but who knew that July was too early to begin cutting your trees. ----- Bernie Samonds
==================================
Sounds like we both had some of the same ideas about making money, Bernie. I remember a buddy & myself cutting and "dragging" a few Christmas trees forever (It Seemed) from somewhere up Mallard Creek Rd. And then, some Choice experiences gathering mistletoe by climbing the trees.
For a little spending money summer months, I could usually find some kind soul to pay me for mowing their lawn. Now I had to do it with Dads push-mower. A motorized mower, at that time was for the Rich & Famous. After you mowed with this "Reel type push mower, you had to go over the yard with a "sling blade", to get the things sticking-up everywhere.
One of my regular customers, Mrs Brown on Mallard Creek Rd., bought herself a new gas-powered push mower, and one Saturday morning, I was elected to be the first person to use it. I made one lap & the muffler fell off. Not thinking what I was doing, I reached right down, picked it up, & came-up with a badly burned hand of course, but --- Nobody had to tell me to put it down!
We also picked and sold blackberries, wild yellow & red plums and even some wild strawberries. We also worked for the local farmers. --- Fred
A Boy and his Dog
I guess most every boy had a dog to grow-up with. We did. My older brother and I shared our bedroom in Derita with Chubby, our little 4 legged brother of sorts, who slept with us, ate with us, played with us and went most every place we went except school. We sure did love that old dog. But, Chubby was slowing-down, and he was 12 yrs. old when he didn't get out of bed one cold, winter morning. I want you to know that ours' was one sad household for a spell.
Our Mom worked in the former Derita post office when it was across the (RR) track from the current one. Back then, the old building also housed Derita Hardware, andthe Dry Cleaners. Well, Mom accidentally adopted a new companion one day when old Spot just wandered in. Now Spot was a "sooner" for sure. He just walked-in, got fed, got sleepy, and stretched out on a canvas mail bag and took a nap. Mom always did have a soft heart for any hungry animal. So, Spot found himself a home in the Derita Post Office.
One cold, rainy day after school my little brother Jerry rode his bike to the Post Office and while Mom was busy, Jerry picked-up Spot, put him in the basket that he had on front of his bike, and they took a ride. I happened to come in a little later and Mom asked me to please go find Jerry & Spot, as they had no business out in this rain. Now, they didn't go far. I found them both at Mullis Grocery, OUTSIDE. Jerry said he felt sorry for Spot because he was shaking from being cold & wet.
Well, Jerry went in the store to get Spot some dog food, but he only had 15 cents, so he just got a pint of milk. Of course Jerry had to feed Spot the milk, and was doing it in his shirt-sleeves because he had wrapped Spot up in his own coat. Yes, Spot was high, dry & content in his basket and Jerry was soaking wet, broke, but "Happy" as a lark!!........ --- Fred
============================
Earning Spending Money
My Classmates knew that I often worked afternoons and weekends at my folks' grocery store on Beatties Ford Road. Worked everyday throughout the summer. But I also had other money-making schemes.
Dad always told me that if your stuff didn't sell, you could always eat the inventory.Well, I once raised carrots & radishes. Rabbits ate my carrots and the radishes didn't sell. . . Ever tried to eat 6 lbs. of leftover radishes?
Also started a worm farm. Was going to sell worms as fishing bait. Ants killed off the first batch. Built the new cages well off the ground. Saved table scraps and
coffee grounds to fatten them up. Read that corn meal was good for that too. . .
But NOT Self-rising meal, I learned too late. It has salt in it. Re-stocked one more time and had two big trays of growing soil when I headed off to Scout Camp for the summer. Figured I could keep breeding & selling them all summer.
First week there were three large African-American Troops at camp. They took one look at Lake Calhoun and they bought every worm I had by lunchtime on Wednesday. . . I was stuck there the rest of the summer without a single breeder.
Mark Kilby & I also tried to corner the Christmas tree market one year, but who knew that July was too early to begin cutting your trees. ----- Bernie Samonds
==================================
Sounds like we both had some of the same ideas about making money, Bernie. I remember a buddy & myself cutting and "dragging" a few Christmas trees forever (It Seemed) from somewhere up Mallard Creek Rd. And then, some Choice experiences gathering mistletoe by climbing the trees.
For a little spending money summer months, I could usually find some kind soul to pay me for mowing their lawn. Now I had to do it with Dads push-mower. A motorized mower, at that time was for the Rich & Famous. After you mowed with this "Reel type push mower, you had to go over the yard with a "sling blade", to get the things sticking-up everywhere.
One of my regular customers, Mrs Brown on Mallard Creek Rd., bought herself a new gas-powered push mower, and one Saturday morning, I was elected to be the first person to use it. I made one lap & the muffler fell off. Not thinking what I was doing, I reached right down, picked it up, & came-up with a badly burned hand of course, but --- Nobody had to tell me to put it down!
We also picked and sold blackberries, wild yellow & red plums and even some wild strawberries. We also worked for the local farmers. --- Fred
Skinny-Dipping in Derita
As I Recall . . . memories of a local boy
Skinny-Dipping in Derita
I want to tell a little tale about a half dozen teen boys from in and around Derita in 1951 or '52. We were just a bunch that spent most of our free time together, be it working-playing or whatever. None of us had a car so we went most every where on our bicycles.
We were all gathered at Mullis Grocery Store one real HOT morning. School was out & we were just hanging out in the shade of the big water oak in the parking lot. Any of us lucky enough to have a dime was no doubt drinking a Royal Crown Cola or a Pepsi. One of the guys, I think it was Ronnie, said: Let's go swimming. He didn't have to twist any arms either, we were all for that.
Now the closest public swimming hole was Harris Lake, & we had rode our bikes there before, but it was just too hot for that long trip today. I believe it was Charlie that says: "Hey! Let's go
to Mr. Gibbons' farm pond, it's sorta in the woods and we won't have to worry 'bout a swim suit." Well, we all went along with that, and we started getting
ready to go.
Before we started we went to Mr. Joe Finchers' Amoco Station and pumped-up any slack tires. Some of us oiled our chains with drainings from a used oil can. The pond was several miles up Gibbon Rd. and it was not paved and it was a rough trip on a bike.
When we finally did get there, we were all ready to hit that cool water. It was off the bike, out of the clothes and in the water right quick.
We were just getting cooled-off a bit when we heard something coming. It was Fred Gibbon in his dads' pickup truck. Well, before he even stopped the truck, he stuck his head out of the window & HOLLERED: "The Three of you get in the back quick, there's been an accident in the woods and I need your help. You don't need clothes. LETS GO!!
Three of us jumped in the back just NAKED as baby jaybirds. Now Fred didn't stop in the woods. And Fred didn't stop when he got to old Statesville Rd. either. Fred put the hammer down and made a B--line for Down Town Charlotte.
He did wait till he got to Tryon St. before he started blowing his horn. He stopped beside a parked city bus full of passengers and laid down on that horn. I've never seen so many people pointing & laughing in all my years. The only place we had to hide was behind each-other. I believe the other two guys were Johnny and Leon .
Well Fred had enough fun and finally took us back to the pond, but he rolled-up the windows and locked his doors and did not come to a complete stop. We all jumped out as soon as we could. We all talked about what we were going to do to Fred, but you know, we couldn't be too mad at Fred for laughing at ourselves and each-other. --- Fred
=================================
Most Local Roads Were Gravel or Dirt
Thanks, Fred.
And thanks for pointing out that Gibbon Road had NOT been paved back then. Eagle Scout Rick Hyman, who grew up in Hunter Acres and delivered The Charlotte Observer by bicycle, wrote in my Scouting Photos email newsletter that he traveled the gravel road into Derita each day to pick up his papers. . . Folks were astonished. Gravel Road?
Chatting with T.D. Little last month, he reminded me that for a long, long time the pavement on two lane Graham Street (known as Derita Road back then) stopped at Norris Avenue, where the huge old Cemetary Monument works sat beside the railroad tracks. . . No such thing as a paved 4-lane or a planted median.
=================================
Boy Scout Skinny-Dippers
I guess everyone has a favorite Skinny-Dip story worth telling. I know I've got a few that some of my friends would find pretty embarassing, if I put them in print. . . But here's one from Jack N (from my Scouting newsletter) that several of us can probably identify with.
Jack and Randy were Boy Scouts in Troop 14 back in the late 1960's. They lived in Arvin Hills, off Nevin Rd.and enjoyed many of the things teen boys do. Especially, "Fishing."
Now there are a lot of small lakes in our area, but the very closest was just down the street from Randy's house at the bottom of the hill on Lake Drive. Of course, it couldn't have been that simple, because that was right out in the open and the lake was POSTED. But a ways up the well-forested shoreline, there was an old boat chained to a tree. They surmised that they could slip into the boat, edge out away from the dirt bank and probably set themselves to catch some big ones in the deeper water.
Well, it was a good idea, I guess, but the fish were just not biting. The sun had shifted and was now overhead and beating down on them. It was getting pretty hot --- and one, or both of them, thought how refreshing it would be if they just stripped off their clothes and slipped into the cool water for a swim. . . which they did. Not naked, of course, but in their bvd's.
Jack says he didn't think they were making all that much noise as they splashed around, but suddenly they heard a big gun fired into the air. KA-BOOM!! Neither boy stopped to look who it was or if the gun was even pointed their direction. They just hit the bank without delay. . . In fact, they moved so fast that Randy didn't even stop to pick up his clothes and ran all the way home in his underwear.
Well, that was Jack's story.
One of mine was pretty much the same, except I was a lot younger and there was no boat. I was still "the Tag-along" Little Brother with my older brother and his friends. We had gone in wading at Nye's Lake in Allen Hills "to free a fishing snagged line." Never heard a gunshot, but Maxwell yelled, "Somebody's coming!" and we headed for the woods!
--- Bernie Samonds
Skinny-Dipping in Derita
I want to tell a little tale about a half dozen teen boys from in and around Derita in 1951 or '52. We were just a bunch that spent most of our free time together, be it working-playing or whatever. None of us had a car so we went most every where on our bicycles.
We were all gathered at Mullis Grocery Store one real HOT morning. School was out & we were just hanging out in the shade of the big water oak in the parking lot. Any of us lucky enough to have a dime was no doubt drinking a Royal Crown Cola or a Pepsi. One of the guys, I think it was Ronnie, said: Let's go swimming. He didn't have to twist any arms either, we were all for that.
Now the closest public swimming hole was Harris Lake, & we had rode our bikes there before, but it was just too hot for that long trip today. I believe it was Charlie that says: "Hey! Let's go
to Mr. Gibbons' farm pond, it's sorta in the woods and we won't have to worry 'bout a swim suit." Well, we all went along with that, and we started getting
ready to go.
Before we started we went to Mr. Joe Finchers' Amoco Station and pumped-up any slack tires. Some of us oiled our chains with drainings from a used oil can. The pond was several miles up Gibbon Rd. and it was not paved and it was a rough trip on a bike.
When we finally did get there, we were all ready to hit that cool water. It was off the bike, out of the clothes and in the water right quick.
We were just getting cooled-off a bit when we heard something coming. It was Fred Gibbon in his dads' pickup truck. Well, before he even stopped the truck, he stuck his head out of the window & HOLLERED: "The Three of you get in the back quick, there's been an accident in the woods and I need your help. You don't need clothes. LETS GO!!
Three of us jumped in the back just NAKED as baby jaybirds. Now Fred didn't stop in the woods. And Fred didn't stop when he got to old Statesville Rd. either. Fred put the hammer down and made a B--line for Down Town Charlotte.
He did wait till he got to Tryon St. before he started blowing his horn. He stopped beside a parked city bus full of passengers and laid down on that horn. I've never seen so many people pointing & laughing in all my years. The only place we had to hide was behind each-other. I believe the other two guys were Johnny and Leon .
Well Fred had enough fun and finally took us back to the pond, but he rolled-up the windows and locked his doors and did not come to a complete stop. We all jumped out as soon as we could. We all talked about what we were going to do to Fred, but you know, we couldn't be too mad at Fred for laughing at ourselves and each-other. --- Fred
=================================
Most Local Roads Were Gravel or Dirt
Thanks, Fred.
And thanks for pointing out that Gibbon Road had NOT been paved back then. Eagle Scout Rick Hyman, who grew up in Hunter Acres and delivered The Charlotte Observer by bicycle, wrote in my Scouting Photos email newsletter that he traveled the gravel road into Derita each day to pick up his papers. . . Folks were astonished. Gravel Road?
Chatting with T.D. Little last month, he reminded me that for a long, long time the pavement on two lane Graham Street (known as Derita Road back then) stopped at Norris Avenue, where the huge old Cemetary Monument works sat beside the railroad tracks. . . No such thing as a paved 4-lane or a planted median.
=================================
Boy Scout Skinny-Dippers
I guess everyone has a favorite Skinny-Dip story worth telling. I know I've got a few that some of my friends would find pretty embarassing, if I put them in print. . . But here's one from Jack N (from my Scouting newsletter) that several of us can probably identify with.
Jack and Randy were Boy Scouts in Troop 14 back in the late 1960's. They lived in Arvin Hills, off Nevin Rd.and enjoyed many of the things teen boys do. Especially, "Fishing."
Now there are a lot of small lakes in our area, but the very closest was just down the street from Randy's house at the bottom of the hill on Lake Drive. Of course, it couldn't have been that simple, because that was right out in the open and the lake was POSTED. But a ways up the well-forested shoreline, there was an old boat chained to a tree. They surmised that they could slip into the boat, edge out away from the dirt bank and probably set themselves to catch some big ones in the deeper water.
Well, it was a good idea, I guess, but the fish were just not biting. The sun had shifted and was now overhead and beating down on them. It was getting pretty hot --- and one, or both of them, thought how refreshing it would be if they just stripped off their clothes and slipped into the cool water for a swim. . . which they did. Not naked, of course, but in their bvd's.
Jack says he didn't think they were making all that much noise as they splashed around, but suddenly they heard a big gun fired into the air. KA-BOOM!! Neither boy stopped to look who it was or if the gun was even pointed their direction. They just hit the bank without delay. . . In fact, they moved so fast that Randy didn't even stop to pick up his clothes and ran all the way home in his underwear.
Well, that was Jack's story.
One of mine was pretty much the same, except I was a lot younger and there was no boat. I was still "the Tag-along" Little Brother with my older brother and his friends. We had gone in wading at Nye's Lake in Allen Hills "to free a fishing snagged line." Never heard a gunshot, but Maxwell yelled, "Somebody's coming!" and we headed for the woods!
--- Bernie Samonds
Monday, February 15, 2010
Remembering Roy's Grill & Constable Roy McCall
As I Recall . . . memories of two local boys
Remembering Roy's Grill & Constable Roy McCall
I guess this story begins with my older brother, Aubrey Dickson.
Buddy was 7 years older than me and a lot better looking. Had that long wavy brown hair and the kind of face that attracted girls. He was quiet (some say "shy"), but usually sported a great big smile. Not overly tall, but filled out a white muscle tee like a catalog model. Didn't care much for school, but he could have been a major talent. Buddy could sketch just about anything with pencils, charcoal, pastels, and even painted with oils. His work won ribbons every year at the Southern States Fair.
And did I say, the girls all loved him? They'd often meet in the evening for a fountain Coke and a burger at Roy's Grill. It was located on the lot next to Derita Cleaners (now) where the Players Sporting Goods screenprint shop sits in the old Gibson Grocery store building.
Back then, the corner of Derita Rd, & Hunter Ave. was a small, rutted gravel parking lot with a cinder block building, painted white, that housed Roy's Grill up front and the Derita Branch Public Library in back. Inside, the walls were painted green & white, with wooden booths lining the Hunter Ave. side, the metal grill and a sit-down counter with stools on the opposite wall.
In the middle of the room was a Wurlitzer juke box against a support post. Next to it was box after box of 45 rpm records in paper sleeves that had previously spun in juke boxes all over the county. Latest hits to old favorites by the hundreds --- and all of them at ready-to-move prices. Roy's definitely had more than burgers!
And me? I was the tag along little brother. Mom & Dad rarely got home before 8pm from our grocery store on Beatties Ford Road, so Buddy got saddled with "the kid." It wasn't too bad at home. I had the woods out back, hills & gulleys to climb and even a Tarzan swing that let me sail out high over the creek and back. But anyway, that's how I discovered Roy's Grill. Buddy & his friends would huddle in a booth or squeeze around a table and I'd park it on one of the round swirling stools at the counter. They'd do whatever teenagers do and I'd inhale the scent of diced onions hitting the grill and savor the aroma of hot dog chili being spread across a bun.
Occasionally, I'd sputter as steam and grease filled the air when Roy filled the hot grill with a fresh run of hamburger patties. He would do the lettuce & tomato cheese burgers, but I believe the chili-onion-slaw all-the-way cheeseburgers probably outsold them 2 to 1. I'd hate to guess how many bottles of catsup they used up in a month. I would eat almost anything, though Roy's fries were a lot like the crinkle cut fries from the grocery store, only a bit greasier. Soft inside with a crusty shell. Still, I'd choose them any day over the grease-sticks served at most fast food chains. With enough catsup, who am I to be a critic.
Besides, Roy knew my weakness. Whenever he got a chance, he'd fork a big pile of dill pickle slices out of the jar on the counter and sit the pile on a waxed paper sheet in front of me. Haven't had those in years. They were cut near paper thin and had almost slimy centers. Man, now those were some pickles. Sometimes on Sunday evening Dad would drive me up to Roy's get a burger and a paper tray full of pickles.
But this wasn't Roy McCall's only job. He was also the Constable for Mecklenburg County. Not sure exactly what that means. The job description varies from place to place. Some places, they were like an old-time Sheriff chasing bad guys and investigating crime. In others, they served warrants and handled evictions. Whatever. Roy ran and got elected. I remember seeing his campaign posters tacked on the utility poles and him standing there at the grill, gun on his hip, just a flipping burgers. He'd be working quickly to catch up all of the orders before turning the grill over to Shirley and himself rushing out the door to do whatever Constables do.
As for the Library, it was only open a couple of afternoons a week. The selection was limited, but you could put in a request for books from the Main Library downtown. One day a week, the Book-Mobile would arrive and park next to the Grill on Hunter Ave. With luck, the book you wanted might be there waiting for you. Fortunately, when Statesville Road Elementary opened, we had a library there that probably had more books and a better selection than the library branch. My worst offense was losing a book about Ulysses S. Grant. I paid for the book (which had slid under the couch in our living room) and found it a year later when we were re-arranging furniture. At a nickel a day, buying it was probably still the cheapest way to go.
Summing it up, I'd have to say Roy's Grill was the greatest. It was our teen hangout at the time. Derita Drug Store with its inside soda counter was still a few years off and the only McDonalds in Charlotte sold hot dogs & hamburgers on Independence Blvd. near the old Coliseum. . . 15 cents each. --- Bernie Samonds
==========================
Two Derita Boys Earned "All They Could Eat"
" I grew up in Derita with two brothers & one spoiled little sister on Gibbon Rd. We moved into our new home, built by Mr. Robert Hunter in 1948. I have many fond memories of Roys' Grill, of Roy & Shirley (No Finer Folks anywhere). To think back on this area and the guys & gals that we grew up with makes me realize that these were some of the happiest years of my life.
"One of my best friends was Billy Tarrant. His dad ran the hardware store in Derita. Well, Roy McCall lived in the house beside the Grill. Billy & I approached Roy one day about hiring us to do any kind of work to make a little money. We were all outside at the time, and Roy, looking at the yard, and it was a mess with trash everywhere. . . Roy said, 'Here's what I'll do. If you boys will clean this whole place up, I will pay you with all-you-want-to-eat'.
"Billy and I talked it over and told Roy OK , We'll do it Friday.
"We decided not to eat anything Thursday so we'd be sure to eat our money's worth at the Grill. Well it took all day to clean that mess up. We cleaned ourselves up & headed to our favorite booth. Roy knew we both loved hamburgers, but here comes Shirley with 2 hot dogs each. Roy hollars out.. 'Go ahead and start on those dogs while these hamburgers cook.'
"Now I don't remember how many burgers, dogs, french fries and RC Colas we consumed, but it was way too many for we were worse than miserable. On top of all that Shirley handed us each a big triple cone of ice cream on our way out. We managed to walk to the hardware store and made a bee-line for the feed & seed dept. where we piled up on some of those nice soft sacks & slept it off. --- Fred Boovy
========================================
As I Recall . . . memories of a Teenage Girl
My Summer In Charge ---- at Roy's Grill
OK, Bernie and Fred, you two took over the paper last edition. I decided it was time for me to stop enjoying our Florida Sun long enough to write a few lines.
Let me go back to Roy's Grill.
First off, does anyone remember that he was Constable of Derita? He was elected to this position by the townspeople, wore a gun and kept peace in the area. He served warrants on people thru the Police Department in Charlotte.
Roy and Shirley came to Derita from Brevard, NC. They had 3 girls - Charlotte, Carol and Christine which they called "Punkin." They ran the grill and lived in the house next door. Roy helped more children in Derita than some of the ministers there. He had a heart of gold.
I started working for Roy and Shirley when I could hardly reach over the counter to serve a customer. I cannot remember what I got paid, but I did it all. Mopped floors; cleaned the kitchen area, cooked, and waited tables. In my spare time I would babysit his girls. I often wonder if any of his girls are still around the area???
I worked for them all thru school, after school hours and weekends and then in the summer I worked full time for extra money which helped purchase school clothes.
Does anyone remember the old Bread Truck Roy had Wilbur Cook and Shelly at the auto body shop convert for him. He made a lunch Wagon and delivered Lunches to the local businesses during lunch hour. He had a GOLD MINE ON WHEELS.
Everything was built into the truck body, places for hot foods, places for cold foods, shelves for Candy Bars and Crackers. The outside of the truck was white with His LOGO painted on it. He scheduled his stops and had it OK'ed with the business owners to make deliveries.
We all remember Roy for that delicious Chili Dog --- He also made a wonderful "Country Style Steak Sandwich with Gravy, which he served on a Hamburger Bun" He called it a SLOP SANDWICH. You almost needed to eat it with a fork, the gravy would run down your arm if you tried to pick it up and eat it.
So on this LUNCH WAGON, Roy had Steak Sandwiches, Hot Dogs, Hamburgers, Cheeseburgers, Colas, chips, candy, gum, crackers.
Roy, was the one that took the truck out as a rule, however, on a couple of occasions I had to drive the truck, I think he was called out on some of his Constable work and I had to fill in. He said the truck must go because the workers expected him there, if he did not show up, they did not have lunch. I sometime wonder how I managed to drive that truck, but I did it.
Roy and Shirley never went anywhere, they were tied down to the business and children. One particular year they wanted to go on vacation. They left me to run the Grill for a week. I must have been about 14 years old at this time. I had to do it all - Open Up -- Clean Up -- Cook -- Serve -- Order the Stock -- Do the Banking -- I can still remember, I felt like a Big Shot!!! I did not have sense enough to realize the real responsibility he had put on me. They had their vacation I had My week of being Boss. He praised me for a job well done when he returned.
Roy gave lots and lots of children in Derita their First Job Opportunity. For his giving me my opportunity, I will be forever grateful to him for instilling in me such a "SUPERB WORK ETHIC" which I carried with me through my working years. --- Ann Boovy Gunson
================================
Thanks, Ann. I remember that truck well. Seeing it sitting there in the gravel parking lot was almost like a flashing "OPEN" sign for most of us kids because we knew something would be cooking on the grill. By the time you reached the screen door you could catch a big whiff of fried onions and hear the burgers sizzling. --- Bernie Samonds ========================================
About Billy's folks.
Derita Hardware Store
They were Mr. & Mrs. William Tarrant that lived next to the railroad tracks at Gibbon Rd. & Derita Ave. He was already retired when I first met him by name (He was being honored by the Derita Lions Club, I believe) and his wife (Edith) was still teaching at North High.
As a kid, I used to go to Derita Hardware frequently back then. I was going through my "building phase" and needed lots of nails for my tree house, forts, and revising my model train layout.
I'd hop on my bicycle and ride to Derita. Get some nails in several sizes and they'd always double-bag'em so I'd be sure to make it home without spilling nails all over the road. Of course, there would also be a lot of teasing going on. Bob Mitzell and several other men (who I didn't really know by name at the time) would be sitting around the pot belly stove there. They'd ask me if I was going to build a house. God, I loved that place. You could find almost everything there. It was a REAL hardware store. --- Bernie Samonds ========================================
"Now Bernie while you were building your fort in your favorite spot, we were putting ours up in Mr. B. J. Hunters' cow pasture. Now about nails, we probably had to "Borrow" ours, because I'm sure we wouldn't have spent our Pepsi cola money on nails.
Oh Boy--Those were the days, Huh! --- Fred Boovy
Remembering Roy's Grill & Constable Roy McCall
I guess this story begins with my older brother, Aubrey Dickson.
Buddy was 7 years older than me and a lot better looking. Had that long wavy brown hair and the kind of face that attracted girls. He was quiet (some say "shy"), but usually sported a great big smile. Not overly tall, but filled out a white muscle tee like a catalog model. Didn't care much for school, but he could have been a major talent. Buddy could sketch just about anything with pencils, charcoal, pastels, and even painted with oils. His work won ribbons every year at the Southern States Fair.
And did I say, the girls all loved him? They'd often meet in the evening for a fountain Coke and a burger at Roy's Grill. It was located on the lot next to Derita Cleaners (now) where the Players Sporting Goods screenprint shop sits in the old Gibson Grocery store building.
Back then, the corner of Derita Rd, & Hunter Ave. was a small, rutted gravel parking lot with a cinder block building, painted white, that housed Roy's Grill up front and the Derita Branch Public Library in back. Inside, the walls were painted green & white, with wooden booths lining the Hunter Ave. side, the metal grill and a sit-down counter with stools on the opposite wall.
In the middle of the room was a Wurlitzer juke box against a support post. Next to it was box after box of 45 rpm records in paper sleeves that had previously spun in juke boxes all over the county. Latest hits to old favorites by the hundreds --- and all of them at ready-to-move prices. Roy's definitely had more than burgers!
And me? I was the tag along little brother. Mom & Dad rarely got home before 8pm from our grocery store on Beatties Ford Road, so Buddy got saddled with "the kid." It wasn't too bad at home. I had the woods out back, hills & gulleys to climb and even a Tarzan swing that let me sail out high over the creek and back. But anyway, that's how I discovered Roy's Grill. Buddy & his friends would huddle in a booth or squeeze around a table and I'd park it on one of the round swirling stools at the counter. They'd do whatever teenagers do and I'd inhale the scent of diced onions hitting the grill and savor the aroma of hot dog chili being spread across a bun.
Occasionally, I'd sputter as steam and grease filled the air when Roy filled the hot grill with a fresh run of hamburger patties. He would do the lettuce & tomato cheese burgers, but I believe the chili-onion-slaw all-the-way cheeseburgers probably outsold them 2 to 1. I'd hate to guess how many bottles of catsup they used up in a month. I would eat almost anything, though Roy's fries were a lot like the crinkle cut fries from the grocery store, only a bit greasier. Soft inside with a crusty shell. Still, I'd choose them any day over the grease-sticks served at most fast food chains. With enough catsup, who am I to be a critic.
Besides, Roy knew my weakness. Whenever he got a chance, he'd fork a big pile of dill pickle slices out of the jar on the counter and sit the pile on a waxed paper sheet in front of me. Haven't had those in years. They were cut near paper thin and had almost slimy centers. Man, now those were some pickles. Sometimes on Sunday evening Dad would drive me up to Roy's get a burger and a paper tray full of pickles.
But this wasn't Roy McCall's only job. He was also the Constable for Mecklenburg County. Not sure exactly what that means. The job description varies from place to place. Some places, they were like an old-time Sheriff chasing bad guys and investigating crime. In others, they served warrants and handled evictions. Whatever. Roy ran and got elected. I remember seeing his campaign posters tacked on the utility poles and him standing there at the grill, gun on his hip, just a flipping burgers. He'd be working quickly to catch up all of the orders before turning the grill over to Shirley and himself rushing out the door to do whatever Constables do.
As for the Library, it was only open a couple of afternoons a week. The selection was limited, but you could put in a request for books from the Main Library downtown. One day a week, the Book-Mobile would arrive and park next to the Grill on Hunter Ave. With luck, the book you wanted might be there waiting for you. Fortunately, when Statesville Road Elementary opened, we had a library there that probably had more books and a better selection than the library branch. My worst offense was losing a book about Ulysses S. Grant. I paid for the book (which had slid under the couch in our living room) and found it a year later when we were re-arranging furniture. At a nickel a day, buying it was probably still the cheapest way to go.
Summing it up, I'd have to say Roy's Grill was the greatest. It was our teen hangout at the time. Derita Drug Store with its inside soda counter was still a few years off and the only McDonalds in Charlotte sold hot dogs & hamburgers on Independence Blvd. near the old Coliseum. . . 15 cents each. --- Bernie Samonds
==========================
Two Derita Boys Earned "All They Could Eat"
" I grew up in Derita with two brothers & one spoiled little sister on Gibbon Rd. We moved into our new home, built by Mr. Robert Hunter in 1948. I have many fond memories of Roys' Grill, of Roy & Shirley (No Finer Folks anywhere). To think back on this area and the guys & gals that we grew up with makes me realize that these were some of the happiest years of my life.
"One of my best friends was Billy Tarrant. His dad ran the hardware store in Derita. Well, Roy McCall lived in the house beside the Grill. Billy & I approached Roy one day about hiring us to do any kind of work to make a little money. We were all outside at the time, and Roy, looking at the yard, and it was a mess with trash everywhere. . . Roy said, 'Here's what I'll do. If you boys will clean this whole place up, I will pay you with all-you-want-to-eat'.
"Billy and I talked it over and told Roy OK , We'll do it Friday.
"We decided not to eat anything Thursday so we'd be sure to eat our money's worth at the Grill. Well it took all day to clean that mess up. We cleaned ourselves up & headed to our favorite booth. Roy knew we both loved hamburgers, but here comes Shirley with 2 hot dogs each. Roy hollars out.. 'Go ahead and start on those dogs while these hamburgers cook.'
"Now I don't remember how many burgers, dogs, french fries and RC Colas we consumed, but it was way too many for we were worse than miserable. On top of all that Shirley handed us each a big triple cone of ice cream on our way out. We managed to walk to the hardware store and made a bee-line for the feed & seed dept. where we piled up on some of those nice soft sacks & slept it off. --- Fred Boovy
========================================
As I Recall . . . memories of a Teenage Girl
My Summer In Charge ---- at Roy's Grill
OK, Bernie and Fred, you two took over the paper last edition. I decided it was time for me to stop enjoying our Florida Sun long enough to write a few lines.
Let me go back to Roy's Grill.
First off, does anyone remember that he was Constable of Derita? He was elected to this position by the townspeople, wore a gun and kept peace in the area. He served warrants on people thru the Police Department in Charlotte.
Roy and Shirley came to Derita from Brevard, NC. They had 3 girls - Charlotte, Carol and Christine which they called "Punkin." They ran the grill and lived in the house next door. Roy helped more children in Derita than some of the ministers there. He had a heart of gold.
I started working for Roy and Shirley when I could hardly reach over the counter to serve a customer. I cannot remember what I got paid, but I did it all. Mopped floors; cleaned the kitchen area, cooked, and waited tables. In my spare time I would babysit his girls. I often wonder if any of his girls are still around the area???
I worked for them all thru school, after school hours and weekends and then in the summer I worked full time for extra money which helped purchase school clothes.
Does anyone remember the old Bread Truck Roy had Wilbur Cook and Shelly at the auto body shop convert for him. He made a lunch Wagon and delivered Lunches to the local businesses during lunch hour. He had a GOLD MINE ON WHEELS.
Everything was built into the truck body, places for hot foods, places for cold foods, shelves for Candy Bars and Crackers. The outside of the truck was white with His LOGO painted on it. He scheduled his stops and had it OK'ed with the business owners to make deliveries.
We all remember Roy for that delicious Chili Dog --- He also made a wonderful "Country Style Steak Sandwich with Gravy, which he served on a Hamburger Bun" He called it a SLOP SANDWICH. You almost needed to eat it with a fork, the gravy would run down your arm if you tried to pick it up and eat it.
So on this LUNCH WAGON, Roy had Steak Sandwiches, Hot Dogs, Hamburgers, Cheeseburgers, Colas, chips, candy, gum, crackers.
Roy, was the one that took the truck out as a rule, however, on a couple of occasions I had to drive the truck, I think he was called out on some of his Constable work and I had to fill in. He said the truck must go because the workers expected him there, if he did not show up, they did not have lunch. I sometime wonder how I managed to drive that truck, but I did it.
Roy and Shirley never went anywhere, they were tied down to the business and children. One particular year they wanted to go on vacation. They left me to run the Grill for a week. I must have been about 14 years old at this time. I had to do it all - Open Up -- Clean Up -- Cook -- Serve -- Order the Stock -- Do the Banking -- I can still remember, I felt like a Big Shot!!! I did not have sense enough to realize the real responsibility he had put on me. They had their vacation I had My week of being Boss. He praised me for a job well done when he returned.
Roy gave lots and lots of children in Derita their First Job Opportunity. For his giving me my opportunity, I will be forever grateful to him for instilling in me such a "SUPERB WORK ETHIC" which I carried with me through my working years. --- Ann Boovy Gunson
================================
Thanks, Ann. I remember that truck well. Seeing it sitting there in the gravel parking lot was almost like a flashing "OPEN" sign for most of us kids because we knew something would be cooking on the grill. By the time you reached the screen door you could catch a big whiff of fried onions and hear the burgers sizzling. --- Bernie Samonds ========================================
About Billy's folks.
Derita Hardware Store
They were Mr. & Mrs. William Tarrant that lived next to the railroad tracks at Gibbon Rd. & Derita Ave. He was already retired when I first met him by name (He was being honored by the Derita Lions Club, I believe) and his wife (Edith) was still teaching at North High.
As a kid, I used to go to Derita Hardware frequently back then. I was going through my "building phase" and needed lots of nails for my tree house, forts, and revising my model train layout.
I'd hop on my bicycle and ride to Derita. Get some nails in several sizes and they'd always double-bag'em so I'd be sure to make it home without spilling nails all over the road. Of course, there would also be a lot of teasing going on. Bob Mitzell and several other men (who I didn't really know by name at the time) would be sitting around the pot belly stove there. They'd ask me if I was going to build a house. God, I loved that place. You could find almost everything there. It was a REAL hardware store. --- Bernie Samonds ========================================
"Now Bernie while you were building your fort in your favorite spot, we were putting ours up in Mr. B. J. Hunters' cow pasture. Now about nails, we probably had to "Borrow" ours, because I'm sure we wouldn't have spent our Pepsi cola money on nails.
Oh Boy--Those were the days, Huh! --- Fred Boovy
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