Too Long in the Wind

January 2009

Bike Across Kansas this June

[January 31]   Back in May 1981, I pedaled my Raleigh 10-speed from Austin, Texas, to Pawnee Rock for my sister's wedding. It took 11 days, and the route covered 832 miles. I slept under thin blankets in cheap motels, the ritziest a Holiday Inn in Woodward, Oklahoma, and refilled my water bottles at farmhouses.

Once I got to Pawnee Rock, I still had a few miles left in me. My dad took this photo of me and my gear as I rolled up the Mennonite Church road. And I was thoroughly hooked on long-distance cycling.

Two years later, I moved to Wichita. The next year, I rode on Biking Across Kansas for the first time and a month later rode from Oklahoma to Nebraska twice, once in two days and once in one day.

In 1984, BAK went through Larned and headed east on K-19, south of Pawnee Rock. Guess what -- this year the route is doing the same thing on its way to St. John. It's a sure bet that some of the riders will make their way into Pawnee Rock just to see the town and ride around the Rock.

That'll be on Monday, June 8.

You can greet the cyclists. Even better, you can ride with them from the Colorado border west of Syracuse to the Missouri line near Louisburg.

I've ridden on BAK three times (read about ride No. 3). I recommend it without reservation.

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Seeking info about Pawnee Rock

[January 31]   A nice note arrived Friday -- a family wants to move to Pawnee Rock and is looking for a house. You can tell Camey what you know: PR-gaines.cj@hotmail.com (take the PR- off before sending your e-mail).

"My name is Camey Gaines, I live in Fallon, Nevada. My husband and I plan to move our family to Pawnee Rock this spring or summer and would love to meet people from P.R. And possibly get some contacts for a house to rent or buy.

"The only person I know in Pawnee Rock is my stepson's friend. My husband is a long haul truck driver. I am a store clerk. We have two boys, 16 and 8. The older son has been to P.R. with his father several times and is excited about moving there."

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Vown Epperson Sr. dies

[January 31]   Vown Epperson Sr., 81 years old and the father of 14, died Tuesday at home in Pawnee Rock. He is survived by his wife, Joyce, and eight sons and six daughters: Carl Leigh, Timothy, Vown Jr., Daniel Dains, Andrew, Greg, Jordan Scratch, Joshua Reay, Connie Zimmerman, Angela Daines, Deana Epperson, Melisa Epperson, Carley Scratch, and Heaven Scratch. (Obituary)

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Far from Home

January 30   Earlier this month, Ray Randolph began a poem about people who leave their hometown but whose hometown never leaves them. He sent the last two stanzas yesterday, on Kansas Day. Here it is -- and here we are -- "Far from Home."

Far from Home

By Ray Randolph

They're two boys from central Kansas
One's in Alaska, the other in Indiana
For many days and in many ways
Both far, far from their native Home.

And where each awakes in the morning
There are no wind-blown tumbleweeds
No prairie skyscrapers, no square-mile wheat fields
But each is busy, making a living and living life.

But every once in a great while each
Takes a quick mind trip and returns
To those small towns and country roads
Where you couldn't get lost -- unless you wanted to.

Had lots of fun down by the creek
And a good old time at the park
Got back home really, really late
Might been an hour or so after dark.

Greeted by an angry, worried Mom
"Of course, there's no food to be had
Now, it's straight to bed with no supper!
You know that you've been bad!"

And now, no matter where they've been
Or what they're doing as days pass
They'll never get far from what they learned
During earlier days in their native home.

These Central Kansas boys' lives will go on
But these verses now come to an end
Words may stop but thoughts flow on
About our Sunflower State.

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Off-road adventures

[January 29]   A girl with responsibilities, a big car, icy roads, ditches, kindness of strangers, and a warm kitchen -- what could be more Kansasy? Barb Schmidt lets us ride shotgun with her, so we can sit back and relive that out-of-body experience of watching ourselves hold the steering wheel as the car goes where gravity and momentum want to take it.

Here's Barb at the wheel:

Your beautiful B&W photo of snowy ground between the old salt plant and the Paul Schmidt farm reminded this former resident of that farm not only of the beauty of snowy/icy days but also their terror -- especially to a scaredy-cat teenage girl like I was who had absolutely no self-confidence as a novice driver allowed to take Mom & Dad's Plymouth to school in the late 1960s.

I had to drive up the icy hill toward the Rock to go home, and its deep ditches made me clutch the steering wheel tightly. No matter which way I turned the wheel, I always veered toward the ditch . . . always. Multiple times I slid into a ditch and had to be rescued. It was only a mile and a half from home to school, but I got to know all the ditches in between intimately. Usually my Dad rescued me and once my classmate Gary Kroeker stopped and helped me out. But often my hero was a kindly stranger (though they always seemed to know my Dad) with strong arms, a strong back, lots of patience and (if necessary) a heavy-duty truck & chain to pull me free. My rescuers also always wore a rather too large grin at my embarrassing predicament.

One time I left the car in the ditch near the Rock during a heavy snowstorm and managed to walk back to Dorothy Bowman's house. It was very icy that day and the snow was deep. I'm sure I looked like a girlish Dr. Zhivago by the time I got to the Bowman house. Thank goodness Dorothy was home! She kindly babysat me in her bright and cheery kitchen until Dad could come a couple hours later.

I bet there are lots of people who could write to you about "ditches I have known" in the PR area.

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Yours, mine, ours

[January 29]   I sketched out several directions for my post on this most auspicious of days. To celebrate our Kansas, I was going to write a few hundred words that I know would have turned out either pompous or treacly. I intended, I suppose, to mention how Kansas was my land because it was the only place on Earth I could imagine lying on the ground and be willingly absorbed into the soil. But I'll spare you that.

Just as I have my sentiments for our piece of Kansas, so do you. I suspect that we each despise parts of it, despair over other parts, and love much of the rest, and Kansas lives in our bones and our breath. We're all people of the south wind, so let's just share a moment and be glad we're from the Sunflower State.

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Methodists and artists

[January 28]   Leon Miller saw the homepage photo yesterday and wrote:

"Your picture of the Methodist Church reminded me of many fond memories. I was baptized in that church and grew up in it. It, along with the other 3 churches, in the community made Pawnee Rock a wonderful place to live and grow up in. My sister was married there in 1947. My mother's funeral took place there in 1958. It's too bad it slowly died (along with the community)."

Pens and pencils: Remember a few months ago when an artist named Joelle Ford asked you to mail her some Kansas pens and pencils? She got hundreds of them from Kansans -- and maybe some from you -- and put about 1,600 into an artwork called "Wave the Wheat." It was displayed at the Lawrence Arts Center.

Here's the image Joelle sent as thanks for helping her as she created her 3-foot by 5-foot panels. (Click on this image to download a much bigger version, about 1.4 MB. Your browser may let you further enlarge that image. If you're tempted to pass it along, remember that it's under Joelle's copyright, so give her credit.)

I was entranced by the piece because I, as a longtime aficionado of promotional pens and pencils, wanted to zoom in and read the writing on each one. I asked Joelle which were her favorites.

"I do not have a favorite; am just amazed that so many people were willing to help with the project," she wrote back. "Art is alive and well in the state of Kansas."

Positives and negatives: Pawnee Rock ex-patriate Cheryl Unruh has written her annual love letter to Kansas. It was published yesterday in the Emporia Gazette, but you can read it on FlyoverPeople.net.

In it Cheryl mentions a singer named Lisa Moritz, and I recommend her too, although I've listened to her only online and don't know her. Check out this sample of "Here We Know"; it'll put you in a patriotic mood as you finish your shopping for Kansas Day parties.

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John Bauer, who arrived in 1878

[January 27]   The Bauer family has been in the Pawnee Rock and Radium area for more than 120 years. Here's a biography of John C. Bauer, who came to our part of the country in 1878 and settled northeast of Pawnee Rock. This information comes from the "Biographical History of Barton County, Kansas," published in 1912. Mr. and Mrs. Bauer are buried in the Pawnee Rock Cemetery.

John C. Bauer

Home-making has been the sentiment that has peopled the plains of Kansas and settled its towns and cities, and to this one sentiment is due the present prosperous condition of a great state. It has been fostered by a generous government and state; assisted by the great railway and the press, and today is the ruling passion in the breast of every true householder. It fired the ambition of the early pioneer and sustained his frail arm and weak body until he performed herculean feats in taming an unwilling soil until it gave up its treasures in blossoms and grain. The first has made the land worth living in and the last sustained life and provided a heritage for coming generations.

It was this sentiment that induced Mr. and Mrs. John C. Bauer, three and one-half miles northeast of Pawnee Rock, to come to Barton County, Kansas, endure the privations of the pioneer days and hold steadfastly to this one sentiment when there appeared no hope of accomplishing their cherished dream. But pluck and energy prevailed and today they own one of the neatest homes in the entire county, and a half section of its best land.

John C. Bauer was born on November 16, 1837, in the Province of Bavaria, Germany, and in 1847 came to America with his parents, who remained in New York City for nine months and then permanently settled at Cincinnati, Ohio. He was educated in the public schools of that city, and learned the trade of boilermaker, and followed that trade. In some of the largest works of that city until January 1878, when he came to Barton County. He at first bought eighty acres of railroad land and entered a timber claim of eighty acres; and then in 1885 bought an additional quarter section. On this he has built a neat cottage with six rooms; a good barn, granary and other outbuildings; planted trees and put the whole in the highest possible state of cultivation.

John C. Bauer was married on October 22, 1860, to Miss Margaret Bauer of Cincinnati, O., and they have four living children: John G. Bauer, Radium, Kansas; Mrs. Anna Shafer, Sterling, Kansas; Mrs. Lena Hartman, Morrel, Ohio and Robert L. Bauer of Pawnee Rock township.

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Edith Marshall dies

[January 26]   Edith Marshall, age 75, died Saturday at home in Pawnee Rock. She is survived by her husband, Larry; their son, Larry II; and their daughter Paula Marshall-Hinds.

Mrs. Marshall's funeral will be Tuesday afternoon at Beckwith Memorial Chapel in Larned, and she will be buried in the Pawnee Rock Cemetery. (Obituary)

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The big radio

[January 26]   Ray Randolph of Indiana wrote Sunday:

"Liked the bit about your five-bander. One day Mom brought home a big, old Zenith Transoceanic (like the one in the attached photo). I rigged up an antenna and hung it outside a window and pulled in stuff from all over the country.

One Sunday afternoon in Hoisington, I listened to a private pilot navigate his way up the East Coast. That was fascinating. But then the tubes gave out and I didn't have the wherewithal to try to replace them."

In a recent piece, I said incorrectly that Ray had grown up in Barton and Rush counties. I meant to write Barton and Rice.

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The joy of Texas

[January 26]   Part of the lure of the Great State of Texas is its winter warmth, and a lot of people from our area have migrated there. I was one of them for a number of years. What convinced me to go there in the first place was when I flew into Austin in early March 1979 and saw flowers blooming in the yards.

Leon Miller of Dallas enjoys that warmth. Last Thursday he played golf and came in fifth in a group of 15. The temperature, he seemed glad to mention, was 80 degrees that afternoon.

That's not exactly tropical, but it beats the chilly, north-wind days of 20 degrees that keep the furnaces running in Pawnee Rock.

Despite the attractiveness of Texas, a lot of Pawnee Rockers moved farther from the equator, to places like Idaho, Washington, New York, Minnesota, Colorado, Sweden, and Alaska. We're all making it through self-inflicted winters because we like it, or because we like having four real seasons, or because we've merely convinced ourselves that we do.

I took Sam out for a drive yesterday to Anchorage, and we stopped to watch jetliners take off over Cook Inlet. It was a nippy afternoon just before sunset, and the inlet was full of pan ice moving in with the tide. This is our winter entertainment. It's not exactly golfing weather, but fortunately we have folks like Leon Miller who can handle that for us.

This is a view of pan ice moving past a viewing point shortly before sunset yesterday in Anchorage. (Modest video clip)

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Another fan of KVOO

[January 25]   Leon Miller, our golf-playing architect in Dallas, where it was 80 degrees last Thursday, remembers Tulsa's high-power radio station:

"Your topic about radio stations brings to mind KVOO of Tulsa, one of my favorites of the '50s. They had a program that came on around 11:00 p.m. called 'Music Till Dawn,' sponsored by American Airlines (which has a huge maintenance operation there) and their theme song was 'That's All,' a very popular song of the '50s and recorded by Nat King Cole, Mel Torme and Johnny Mathis. However, the American Airlines show had an instrumental version whose artist I don't recall."

I'm saddened to add that KVOO-AM was lost to history in May 2002.

We've all played the game of making words out of radio station names such as KANS and KOOL and KICK and KFRM and so on. I didn't realize any harm could come of such a practice until I heard the tale of a co-worker at the Minneapolis Tribune in the 1970s.

Mike Cooney had gotten his start in radio in the late 1950s or early 1960s, working odd hours at the microphone of the AM station in the western Nebraska cowtown of Alliance. He thought he'd have a little fun -- he was that kind of guy -- and one day he let loose with a big "Moooo" and finished up the station identification.

In stormed the manager. "Never call it K-COW!" he shouted. "It's always K-C-O-W!"

K-COW still exists at 1400 on your AM dial, and, I imagine, still fights to keep Box Butte County from making sport of its good name.

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Voices on the radio

[January 24]   Sammy Duck lives! Ray Randolph, who grew up in Barton and Rice counties and now is in Indiana, wrote:

"I thought I had a pretty good memory of my later single-digit and early double-digit days, but hit-me-in-the-head, I had forgotten about Sammy Duck from Great Bend. Even with your reminder, I still cannot dredge up much of anything more the vague sound in the back of my mind of the sounds of a duck. Sammy Duck. KCKT -- Central Kansas Television, and KVGB -- Kansas Voice of the Golden Belt.

"What radio stations did you listen to when you were in grade school and high school?"

When I was in sixth or seventh grade, I took $29 out of my savings and ordered a four-band radio from Montgomery Ward's catalog. It wasn't in stock, so Wards sent an apology and a more expensive radio. I tucked the big-as-a-dictionary, 4-D-cell, five-band radio between my bed and the wall and listened to it every night for the next six years. (AM, marine band, shortwave, FM, and a public safety band, if you're curious.)

The radio had a button I could push to illuminate the band, and I marked the stations with a soft pencil so I'd always know where to find my friends. I turned the radio on, kept the volume low, and it talked to me all night.

• KVGB in Great Bend.
• KANS in Larned; it gave its name to a station in the richer market of Emporia.
• KSAL in Salina.
• KFRM in Salina; it was broadcast from Cloud County.
• WIBW in Topeka.
• KFDI in Wichita. Our dad listened to this in his carpentry shop; Loretta Lynn and Porter Wagner were frequent singers here.

I had out-of-state friends, too.

• KSL in Salt Lake City, where I got my first taste of late-night talk shows, with a show that called its listeners the Night Owls.
• KSTP in St. Paul, Minnesota.
• KOMA in Oklahoma City, when it was a rock 'n' roll station.
• WOAI in San Antonio, a talk station.
• KVOO in Tulsa. On a trip to Arkansas, I saw the station as we passed through Tulsa, and it was like seeing the Empire State Building -- it was famous!

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Hannah Moore dies

[January 24]   Hannah Moore, who was 91 years old and a longtime resident of Pawnee Rock, died January 23, two days short of her birthday. She was born in 1917, the daughter of Gustave and Bertine Nichols, and she married Guy Moore. She will be buried Monday in Great Bend.(Full obituary)

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Sammy Duck and memorable TV

[January 23]   The other day Barb Schmidt's piece mentioned Sammy Duck, a character whose antics were broadcast from the TV station in Great Bend. Mr. Duck was a mystery to me, as I had never heard of him.

And then Larry Mix of St. John wrote to point me toward a certain photo on a Great Bend website that has a small collection of Pawnee Rock historical photos. I looked around on the site and also found a photo of Sammy Duck during his radio days.

In the vein of long-ago favorites, Stan Finger of Wichita wrote to mention Major Astro, whose science and cartoon show originated at the NBC station, KARD (now KSNW), in Wichita and was broadcast through the Kansas State Network's affiliates, which included Great Bend's channel 2, KCKT (now KSNC). (See Major Astro behind the scenes -- scroll down here.)

"Folks in Wichita still talk about Major Astro as their favorite show when they were kids. He was mentioned by a co-worker just last week," Stan wrote.

"I don't know if children today will have similar fond memories of a childhood show years from now, because what's offered on the tube is so different now."

Well, now there's an interesting thought.

Kids' television seems less enchanting now -- less imagination is required -- but maybe that's just an opinion from my grown-up perspective. Furthermore, kids' time available for electronic entertainment is spread pretty thin. They have distractions -- video games and the Internet come to mind -- that I didn't have.

As I thought about it last night, I realized that I don't remember much about Major Astro's show itself, other than I got a glow-in-the-dark plastic moon/piggy bank and a book of 10 Kansas State Fair tickets from him (he drew my postcard with its three Science Words from the big hopper). Mostly what I remember is Major Astro's atmosphere of "science is good" and that I hurried home every day to watch the show after school.

Kids of the future might have similar memories of the Internet. "I loved YouTube," they might say. "I watched a lot of really cool science on it."

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Second chance to buy the school

Front lawn of the Pawnee Rock school in August 2006.

[January 22]   The Pawnee Rock school has changed hands again -- and this time it's in the hands of the Thunder Bank of Sylvan Grove.

Gary Trotnic wrote to say that the school, which was sold about two years ago, has been foreclosed on. Presumably, that means the bank is going to want to sell it. In 2007, it sold for $325,000, and Gary said the note was for $234,000.

"A bank official is supposed to come down this week and let us go through the school with him to see if there is anything that belongs to the city," Gary wrote.

"Sure would be nice to see a business go in there."

Midday update: Gary adds that the city is carrying "a note for the balance of the money so we have a lien on it. If the school sells we might get some of it back."

If you have the money or the good credit, this could be the old school for you. Had I the resources, I'd move in just to play basketball in the gym every day.

When the school first went on the market, I posted a page with a satellite photo and I've updated the school for sale page. When the city council agreed to the sales contract, I posted this page. And here's the original it-has-been-sold page.

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The Jesus I knew

[January 21]   Jesus of the cemetery was my friend. He always listened politely, if indifferently, when I talked to him as I clipped the grass around his feet.

Jesus was as white as concrete and as hard as the sun. He was old, I think, when I met him, and that was more than 30 years ago.

Jesus was holy and I was afraid to touch him. Jesus sometimes wore a coat of bird droppings, and I was leery of those as well and embarrassed to see him that way.

Jesus belonged to somebody, but I photographed him often out of fascination. Mom asked me once, "You know whose grave that is, don't you?" It wasn't a family friend, and the message was clear although I don't think Mom meant ill by it.

Jesus was the only one of his kind at the Pawnee Rock Cemetery. Jesus had a human shape and he wasn't a Mennonite. At least, I had never seen Jesus like this in a Mennonite cemetery.

Jesus hasn't worn as well as his story, but he has been there for those who need him.

Jesus in the 1970s, top photo, and in 2006.

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For our future presidents

[January 20]   It has caught the attention of our son Nik that he and the Obamas' daughter Malia are both 10 years old. Maybe they'll meet one day as classmates at Stanford, where they will share a love of veterinary medicine.

My big concern is that Nik will do some math with other ages and ask me something like this:

"Barack Obama is younger than you and he was a senator and now he's the president. Why didn't you get famous? What did you do for the country?"

It's true that Obama is my first president younger than me on his inauguration day. I'm glad I lived long enough for that to happen, and I'm glad he's the one and from Kansas, but it also means that the torch is being passed across my cohort and on to the best and the brightest of the younger set.

(In my generation's defense, I'd like to point out that Bill Gates and Steve Jobs are roughly my age. But there again, Nik might ask, how come they're billionaire geniuses and I'm working odd hours at a newspaper?)

All that aside, this is a big day for every kid in the country, because, like we did, they're all thinking of what it would be like to stand there with one hand on the Bible. Because of Obama, more kids -- smart kids -- will have that chance.

All you and I have to do is run the country until they're old enough, and we'd better do it right. The 10-year-olds are paying attention.

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Ed Schmidt and the easy laugh

Ed Schmidt, December 27, 1953

[January 19]   Barb Schmidt, who grew up a mile northwest of Pawnee Rock, has fond and touching memories of her Uncle Ed and Aunt Gerry. She sent the black-and-white photos and the following remembrance:

Ed Schmidt

Attached are 2 photos you might be interested in for your website. [Larger versions are in the Gallery.] Both were taken on December 27, 1953, by Ervin Schmidt. They show his younger brother Ed Schmidt and his shop in Pawnee Rock: Schmidt Television and Radio.

I believe the building it was in was built specifically for Ed's shop. Ed and his parents, Henry and Anna Schmidt, lived in the house pictured next door. Both buildings were across the street north of and facing the Farmer's Elevator. I do not know how long the TV shop existed but have noticed the 1956 telephone book ad for it that you display in your photo gallery 38.

Also, as the sign on the shop indicates, Sylvania was the major TV brand that Ed sold and repaired. My dad, Paul Schmidt, was Ed's oldest brother, so our first TV was, of course, a Sylvania. It was glorious, sitting in a huge cabinet in a corner in our living room, with a built-in AM radio and the first record player we owned that played 33s.

My favorite TV show as a little kid was Major Astro, broadcast live from Great Bend on weekdays after school. My favorite radio show was the Sammy Duck show, also broadcast live from Great Bend. Sammy Duck was my great uncle (on my mom's side) Sam Pratt, who I thought did the best and funniest Donald Duck imitation east of Hollywood.

One thing I like about these photos is seeing Uncle Ed hold up a TV tube. I remember that first TV we had needed many tubes replaced over the years, but all those new tubes kept the thing running long past the life span of any TV today. Now when my TV gets weary, it's cheaper just to replace the whole darn thing!

Ed was severely injured in a motorcycle accident on Mother's Day in 1947 and, as a result, was a paraplegic the rest of his life. Henry and Anna were still living on their farm north of town (now Earl & Janice's farm) then, but in 1948 they moved into the house in Pawnee Rock across from the Farmer's Elevator. Eventually they built a concrete ramp out the west side of the house for Ed's wheelchair. When the TV shop was built next door, it was purposefully built at ground level to accommodate the wheelchair.

The two photos I sent you were cropped by my Uncle Ervin just as you see them. I have always thought they were cropped in an odd manner but suspect they were cropped to eliminate the wheelchair and any indication of disability. Attitudes sure have changed since then, haven't they?

Anyway, when I recall my Uncle Ed, the first thing I think of is not his wheelchair but his big, broad smile and his jolly laugh. Everyone in this Schmidt family had a big sense of humor, but Ed's positive outlook on life and his easy laugh were the most infectious of all. He just plain knew how to make people smile.

Ed eventually married Geraldine Smith and the TV shop became their home for a while. I think a little front entranceway was added on then. Ed & Gerry eventually changed businesses and ran the Wagon Wheel Cafe (which is what it was called when adults heard me listening, although it seemed to be called the Wagon Wheel Tavern when they thought my nose was buried too deep in a book to hear) a couple blocks away near the highway.

My memory gets fuzzy after that. Ed & Gerry later moved to Arizona for Ed's health.

For such a tiny community, Pawnee Rock has an amazingly endless supply of stories, right?

This home housed Schmidt Television and Radio a half-century ago. In this 2005 view, the family's old windmill tower is still visible out back; it's perfectly used now as a tower for a television antenna. The two-story home next door, where Henry and Anna Schmidt lived, has been demolished.

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Nature in the hands of a kid

[January 18]   I took Sam out for a hike Saturday afternoon in the state park up the road. We had had a lot of snow around Christmas, followed by a dozen days of deep freeze, followed this past week by a heat wave that melted most of the snow and ice, and we were glad to be outdoors.

We had trouble walking, because parts of the trails were still covered with melt-slick ice after a half-winter of being packed down. But eventually we came to a marsh where a few branches of a creek were flowing freely, and we settled in for some fun.

I took photos of the big view -- the clouds, the valley, the masterpiece of trees and grass and creek. Sam was more intent on what was in front of him -- sticks with which to stir icy puddles, bands of clear ice among the cloudy, other chunks of ice to throw into the creek and watch float down like boats.

Think about when you were a child in Pawnee Rock and went on picnics or Sunday fishing trips with your folks. While you were waiting for the fire to get built or the channel cats to bite, did you sit patiently and listen to the adults yak -- or did you instead get into stuff?

To us adults, a child's pastimes might look simple and unimaginative. But can we know what the kids are learning when they swish a stick in the slush? It's hydrodynamics, it's friction, it's the sensation felt inside a glove -- and even you and I with our bourgeois imaginations can figure out how that kind of learning could come in handy a decade into the future.

It's the nature of kids to put their hands on things and to take those things apart and rebuild them in different ways. How will a kid know the heft of ice if he doesn't throw a chunk? How can we expect him to later understand the angle of repose if he didn't, as a child, build a mountain of pebbles? Should we expect her to understand the design of a tree if she hasn't slowly pulled the outer layers off a green branch?

I made some photos of the valley and the streambed (and of Sam, of course). When I gave the camera to Sam, he recorded what interested him: a beaver lodge, the roots of an upturned tree. I recorded images of tranquility; Sam recorded images of things he wanted to touch.

Perhaps it's human nature to be absorbed only by what we can handle, and that's why kids see the tree and we adults see the forest. You and I remember the elms and cottonwoods of our childhood, and now that we're grown up we can fit a whole forest into the big picture. But there's no sense in trying to explain that to a 12-year-old with a two-pound piece of ice in his hand and a splash in his intentions. He'll figure it out on his own.

The roots of Sam's upturned tree.

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Another view of home

[January 17]   Cheryl Unruh, the voice of Emporia, went through Pawnee Rock and Larned a few days ago. See real live photos on her website, FlyoverPeople.net.

Change of scenery: Sometimes I look out the window and wonder when the grass turned green. That's why I admire Eirik Solheim for having the dedication to take photos of his yard every day for a year and turn them into a 40-second movie.

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Col. W.A. and Annie Irvine, early residents

[January 16]   An e-mail arrived last evening in search of information about a family that apparently played an important role in young Pawnee Rock. What was nice about this request is that it provided info as well.

Suzi Terrell, a dedicated genealogist, is looking for info about Col. William Andrew and Anne Taylor Irvine. The colonel was Suzi's distant grandfather and was in our town around the time of its founding in 1872.

Here is Suzi's e-mail:

"I am searching information on my 3rd great grandfather. According to his wife's obit, she was one of the first white women in Pawnee Rock. Andy may have been a 'galvanized' Union soldier after serving with the Confederates. He was paroled from Camp Morton and may have been fighting Indians in Kansas ... I have no records -- just trying to find anything on him from your town. Thanks for any help you can offer. Suzi"

I was impressed that Suzi had sent a copy of Irvine's obituary, and I wrote back asking for the source. She responded:

"I did find you listed my gg grandmother as the postmistress in Pawnee Rock during 1873 -- Annie was Andy's wife -- Anne Taylor (Elliott) Irvine." [This is Annie's photo, supplied by Suzi; read Annie's biography.]

"They lived in and both are buried at Fort Scott. Annie died at her daughter's in Woodworth, LA, but was buried with Andy. Their daughter was an editor of the Monitor newspaper in Ft. Scott at one time, so maybe the article was printed by them -- I really don't know."

Mrs. Irvine was the town's second postmaster (1873-75), which suggests that the Irvines also owned the building in which the post office was operated. We can surmise that they were solid citizens.

So, if any of our astute readers and historians know of the Irvine family in Pawnee Rock, please write to Suzi at PR-szterrell@comcast.net (remember to take the "PR-" off before you send the message).

Here's the obituary -- possibly published in the Fort Scott Monitor -- of Col. Irvine, one of our hometown's early residents:

Col. W.A. (William Andrew) Irvine

A telegram was received yesterday morning by Mrs. L B Long from her mother announcing the death of Colonel W.A. Irvine, at Ennis Texas. The sad news was not unexpected. Col. Irvine was stricken with paralysis last Tuesday while on his way to Port Arthur. His wife was notified that his condition was very serious and she at once went to Ennis to care for him and was by his side at the end. It was thought at first that there might be a rally, possibly a recovery, but all hope were disappointed and after regaining consciousness for a short time he passed away. Mrs. Irvine will bring the remains of her husband to Fort Scott and the interment will be in Evergreen cemetery. The hour for the funeral will be determined by the time of arrival. The services at the house will be conducted by Rev. Milton of the First Christian church, after which Myrtle Lodge No. 17, Knights of Pythias will take charge of the body and conduct the burial ceremonies, in accordance with the ritual of their order.

The deceased was born at Irvine, in Madison County, Kentucky, May 5th 1843 and he was fifty-five years old. When a mere boy he enlisted to the Confederate army and during the civil war was an officer in Morgan's cavalry, rising to the command of a regiment as a reward for valor in battle. After the war was over, Col. Irvine married and came west. He was one of the pioneer settlers of Pawnee County, Kansas and was interested in the founding of Larned and Pawnee Rock.

He afterwards removed to Eureka Springs, Arkansas, where he engaged in business for some years. Later he lived in Florida, but finally returned to Kansas and has made his home in Fort Scott for about fourteen years. During nearly all the time he resided in this city he was in the employment of the New York Life Insurance company as a solicitor. For the past three years he has been in Texas writing insurance for his company. He had decided to give up his work in Northern Texas and was on his way to Port Arthur when stricken with paralysis at Ennis where he was well known and greatly esteemed. He received every possible care from his friends and from the order of Knights of Pythias of which order he had been a member of for more than twenty years and his last hours were brightened by the presence of his tenderly loved wife.

Col. Irvine was a man of generous noble character, greatly liked by all who knew him. In his youth he was a brave soldier and throughout his life a devoted husband, a loving father and a faithful friend. He leaves a wife, one son W.E. Irvine employed at Greene's shoe store, and four daughters. The eldest daughter, Mrs. L.B. Long has been here for many years in the service of Davis & Co, the second Miss Mattie Irvine is a stenographer employed by the Long Bell Lumber Company of Kansas City, Mo. The third, Miss Emma Irvine is now teaching music at Kiowa Kansas, the fourth, Miss Kittie a child of twelve is still in school.

Col. Irvine was a member of the order of Knights of Pythias of the Uniform Rank, K of P of the Rathsom Sisters, and of the endowment Rank. He was devotedly attached to the Pythias order. His remains will be buried by the Mystic Lodge No. 17 in accordance with his well known wishes and the desires of his wife.

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From Pawnee Rock to Colorado

DeEtta Komarek; her daughter, Rachel Gonzales; Frank's eldest daughter, Andrea Komarek Koerner; Frank Komarek; and DeEtta and Frank's granddaughter, Alexia.

[January 15]   DeEtta Ukens Komarek, who would have been in the Pawnee Rock graduating class of 1976 but ended up at Otis-Bison, sent new-year wishes and some photos of her recent happy 50th birthday. She and Frank now live in Florissant, in the beautiful Colorado high country.

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Wind power by the airport

[January 14]   Although it wasn't in response to my raising the issue a couple of days ago about whether Pawnee Rock had enough wind to keep power-generating turbines busy, the Great Bend Tribune has a story and photos of turbines freshly installed on Roger Brinings' farm near the Great Bend airport.

Have you noticed how every story about people who generate their own electricity mentions selling excess power "back" to the power company? It's as if we've all been led to believe that the power company is the rightful owner of all electricity and now the wind too.

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In search of I.W. Harper's store

[January 14]   I got more information about the Harper/Bowman/Douglas family from Chuck Meyer, whose brother, Jim, had a posting yesterday. I had asked him whether the gas station was the Skelly station, once situated where Rock Street meets the highway, but now that I look at the station again it seems too small to have a store and cafe too.

Was I.W. Harper's store in the building later occupied by Stella Morris? Or was it perhaps in the old opera house? Perhaps someone in our reading public knows where the Harper station/cafe/store was and can tell us.

Here are excerpts from two e-mails from Chuck:

Grandpa ran a gas station/general store/cafe while mom was a little girl. That's where she learned to fry those great hamburgers I remember. She used to tell how she would fry hamburgers and at the same time sell chewing tobacco and run out to fill someone's truck with gas.

I remember the drug store where we used to get cherry cokes and the movies shown outside on the side of a building. I also recall Buel and Doris' farm and Ted and Frances' house where Rusty and Ronnie lived (rabbits in the back). Grandma and Grandpa are buried in the cemetery across the road from the Rock. . . .

It would have been around 1920 or so when our mother, Dorothy Harper (Meyer), was 12. She told me how she was too short to reach up on the high shelves where the chewing tobacco was kept and had to climb up on the counter to get it when the farmers would come in for their chews.

My brother and I have fond memories of those lazy, hazy days of summer spent in Pawnee Rock. We would take the Santa Fe from Chicago and then transfer to a smaller trunk line in Newton, Ks. with an old steam locomotive called the "Doodlebug." It would take us to Larned where our grandparents would pick us up. I believe the Doodlebug is sitting in a park either in Newton or Larned as a museum piece. Gone are the days!

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Home cookin'

Ketchup sandwich, 2009. I didn't do brown bread in the 1960s.

[January 14]   My sister, Cheryl, has written a perfectly funny piece about growing up with the Betty Crocker Cook Book for Boys and Girls. It appears as her weekly column for the Emporia Gazette. She also found an online copy of the 1957 edition, which was the book we had at home.

When I opened the electronic book, it struck me how many of the photos and drawings had been seared into my deep memory. I must have loved that book.

My favorite recipe, perhaps because I had a fondness for rabbits, was the pear-and-cottage-cheese bunny salad (page 127). I always longed for the desserts, but many were outside our range because they involved such fripperies as edible decorations or two kinds of fruit. Or maybe I've just rationalized that over the years because I thought some of the food would be too hard to make compared to the goodies in the campfire cooking section.

Just having the book was a great thing for us kids. It showed that Mom was willing to trust us to feed ourselves and our parents, and I've especially appreciated the fact over the years that it made cooking fun in ways that grown-up cookbooks don't.

Of course, being kids we sometimes wandered from a completely nutritious menu and had our share of ketchup sandwiches. Part of it was our nature, and part of it was nurture.

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Meyer brothers, related to Pawnee Rockers

[January 13]   I got an interesting e-mail yesterday from Jim Meyer, who lives in Washington but has a lot of Pawnee Rock in his blood -- Bowman, Harper, and Douglas.

He and his brother, Chuck, have been reading PawneeRock.org in search of people they might know -- and if you know them or their relatives, I think they'd like to hear from you.

Maybe you remember the tornado that took Uncle Buel Harper's barn and livestock.

I've listed Jim and Chuck on the Friends of Pawnee Rock page.

Here's the word from Jim:

My brother, Charles Meyer and I ran onto the pawneerock.org web site and wanted to let you know that we have some connection to Pawnee Rock although neither of us ever lived there. Our grandparents, IW and Minnie Harper, lived in Pawnee Rock and Larned Ks all their life. Both are buried in the Pawnee Rock cemetery that you have mentioned.

We also had uncles and aunts and cousins that all lived and worked in Pawnee Rock. Buel and Doris Harper lived on a farm which, I believe, was on SW65 RD. Ted and Frances Douglas lived on Bismark. Rita and Gene Bowman also lived in Pawnee Rock but I don't remember where. Chuck and I spend a lot of summers in Larned and Pawnee Rock visiting relatives. I remember fishing in the Arkansas River for catfish and watching tornado clouds off in the distance.

Uncle Buel had a horse and cow on his wheat farm. Both the cow and horse, along with the barn, were lost in a tornado.

I also remember carving my name on the Rock and searching for Kit Carson's name, which we were told was somewhere in the mass of autographs carved in the monument.

Both of us have a lot of memories of that area and enjoyed reading the information you provided. Chuck was able to remember a lot of the names that were mentioned.

Chuck lives with his family in Fullerton, Calif., where he is an Asst. Principal at a high school and pastor of a Lutheran church in Burbank, CA.

I reside in Longview, WA after retiring from the WA State Dept. of Corrections as a Probation and Parole Officer. Most all of the relatives have passed away long ago. Some cousins have been lost we are unable to locate.

Thanks for the memories!!

Jim Meyer

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A free ride on the wind

[January 12]   The Hutchinson News has a Kathy Hanks story about how the city of Jetmore is going to put up some wind turbines and provide its own electricity. That sounds like a dandy idea, especially since the windmills can be put out by the city dump and presumably won't ruin anyone's field of vision or drive people batty with that heavy-blade sound that turbines are famous for. More power to 'em.

My experience with Jetmore isn't very broad; I've been through there a few times, driving across the lazy rolling hills, and I know that the Lightfoot and Stueckemann law firm that we hired to save our high school in the early 1970s was from there.

About two years ago, as I drove west toward Jetmore, I was struck by an amazing scene: The co-op elevator, an east-west slab on the south side of town, created a cliff against which the south wind rose sharply. Riding that updraft were dozens of big birds -- hawks and crows, perhaps -- wheeling and playing and perhaps just enjoying the view.

Could Pawnee Rock afford a wind turbine? Perhaps, with federal grants. Is there enough reliable wind? I don't think that will be a problem in Jetmore, but maybe Pawnee Rock is blessed -- or cursed -- with quieter air.

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Going around

[January 11]   Everbody at work has had the coughing flu and the stomach virus. My family shared that displeasure, and even the dog was sick. Now it appears to be my turn.

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Busy bands

[January 10]   Barb Schmidt was inspired by photos in a Pawnee Rock HS yearbook to think of her own band days:

My brother Larry Schmidt (PRHS '60) recently showed me his school annuals. In the 1958-59 annual, I noticed the photo of the high school band that you have in Gallery #61. Attached is a copy of that annual page.

"PAWNEE ROCK BAND under the Direction of Richard Flanders"

"The Pawnee Rock High School Band began the 1958-59 activities by marching in the Labor Day Parade, at Hoisington and a trip to the Hutchinson Fair. During football season the band performed during the half-time of each home game and had a special show for homecoming. One of the highlights of the year was the opportunity to take part in the 'Return to the Santa Fe Trail Festival' at Larned in October. The same month the band participated in Ft. Hays Homecoming. The annual fall concert was given November 24 and the 29th we marched in the last parade of the season, by attending the Christmas parade at Larned. The district Music Festival was held the 3rd of April, and the climax of the year's events was the annual Spring Concert."

Sadly, the annual does not list the names of all the 1958-59 band members. But it includes a separate photo of the dance band, whose members are named and were surely among the students in the full band: Barbara Smith, Robert Delaplane, Evelyn Bristor, Evelyn German, Betty Smith, Sharon Unruh, Bonnie Bunting, Robert Dunavan, Danny Dunavan, Linda Smith, Don Appel, Janice Richardson, Diane Ross. Some of those folks probably visit your website and might be able to provide more names for the full band.

Seeing the dance band photo reminded me of a slightly later music teacher at PRHS, Dan King. He was there in the early 1960s, was a terrific teacher and the band was very large and very good as a result. Of course, the school's purchase of new band uniforms during that era probably helped attract students, too. Mr. King had his own dance band that played not only at PR but also in other neighboring communities. He was a fine brass player -- trumpet/cornet, I think. My class joined the high school band when we were in 8th grade (1964-65). Mr. King was the teacher then but gone by the next year or so, stolen away by the bigger high school in Russell. Others could tell you much more, but it was a great time for music in PR then.

By the late 1960s, the full high school band just got smaller every year as we burned through multiple band teachers. Dance band disappeared and by my senior year (1968-69) there were only 8 of us in pep band. But we still played our hearts out, especially on the PR "Fight Song." Does anyone remember the words?

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Dr. Bruce Smith, son of a blacksmith

Dutch Smith's blacksmith shop, on Centre Street

[January 9]   Don Ross, now of Dodge City, sent word about the passing of a Pawnee Rock native who did well for himself.

My son Steve Ross read this in the Wichita paper. Bruce was Dutch Smith's son. Dutch was the one that run the blacksmith shop in PR for so many years.

[Leon's note: I shortened the obit a little bit, deleting such things as viewing information.]

Dr. Bruce Garfield Smith, 88, formerly of Arkansas City, died Dec. 15, 2008, at the Kansas Christian Home of Newton. He was buried in Arkansas City.

Bruce was born Jan. 4, 1920, in Pawnee Rock to Garfield and Mary Ann (Bruce) Smith. He graduated from Pawnee Rock High School, and then Southwestern College with a chemistry degree in 1941, a member of the Order of the Mound. In 1944, he graduated from the University of Kansas Medical School, gaining membership in Alpha Omega Alpha (AOA) Medical Honors Society. Other residencies include two years at the U.S. Naval Hospital in Rhode Island, one year internal medicine in Portland, Ore., and postgraduate work at Cornell Division, Bellevue Hospital in New York, N.Y.

Bruce served in the U.S. Navy. On Dec. 25, 1942, he married Dorothy Dunbar in Winfield. The family returned to Arkansas City, where Dr. Smith practiced internal medicine from 1950 to 1986. During those years he served on several boards of directors, including Association of American Physicians and Surgeons, Kansas Christian Home of Newton, Blue Cross, and Arkansas City Memorial Hospital. After retiring in 1987, he served as interim administrator of the hospital.

Dr. Smith was an avid outdoorsman, enjoying hunting and fishing with his sons and friends. He also enjoyed ranching and farming, was an independent oil producer, was active in politics, and was a private pilot. Dr. Smith was a longtime member of the Disciples of Christ Church in Arkansas City and later in Newton.

Survivors include his wife, Dorothy, of the home; two sons, Dr. Stuart and his wife, Margo Smith, of Warrensburg, Mo., Dr. Stephen Smith, of Marion, Kan.; one sister, Gwen Zimmerman, of Kansas City, Kan.; six grandchildren; and three great-grandchildren. He was preceded in death by his parents; a son, Aaron Bruce, a daughter, Monica Lynn; and sisters, Juanita Geil and Virginia Fry.

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The sword and the Rock

The Knights of Pythias at Pawnee Rock. Larry Mix sent this photo.

[January 8]   The Knights of Pythias maintained a lodge in Pawnee Rock in the early 20th century. They had certain rituals that must have been fun to participate in, especially because the men got to dress up in splendid uniforms and carry swords. And, the lodge had a skeleton.

Larry Smith puts the sword and skeleton in historical perspective:

"The sword pictures are of a ceremonial sword used by the Knights of Pythias in their rituals on the top floor of the opera house (now P. Lee antiques). I stumbled on this sword in Larned in possesion of a man whose ancestor was one of the important members of the Pawnee Rock Knights.

"I had always heard stories when I was growing up about kids sneaking up there to look at the skeleton and swords and things. I scoffed. I have seen the skeleton at the antique store and now possess at least one if not the only sword.

"There is also some scrollwork and a word or two on the blade. However, it had rusted badly and I am still in the process of trying to restore it."

Also, Larry and I figured out that the UR on the sword's guard stands for Uniformed Rank. The photo at the top of this post shows some of the Knights with their swords during a celebration atop Pawnee Rock. The photo appears in its entirety on Gallery page 43.

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Far from home

[January 8]   I'd like to thank several of you for writing such kind notes about my little piece on Centre Street at night. I hope it's because you all remember being in such a place yourself. The post was fun to write; all I had to do was remember what it was like to be 17 and either in sync with our town or more lost than I realized.

I especially enjoyed the response (and promise) from Ray Randolph, the Barton County expatriate who writes now in Indianapolis:

They're two boys from central Kansas
One's in Alaska, the other in Indiana
For many days and in many ways
Both far, far from their native Home.
(To be continued.)

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Summer night

[January 7]   It is night in Pawnee Rock. Maybe 10 p.m., maybe 11. The main street sleeps.

An empty car nuzzles up to the Clutter-Lindas lumberyard, its driver gone off with another in search of excitement. On the wire fence between the two silvery sheds grow roses; maybe they are blooming into the night. Across the street, a farmer's disc is folded up for safety and waiting for Willard's torch.

There are many old elms on this street: between the shed and the unseen tennis court, in front of the lumberyard, in front of the carpentry shop, near the Pawnee Inn, in front of the post office, down at the corner by Betty's.

This is the only paved street in town, an asphalt path to and beyond the Rock, up to the hilltop county road that bore the weight of hearses and the salt plant trucks. Other places where cars go are gravel -- the streets, the Christian Church parking lot -- and as a result the paved road is seasoned with sand.

The tree in front of the church sways, a hypnotic hand. Maybe rain is coming behind the breeze. It could be just a false storm, full of anxious heat lightning, but the tall weeds growing behind the curb say it's summer and rain would be welcome.

There are no houses in this long pool of illumination. The four hundred or so residents of Pawnee Rock are tucked back in the dark among the elms, sleeping or watching Great Bend television. I don't hear babies cry or see the dancing or feel the slap behind the screen doors; I stand here in the middle of Pawnee Rock, townsman of this stiller town, and never imagine how in thirty-five years I will wish for one more night in the shadows of our home.

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Hello, Debra (Levingston) Ernst

[January 6]   We heard yesterday from Debra Levingston, who graduated in the early 1970s from Pawnee Rock High School:

Hello. I'm Debra Ernst. I grew up in Pawnee Rock. My parents were Bill and Bonnie Levingston, my brothers are Boe and Joe and my sister is Sandy. I spent my childhood in Pawnee Rock and went all through school there. I have a lot of memories of Pawnee Rock. I live in Hoisington, KS, now. I have 4 kids and 11 grandkids now. My husband Mike works for the railroad Union Pacific out of Salina.

We love to travel and camp and do a lot of fishing when we get the chance.

My e-mail is PR-maernst2@yahoo.com. Would love to hear from my classmates. Thank you.

[Note: I changed Debra's e-mail address to fool the spam robots. Delete "PR-" from the address before you write to her. Also, Debra's contact info now is on the Friends of Pawnee Rock page.]

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Tracing the Batman family

[January 6]   Susan Unruh Ellis, the daughter of Nancy and Dean Unruh, wrote last evening about the Batman family:

I enjoyed your article today. It made me stop and think and makes me remember my mom's voice. Re-thinking over many conversations I had heard over the years, you triggered a memory.

I spent many hours in the car riding to funerals with the folks and Grandma Unruh (Tillie). Mom and Grandma were always yammering about this person and that, and who was related to who. When you're the youngest child, with old parents, you clock a lot of miles.

Anyway, I think your William Batman might have been the person they referred to as Bill Batman. Following though, his daughter, Edna M. might have been Betty Crosby and Mary Louise Wilhite's mother. The time frame would be about right. I heard the Batman name many times as I sat through CWF (Christian Women's Fellowship) meeting as a child.

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Batman in Pawnee Rock

Grave marker of John W. and Mary E. Batman, in the southern center section of the Pawnee Rock Cemetery.

[January 5]   Pawnee Rockers who have spent much time at the cemetery no doubt have noticed the name Batman on at least two grave markers and, if they were like me when I was young, considered the possibility that relatives of the cartoonish crime fighter were buried there. Or maybe those were the graves of descendants of the Turkish city of Batman. For a while in my innocent days, I was annoyed at the Batman family for having a name confusingly similar to the Batchman family that lived in Pawnee Rock at the time.

Neither of those two exotic choices now seems to be correct, although this article is just about the family associated with one marker, that of John W. and Mary Batman. They were part of a family that had been in this country for generations.

Our Batmans lived in Pawnee County and then Pawnee Rock, and Mr. Batman's mother lived for a time near Seward.

The following biography appeared in 1919 in "A Standard History of Kansas and Kansans," written and compiled by William E. Connelley, secretary of the Kansas State Historical Society.

John W. and Mary E. Batman

John W. Batman, one of the early settlers of Pawnee County in River Township, has had a number of experiences that are not only of interest as part of his individual record but serve to illustrate the conditions under which the pioneers lived and the battles they fought in gaining homes and prosperity on this western frontier.

It was in November, 1879, that he came to the West, a young married man, and drove overland all the distance from Crawford County, Indiana. Near Pilot Knob in that county he was born September 1, 1855. ...

John W. Batman was only an infant when his father, John Batman, died. John Batman was born near Lexington, Kentucky, and spent his brief career as a farmer. He died just before the outbreak of the Civil war. His wife's maiden name was Eliza McCartney. Her father, Duke McCartney, was a native of Virginia. John Batman and wife had the following children: Lafayette, a farmer of Ringwood, Oklahoma; Marian, living near Holden, Missouri; John W.; Charles A., of Belpre, Kansas; and Ellen, wife of Charles Bowman, of Belpre, Kansas.

Mrs. John Batman several years after the death of her first husband married Thomas Ryan, and after his death she married Thomas Myler. She had no children by either of these husbands. Her death occurred near Seward in Stafford County, Kansas, in 1891, when she was seventy-one years old. She had exchanged her Indiana farm for lands near Pawnee Rock and had come to Kansas with her son John W. Subsequently she moved to the vicinity of Seward and spent her last years there on a farm.

John W. Batman had a bringing up on the farm, acquired his education in the district schools and a brief time at a select school, and lived in the homes of his two step-fathers. When he came to Kansas he brought two teams, a few household goods and a small amount of money. He soon located on the quarter section where he still lives in River Township. It was his intention and his first practice was directed along that line to make a farm. When the drought came he was forced by a succession of dry years to seek labor elsewhere. He then moved to Pawnee Rock and went to work as a section hand. His boss was a noted pioneer of that vicinity, Michael Sweeny. His work on the railway section continued only for a few months at a time, while during the open season he was busy with his farm. While working on the railroad he helped to lay the steel on the Santa Fe line from Dundee to Garfield.

Since 1882 Mr. Batman has been steadily getting the better of circumstances in his gallant fight for prosperity as a farmer. With all the hard times he has passed through there was never a day when there was not a square meal in the house for his family, although some anxiety was inevitable on his part as to how he could manage to keep up that satisfactory condition. He had a long and hard struggle before he could lift the mortgage from his farm, though it was paid off during some of the hard years. Several years later he started to buy more land, an eighty acre tract which cost him $500. This debt was soon paid. In 1901 he bought a quarter of section 7, at a price of $1,700 and had this paid for by 1903.

Mr. Batman's pioneer home in Kansas was a box house 12 by 16 feet. It was the humble abode in which his daughter was born. He later bought the old school house and added it to the shanty and with these more commodious quarters the family was content until 1901, when he erected his present nine room house, a large part of which is modern. His pioneer barn was a straw stable, so familiar in pioneer days, and his present barn is 36 by 46 feet with room for forty-five tons of hay. Mr. Batman has practiced diversified principles of farming, has kept cattle and milk cows, and the milk has often sufficed to supply the family groceries. The best yield of wheat he ever had was thirty bushels to the acre in 1914. A number of years ago he sold some wheat as low as 26 cents a bushel. In his individual experience his record high price was $1.86. He is a stockholder in the Farmers Elevator at Pawnee Rock, and also owns stock in the Farmers State Bank at Larned.

Several times he has filled township offices, having been three times trustee, a number of years clerk and also a member of the school board of district No. 9. Politically his affiliations have been steadily democratic. While not a church member, his purse has been open according to its possibilities for church and benevolent purposes. The only order to which he has attached himself is the Patrons of Husbandry or the Grange.

For over thirty years Mr. Batman enjoyed a happy home life with his good wife. He was married September 23, 1879, only a few weeks before he came out to Kansas, to Miss Mary E. Carr, daughter of William and Eliza (Levell) Carr. Her father was a Kentuckian and on coming to Indiana followed the business of milling and lumbering in Scott and Crawford counties. His home was near English in Crawford County and he was quite a factor in local affairs. His children were: James; Mrs. Batman, who was born October 17, 1855; Annie, wife of B. Y. Davis; Edwin and Elwin, twins; and Tilden H. Mrs. Batman, who died in 1911, was a member of the Christian Church. She had been educated, like her husband, in the common schools. Of the children born to them only two grew up, Will A. and Edna M., both of whom are with their father at the old homestead.

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Why we celebrate

[January 4]   When I was in high school, I attended a speech festival at Barton County Community Junior College, as it was known in 1974. I declaimed in defense of the free press -- this was the Watergate era -- for several minutes, and then I entered a form of self-exhibition known as extemporaneous speech. Each student drew three subjects out of a box and had to quickly make up an oration on one of those topics.

The one I kept was "Why the United States should celebrate the Bicentennial."

My speech started out this way: "Everybody loves a birthday party!" and it went on in that vein for three long minutes. I knew at the time it was a shallow speech, and I was embarrassed for my mom in the audience. I got the equivalent of a C, and I deserved it.

As you can tell, that question has stuck with me long after the Bicentennial disappeared into the red, white, and blue dustbin of history. The best answer I've come up with is that such ceremonial holidays give us a chance to reflect on what our nation or state has achieved. In other words, have we done our best?

Kansas celebrates its 150th birthday in two years, although it seems like only yesterday that the state turned 100. Perhaps it's something I gathered in later research, but I vaguely remember Official Speeches and newspaper photographs of Important People around January 29, 1961. Mostly, however, I recall the state's celebratory license tags. Maybe the slogan will be updated -- to Sequicentennial 2011 -- from what appeared in 1960 and 1961.

A few Pawnee Rockers will remember a local parade to mark the 500th anniversary, in 1941, of Coronado's passage through what would become our town. Quite a few more Pawnee Rockers will remember when our town joined the 1971 celebration of the Santa Fe Trail's sequicentennial. There was a parade, followed by a ceremony at the Rock. A year later, our town of Pawnee Rock turned 100 years old, meaning that traders and settlers had rolled past our landmark for half a century before someone decided (after the railroad came) that it was a decent place to live.

States roughly Kansas' age are pretty common, thanks to the Civil War-era rush to statehood and the subsequent settling of the West, but as the 20th century arrived the United States had pretty well filled in the map and all it had left were Oklahoma (1907) and New Mexico and Arizona (1912). It took 47 more years for the Great White Fathers to accept the terrorities of Alaska and Hawaii as states.

And that brings us to yesterday. On January 3, Alaska marked its 50th anniversary with a low-key Celebration of Statehood. The Postal Service provided a commemorative stamp, the governor made speeches, and old-timers talked about what it was like back in the days before television and paved highways. Fireworks were ignited, and we all commiserated about how perfectly suited our current cold snap is for the occasion. Perhaps a few people remembered that it was a former Kansan, President Dwight Eisenhower, who signed Alaska's statehood into law.

Our family stood in the street last night and watched the fireworks, and then Sam and I drove into Anchorage to eat a burger at one of the city's oldest restaurants (it dates to the 1960s). As we drove past the state troopers' headquarters, where a sign said -21 degrees, I opened the car windows so Sam would get a cold blast -- icing on the cake, so to speak -- to help him remember the day 50 years from now.

As Kansas' sesquicentennial year comes up, the question remains: Have Kansans done their best with what they were given? There's plenty of evidence the state's resources have been farmed, pumped, and worked for all their worth.

But have you and I achieved all we can? I've made some progress and done some backsliding in my own past 50 years. It might serve us well to reflect on the paths we and our fellow Kansans have chosen.

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One lesson down cold

Fire trucks outside the Anchorage Daily News.

[January 3]   One of the great joys of going to school in Pawnee Rock was the fire drill. When the klaxon sounded, we placed our pencils on our desks and walked out the door. If we were lucky in the winter we got to grab our coats, but I don't remember being lucky very often. The main good thing was that the fire drill broke the routine. I don't think any of us wished for a real fire, but we said we did.

Now some of us have gone on to work for companies elsewhere that answer to insurance companies, and we still have fire drills. Once in a while, it's a real fire alarm. I had one of those last night.

We weren't supposed to take our coats, but we did. It was the most deliberate evacuation I've ever been a part of. We didn't want to burn and we also didn't want freezer burn from a long wait outdoors, where it was -12 degrees and the trees drooped with frost and snow.

Despite our joking that a young editor who gave notice shortly before the alarm went off had started a blaze to make a dramatic exit, the real cause turned out to be a truck at the loading dock; its exhaust had overwhelmed a smoke detector.

Perhaps Mrs. Wilhite will be glad to know that I behaved just as we were taught in second grade. Nobody panicked, nobody went back inside early, and, as it turned out, nobody had "accidentally" pulled a fire alarm.

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The laughing river

The Arkansas River goes on its way. Jim Dye made this photo in November.

[January 2]   It's our Arkansas River. We wade in it, throw rocks into it, pull fish out of it. But it's not the same river now as it was when we were kids, or even a minute ago.

The river goes on whether we watch it or not, a movable thread in a steadfast landscape, and I suppose that its flow is reassurance that the world works. The river comes from far away and eventually empties into the big Mississippi hundreds of miles downstream. It carries biological and geological songs right under our noses, and it tells stories if we listen to it.

I have always enjoyed the river. No doubt that sentiment has to do with ions and shade trees and a plentitude of water in a dry state, but it may also be because I can't possess the river. The Arkansas gives me what I need, but it is unmindful of me.

A dozen years ago I came across a casette tape from Tish Hinojosa, a country/folk singer from New Mexico and Texas. One of the songs was the quick-spirited "Laughing Runs the River," and it fit in with my memories of our Arkansas River. Here are a few lines:

Running running, laughing river
Laughing river running

Tell me of the highland mountains that your eyes have seen
Tell me of the stones and sorrows you take to the sea

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On the edge of the future

May we all have a bountiful 2009.

[January 1]   Here it is, the day we start forgetting to write the correct year on the checks. Just 25 years ago, we were wondering about the coincidence of Ronald Reagan and the long-feared arrival of the Year of Big Brother, and who was looking forward to 2009?

The Jayhawks won their football game yesterday at the Insight Bowl, and now (as far as I'm concerned) the college football season is over. And because the Chiefs, Broncos, Cowboys, Packers, Seahawks, and anybody else I might have cheered for has also given up the season's ghost, there's not much left in the pro season for me but mild interest in the eternal buildup to the Super Bowl. Thank goodness we still have Steve Crosby and his Chargers.

So the year starts fresh.

I can only hope that for everyone, in Pawnee Rock and from Pawnee Rock, 2009 goes better than what we might guess after listening to AM and FM. You can't spit at a radio these days without hitting a commercial whispering insidious lies about "credit card relief" and the big money to be made by wise investors in commodities. I hope we are not that desperate.

I have high hopes.

The new year will no doubt require sacrifices by all of us, but the opportunities are great. As we emerge from this banking and political swamp, we can build a new nation for our children. Not that there's anything wrong with a swamp; it's the cradle of life.

We'll do fine.

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