Too Long in the Wind

October 2009

Cleanup, burn pit, and Halloween

[October 30]   The Pawnee Rock City Council had a busy meeting earlier this month, judging by the report provided to the Pawnee Rock News, the publication of the ministerial alliance. (More news)

Here's what you need to know:

New Ordinance -- This ordinance is regarding fees charged for city mowing or clean up of property. If in violation of this ordinance -- the charge will be $60 an hour with a 2-hour minimum plus a $50 administration fee. If the City has to move any cars, limbs, trees, debris, etc., then the administration fee will be $100.

A new Resolution #61 was passed. This Resolution is for repayment of a loan to the Fireman's Relief Association.

The Fire Department will be hosting Halloween Activities for the children again this year.

The Burn Pit will be closed when it rains. The winter hours are from 8:00 a.m. to noon on the 2nd and 4th Saturdays of every month. Call City Hall (982-4386) or Nicki Roof or Toni Stimatze if needed at other times.

The Fire Department is looking for bids for an addition of a 50 x 50 bay to the Fire Station.

Have a safe & Happy Halloween!

Kristina Frost and Jennifer Ball are setting up Christmas activities for the children. Anyone with ideas, please bring them to City Hall.

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The House of Flames

The House of Flames Church of Ministry and Eagle's Nest Ministry is at 520 Pawnee Avenue, where Pawnee intersects with Houck St. The photo was made by Cheryl Unruh.

[October 29]   A new house of worship -- House of Flames Church of Ministry and Eagle's Nest Ministry -- has opened in the house across the street east of the former Mennonite parsonage.

The pastors are Al and Connie Hatten, according to a notice in the Pawnee Rock News, the publication of the ministerial alliance.

Cheryl Unruh, who was in town a couple of weeks ago, photographed the venerable structure and its new sign for us.

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O cloudy day

[October 28]   David Frizzell, a singer who wrote "You're the Reason God Made Oklahoma," mentions a familiar talisman:

There's a full moon over Tulsa,
I hope that it's shining on you.
The nights are getting cold,
In Cherokee County.
There's a Blue Norther passing through.

Some folks look at the moon and yearn for shared moments. Like a lot of others who grew up under Barton County's big dome, I often seek reminders of home -- not in the night sky but in the clouds during the magical hours before the sun sets.

I don't always find strung-out strands of cirrus of autumn or the cottonballs of summer or the steel-gray ceiling of winter, but once in a while the sky is active enough to bring Pawnee Rock to mind.

Last weekend I was in Anchorage to sell books at a convention. Afterward, I was waiting for a ride when my eye went to a reflective skyscraper. There in the mirror was my look homeward.

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Opinions of the neighbors

[October 27]   My sister and I were so busy throwing hollow plastic bowling pins at each other one day in the 1960s that we didn't see Gene Bowman messing around in his garage. He saw us, however, and he wasn't impressed.

"You kids, fighting again," he said. As if it were any of his business.

But we all know how it is with neighbors across the alley. We know they stare out their back windows like a ghost behind the curtains. They see things our side-by-side neighbors never do.

I suppose my dad knew Gene fairly well, as they were both forever Pawnee Rockers. And when I look at present and past photos of the property, I see old trees and the classic open yard and well-kept small home. So maybe there was more to Gene than being Mr. Grumpy. Perhaps he even had a hobby.

I wish I had found more about the Bowmans. I should have watched them more closely.

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Hello, Karen (Douglas) Riner

[October 26]   Students at Pawnee Rock High School in the mid-1950s may remember Karen Douglas (now Riner), who was a cheerleader. She was born in Pawnee Rock in 1938, she wrote. Karen has signed up for Friends of Pawnee Rock, and you can find her contact info there.

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Gone when I wasn't looking

[October 22]   Its paint had peeled, and so had some of its siding. A graffiti face spray-painted on its sun-faded south side grinned at highway traffic. The rail cars didn't stop there anymore.

The old gray elevator stood along the tracks for as long as I could remember, and although I hardly thought of it I never imagined it could disappear. But, during the middle of this decade, it slipped, like so many of our hometown's buildings have, into memory.

I wish I had paid more attention to it over the years, taking a few more photographs and walking through it. It was overshadowed by its neighbor, and my eye always gravitated toward the big white monument to grain. The big white elevator has been there for as long as I can remember . . .

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Joy and grief in 2006

[October 21]   April and May 2006 were busy months for Pawnee Rock families. As recorded in the Pawnee Rock News, these things happened:

• Valarie Smith, daughter of Lenard and Pat Smith, was married at the New Jerusalem Church on April 22.

• Michael Roof, son of Nicki and Eric Roof, was married in Overland Park on April 22.

• Amanda and Jesse Lakin renewed their wedding vows in Larned on April 22.

• Graduating seniors Kristin Loving and Nicolette Unruh, both of Pawnee Rock, were honored by the Hutchinson News for their achievements at Larned High School. (Their parents are Marty and Karen Loving and Dale and Bernadette Unruh.)

Five deaths were reported:

• Jonas Lane Morin, infant son of Jason and Heather Morin of Pawnee Rock.

• Marilyn Deckert Kellogg, a former resident of Pawnee Rock.

• Hilmer Gene Brack of Pawnee Rock.

• Ralph F. Johnson, father of Roger Johnson of Pawnee Rock.

• Gordon Gary of Dodge City, described as a faithful alumnus of Pawnee Rock High School.

The City Council members were Merita Rice, Shane Bowman, Mike Kirkman, Walt McCowan, and Tom Lohr. In their April meeting, the council voted to place the school building for sale on eBay.

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Church news, 1986

[October 20]   Every Friday the Great Bend Tribune filled out a page with coming religious attractions -- basically a couple of short paragraphs mentioning the names of the people running the service, the subject of the sermon, and weekday events.

Here are blurbs published in late 1986 about the three of the four Pawnee Rock churches and Peace Lutheran Church, between Pawnee Rock and Albert.

November 30, 1986:

New Jerusalem Church

Worship will be conducted at 11 a.m. Sunday at the New Jerusalem Church, Pawnee Rock. Keith and Marian Mull, lay leaders will deliver the sermon, "Christmas Love for All Seasons."

Adult Sunday school will be at 10 a.m. The lesson will be titled "The Call of Joshua." Roger Unruh is the teacher.

December 14, 1986:

Pawnee Rock United Methodist Church

The Rev. David Trout will deliver the 11 a.m. worship sermon Sunday at Pawnee Rock United Methodist Church. The sermon is titled "Bundles of Love."

Sunday school will be conducted at 10 a.m.

Peace Lutheran Church

The Rev. Martin Sackschewsky will deliver the 10:30 a.m. worship sermon Sunday at the Peace Lutheran Church, rural Albert.

Sunday school is at 9:30 a.m. The Luther League will have a chili and chicken noodle soup luncheon at noon Sunday. Sackschewsky will have services from 1:30 to 2 p.m. at La Crosse Nursing Home. The Sunday school will have a Christmas practice at 1 p.m.

Bergthal Mennonite Church

Eleanor and Perry Beachy, pastors, will lead the 10:45 a.m. worship service Sunday at Bergthal Mennonite Church, 3.5 miles north of Pawnee Rock. Theme will be "The Good Shepherd's Coming."

The third Advent candle will be lit by Tracy Boese. Sunday school is at 9:45 a.m.

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Thanks for Halloween

[October 19]   All moralism and vandalism aside, Halloween can be a sweet night of candy corn and little kids in pirate and princess costumes. And that must have been what it was like in 1986 when the Pawnee Rock churches joined to inoculate the town's young residents against the coming weekend.

The Methodist preacher wrote a letter that appeared in the November 3 Great Bend Tribune:

Thanks for Halloween

To the Editor:

The Pawnee Rock Ministerial Association sponsored two pre-Halloween Parties for children 3 years through 8th grade on Thursday, October 30th. The event was a huge success. Eleven sponsors and fifty kids were involved.

The success of the party hinged on two things: the leadership of Mrs. Erlene Halzle and the support of area businesses and individuals. Without these two things the children would have been without a happy time.

Please let me thank the following supporters: Mrs. Dorothy Bowman and Mr. Bob Mead; Great Bend businesses -- Mr. Black at McDonalds, Mr. Getts at Hardees, Mr. Haremza at Long John Silvers; Larned businesses -- Mr. Roberts at Pizza Hut, Burger King; Pawnee Rock businesses -- Howard Bowman, the Pawnee Rock Cafe, Mr. Biehler at Farmers Grain, Fuel and Livestock Company.

Sincerely,
The Reverend William E. Salmon
Pawnee Rock United Methodist Church

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Fresh news from Pawnee Rock

[October 16]   My sister, Cheryl, visited Pawnee Rock with our dad, Elgie, last weekend and took coffee at the depot. She also picked up a copy of the News and passed it along to me.

This month's paper included "News from the City of Pawnee Rock," and here are the top three items:

• The State Fire Marshal has requested that patrons fueling at the dyed diesel keytrol dispenser in Pawnee Rock, Kansas, per regulation "90-30-A-19 Dispenser Location" refrain from parking on the City right-of-way while fueling vehicles or mobile tanks.

• We ask that people who use needles for any reason -- please QUIT flushing them down the toilet.

• We bid Nancy Woodrow farewell. She resigned as City Maintenance Worker. . . . Nancy will be missed!

This issue of the News, by the way, was Number 289. At one issue a month, that's 24 years and a month of service by the Pawnee Rock Ministerial Alliance, which gathers and publishes the news.

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Hello, Mike Mawhirter

[October 15]   Mike Mawhirter of Derby wrote with remembrances of growing up near Pawnee Rock and attending school here.

Here's what he sent this week:

Just a note to say how much I enjoyed the Pawnee Rock website and some comments of people from my acquaintance long ago.

My parents lived in a oil field lease home N.W. of P.R. while Dad worked as a roustabout and pumper for the Stanolind Oil co. at the time. Our home was near the old Amarada housing and pumping station. They moved there in about 1942 (?), and we left for western Ks. in April of '51.

I started school at the only remaining country school in the area, P.S. 25 south of Albert in 1945 with one classmate, Beverly Dirks, at the time. After the second grade, we went into P.R. grade until I left in 51'. I would have graduated with the class of 57' at P.R.H.S. and was fortunate enough to see many of my old classmates in Great Bend at the 50th reunion.

Enjoyed the pictures and comments about the old Church, attended vacation bible school there several times with Corydon Smith, a neighbor and buddy.

Many names are still familiar to me, Unruhs, Smiths, Schmidts. Jess and Melba Bright, she ran the old tele office and he a cafe/joint near the hiway were good friends of my parents and I can remember Melba babysitting me and my brother Ned many times. Also remember the square dances they used to hold on the old tennis courts.

I am a retired airplane driver and live in Derby, Ks and enjoying good health currently and life in general. Always enjoy correspondance from folks of long ago. [Friends of Pawnee Rock]

[I asked Mike what kind of flying he did.]

Flew everything but airliners. Worked in Corporate Aviation mostly, about 30 yrs. with Cessna as a Corporate Chief Pilot in their Air Transportation Dept., and then as a Jet Demo Pilot on our Citation line for the last 3 years. Many other makes, Pipers, Mooneys, Beechcraft series, etc. etc. Almost 40 yrs. behind the plexiglas, and 24,000 hrs or so. It's good to call time my own now, though.

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422 Pawnee Avenue

[October 14]   Michelle McVey wrote to ask a house where she used to live in the block west of the post office.

"I lived in Pawnee Rock from 1995-1999 (that was when I was 10 yrs-14 yrs). We lived at 422 Pawnee Ave. Can you tell or show me a pic of what the house looks like now? Thanks a lot!"

I promised her a photo, but I the frame house is gone. Here's a 2005 photo of the lot.

Does anyone else have a photo of the house or know what happened to it? Please e-mail it to me, and I'll post it for Michelle and everyone else. Two families that I remember living there (some time ago) were the Countrymans and the Kraisingers.

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The star of Bethany

[October 14]   Nicolette Unruh is in the news this month because she's the 2009 homecoming queen at Bethany College, having been elected from a field of 10 candidates. Nicolette has been a busy student, so it couldn't be a surprise that she is both well known on campus and well liked.

•  This year, she was one of the students chosen to greet incoming freshmen.

•  She was on the dean's honor roll.

•  She has been in the college symphonic band.

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Roy Bauer Jr. dies

[October 13]   Roy Bauer Jr., who lived four miles south of Pawnee Rock and two and a half miles east of the O'Rourke Bridge, died Friday, a week after his 77th birthday. He was a farmer and stockman.

He will be buried in the Pawnee Rock Cemetery after a funeral Wednesday morning in Larned.

Roy and his wife, Georgiann June, have several children: Mike and Bret of Pawnee Rock, plus daughters Terry, Mary, and Laurie. Roy is also survived by a brother, Kent. (Full obituary)

Almost everyone who has driven south from Pawnee Rock -- including schoolkids heading to Macksville -- has passed the Bauers' two-story house. It sits on the south side of the road two and a half miles south of the Pawnee Rock Bridge, where the dirt road met the asphalt.

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Mythic history

[October 13]   Indianapolis mystery writer Ray Randolph notes that Columbus Day isn't the only holiday at which I could aim my blunderbuss:

"Then there's the numerous myths regarding Plymouth Rock, Thanksgiving, and that era. And so it goes," he wrote yesterday afternoon.

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Hail, Columbia

[October 12]   The poetic chant sounded up and down the school halls:

In fourteen hundred ninety-two
Columbus sailed the ocean blue.

One tidbit of American history that wasn't dissected very thoroughly in the Pawnee Rock Grade School curriculum was the role played Christopher Columbus. We all were told that he discovered America, and because his feat was easily remembered in a nice poem, we students knew it was true.

The fine point that our teachers glossed over was how the Spanish-sponsored Columbus didn't really discover the Americas despite all the illustrations showing him being welcomed by handsome natives with one hand raised. As we now are all pretty much aware, it had been inhabited for more 20,000 years by tribes of the earliest human immigrants. As the United States took shape, however, those tribes didn't have many descendants in Congress and on school boards, and so we celebrated the Italian angle, because the Italians and other Europeans were well represented and because such a gilded story fit well into the legend being constructed about the Europeans' right to control the New World. And Columbus was white. We shouldn't overlook that.

So we read stories about the brave Columbus -- he was courageous to try a new ocean route -- and the European explorers who followed him. We crafted model ships and composed crayon drawings.

And we still weren't done ignoring history. The Vikings didn't have many descendants in Congress, either, and so their early trips to North America was generally ignored even though it predated Columbus' and apparently did less harm to the people who already lived here.

The upper branches of my family didn't arrive on this continent until the 1800s, so I don't really have a dog in this historical fight. (One branch came from Denmark, so maybe I have Viking blood.) I do wish, however, that our childhood history books hadn't been dumbed down and so politically maladjusted that even today we grownups reflexively think of Columbus as the discoverer of our lovely continent. Regardless of where on the spectrum your political beliefs lie, wouldn't knowing more of the truth have helped us better understand our world in the past half-century? (Changes are being made.)

For what it's worth, when the Spaniards led by Coronado came through Pawnee Rock a half-century after the westward-bound Columbus ran out of ocean, they were looking for cities to plunder of their golden streets. It seems a fair guess they understood that Columbus had stumbled onto a civilized place.

The rest was public relations.

But maybe I'm just being peckish. Please, enjoy your federal holiday.

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Best buddies

[October 12]   After reading my thoughts about my beloved tackle box, hometown native Leon Miller offered this observation from Dallas:

"Today my 3 best friends are my driver, my 8 iron and my putter. A sunny day with temperatures in the low 70s, smooth greens and a 5 mph breeze help to make it perfect."

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Fishin' with a buddy

[October 9]   A boy has only three friends, really. I know you're trying to come with three fellows you were closest to, but I think that's the wrong line of thinking.

Pals come and go, and half the time you're mad at them. A boy's true best friends are not human.

This is the list: (1) his dog, (2) his bicycle, and (3) his tackle box.

The dog needs no explanation, because a dog requires no explanation for anything the boy does.

The bicycle gives the boy independence, and it comes along patiently while the boy pretends to be a mechanic and a pilot and race car driver.

The tackle box, now, is something special. At least in my younger years, the tackle box carried a boy's most precious possessions -- his handful of fishing lures, his hooks and hook disgorger, his chain stringer, and his sinkers and bobbers. Boys didn't borrow someone else's tackle box, and it was very bad manners to open a box if you weren't invited.

In a way, a tackle box is a boy's briefcase or toolbox, a status symbol saying he is one with nature. It was important back then to have at least one cantilevered plastic tray, which held lures and treble hooks away from the mess of line and the stringer in the box below it. Boys who meant business carried at least a couple of exotic lures. For example, for years I toted around a Hula Popper, a balsa Rapala minnow, a blue-shad lure I plucked from a high-water branch in Ash Creek, and a small jar of pork rinds printed with green ink to resemble small frogs. I used the rinds once or twice to try to catch bass, but they so symbolized fishing in the style of Field & Stream and Harold Ensley that I didn't want to risk losing them. It never occurred to me that I could buy more.

My tackle box had a ruler embossed into the lid, a feature that probably came in handy for boys in trout country and whichever states observed fishing laws. It was more of an amusement in Pawnee Rock, where we kept whichever Arkansas River channel cats and sandpit crappie we wanted regardless of size. If a fish looked too small, we threw it back or used it for bait.

Over the years, my tackle box has come along on most of my adventures. I got this Western Auto model when I was in grade school, and it went with me to all the farm ponds and Ash Creek holes near Pawnee Rock, and then to all the reservoirs. It went with me to college, then to Texas for my first job. It's with me now. It has been there when I was a superstar and when I got skunked. It doesn't care how the day has gone; it just likes to go fishing.

About 15 years ago, my wife bought me a huge, two-tone plastic tackle box. It opens in the middle of the top, like a suitcase, and it sports three trays on each half of the lid. It was a fine gesture and she's a wonderful wife, but my wife doesn't understand tackle boxes any more than I understand purses, and the plastic one sits unused in the garage. A guy gets attached to a box he likes, and he'll stick with it long after the tray warped in the Texas heat and the latch has to be held shut with a piece of wire. It's his childhood, it's his fishing memories, it's a bit of his soul. It's his friend.

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Tomorrow will be better

Eric Deeter, flanked by Jeff and Gretchen, at the start of the 2008 Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race in Anchorage.

[October 8]   Three weeks ago, a friend of mine died when he turned on a red light and into the path of a pickup. It's a puzzle why Eric pulled out; he was not a thoughtless person but he was apparently distracted. We won't ever know.

Eric was a fellow who brightened a room. I could spend 15 minutes with him and feel that it was the best day of the month and that tomorrow would be even better. He was an accomplished artist and a carpenter, the husband of a teacher-poet, and the father of Jeff Deeter, who I've written about.

At Eric's memorial potluck, a lot of us talked about how close we ourselves had come to making a mistake like his. We talked about how frustrating it was that Eric had done this careless thing; frustrating because by chance we were now without him.

Eric lived a life worth celebrating. He helped with his community's radio station, he was a fixture at art shows, he had taught school, and he loved music. He had an artist's knack for finding bits of happiness that he shared, and people wanted to be near him.

I thought about the times he and I had talked about his son on the phone and while Jeff was harnessing his dogs for the Iditarod. One November evening, my son Sam and I dropped by their house in Wasilla and Eric spent half an hour in the snow showing Sam how to put straw in doghouses for the coming winter.

Life was his adventure, and it was catching.

I also want to tell you about another man who died, an older fellow who lived at the busy end of the small street where my cabin is. His death came last March, before I was here, and he died in his red-painted cabin, alone but for his dog. He lay there for many days before someone noticed that he hadn't been shoveling his driveway, much less shoveling it at his usual precise bevel.

This man, Richard, may have been a genius. Long before anyone else caught on, he was mapping the city with computers. He was an astronomer; he ground his own lenses. He was in Mensa. But Richard was a man unto himself. Even his obituary alluded to his lack of friends, saying it was hard for him to associate with others because he found so little in common with them.

In his final decade, disease and paranoia overwhelmed his life. Fearful of intruders, I'm told, he strung a network of cameras behind his tightly trimmed willow hedge. His clearing was overgrown by grasses and raspberries. He was estranged from his family back east.

I might have liked Richard. For all his troubles, he was relentlessly determined to better himself. Long after his survivors had picked through the household, I was invited to look there for books I might enjoy. Tossed onto his floor were literary books as well as dozens of texts on computer science, languages, math, and music. I kept some psychology texts (it seemed appropriate) and his highly detailed foldable maps of the moon because they interested me and because they seemed important to Richard.

I found a pile of Polaroid photos that Richard had taken. The writing on them expressed satisfaction about the cabin he built, and he even took a few portraits of himself in his workroom. None of the photos showed another person.

The last years of his life were sour, but he studied music theory and nailed a large plywood cutout of a guitar to the front of his cabin. Alone with his electronics, he studied Swahili, Russian, French, Spanish. Still, he didn't connect these consummately human endeavors with other humans, and maybe that frustrated him. Richard did so many things that should have brought him closer to others but just couldn't pull it off.

Frankly, what I know of Richard scares me a little. He built a very large collection of vampire novels, as well as medical diagnosis books that favored black-and-white pictures of the deformed. If Richard left a ghost, I don't think it is malevolent but it might not be at ease.

Somewhere in Richard's life, he made a wrong turn at the wrong time and was overwhelmed by life. It could have been the way he was wired, or maybe it was disease, or maybe something that happened a long time ago pushed him off center. We won't ever know.

Richard's cabin is going to be renovated and rented out. The stove and mattress have been dragged outside, and the porch has been shoved into a messy pile with a Bobcat. The guitar has been pulled off the siding. Richard didn't leave much of a monument, but even as he hovers on the edge of obscurity we must recognize that he did the best he could with what he had.

My friend Eric also did the best he could. His was a different kind of world, exuberant and hopeful. I can empathize with Richard, but I want so much more to live like Eric did. I want to know that tomorrow will be better.

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Marmie memories

My dad bought a Dodge Aries from Marmie Motors in July 1984. He paid $6,620.80 after putting $1,000 down and getting a trade-in of $1,900 for a 1981 Reliant with no air conditioning.

[October 7]   The Marmie of Marmie Motors has died. I'm sorry to see him go, because he -- his dealership -- meant a great deal to our family.

We bought a succession of Dodges and Plymouths from his lot on East 10th Street in Great Bend. Every few years, Dad and Mom would troop in the door of the white building and come home with a Valiant, a Duster, a Reliant, an Aries, . . .

The 1974 Duster was mine (technically it belonged to my sister as well, but you know how that goes). It wasn't the finest car in the world, although I did run up 108,000 miles on its 229-cubic-inch engine over eight years before selling it in Austin, Texas.

Part of the credit for its long life must go to the shop at Marmie's, which replaced the water pump once and the clutch twice. Marmie's could have contributed more to the car's upkeep, but one winter day Old Man Marmie himself told me and my pal Dale Unruh to get out when I wanted him to replace window glass that had been etched by my ice scraper.

"I know you kids," he said. "I'm not going to do that."

Still, Marion Eustace Marmie was a good guy. He helped various causes around Great Bend -- as a big car dealer, he had to even if only for the advertising that accompanied a donation. He was an Army veteran of World War II and a Barton County farmer. In addition, he and his brothers operated the Pawnee Club. He started selling used cars in 1959 and new cars in 1961. When he branched out to Fords in 1977, I felt cheated -- it was as if the cars he sold us weren't good enough.

Marmie, who was born near Hoisington in 1917, died on the first day of October at age 92, and he was buried yesterday in Great Bend. (Full obituary)

Also yesterday, MaryLou Warren wrote to me:

"I noticed in Eustice Marmie's obit that he and his brothers ran the Pawnee Club. In searching this, I ran across your web site. It is really informative, but am wondering if you know anything about the Pawnee Club."

I replied that I thought the club had been down by the river, but MaryLou did the smart thing: She asked Karen Neuforth and passed the information along.

"I talked to Karen tonight," MaryLou wrote, "and she said when you go to the alley off Main between the old Zarah Hotel and the MyTown Outlet store, there is a sign on the wall pointing to the back of the building to the club. She said it was in back of the old theater. I haven't been there to look, but feel sure Karen is correct."

I'm sure that some of our readers have a very good idea of the Pawnee Club's location. Perhaps they even picked up a book of matches. At least for now, you can buy this matchbook cover on eBay.

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And from the Class of 1945 . . .

[October 6]   An e-mail from Joan and Virgil Smith yesterday afternoon adds a little information to the captions of photos of June McConnaughay and Glendora Schmidt appearing in the Reunions collections by Sandy Haun and Dave Hiebert.

The Smiths (the note read like Joan's writing) mentioned that June's maiden name was Gilbert; she married John McConnaughay and, if I remember right, lived in Larned. Glendora Schmidt married Eugene Schmidt, and they lived along Ash Creek west of Pawnee Rock.

The e-mail also added the important information: These ladies represented the Pawnee Rock High School Class of 1945.

Imagine how sunny the future must have seemed at their graduation -- the war in Europe was recently over, the allies in the Pacific were closing in on Japan, and the atomic age was yet to be born.

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What was cooking in May 1982

[October 6]   Ella Foster found four items of interest in the lives of Pawnee Rock during the second week of May 1982. She wrote them up for the Larned newspaper.

Recording weddings was an important part of any community correspondent's work. It's likely that the story was already (or soon would be) in the paper, but having one's ceremony included in the running history of the town is important.

Just as worthy, I think, are the mentions of folks visiting their friends and family. It reveals a web of connections in town and helps us remember those who have moved over the horizon to Hutchinson and other distant places. And when the moved-away folks get a copy of the clipping, it helps them remember their hometown.

Finally, my hat's off to Mrs. Ray Navarro. Anyone who volunteers to round up other people to ask people for money is setting herself up for a difficult few weeks -- but she would make a nice deposit in the karma bank.

Here's Ella's news:

Mrs. Ray Navarro of Pawnee Rock has been selected as one of the chairpersons to help organize Bellringer Volunteers to go house to house during May, Mental Health Month. All proceeds will benefit the Mental Health Association in Kansas, a voluntary Citizens organization.

Marla Kurtz of Dodge City and John Stella of Iron River, Mich., were united in marriage at the Pawnee Rock Christian Church on Friday, May 14, at 7 p.m. Rev. Jack Heaston of Dodge City officiated. Mrs. Howard Converse was pianist. Marla was given in marriage by her father, Henry Kurtz, Pawnee Rock.

She wore a floor-length long-sleeved ivory gown and a wreath of flowers in her hair. Attending the bride as matron of honor, was her sister, Rita Kurtz Barker of Larned. The best man was Gary Kunchyiski of Iron River, Mich. A reception was held at the church following the ceremony.

The couple is currently residing in Dodge City.

The C.W.F. of the Christian Church met Wednesday evening, May 12 in the home of Alta Kasselman. Mildred Dunavan presented the lesson. Irene Blackwell had charge of devotions. Members present were Donna Maxwell, Janet Bowman, Irene Blackwell, Mildred Dunavan, Berdine Russell, and the hostess Mrs. Kasselman.

Mrs. Tom Maxwell spent the weekend of May 15 visiting relatives in Hutchinson.

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PRHS grad Jack Bowman is honored

[October 5]   Jack Bowman, who graduated from Pawnee Rock High School in 1952, a graduate with the PRHS Class of 1952, has been named to the Great Bend High School Hall of Fame.

Bowman got his bachelor's degree from Bethany College and his master's from K-State. He taught and coached at Burdett, Plains, Riley County, Ellinwood, and Great Bend high schools and at Barton County Community College. He achieved his greatest coaching glory in track and field.

To read a long list of his accomplishments and to find out more about the hall of fame, see the story in the Great Bend Tribune.

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Who's who in the reunion photos

[October 5]   Barb Schmidt sent in a collection of reunion photos taken by several people -- Ed Dutton, Dave Steinert, Mark Dirks, Noel Shank, Terry French -- at the Class of 1969 40th reunion. See the photos in the Reunions section.

The two sets of reunion photos -- contributed by Sandy Haun and Dave Hiebert -- from the school reunion held in August in Great Bend now have captions with names. See the photos by Dave and the photos by Sandy.

Thanks to everyone who contributed.

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Half the news

[October 2]   Sometimes a newspaper story begs -- pleads -- for more information. A reader (me, for example) wants to shake the reporter by the shoulders and shout: "Why did that happen? What was the reaction?"

Tell us about the city official's unpaid bills. Tell us about the curfew. Tell us about the chickens.

But a reporter's world is not as black and white as we might think. The Great Bend Tribune, even in 1986, couldn't send a reporter to all the meetings it wanted to have stories about. So its reporter called the Pawnee Rock city clerk the day after the council meeting and asked for a report of what had gone on.

The city clerk can have competing interests in such an arrangement. First, the clerk has a responsibility to let the public know what goes on. Second, the clerk is hired by the city council and could lose her job if she says too much about the machinations of city government.

So the reporter might ask what happened, and the clerk might answer that there's nothing to say. Because the reporter knows she'll have to ask the clerk for more information next time, the reporter won't press the issue. From the citizen's perspective, the arrangement stinks, but in the practical world it is the way things happen. I'm sure that neither the reporter nor the clerk liked any such tacit arrangement, but I understand that they had to tolerate it.

That's how the power of the press is balanced against the power of local government officials. That's why I want to shake some shoulders.

On August 4, 1986, the Tribune ran a story about the previous night's Pawnee Rock City Council meeting:

Pawnee Rock council rejects four bills

By Susan Thacker
Tribune Staff Writer

PAWNEE ROCK -- Four bills presented to the Pawnee Rock City Council Monday for payment were refused, City Clerk Doris Bryan said today. The bills were presented by the city recreation director.

Three of the bills, totaling $268, were for the Fourth Annual Pawnee Rock Campout at Lake Wilson at the end of July. Another bill was for the recreation director's mileage reimbursement of $104.72. Bryan said the council voted 3-2 not to pay these bills.

Minors will be able to stay out later in Pawnee Rock this fall, since the city council amended its curfew ordinance Monday, Bryan reported.

The previous curfew was 8 p.m. during the school year and 10 p.m. during the summer months for those under 18. Bryan said the council changed that to a year-round curfew of 10 p.m.

The council also voted not to issue livestock permits in the city, but to issue fowl permits for up to 15 birds per property owner. Several property owners waiting for fowl permits were granted 30-day extensions to have their pens inspected.

Pawnee Rock's new fire station is nearing completion and the council voted to finish the interior as well as the installation of water and sewer lines. The council also allocated $1,000 toward changing the tanks of fire trucks.

City employee Roger Johnson will take a correspondence course on water waste treatment. Treasurer Suzanne Moore and Bryan will travel to Hutchinson for a Kansas Municipal Utilities workshop on public relations and accounting.

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Wash and wary

[October 1]   It was a quiet night at the laundromat. Only a half-dozen folks were there in the supper hour, and I practically had my choice of washers.

It was too quiet. I lost my concentration and poured detergent not into the soap hole but into the fabric softener hole. I realized my sin 10 minutes later when something nagged me into looking at the instructions again.

Like any guy in the world, I considered my options. I suspected I might have to wash the clothes again without soap, but I also wondered whether there was a way around it. Maybe the soap would rinse out. . . . Stephanie the counterwoman assured me that I would need to try again as she, with pity in her voice, sold me another $4.50 token for the front-loader.

And so it was that for an extra half-hour I was sitting in a corner of the laundry while my Dockers spun themselves free of Tide. To my right was a thin old man and to my left was a 30-ish woman who like me was reading a novel. In front of all of us was a round formica-topped table where a second-grader wielded a yellow pencil against her homework.

After a quarter-hour I heard a conversation about squirrels, and I looked up. The little girl was gone, and in her place stood a six-foot-tall man, padded out with brown canvas pants, a brownish Army surplus jacket, and mushers mittens -- forearm-length gloves lined with brown rabbit fur. The gist of the conversation was that squirrels had given him the mittens, and he was talking with the squirrels as he turned the mittens inside out and back and then picked dried leaves out of the fur.

I had seen this man before. He pushes a train of shopping carts, loaded with waxed cardboard boxes, up and down the sidewalk on the edge of town. He seems to be unhindered by the troopers, and when he disappears into the night woods no one bothers his worldly goods. In the safety of my car, I had played out conversations in which I would ask him about the boxes. I was both fascinated by him and afraid of him.

He is one of the rag-pickers who pull treasures from Dumpsters in the trash transfer station not far from the laundry. Perhaps he had been given the mittens there; he might well have filled out his ensemble with others' castaways.

I've done laundry in a half-dozen big cities -- Wichita, Minneapolis, Dallas, and so forth -- and the appearance of such a man amid the washers in those places would normally prompt me to look for an exit. There are crazy, mean people in cities where the ill are pushed out of hospitals, and it would be perfectly acceptable to be afraid in the sudden presence of a homeless man with a unkempt hair, a mid-chest-length bushy beard, tape-reinforced slippers, and cloth gloves tucked into straps on his jacket sleeves.

But this man was more interested in conversation. He spoke to the space in front of the thin man, and he laughed gently. When he stretched out his tanned hand to sweep the leaves and fur into a pile on the table, the second-grader came over and picked up her homework -- the look on her face was not one of fear but of knowing to get her stuff out of the way when a grownup starts to clean.

"Are you learning your numbers?" he asked.

"Yes."

"The best way to learn numbers is to . . ." and his mind wandered off.

The man emptied his hands into the trash can. He squared up to me, and I looked him in the eyes. He smiled softly, and I smiled in return.

I turned back to my book for a couple of seconds and when I looked up he was gone, a cypher in the night. I knew hardly a thing about him, but much more than I had ten minutes earlier.

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