MY GREAT- UNCLE WAS CLOVIS MAYOR

******************************************
BIRD HUNTING WITH A MAYOR
******************************************

There are probably not too many people around  who remember my great uncle, E.A.Key, mayor of Clovis circa 1930. A number of histories I have read have his initials wrong.

He was known by all as one of the world's finest gentlemen. He had "gravitas" long before the word was ever heard! To me, a little boy, when I heard him weigh in on a question or opinion, he was the wisest-sounding man I had ever heard.

Early A. Key (B. 1890 ?) and my Aunt Hettie (Moore) Key (B. 1892), homesteaded in the early years of the century, in the Tatum, N.M. area. I do wish I had more facts at hand. They moved to Clovis, probably in the mid-twenties, and bought a home at about 708 Calhoun St. Around the corner on 7th Street, half a block east on the north side, they opened a little "Mom/Pop" grocery store. The building may still be there.

Soon after my family came to Clovis in the spring of 1938 to operate the Magic Steam Laundry, Uncle Early and Aunt Hettie  kind of retired---they bought a small farm west of Muleshoe, Texas a few miles, and began raising and feeding cattle. After WWII they moved to a little place outside Portales and grew vegetables for awhile. Then about 1947, it was back to the city and a nice house on Gidding street, close to 21st Street.

Have you ever gone bird hunting with a mayor? I have! Here's a story for you...but first keep in mind that throughout the history of the young U.S.A. and up into the latter years of the Twentieth Century, hunting was a common, honorable, historic, and noble sport. It still is with many  people.

So continuing, In 1949, "Uncle Early" and a neighbor invited my dad to go with them prairie chicken hunting, on a very large ranch in the sandhills south of Dora. This was a rare hunt to be sure, but it was determined by experts that the population of this wild game bird needed to be thinned somewhat.

Can you imagine, my reader, what an unlikely, surprising thing happened!? To this day, I do not understand it---I, a skinny fifteen year old high school kid with my trusty old 16 gauge Stevens double-barrel shotgun was invited to go along with those three men! Miracle!

So by 8:00 on that appointed morning, with coffee thermoses, a jug of ice water, (there were no water bottles then), and lunches in the trunk, we were driving along a sandy road with incredibly taut and heavy-duty barbed wire fences along each side of the road. Uncle Early was driving the four door sedan with the neighbor in the front seat; I was behind him and Dad was on my right. Those three men were enjoying themselves, discussing the news of the day.

Unfortunately, as will be seen, all their hunting accoutrements and their encased shotguns were in the trunk with the lunches...except for mine..."I came to hunt," and my  double-barrel 16 Gauge Stevens shotgun was resting between my knees, broken open, muzzle down to the floor, and was empty...but my jacket was loaded with shells and you can't believe how fast I could load  it.

We drove along at a moderate speed and suddenly I spied twelve or fifteen prairie chickens to Dad's right, sitting out there in the brushy mesquite pasture, about 60 yards off the road, I yelled "STOP! BIRDS!" As the men piled out of the car, they yelled "WHERE? WHERE?" If you've ever been hunting you can imagine the excitement: they were grabbing encased shotguns, searching for shells, and getting oriented. The birds ( and I, too)  were getting antsy;  I crawled under the barbed wire fence!

My  hunting buddies were slow. Thus I started a slow crawl toward the chickens, who were getting more restless. They were out of range so I'd crawl a little and look back at my pards, crawl and look back. Of course, this all happened faster than I can tell about it!

Suddenly the lookout bird flew, and I knew it was then or never. I jumped up and ran full throttle right at those birds. The whole flock came up! POW, got one and kept going, POW, got the second one...and they were gone...and my men still getting ready. But they weren't mad at me! What else could I have done? (Be prepared!)

All hunters got a bird or two that day south of Dora in the sandhills. I got four---the limit!

Hunting is a lot about being outdoors...and in the wild. It is fulfilling if you don't even see any game! It's  about sunny fall days, about sitting in the sand, leaning back against the front tire---eating your sandwich and drinking your coffee-- -it's about God's Great Ourdoors...and good comaraderie and conversation. On that day it was extra special because I got to hunt with A MAYOR OF CLOVIS, an important man...and MY UNCLE!

(Today, in my bank safety box, I have Uncle Early's 1916 Hamilton Railroad pocket watch, which my Aunt Hettie gave to me in 1981. It was a gift to E.A.Key from her father, my great-grandfather. On giving it to Early, he said: "You mean as much to me as any of my sons!"  That was our Clovis mayor, circa 1930.

 In later years Hettie Key lived on Thornton Street. She became an avid sports fan and won contests predicting winners of sports events and tournaments. She was written-up in the Clovis News-Journal a couple of times. She loved watching wrestling on TV.)

*******30********

BY MIL
7/24/12







Sent from my iPad