THE "BIG IRON BEAST" OF WARBIRDS

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DOUGLAS A-1 SKYRAIDER
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INTRODUCTION: Would you believe that there was in World War II, a single-engine "fighter-type" plane, that could carry more ordnance than the multi-engine bombers---B17, B 25, and a number of others.  It was the Douglas A-1 Skyraider, that went into service, but not action, right at the end of WWII. It proved to be one of the great planes in the history of U.S. military aviation.
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Most of us little Clovis kids that grew up in WWII were simply inundated with the whole thing---constant war news on the radio, and early on---most of it bad. We soon were caught up in all kinds of drives for scrap material: paper, rubber, aluminum, tin foil, bacon grease, and stuff I can't even remember. Almost everything---gasoline, sugar, coffee, shoes, some clothes, candy, and chewing gum, and I don't know whatall--- was eventually rationed.

We boys were, as that war went along, interested in all the warplanes. We read "Dave Dawson in the R.A.F.," built model planes of all kinds, and watched, sometimes open-mouthed, as bombers of various kinds, endlessly droned around the outskirts of Clovis. These planes were crewed by men in training to head overseas; a major military airbase was five miles west of town.

All the boys had their favorite planes! I guess we all loved the B17, that tough four-engine bomber---the main U.S. bomber in the European Theater. Much history and many stories accrue to that plane...My "really-favorite-one," was the Doolittle Tokyo Raider's B-25, two-engine bomber, the plane shown in our favorite movie---"Thirty Seconds Over Tokyo!"

But many years later, long after WWII, I came to greatly admire a plane from that war---one that never fired a round in anger--that I know of during that war. It was the Douglas A-1 Skyraider. Having read a considerable amount of history on WWII and the Viet Nam war, when I encountered this plane and its history, I was totally amazed, and remain so to this day!

                                            DOUGLAS A-1 SKYRAIDER
                                       INFORMATION//SPECIFICATIONS
                                      (There were seven models; specs vary.)

ROLE---Attack aircraft
ORIGIN--- United States
MANUFACTURER---Douglas Aircraft Compnay
FIRST FLIGHT---18 March 1945
INTRODUCTION ---1946
PRIMARY USERS---
    United States Navy
    United States Air Force
    Royal Navy
    S. Vietnamese Air Force
PRODUCED---1945--1957
NUMBER BUILT---3,150
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ARMAMENT--- Four 20 mm cannons; wide assortment of bombs, rockets, mines, grenades, flares, and gun pods; fifteen external hard points for ordnance

ENGINE---Wright R-3350, 18 cylinder, twin-row radials

MAX SPEED---325 mph
CRIUSE SPEED---198 mph
RANGE---1500 miles
SERVICE CEILING---28,500 feet
MAX TAKEOFF WEIGHT--- 24, 872 lbs.
WEIGHT EMPTY---11,965 lbs.
LENGTH---38 feet, 10 inches
WINGSPAN---50 feet
HEIGHT---15 feet, 8 inches
RATE OF CLIMB---2,850 feet per minute
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                                          IMPORTANT FACTS TO KNOW

1. The lifting  power of a Douglas A-1 Skyraider was so great that it was capable of carrying more guns and bombs than a fully-loaded B17 of WWII. It could carry more weight in ordnance than its own weight. It was flown by a single pilot. Its engine and torque were so powerful, that on carrier "wave-offs," care had to be taken when suddenly going to full power. lest the plane rotate and crash.

2. It was the LAST piston engine combat aircraft that was used by all our armed forces.

3. It was designed during WWII to meet Naval requirements for a carrier-based, single-seat, long-range, high performance dive//torpedo bomber. The plan was to use it to replace the older Hellcat and the Avenger. Prototypes were ordered on 6 July 1944, and it made its first flight 18 March 1945. As stated, it barely missed being used in WWII.

4. At least seven models//variations evolved over time, including two, three, and four-seat models. They were nicknamed in Viet Nam---"Spads," "Big Iron Beasts," and "Sandys," from their rescue squadron's call sign--"the Sandys."

5. For reasons not entirely clear to this writer, the workhorse Wright R-3350 twin-row radial engines in the A-1 were notorious oil burners---to the extent that the joke was---"It burns more oil in an hour than you car burns gasoline."

  6. Though not designed for or capable of supersonic speed and air-to-air combat with jets, it is reported that an A-1 did down an enemy jet in the Viet Nam war.

  7. The number of A-1 Skyraiders manufactured, 3,150, is a sizeable number when you consider that that number is about 20 plus % of the number of each of the B-17 and the B-24 totals manufactured in WWII.

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    The plane came into it's own in Viet Nam as a close-ground-support aircraft; in a jet age, its ability to fly slower was an asset. It bombed supply routes. Its main and most important use was in helping rescue downed fliers, all over Viet Nam. It carried plenty of ordnance of all kinds and had the ability to linger long periods over the target area (the downed flier) and protect him from encroaching  ground searchers, by constant strafing, bombing, and rocket runs, while a rescue copter team was in route. A supersonic jet was much too fast and fuel-consuming for such a feat, and the turning radii of jets was likely 10-15 miles, whereas an A-1 could probably turn in 4 or 5 miles.

Think how you might feel, in Viet Nam, 10,000 miles from home, your plane just shot out from under you, you bailed out and may have been injured and/or severely shaken up, and there you are---in a hot steaming 110 degree jungle with the enemy closing in around you. It would be nice to have an A-1 pilot making countless runs over your head, keeping you safe, until a copter team could arrive. Keep in mind that this A-1 pilot has probably done a good many dangerous missions like this before, he is a sitting duck up there, and he has a wife and kids back home that he'd like to see again too.

There are a number of good books out there on the A-1 Skyraider, all available from Amazon. "CHEATING  DEATH," by  Captain George J. Marrett is one of the best. He flew 188 rescue missions in the A-1, and finished his career as a test pilot, testing forty different military planes.

*******30*******
BY MIL
1/24/13



Sent from my iPad

THE WINDMILL AT THE "OLD HOME PLACE" IS GONE

"Our Old Windmill"

Photo by Mil, Ranchvale, 1969

The old windmill that I loved,
That faithfully, with its joyous clangs
Pumped out a stream of pure, cold water
Into a plowing-boy's beat-up straw hat...
To be dumped over his hot sunburned face---
In the forties---
Is gone.

Why is it---that it has to be gone?
Seems like the nature of things
On this earth.
It happens to people too.

Plowing in the hot summer
From dawn to dusk, on a heavy tractor...
Sweltering from the heat,
Smothering from the slow-rising, hanging dust,
Irritated by the hovering gnats and flies,
You hoped for a breeze to turn the mill,
And maybe bring rain, so you could
Call it a day!

If you were lucky, a breeze would come,
And maybe rain clouds from out Melrose way---
Lightning! Your signal to dismount
And head for the windmill.
And cold water!

You get there...
It is a poetic, wooden windmill!
One that has seen many winters.
It is turning, turning, turning, for
The wind is blowing hard now...
The windmill is working about as fast as it can,
It's as if it is almost enjoying the workout---
Kind of like when someone jogs and talks
At the same time, half-way out of breath;
"CLANG, CLANG, CLANG, BOY, LOOK AT ME,
IS THIS PUMPING...OR WHAT?!
CLANG, CLANG---- HAVE A COLD DRINK
OF WATER, ON ME! GO GET THE COWS!
AREN'T I BETTER THAN SOME OLD PUMP?!"

This happened more than once!
You'd dunk your head with a leaking straw hat full,
And drink several cans full of water,
From our old can. Nothing like it!

A dear friend of mine, recently told me---
"I was out by your old place the other day
And that old mill that you loved...
Is gone." Oh, how it hurt...to lose one of
My best friends from the forties.

Why is it gone? It was made of heavy timbers,
Mounted in the ground on heavy cedar posts,
Six feet deep.
Oh sure, it had some cracks and wrinkles,
Try living on this earth outside through
Many hot summers and many freezing winters
And this will happen to us all.

Likely it's because of a pump.
I'll bet they got a pump.
One of those ugly motor-looking things
That never had a poetic piece of wood
In its body!

Yes! I know them and their ilk!
They are all steel and all business.
Why, I'll bet they have never even "CLUNG, CLUNG,"
Once....
In their sorry lives!
Even in a big wind.

The poetry in mills, is not in the steel,
It's in the wood.
For you see, the WOOD in windmills is like us.
It starts off, with just a shoot. (We're called "buttons.")
It grows and grows and matures and is ready
To take on its life's work.

Wood is a metaphor for us.
It weathers---it cracks---it bends---
It sometimes breaks---
It creaks---it groans---it ages---
It has personality!!!

Steel---big important deal!
It rusts.

Give me the wood and the poetry
Every time.

Besides, my dad erected that windmill,
And thus...

 It is more precious.

"Your beloved windmill is gone."

There should have been a service.
Windmills should have services.

Old pickup trucks too.

*****30******
BY MIL
1/26/13

Mil

Sent from my iPad

CHS: 1953 STATE BASKETBALL CHAMPIONS

1953 Clovis State Champs

by Richard Drake, Guest Writer

                Looking back over the years it can be said that the run to the 1953 State championship in basketball started back in grade school. We had no super stars and, for a basketball team, we were small.  We had only one player who was well over six feet.  As I recall, one of our centers was 6’4” tall.  Several of us could claim to be six feet tall by standing very straight.  A few were in the middle of a teenage growth and were on their way through this milestone.  So height was not a factor in our success. In grade school we played together, starting on the dirt courts in backyards.  If someone was fortunate to have a father erect a backboard and rim in their drive way or backyard, they became a good friend of everyone within walking distance.   Beginning in the ninth grade at Marshall junior high school we became team mates. We knew each other’s strengths and weaknesses.  Earlier in one of my memory flashbacks I wrote that the 1951 team showed us the way to a championship.  We played against them in practice and they did not treat us as sophomores.  They pushed us around and gave us the best that they had.  We took it and grew with it.  We were being trained by “State Champs”.  This experience helped us greatly.

                In our junior year, we began having visions of our team taking our place with them on the championship podium. Our dream came crashing down in the regional semifinals when all of the team, except one, came down with the flu.  Coach Stockton did his best rotating players into the game as fast as the rules allowed.  We came close and lost by a single point to Eunice in the last seconds.  The team was totally exhausted at the end, but proud of our effort.  It was another learning lesson.

                In my judgment, one of the most important contributors to our ultimately winning was our sophomore coach, Bob Manning.  He had played at the University of West Virginia where the style was to fast break from one end of the court to the other on offense.  On defense, teams played a full court man to man style pressing the opponent base line to base line.  He had a free hand with our team and taught us his style.  Coach Stockton did not like it but he was busy making the seniors into champions. We loved this style of play because it fit us.  We were not big but we could run.   Coach Stockton demanded that his team use a half court set pattern play style of offense.  His defense called for half court man to man coverage with players sagging into the middle when the ball was on the other side of the court.  The 1951 team was perfect for this style.  They had height and good ball handlers.

                During our senior season we kept trying to run.  It was natural to us.  Coach Stockton did not like it.  Late in the season, in one spirited practice, things got a little rough and we continued to run and press in spite of his instructions.  At one point he lost his composure, a rare occurrence, threw up his hands and left the practice court with the parting shout, “if you want to run --- run”.  And we did. In the first game after that we beat Fort Sumner 81 to 55. We would fast break down the court at every opportunity and, if no quick basket was made, we would immediately transition into one of the fixed plays – on the dead run.  This made the Coach’s system even more effective.  We also adopted a full court press defense with sinking to the middle in the half court.  We would also change to a zone defense and back to a man to man defense on the dead run which confused our opponents.

The players who made up the team that went to the 1953 state tourney were: Gerald Clancy and Richard Drake at center; Jim Asimos, Jerry Lott, Buddy Prince, and Phil Gore at the guard; and Pascal Wickard, Lloyd Norton and A.J. Mason at the forward position. Teams were limited to ten players for the tournament; however, Bert Ledbetter, Rodney Burns and Jack Powell were ready reserves.  Alvis Glidewell and A.J. Mason were elected co-captains early in the season.

 It is hard to single out one single player on the team but a few should be pointed out. First, Alvis Glidewell was a star if we had to name one.  He was as thin as a fence railing, but over the years of hard practice he had made himself as hard as a rock and had the stamina of two people.  Early on, the Harlem Globe Trotters came to Clovis for an exhibition game.  One of the high lights of their show was to give the ball to one of their small players and he would dribble around and through the other team.  No one could take the ball away from him because of his dribbling ability.  Alvis adopted and practiced this technique in every free minute and he became very, very good.  The team called on him and his dribbling in every game in which we had the lead in the last few minutes.

Lloyd Norton was probably the best all around athlete on the team.  A serious injury in the first game of the football season ended his football career early but he returned for the basketball season.  A broken hand kept him out of the early games but he became a force as the season progressed.  Lloyd was the only teammate to letter in basketball in our sophomore year and was a member of the 1951 team.  Jim Asimos, Pascal Wickard and Alvis were selected to the 1953 All State tournament team for their play.  A. J Mason and Alvis were selected to play in the North-South All Star game. 

                The 1952-1953 team  got off to a good start. Only a loss to the West Texas powerhouse, Pampa, was a blemish on the early record.  Fifteen straight games were won against New Mexico teams before running into a downturn late in the season. It must be remembered that the previous eight state champions had come from eastern New Mexico. So the competition was tough in every game. We lost to Dexter in the regular season and also in the semi-finals of the Roswell Tournament. We split regular season games with our nearby rivals, Portales.  We won the district over them, but they got the better of us in the Regional finals. However, we did beat Dexter in the semi-finals. As result of all of the effort, the team went to the state tournament in Albuquerque with an overall record of 27 wins and five losses.

                As chances would have it, we had to open the tournament against Our Lady of Sorrows from Bernalillo, which, as I recall, was undefeated at the time.  That game went into overtime when their best player missed two free shots after time expired.  Those two missed shots pumped adrenalin into our systems and we “knew” that we would win and did by a score of 58 to 52.

 The semi-final game was against Hurley High School which probably had the tallest team that we played that year.  Their guards were about 6’3” tall. Their center was 6’8” tall had scored 28 points in the opening round.  Fortunately, Coach Manning had taught us how to muscle the big men and to play in front of them to deny them the basketball.  As he used to say “they can’t score if they don’t have the ball”.  Their center made only four points against us.  However, the thing that won the game was our full court pressing defense. Hurley only had five players and we had ten.  Coach Stockton substituted freely every time the clock stopped so we had fresh legs on the court at all times. Jim Asimos broke the game open with a dramatic steal in the third quarter.  He was a very physical player and one play after he literally run over one of their guards in an attempt to steal the ball.  He always denied it but the grin on his face told us that he had meant to deliver a message and he did.   We won by 16 points, 69 to 53.

                The final game against Raton was almost anticlimactic.  The highlight of the game was the last few minutes.  As usual, when we got ahead, Alvis would dribble down the court and would continue to do so until he was fouled.  He was very accurate from the free throw line.  In the last minutes, as Alvis proceeded down the court by himself, the rest of the team sat down on the end line and watched.  Coach Stockton leaped off the bench with a look of astonishment until he realized what was happening.  He, then, just stood there and smiled until Alvis was fouled.  During a brief time out, he told us that we had delivered the message and it was not appropriate for us to rub it in.  We won 63 to 46.

                I can’t complete this story without saying a few words about the Clovis High School band.  That year they started coming to the games and would play our fight song and other numbers at each time out.  It was more than encouraging.   It was inspiring.  It started a trend in the state that later had to be curtailed because other schools copied the practice and the gyms across the state became filled with competing fight songs.  It is a great memory along with all of the others.  Every few years the class of 1953 has a reunion and, at some point during these gatherings, the state championship always comes up.  What is interesting is that it is usually brought up by a classmate other than a team mate.  It had that kind of impact on all of the students.  We all remember that wonderful year. The season ended with 30 wins and only five loses. 

The Sutter Trophy for the Outstanding Player was awarded to the entire team as it was done in 1951. Fifty years later the New Mexico state tournament honored the 1953 Wildcats team at state tournament  in Albuquerque.  It was a great reunion.

The class of 1953 will never forget.

Standing L-R:  Jerry Lott, Phil Gore, Gerald Clancy, Alvis Glidenell, Pascal Wickard

Kneeling L-R:   Buddy Prince, Jim Asimos, Lloyd Norton, A.J. Mason, Richard Drake

Richard Drake, Class of '53

For Mil's Place

ROCKETED AND DOUBLE-CROSSED

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MY FIRST BALL-POINT PEN!
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I was once rocketed and double-crossed....but not like you think!

For you see, I was going along on my merry way in life, and in school just a year or two done with printing everything and into writing, script-style! I used expensive (five-cents- each) Dixon Ticonderoga yellow number two lead pencils---the ones with the cool green tops and erasers. Also, I was getting to be a penmanship nut and had a blue Eversharp fountain pen from Clovis Printing Company, which used real ink. My color of ink choice was...green. (I still have that pen somewhere.)

The Big One, WWII was just over by a few months and the year was early 1946. I   listened to KICA, Clovis, my favorite radio station---every day before going to  school.  About 7:45 each morning they read a winning joke, selected from those sent in by  listeners; and awarded the person whose joke was chosen, some product from one of their sponsors. One day, several weeks earlier, I, thinking it was a long shot, nonetheless had sent in a joke on a penny post card---to KICA!       

Guess what? One morning, while eating my cream of wheat, and just listening to the radio,  they were reading my joke! My grandad had told it to me a year earlier, and I didn't even catch the joke, until explained to me. Here it was being read over the air--- "Why didn't Hitler have anything to carry his clothes in?" Answer: "Because he lost his grip in Russia!" 

They were saying "Mil has won our joke-of-the-day and he will be given one of the new BALL POINT PENS--- A REYNOLD'S ROCKET--- from Western Auto!" There I was, excited like little kids get, dribbling my cream-of-wheat all over my chin! (The "Reynold's Rocket" ball point had been announced on May 1, 1945, advertised to write under water, in space, and in dry deserts. I suppose it was a bit "over-qualified" for little me, who didn't get around in the world, very much.)

I had never heard of a Reynold's Rocket, or maybe even a "ball-point" pen, but as soon as school was out that day, I rode down there to Western Auto on my bicycle, a couple of doors north of Hotel Clovis, to collect my free new pen,"state of the art!"

If that store were still there, I could take you with me today, half-way down the aisle, and show you the little glass square dividers on the table, where the pens lay, in long plastic tubes, like cigars (I guess.) I selected a steel blue pen; it was very long and it had a pocket clip on it. I remember the ink as being blue and it balled up quite a bit when I used it. Ah, but we had to start somewhere!

Now is where my unfailing memory deserts me! What did I use in high school and college? I have no idea. No doubt my ink pen, and likely some cheap ball points or complimentary ones, which seemed to be favored in those days for advertising. And of course my trusty Ticonderogas!

What I can remember is that in 1962 I was in an important meeting in Roswell. An erudite gentleman was up front and had a chart and was making a presentation. He had a neat gold pen in his hand;  clearly it was a quality piece and he used it as a pointer and occasionally stopped and jotted down something with it. When the meeting was over, I went up and visited with him a moment and asked him, "What kind of a pen is that?" He said: "Oh, it is a ball point from a Cross gold pen/pencil set my wife gave me." Recognizing quality, I was sold!

I told my wife about it, and lo and behold, for Christmas, I was DOUBLE-CROSSED with aCross pen/pencil set. Mine was the 10 karat rather than the 14 karat set, but it has lasted well all these years. It was MADE IN THE USA!

Cross is one of the great American companies. Their guarantee is unsurpassed. They will fix or replace any pen, no questions asked, for either a nominal fee or none. I once  found a gold Cross pen in a parking lot---smashed by a car. I sent it in and received a brand new pen.

Yes, I was once rocketed, and once double-crossed, but it's okay!

*******30*******
BYMIL
1/20/13





Sent from my iPad

THE MAIN STREET "WATER WAR"

Another Story of Growing up in Clovis

  by Richard Drake

            As school was coming to an end for the year before the summer of 1952 every student could not wait to get out of classes and do “something”.  However, there was not a lot to do to entertain ourselves.  During the school year we had plenty of activities.  If you played on one of the teams, the coaches filled in your time.  Also, there were the band, choir practice, scouts and church activities.  Yet most of us were bored dreading the coming summer boredom.   In the search for something to do, the Clovis Water War of 1952 occurred.   As in all of my stories all names are withheld to protect the guilty.

The war started innocently with one boy bringing  a water pistol to school  Between classes, at lunch break and after school, the “armed” squirter wrecked havoc throughout the school population.  The girls squealed and the boys ran away in “mock” panic.  After school all of the boys who could, armed themselves with an appropriate weapon.   The Clovis High School grounds became “ground zero” for the conflict.

The war soon spread to Main Street which became hostile territory.  Remember our favorite past time was dragging Main. We did not have air conditioned cars so the windows were always down.  It became  likely that drivers got a face full of water from most passing cars.  Hand held water guns were just not adequate for proper retaliation. Thus, an arms race started.

One of the guilty parties came up with a large, high pressure, “multi – pump” gun.  It was a major escalation.  War councils were held and scouting parties were sent out to forage in of all our friends’ barns and garages for any available equipment that could be converted from its peace time use.     A fire extinguisher that could be pressurized with air hose was a major intermediate weapon. It would shoot 20-30 yards – well out of the range of the other water weapons.   But, it was war and we intended to win. One Sunday afternoon one of our planners of advanced weapon design  came up with the idea to add Kool Aid to the water, our version of “Biological Warfare”.   It made the windshields of the chasing vehicles sticky which took them out of service for maintenance.  Also, the girls in their pumping got “yucky” and had to go home and change clothes. That reduced our foes’ available personnel.

Pumps of all types were discovered.  Water barrels were mounted in the backs of pickup trucks.  Squads of strong armed pumpers were recruited and trained.  The best weapons were ones with a large hand -cranked pump that would pour out a steady stream of water.  You could drown your foes but, of course, you were getting drowned in return.

It was soon learned that the best tactic was to get an enemy vehicle to follow yours.  If your driver could maintain speed, you could drown  the people in the trailing vehicle, but the slip stream of air would blow their water right back into their faces, a double dose.  So the war spread to all of the streets of Clovis.

Now a major problem had to be solved.  The streets of Clovis also acted as the storm water drainage system with four dips at each intersection.   Vehicles traveling at a sufficient speed to keep out of the following vehicles’ firing range could easily throw the “water soldiers” in the back onto the street. My group of buddies was lucky.  We had the best driver in Clovis High School.  He had mastered the technique of swerving his dad’s pickup into the right edge of each intersection.  With one set of tires in the dip to the right, he could minimize the bounce and maintain his speed without losing anyone.

A group of the “wet” losers thought they had the answer-- heavy bombardment from above.  They took balloons filled with water to the top of Hotel Clovis and tried to hit the vehicles.  Luckily their aim was not good and no one was hit. However, the impact of the balloons hitting the street below was impressive.  At that time the Clovis police stepped and enforced an armistice.

 The war was over but the memory lasts forever within the “Band of Brothers” from WW 52, the “ big wet war”.

-------30--------
For Mil's Place
Richard Drake
Guest Writer

WHAT DO YOU LOVE?

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IN THIS GREAT, WIDE, FASCINATING, MIRACULOUS WORLD?
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I love little baby chicks,
Ponies that do tricks,
And wind.

I love old wide front porches,
Shady small-town streets,
And rocking chairs.

I love, old wheat-hauling trucks,
Golden wavy wheat,
And barns.

I love floating fishing bobblers,
Buttery berry cobblers,
(Like my mother made...)
And whipped cream.

I love leaves when they turn,
Cool October nights,
And quilts.

I love New Mexico places,
The wide open spaces
And the bright blue skies.

I love hymns sung in church,
Sermons when they're short,
And sermons when they're over!

I love red-checked table cloths,
Black-eyed peas and cornbread,
And fried okra.

I love old leather books,
Cute lady cooks,
And iced tea!

I love crocuses in spring,
Little birds that sing,
And gardens.

I love old country stores,
On old country lanes,
With old-timey wood stoves,
Old timers playing checkers,
Sardines, cheese, crackers, and onions,
And big orange drinks.

I love old fishing lures,
Bacon that's well-cured.
And wind.

I love old poetry books,
Cozy reading nooks,
And Longfellow.

I love roosters when they crow,
Trains when they whistle,
And old pickup trucks!

I love poems when they rhyme,
Stories about old times,
And memories.

I love playful puppy dogs,

Little jumping frogs,

And porch swings.

I love starry summer evenings,

Sitting on the lawn,

And mumblety-peg.

I love women when they smile,
Women with no guile,
And my wife.

I love people who are kind,

Have others in their minds,

And have no agenda.

I love old clanging windmills,

Cold gushing water,

And shade trees.   

I love hamburgers any time,
Coney Islands are just fine,
And onion rings.

I love bagatini bread,
Ciabatta just as much,
And cheesy Danishes.

I love Fritos and corn chips,
Any kind of dips,
But be sure there's queso!

I love women when they're classy,
Women who aren't sassy,
And my wife!

I love old movies;
I loved "The Grapes of Wrath,"
Their westward path,
And Rosasharn.

I loved Holden in "River Kwai,"
"With or without a parachute?"
And the medic at the end:
"Madness, madness! It's all madness!"

I loved Don Knotts in "Shakiest Gun..."
And Arnold the Kid---
"A seven shootah?"

I loved Saturdays at the Lyceum,
Two movies and a serial, ten cents,
And popcorn five cents.

I loved "The Searchers,"
Ken Curtis singing "Skip To My Lou,"
And beautiful Vera Miles!

I love cheese enchiladas,
Homemade tamales,
And green chili!

I love old mesquite pastures
Plenty of quail running around,
And a can of pork and beans.

I loved Barry Hardware,
Any old hardware store,
With old churns and Dutch ovens,
And pocket knives.

I love "dinner on the ground,"
Fried chicken where it's found,
And deviled eggs.

I love old seasoned leather,
Old varnished wood,
And Walking Liberty half dollars.

I love old farmhouses,
Old adobe houses,
And old cottonwood trees!

I love trickling mountain streams,
Log cabins with smoking chimneys,
And the sound of wind...
In the pines.

I love cold winter nights,
By flick'ring fireplace lights,
And popcorn.

I love Stephen Foster's songs,
The summers he portrays,
And "Thou will come no more...
Gentle Annie..."

I loved Jeannie's "light brown hair,"
"My Old Kentucky Home,"
And "O Susanna!"

I love this beautiful world,
And like Tom T. Hall,
I love life...and did I mention...
Coffee!?

(Mil, is there anything you don't like? YES. Speeches and "The Wizard Of Oz!")

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BY MIL
1/13/13



Sent from my iPad

"I AM A POOR WAYFARING STRANGER"

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"These all died in faith, not having received the promises, but having seen them afar off and were persuaded of them, and embraced them, and confessed that they were strangers and pilgrims on the earth.
Hebrews 11:13
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Ever since man found himself a being on earth, he has been musing the questions---Where did I come from? Why am I here? Where am I going? These thoughts occur to all men at one time or another--- more to some, perhaps than others.

One of the strangest ideas that man has had to get used to, is that he is a stranger and pilgrim on the earth. His existence here is merely temporary. This a difficult concept and often, an uncomfortable one.

Poetry and song are replete with reflections on the temporal nature of life on this earth.  Here are some examples:

Man is lonely by birth,
Man is only a pilgrim on earth---
Time is but a temporary thing,
Only on loan while on earth."
(Talonoa--- "All Roads Lead Home")
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"A stranger, and I was a wand'ring,
In the cold night of sin I did roam;
When Jesus the kind  shepherd found me
And now I am on my way home."
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"As I travel through this world of woe
There is a friend who walks with me.
Leads me safely through this world below..."
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"My life on earth is but a span....
And so I'll do the best I can."
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"This world is not my home
I'm just a-passing through..."
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"The Pilgrim's Song," by C.R. Blackall
"Awhile o'er earth's mountains we're roaming,
Thro' valleys adorned with green...
Sometimes there are shadows and darkness,
But often the golden sheen."
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On this subject, a best-loved and often-heard song is the American spiritual/folk song, "I Am A Poor Wayfaring Stranger," dating to  the 1800's, and made popular by the famous ballad singer, Burl Ives.  It was recorded in his 1944 album, "The Wayfaring Stranger," was used as the title of his '40's CBS radio show, was the title of his biography in 1848, and became his "signature" song.

"The Wayfaring Stranger" has been used in a number of movies, TV Dramas, and documentaries. It was used in the season two premiere of "The Walking dead." Upwards of a hundred well-known artists have recorded the song.

In my favorite oft-quoted line from Wordsworth's "Ode On Intimations of Immortality," we read: "Trailing clouds of glory do we come...from heaven which is our home." Whether we arrive "back home" from our pilgrimage depends on the choices we make.

The plaintive words and tune of "Wayfaring Stranger" speak for themselves.

"I'm just a poor wayfaring stranger
I'm traveling through this world of woe
Yet there's no sickness toil nor danger
In that bright land to which I go
I'm going there to see my mother
I'm going there no more to roam
I'm only going over Jordan
I'm only going over home.

I know dark clouds will gather 'round me
I know my path is rough and steep
Yet golden fields lie just before me
Where God's redeemed will ever sleep
I'm going there to see my father
He said he'd meet me when I come
I'm only going over Jordan
I'm only going over home.

I want to wear a crown of glory
When I get home to that good land
I want to shout salvation's story
In concert with the blood-bought band.

I'm going there to meet my Saviour
To sing his praise forevermore
I'm just a-going over Jordan
I'm just a-going over home.."



Burl Ives:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S5sHrOTXX0s&feature=youtube_gdata_player

Mormon Tabernacle Choir

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ETICiWZwnU0&feature=youtube_gdata_player

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BY MIL
1/15/13




Sent from my iPad

IT'S JUST THE CACOPHONY OF LIFE!

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OVER-PEEPED PEOPLE
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Here's one for you! We got SMART PHONES "for Christmas"---unfortunately smarter than we, though my wife is a techie...but that's another story.

It's the cacophony in our house, nowadays, that I want to discuss. (Our house is so electronic that I fear it glows in the dark!) Some lady, I am told, wrote a bit on Facebook on this very same subject, but let me assure you that I beat her---this article has been jelling for a week.

There is a history in my life regarding phones. I hate them. When I retired from my second career in 1996, a career in which I loved my clients but was deluged with phone calls---day and night, early and late (it was insurance)---I said: "I never want to get another phone call!" You see, the phone was always ringing. Not cool attractive ring sounds, either.

So for years we had just rudimentary run-of-the-mill cell phones, mainly for the wife to call me  from out there when she ran out of gas, or whatever. Truth is, I never turned mine on, except to occasionally make a free long distance call. Nobody called me....and that was fine. She knew to call me on the "land line."

But the wife likes electronic gadgets, and who was I to vote against something nice for her, though our phone budget would have fed one of those Dust Bowl families very nicely. So we got our new smart phones shipped in from Verizon. We discover something new about these little marvels every day!

The really neat and exciting thing about these phones is that they have a "menu of rings." You can go to a page or pages of rings and forever be done with the plain old ring. You can get harps, marimbas, orchestra, sci- fi, telegraph, bongs, dings, crickets, ducks, dog barking, motorcycles starting, and even a train whistle (which I leaped on for my incoming email sound--yes the phone connects with your computer!) There are so many rings that you can select a different ring for each friend--Ed,  Joe, Tom, Mary, etc. That way you'll know who is calling.

                      

Note the paragraph above---a "dog-barking" ring. NOT! Well, I guess it might be an appropriate ring for our neighbor across the fence (if we phoned each other), since for years he has had barking dogs in his megaphonic backyard---all night barking-- when he spends the weekend at Bluewater, and his dogs add to our cacophony and keep us awake. No, not a barking-dog ring, thanks.

I must admit to loving these sounds---and carrying my phone around in my shirt pocket, though I still never get phone calls---I love that train sound announcing emails, of which I get a lot. People come up to say: "Hey, are you getting an email...or is that a train in your pocket?!"

Tried to get a rooster as one of my sounds---you can special order these for a one-time fee of $1.29---not too bad. We did a trial audition of a rooster crowing, and I thought it sounded fake or computer-generated. We rejected it---probably "made in China," and we are into the "MADE IN U.S.A." thing, big-time.

Moving on---let's talk about the OTHER SOUNDS! A while back, we kept hearing a bird in the hall, we thought. Just kept peeping, then quit, then more peeping. We finally figured out that our smoke alarm was needing new batteries. So that problem was solved.

Then our microwave oven makes five dings at the end of every cycle, big loud ones, as if "Listen to me!" What makes it bad is that our coffee pot isn't hot enough, so we have to additionally heat up our cups of coffee, eight of them!  That adds up to a considerable amount of dinging! Our toaster makes cheap peeps, not worthy of any electronic device, but nonetheless, adds to the noise. (Probably made overseas.)

I have a portable radio, for which I have lost the instruction book. Somehow it got set to ALARM at 9:47 every night. We finally figured out where the sound was coming from but didn't know how to turn it off. (Umm, why didn't I think of the batteries!)

Our oven has a "bing,bing,bing" timer, and the wife uses it to time the lawn-watering, outside front and back, since our new timers out there failed. So that's more noise to deal with.

When the kids and grandkids were here at Christmas, they all had smart phones. We know that the youth are practically full-time texters and phone callers; all kinds of noises, rings, and sounds were reverberating  throughout the house. Not being able to use the muter, I got out my shooting muffs.

A really funny and true story is this---early on in this drama of the new phones, my wife selected a "starting-motorcycle engine sound." as the ring tone for one of our sons, who likes cycles. One day she left her phone in the den and I in the next room was writing. I kept hearing the motor noise and thought she was trying to start a hair dryer or some machine in the den; then I decided it was our neighbor across the fence, who is wont to always be trimming some bush. Finally, we had a big laugh when we figured it out!

Oh, I didn't tell you that our Schwinn exercise bicycle, purchased in 1976, may have a poltergeist. For no rhyme, and no discernible reason, it's very loud TIMER DING sounds anytime...usually 2 a.m.

Oh, and did I mention the doorbell?

Yes, we are a generation of instant communication. In many ways it is a miracle. I can talk to London--and have several times....on a battery cell phone. So maybe the price of all this is...the cacophony of life.

                        

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BY MIL
1/08/12
Sent from my iPad

MAIN STREET AND HOTEL CLOVIS---C.H.S. "KIDS" REMEMBER!

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from ALBIN COVINGTON, CHS CLASS OF '51
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During  part of WWII, we lived in the 100 block on Sheldon Street. Tom, Marie, and I would get to go the Mesa Theater for 10 cents apiece. We would walk down 1st Street, watch the movie, and on the way home we would go to the hotel and ride the elevator. That was a great thrill for us at that time!

Then before we left to go back home on First Street, we sometimes went over to the Coney Island Cafe, and you can guess what we ate there! If we didn't have the money to eat, we often stopped in and just asked for a glass of water. For some reason that was the best tasting water we ever had. They were always willing to give us a drink. Wow! What a Saturday that was!

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from ART SNIPES, CHS CLASS OF '51
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We all remember the old hotel and Main Street, which it guarded so faithfully. Dragging Main was something I often thought I didn't get my share of because I was employed by Safeway and all employees worked well into the night on Saturdays. Here I was, swinging a mop up and down those long aisles while everyone else was dragging Main.

It wasn't all bad because the best thing that happened in my life was when I was dragging Main one Friday night. I spotted a beautiful girl by the name of Wanda King standing in front of Standridge Drug. I circled the block and asked her to get into my old car. She did and that was the beginning of a long and beautiful relationship that lasted over 61 years.

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from WYLIE DOUGHERTY, CHS CLASS OF '53
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My dad was a charter member of the Clovis Rotary Club which met at the Clovis Hotel at noon on Thursdays. I used to go there with him, and hung out in the fancy lobby. It made me feel like a big deal, while waiting for Daddy to come out of the Rotary meeting. I even rode the elevator to the ninth floor once! Imagine nine stories tall in downtown Clovis!

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from ROBERT STEBBINS, CHS CLASS OF '51
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My memories relating to the Hotel Clovis are limited. I remember the curio shop, and I believe there were a beauty shop and possibly a barber shop located there. And the elevators were classy and sturdily built; they were quite possibly at that time the first and certainly the best in Clovis.

However, I never spent much time there as most of it was beyond my allowance/pocket money as a teenager. I more frequently was seen across Second Street at the Greyhound Bus Station restaurant, run by Mr.Asimos, or across Main Street at the Coney Island, if on my own resources, or at the Busy Bee, if accompanied by my parents. My parents usually took me to the Busy Bee on Saturdays to enjoy the "Halibut Steak Special," which I believe was about $1.35 in the late forties or early fifties.

I can still remember the pool hall across the alley from the hotel.  A lot of Santa Fe railroaders and some high school students used to enjoy the clicking of billiard balls there.

Hopefully, the long empty and ill-treated Hotel Clovis will once again become alive and reflect positively on Clovis, as it did in years past!

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from MIL, CHS CLASS OF '51
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All of the comments that have been made about the HOTEL, have come in with a broader view of our "milieu," than just the building. They include the seven blocks of Main Street, right down to the red brick paving!

The HOTEL, after all, was never a home to us kids (most of us were never in there more than a time or two). As I have stated, it was a protagonist in our story of growing up in the forties and fifties---it was a "character" in a drama---our drama...and a "FRIEND"....if you will.

*********30*********
MIL'S PLACE
1/07/13
Sent from my iPad

 

CLOVIS--- MAIN STREET, SNOW, AND CONEY ISLAND CAFE

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    "WE CAN'T GO BACK....EXCEPT THROUGH OUR MEMORIES!"---W.D.

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"HITCH-HIKING ON CAR BUMPERS"....from John L. Sieren, CHS CLASS of '51
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Back when Clovis got snow just about every year, and in an amount you could measure, and about the time we were "juniors" or "intermediates" (church-wise), there was a fine man in our church who loved kids! This was Warren Cottle. He would get some 2x4's, nail them together to look like a ladder, hook it onto the back of his pickup, get a couple of kids on that make-shift sled and drive us around town, turning fast corners! We slid all over the place---particularly when turning corners!

Another memory is when the Brakes had a '35 Plymouth with a '46 Dodge engine in it, a few times when it snowed, Levi would drive down the snowy street, and see how many times it would spin around before it hit the curb.

One last thing, and this has to do with "dragging Main Street." When we were in high school, almost all cars had rear bumpers. When it snowed, sometimes we would be at Standridge Drug, next to the State Theater. We would stand out in the street a little bit, and when a car came by---one with a rear bumper---we'd catch up to it, grab the bumper, squat down, and let it drag us the five blocks to First Street. Then we'd go to the other side of the street and catch a ride back.

You did not want to do this when it was slushy---for two reasons! One, the car might spin its back tires and coat you with ice, and the other reason was---that since the street was paved with bricks, if it were slushy, you could catch a shoe on a brick and become a statistic!

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"SLEIGHING DOWN MAIN STREET IN A MORTAR BOX"....
      from Robert Stebbins, CHS CLASS of '51
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I remember getting a ride down Main Street behind a car when there was enough snow. Someone, can't remember who, got hold of a "mortar box" (if that is what you call it.) Anyway, it was used for mixing concrete by hand. It was about 8 feet long, 4 feet wide, and had sides about 10-12 inches high. The bottom was made of tin and the rest was wood.

It may have been Jackie Boddy or Elgin Spahr who had a little two-door Austin. Well, they found an old studio cushion, put it in the mortar box, and hooked it to the back bumper of the car. It made a great tow, was comfortable, and provided lots of fun, as long as the snow lasted!

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    "RUNNING DOWN TO THE CONEY ISLAND CAFE"

           from Wylie Dougherty, CHS CLASS OF '53

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    During our junior and senior years, Jimmy Ray (now James), a buddy of mine, and I used to run from CHS at Eighth and Main to one of three places for lunch---Eugene Field, La Casita, or Coney Island Cafe. Each were about seven blocks away. We had to run to beat the little kids to the lunches at the grade schools; the lunches there were about thirty cents, if my memory serves.

    Our favorite was the Coney Island Cafe, down just south of Grand on Main Street. Our lunch there consisted of a bowl of chili, doused liberally with Louisiana Hot Sauce; topping that off, we had a big twelve ounce bottle of Pepsi with a nickel package of Tom's peanuts poured into the Pepsi! It cost us about thirty cents or so...but it was a repast WORTHY OF MEMORIES!!

    Going back to school, we sometimes looked in the window of Bud's Gun Shop and admired his gun selections, and said hello to my brother who worked there.

    We can't go back....but we can through our memories!

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********30********
MIL'S PLACE
1/06/13
Sent from my iPad