Panama Pundits - 8

Jan 19, 1991

Last night the PNP (note: that is Panamanian National Police) and I went to Numbre.  The vehicle they drive is no good.  It starts easy enough but it quits a will.  Being a Major with the MP's and accompanied by the PNP I figured I would have no trouble getting out of the camp gate.  I usually just wave as I go by the guard.  This time however the PNP car, truck really, died in front of the gate.  Capt Johnson said he had it all worked out if there was a problem getting out and sure enough the gate guards were Engineers not MPs.  The MPs were having a party their last night in the field.  I knew this of course but never thought the MPs would turn the gate guard business over to Engineers.  They began questioning me as to why I was leaving.  After a few minutes of trying to contact the Provost Marshall word came down to let us pass.

The truck finally started and off we went.  As we turned by the store the truck died again.  Anderson, the PNP, could not get it started.  We sat there.  PNP King got in, did something and off we rode through the center of Numbre.  The starter was grinding still, the truck was back firing and the dogs, chickens, and people were scattering out of the way.  We eventually made are way to the little spot by the lagoon where we had been the night before.

There we drank beer, ate shark, yuka and steak.

It was Conga or Congo night in Numbre. (note: a description of this event can also be read on my first blog in October of 2010, there are some difference in what I wrote then and what I wrote later.)  I never did understand if it was Conga or Congo.   Nor was I sure of why the celebration was even taking place.)  Word came from the Plaza area though that they did not want to start the celebration or sing and dance until we showed up.  By this time Johnson, Fluer, and Hosenstine had joined me.  Before this I was the only non Spanish speaking person at the party and only one or two others spoke any English at all.

We all ventured up towards the Plaza.  There sat 3 drummers like you see in old jungle moves.  They began to beat a rhythm.  The women of the village began to sing and then the Queen of the Conga(o) appeared with a tall crown of jeweled and spangled material.  She began to dance and swaying rhythmically that looked like it was some sort of traditional African dance.  While she was swaying a man jumped out of the audience and began dancing also. She ignored him and as he approached her she dodged his aggression while keeping here rhythm going.  I realized that this was part of the dance.  He would accept his rejection and slink out of the circle that had gathered around the Queen and another man would jump in.

The little group we had stood out of course and apparently we were some kind of guest of honor.  I was the highest ranking officer there and the only one in uniform.  The Queen grabbed my hand and pulled me to the center of the circle.  The crowd cheered but none more than my friends who saw great sport in me being embarrassed.  I was no match for the natives, but with the natural rhythm I have I did not completely humiliate myself.  Each one of the Americans were eventually drug out in turn trying to do their interpretation of the dance.

We then returned to the lagoon area.  We drank beer and just kicked back.  All the American left except Johnson and I.  We just listened to everyone else talk, not understanding a word they said.

It was a mellow evening and it was made even more so when 3 guitar's players showed up.  They played Spanish music and one of the ladies began to sing.  Then each woman there took her turn singing making a strange lyrical sound.  While leaning against a palm tree listening and watching there was a power failure.  The music continued and to get more light another log was put on the camp fire and for a moment you forgot the war, forgot the deplorable living conditions that surround you and you were just absorbed in the moment.

Now I might add that all these women were over weight and basically ugly.  I say this so in the later years no one will think that there was anything going on more than there was.  In fact contrary to popular belief sorted behavior among NGs has not occurred often down here.  They talk a lot but do little.

Continued...........

Panama Pundits - 7

 Jan 17, 1991

The war in the middle east is still going on hot and heavy.  Air strike after air strike I keep hearing. I keep wondering what the ground troops are doing. Have they moved to their tactical assembly areas, to their area of operations.  I wonder what they are feeling.

I was at the the 549th Mps for a short while exchanging hand receipts.  Said good by to Bob V. and saw a little CNN.

The war gets closer.  Another unit got activated today for Desert Storm.  The 2175th MPs.  Part of them are here with us now.  They don't know it yet.  They are scheduled go go home Sunday.  The Panama duration provost marshal commands their unit.  He will be leaving.  There are only a few of us that know what is happening.  It is hard to watch these guys being excited about returning home and knowing that they will soon be leaving again and they haven't a clue.  I hope the bombing turns the tide so it will all be over soon.  Not for me but for them and their families and mine.

Myself, Johnson, and Rodriquez and a PNP went to town today on a pretend PNP patrol.  We stopped in the town plaza, drank a beer, dodged a real MP patrol and then went to the house of another PNP local, a shack really, 1 bed, 1 table, 4 chairs and a small kitchen with antiquated appliances.

There was not much communication except a translation or two.  We sat on the front porch, drank beer and looked at he gravel street, looking for the MPs.

A neighbor came by and invited us to her back yard that touched the lagoon.  And there we sat drinking more beer, watching the fish jump out of the water and the small boats returning from day of fishing.  No one could understand anyone else hardly.

Later the owner fixed a combination of octopus, onion, Italian dressing, and liquid black pepper.  I was polite but let some one else finish my share .  The flavor was good but the texture undesirable. 

We leave base camp tomorrow - Camp Thomas - tomorrow at 0945.  The long tedious procedure of coming home will begin.

Panama Pundits - 6

Jan 17, 1991  (note: diary entry)

Yesterday was a big day.  The big news was "war."  Bush went and did it.  At 1900 hours EST our planes launched an air strike against Bagdag.  Desert Shield has now been changed to Desert Storm.

I was on the road back from Sherman and was informed at the gate.  Reactions are mixed.  Some think it is about time and some do a little gallows humor, some are worried, some take our position here in Panama as life threatening and still others feel that the war is a long way off and no outside influence will effect our mission here one way or another.  All are justified in their thinking.

The soldiers here cheer to let out frustrations and there is much hidden apprehension, gallows humor is always present during stressful situations because it allows our minds to deal with the unthinkable.  Some worry they will have to go or their children, loved ones or fiends.  No matter how remote a visible well publicized task force like ours could be a target of some sort or insurgency for propaganda purposes and there are those who think we are bigger and more important then we really are.

I have no idea what our command element is up to.  Whatever it is the rest of us will find a way to criticize.  However they are responsible so whatever procedures they take to protect us should be looked at as a big insurance policy.  So far they have closed down the camp, put out roving patrols, increased perimeter lights and I guess there will be more security procedures taking place.

There is talk about us being extended so rotations can go to Saudi, flights back home being cancelled etc.

I can truthfully say I am not concerned.  Partly out of reason and partly because I am a very very minor part of the great adventure.  Just to be on the peripheries of war is interesting.  Some of the guys gather around the radio and listen to the news.  Others are playing cards or sleeping.  It is the morning of the 17th and the rest of the day will see what direction we take here in Panama.

Now, the reason I was in Ft Sherman.  I made contact with Norma, the adoption lady.  She said that you must work with honest people in the adoption process.  An adoption cost about $1000.  She is going to call a Social Worker she knows and see what is available and then talk to me.  I may not be able to get back to her before I leave but I will write.  It works like this: you pick out a kid, you fill out the papers, get OK'd, heir a lawyer, pick up the kid.  The problem is that we are out of the country.  We might have to come one time and visit and then again to pick up the kid. 

I explained Jan and my relationship and my financial position.  The thought it was better if Jan applied.  That would limit us to a girl under Panamanian law.  Then I could adopt when we got home etc.

Norma also told me of an orphanage.  I went to visit.  Poor but neat but a notch above the other Panamanian housing I have seen.  (note to blog reader:  The adoption thing never got off the ground.  Norma did tell me she knew of a family that had about 9 kids and the mother was pregnant again.  She said that I could come back with Jan when the baby was born and get a birth certificate saying Jan had the baby when we were vacationing and thus make the child ours have the necessary proof to reenter the US with a child in hand.  I passed on the idea.)

The news has been full of Iraq.  But they keep saying the same old thing.  I can't believe it will drag on long and don't believe I will ever get close. 

Today we put up additional perimeter security lights, prepared generator holes, and filled sand bags.  It is in the name of physical camp security.

I did go into "town" and ate a fairly decent meal but still not been impressed with the food.  Tomorrow will be my last day at base camp they say but who knows, they change their minds a lot.  I would just as soon be in the jungle as at Sherman..

Appian Way - Last Diary Entry

March 5, 1992

Just some observations.

Clothes - The men usually do not match or are their clothes cut to western standards.  However the very rich do look rich.  The young men are attractive. The older men not so unless they are wealthy.  The average woman is not that good looking when they are my age, again unless they are wealthy.  The young women are not that attractive as our average woman, but there is an air about them that is appealing.  Perhaps it is the confidence they display.  There were a lot of unattached women travelling around.

Food - I have not been impressed by the food.  It's OK but nothing to write home about so I wont.  The servings are smaller and there seems to be a difference on how much they charge if you are waited on or not.  No sandwiches as we know them.  The tea is good, the coffee bad.

The women are not modest on the beach.  They go topless a lot.  People say this is just natural to them but if it's so natural why do the men point and stair.

TV - There are an overabundance of commercials.  Everyone is trying to sell you something.  They act like the barkers in the carnival.  There is is lot of nudity on TV.  Some shows have nudes and and a lot of string bikini's.

Hotel - We stayed in a nice place.  The rooms were small and so were the beds.  The towels were like dish washing towels but much larger.  The telephone was rotary.

Most things were expensive.  A coke cost L2,500 or $2, a can.  An average meal cost about $14, beer L3,500 and it keeps changing from day to day.  The room cost L120,000 per day.  It doesn't seem like much really.  I guess it is because it is a resort area where we stayed.  The BMW I drove around would cost about $50,000 in the states. More later.

Pisa Airport.

One thing that always strikes me when I am on overseas active duty (which is only three times) is that the military hold many opportunities for travel and excitement.

Well my great adventure ends today.  The only highlights are slim ones really.  My flight will pass over Shannon Ireland.

Yesterday we visited the Leaning Tower of Pisa.  Ate in a road side restaurant.  Pasta was served first, followed by salad, meat and french fries.  I had veal, three of the guys had wild bore, another stuffed pork chops.  I bought two bottles of Dom.

My feelings are mixed.  I feel like I have nothing really to go home for.  I miss the kids but I miss more not having a normal life.  A man my age is supposed to have a different life than the one I have.  It really gets me down sometimes.  But I am a survivor.  I'll carry on and shake the depression.  It is one thing to be depressed now and then and another to let it run your life.

This undoubtedly will be my last "great adventure" (note:  I did not know that I would ever teach Eskimos in bush Alaska)

I have read James Michner's "The World is My Home" while here and I find it very inspiring.  I wish I had his character and fortitude and belief in life.

I guess one of the more interesting things that happened to me is that I met a Dutchman in an American Bar and had many interesting evening with him over drinks discussing his country and mine.  His name was Hans Boot.  I have his address and I will write him now and then.

Unless something really unusual happens this will be my last entry.  We arrive in KC at 4:17 PM, 5 March.

Just remember that what ever happens between the time this narrative is written and the time it is read that I've loved you all.  When one is away from those he loves he ponders and thinks - usually to much, but that is life.

I am going back home with no resolve just some tasks to be done, much to do before I sleep, and miles to go.

Love Dad, 1992, Pisa, Italy

Post Script:  It is now 2007, Oct. 23,  I stored this book in a box that I put in Shannon's garage.  I've rented a house on Spring Street and thought I better get the box.  I re read all of what I have written and it is all true - facts are left out however but in the main unimportant ones.

After returning from Italy I went to a couple of drills.  Flew to Virginia to help at pre camp.  Ate at Virginia Beach.  But that is about it.  The National Guard got very time consuming.  I was made the XO of our unit but really received no guidance as what was expected and I wanted to leave on a good note.  I told the LTC I was retiring and then after 20 years and nine months I walked away.  This year, last May, I received my first retirement check.

Staying and being a member the National Guard was the smartest and most interesting thin I have ever done.

Home is the Hunter - Alaska

I have never been much of a hunter but one day while in Alaska around spring time I was talked into going.  When asked what we would be hunting I was not given a clear answer.  Usually no one pays much attention to hunting seasons in Eskimo villages.  Anything that did not fly, walk, swim, or run fast enough was considered eatable.  The Gods were smiling on the indigenous wild life that day.  We shot our guns a lot but got nothing.

We had driven our snow-go's out on the tundra which was just starting to become barren of snow but there was plenty none the less.  Some places there was tundra grass which we had to skirt around and the numerous ponds dotting the landscape were only half frozen.

I was a passenger with my friend Oscar.  He is a teacher's aide in the school and at was just a few credit hours short of completing his degree from the University of Alaska.  My two other hunting companions were George and Jerry, fellow teachers.

Oscar took us about 12 miles as the crow fly's to a spot he said had a lot of geese and swan.  It took us about an hour to get there because you could not go as the crow fly's.  The tundra as you may recall is made up of gently rolling hills, very gently, with more ponds than you would wish or could count.  The soil is very soft and bumpy and because of all the ponds and many interconnecting fingers of water you cannot go in a straight line anywhere except in the winter months.  In the summer forget it.  Even walking is a chore.  But in the spring time it is manageable if you stay on the snow and choose when you cross a pond that looks somewhat frozen.  Some what frozen is what makes crossing interesting. 

You might have seen pictures or movies about people trying to drive their snow-go's over the ice and water and not making it.  Well that is what we did but failure would have become more then just a fun thing.  If you didn't make it up there you had problems the rest of the day, like freezing to death.  Of course I did not know all this before I left on the great hunt. 

It was just like you see in the movies.  You pulled up to the edge of a pond, determined that there was not another way to get around it, you turned the snow-go around, drove back a few yards, turned back towards the pond, guned the snow-go and charge forward.  You kept the throttle full gear and hoped you got to the other side.  Sometimes you came upon a low spot that connected a pond with another and you didn't stop you just charged forward and hoped you were right in your judgement.

The passenger needed to be aware of when that was going to happen or he could tumble off the back and into the icy water.  Oscar never considered telling me when he was going to do that, but a couple of near tumbles taught me to keep a sharp look out and then hold on when the time was right.  One of the guys did not make it across one time but he was close enough to the edge that we could wade in and pull him out OK.  Rubber boots helped up there.

We eventually made it to the spot where Oscar said the geese would be, but there were  none.  We fanned out across the tundra and I immediately stuck my foot in a heap of snow that was covering a moss like substance that was covering a finger of water, more like an arm of water, or a leg of water I guess because I went down to my knees along with the gun barrel pointed down.  We were both wet and murky looking. 

I left my hunting companions to hunt their fowl and went back to the snow-go.  I took off my socks, shoes, and boots and let them dry  out on the hood of the snow-go which was still warm from use.  The sun was out and I was not worried about freezing to death or anything, in fact it was very relaxing and cozy just sitting there.

I started thinking about the shotgun and wondered if I had clogged the barrel.  I did not want to look down the barrel for obvious reasons and when I tried to eject the shell I had a hard time.  So I made an executive decision, if I wanted much longer the water would form ice and then I didn't know what might happen so I just pointed the gun in the air , pulled the trigger and cleared the barrel.  It worked just fine.  I did startle my hunting buddies.

After I dried out I went off to join my companions, being more careful where I stepped.  We all congregated on a little Noll and sat there basking in the sun and thoroughly enjoying ourselves for a couple of hours.  We did see some geese now and then fly over but they were to far away to shoot with a shotgun, some ptarmigan would land some distance away and we would try to hit them with a .22 but the aiming mechanism was off (it couldn't have been our aim) perhaps the site was not zeroed in and even given Kentucky windage was to no avail.  Sea Gulls came by every once in a while as did a Raven or two, but they knew we would not shoot them because the natives don't eat them and I guess they had learned over the years not to be afraid of humans.

We eventually decided it was time to move on.  We found a river that had no name on our map if in fact it was the same river, and followed it along the bank towards what Oscar said he thought the direction of the village. 

On our way back Oscar pointed up ahead and started racing our snow-go in that direction. It was a fox, not white, not red, but sort of a brownish color.  He kept speeding after it and it took off over the rough grass as did we at the same break neck speed.  He throttled down a little because it became to rough for even Oscar.  We watched as the fox scampered away over a small rise.  I didn't know what Oscar thought we were going to do if we caught up with the Fox, our guns were not loaded.  I guess he just wanted to chase one.  He did tell me later we were going 70 mph in our pursuit. 

The rest of the trip back was uneventful, not that what we just did was very eventful given the big picture of life and all, but being out on the tundra, miles from any where  or any one, going along a river that had no name and not sure it was even on the map, was a an experience for us white guys.  We were not exploring an unknown territory or anything because there were snow-go tracks all over the place. But the scenery was different than most of us had experienced: Bluffs of snow on one side, a frozen river, frozen marsh, and small mountains in the distance.

We stopped in a little valley to eat.  Oscar's mother had sent along some dried fish and seal jerky.  Yes, seal jerky  I did not care for the taste of either.  George had thought to bring some celery and peanut butter and that with one can of Coke we each brought sufficed.

As I entered the house later that evening, Paula had dinner ready.  I asked her why she had prepared hamburgers and frys when I could have brought home a goose to cook.  She just laughed and flipped a hamburger.

Bobby Greenlease

It was one of my most profound memories as a very young boy.  I had not forgotten about it but while transcribing some letters for my other blog, Korea: A World Away, the Greenlease kidnapping kept popping up in correspondence between Dad and my Grandparents.  Although the kidnapping was not exactly an adventure of mine, it certainly had an impact on me and the rest of the country and hit very hard in the Kansas City area.  I had forgotten or probably never knew the facts in the case.  I remember that he was the same age I was, kidnapped, murdered, and buried in a shallow grave.  It scared me then and sort of scares me now.  Bobby Greenlease would have been 64 years old this year.  The following is from FBI files with no narrative from me.

Info                   The Greenlease Kidnapping The Crime At approximately 10:55 a.m. on September 28, 1953, Sister Morand of the French Institute of Notre Dame De Sion, a school for small children in Kansas City, Missouri, answered the door and was confronted by a woman who said she was the aunt of Bobby Greenlease. Robert Cosgrove Greenlease, Jr., known as Bobby, was six years old and the son of Robert Cosgrove Greenlease, Sr., a wealthy automobile dealer who resided in Mission Hills, Kansas City, Missouri. The woman informed Sister Morand that Bobby's mother had just suffered a heart attack and had been taken to St. Mary's Hospital. The woman appeared visibly upset and apologized to Sister Morand for her condition. Upon getting Bobby, Sister Morand told him that an aunt had called at the school for him, but she did not tell Bobby that his mother had suffered a heart attack. Sister Morand recalled that Bobby walked directly to the woman without hesitation, and there was nothing in his action or behavior to indicate doubt on his part that this woman was his aunt. As the woman left the school, she had an arm around Bobby's shoulder and was holding his hand. Sister Morand last saw them as they entered a taxicab. At approximately 11:30 a.m. that day, Sister Marthanna of the school called the Greenlease home to inquire about Mrs. Greenlease's condition, spoke to Mrs. Greenlease and at that time learned that the story told by the woman who called for Bobby was false. Mrs. Greenlease immediately called her husband who rushed home and, after hearing the story of what happened, notified the chief of police in Kansas City, who in turn reported the matter to the FBI. Willard Pearson Creech, cab driver for the Toedman Cab Company in Kansas City, told authorities that shortly before 11:00 a.m. on September 28, 1953, a woman, whose description fit that of the woman who had called at the school, entered the cab and requested him to drive her to the school of Notre Dame De Sion. Upon arriving at the school she told Creech to wait for her because she desired to be driven to the Katz Drug Store at Westport and Main Streets in Kansas City. In approximately six minutes, the woman reentered the cab accompanied by a small boy fitting the description of Bobby Greenlease. When Creech last saw them, they had stopped behind a blue 1952 or 1953 Ford Sedan bearing Kansas license plates. A few hours after the kidnapping, the Greenleases received the first ransom letter concerning the return of their son. The first letter, mailed special delivery and postmarked 6:00 p.m.on September 28, 1953, demanded $600,000 in $20 and $10 bills be placed in a duffle bag. The kidnappers promised Bobby's safe return in 24 hours and as long as there were no tricks in delivering the money. The second ransom letter was postmarked 9:30 p.m. on September 29, 1953. Inside the envelope in which this letter was mailed was the Jerusalem medal which had been worn by Bobby Greenlease. The letter again contained demands for $600,000 and stated that Bobby was okay but homesick. Overall, the Greenleases received over a half dozen ransom notes and 15 telephone calls. The final communication between the Greenleases and the kidnappers was a telephone call received at 1:00 a.m. on October 5, 1953 at the Greenlease residence. The kidnappers stated that they had received the $600,000 ransom money and assured the Greenleases that their son was alive and that he would be returned in 24 hours. For more information: - FBI Case Records Unknown to the family, the kidnappers, Carl Hall and Bonnie Heady, had killed the boy soon after the abduction and buried the body near Heady's house in St. Joseph, Missouri. Then the two murderers took the ransom money and traveled approximately 380 miles to St. Louis, Missouri. On October 5, 1953, Hall purchased two metal suitcases and transferred the ransom money from the duffle bag to these suitcases, leaving the duffle bag in an ash pit in south St. Louis. Carl Hall took Bonnie Heady, who was drunk, to an apartment he rented on Arsenal Street, also in St. Louis. Heady immediately went to sleep, and Hall deserted her there, leaving only $2,000 of the $600,000 ransom money in her purse. On October 6, 1953, Hall purchased two large garbage cans and a shovel, placed them in a rented car and drove to Meramec Authorities Break the Case A telephone call was received at the 11th District, St. Louis Police Department, about 3:30 p.m. on October 6, 1953 from John Oliver Hager, a driver for the Ace Cab Company in St. Louis. His information led to the arrest of Carl Austin Hall (who identified himself as John James Byrne) by officers of the St. Louis Police Department at the Townhouse Hotel in St. Louis during the evening of October 6, 1953. Later that night, he led the officers to an apartment on Arsenal Street in St. Louis where Hall's girlfriend, Bonnie Emily Heady, was taken into custody. Hall was interrogated by FBI agents and other law enforcement agencies several times after his arrest and emphatically insisted that practically all of the $600,000 ransom money was in his possession at the time he was arrested by the St. Louis Police Department. Hall admitted to FBI agents the planning of the kidnapping, the actual abduction of the victim, and to burying the body in the yard of Mrs. Heady's residence. He also admitted picking up the ransom money, but denied that he killed the victim. At this time he implicated Tom Marsh, stating he had turned the victim over to Marsh. Hall later admitted Marsh was a fictitious individual and the only persons involved in the kidnapping were Bonnie Heady and himself. It was not until October 11, 1953 that Hall admitted he and Bonnie Heady transported the victim from Kansas City, Missouri to a point just outside of Kansas City in Overland Park, Kansas where Hall shot the victim to death. He then transported the body approximately 45 miles back to St. Joseph, Missouri, where he buried it in Bonnie Heady's yard and planted flowers on the grave. Bonnie Heady admitted assisting Hall in the preparation of the ransom letters and notes of instructions to the Greenlease family concerning the pay-off of the ransom as well as going to the school and obtaining custody of the victim using the ruse that his mother was ill. The boy's body was found by FBI agents at 8:40 a.m., October 7, 1953, buried near the porch of the Heady residence at 1201 South 38th Street in St. Joseph, Missouri. The body had been wrapped in a plastic bag, and a large quantity of lime had been poured over this bag. The Greenlease family dentist identified the body as that of Bobby Greenlease at 1:05 p.m. on October 7, 1953. Blood stains were found on the basement floor and steps in the Heady residence, and on a nylon blouse and fiber rug. Some .38 caliber shell casings were also found in the house. These shell casings were examined by the FBI Laboratory and it was found that they had been fired from a .38 caliber snub nose Smith & Wesson revolver in Hall's possession at the time of his arrest. The FBI Laboratory also ascertained that a lead bullet recovered from a rubber floor mat in the Plymouth station wagon owned by Bonnie Heady was also fired from Hall's .38 caliber revolver. The Judgement On October 30, 1953, Carl Hall and Bonnie Heady appeared before Judge Albert L. Reeves in federal court in Kansas City, Missouri, at which time they entered pleas of guilty to the indictment. On November 19, 1953, after hearing the evidence, a jury in the federal court in Kansas City, Missouri, recommended the death penalty after only an hour and eight minutes of deliberations. Fifteen minutes after the verdict was announced, Judge Reeves sentenced both of them to be executed on December 18, 1953. Judge Reeves said, "I think the verdict fits the evidence. It is the most coldblooded, brutal murder I have ever tried." Carl Austin Hall and Bonnie Emily Heady were executed together in Missouri's lethal gas chamber at the State Penitentiary, Jefferson City, Missouri, on December 18, 1953. Hall was pronounced dead at 12:12 a.m., and Bonnie Heady was pronounced dead 20 seconds later. Over half of the $600,000 was never found. FBI investigation established that the two suitcases which reportedly contained the ransom money, and which were in Hall's possession at the time of his arrest, were not brought to the 11th District Precinct Station as testified by the arresting officers, Lieutenant Louis Ira Shoulders and Patrolman Elmer Dolan. Both officers were subsequently federally indicted for perjury. Lieutenant Shoulders was convicted on April 15, 1954 and sentenced to three years in prison, and patrolman Dolan was convicted on March 31, 1954 and sentenced to two years. After they were released from prison, both returned to the St. Louis area. Shoulders died on May 12, 1962. Dolan received a full pardon from President Johnson on July 21, 1965.

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Col Crisp by L. A. Little

No one around Crisp Lake ever knew exactly what the name of the lake really was.  Some said Criss, some said Crisp, while others said nothing at all.  There was the Lake Association or the Hutchinson Park Association, no one could really agree even on that but you had to pay $10 a year to belong regardless of the name.  No one but the residents could swim in the lake or join the association but if one had a "pass" from an official lake resident entry was free to anyone.  Well perhaps not anyone this was prior to 1964.  Many people from outside the neighborhood use to walk up and down Lake Drive asking for passes so they could swim. 
To confuse the issue even more there was a smaller lake behind the railroad track embankment that was called Little Criss or Crisp. It was a dismal looking affair surrounded by woods and green slimmy stuff resting on the water. Even the most daring of the young didn't venture over there often and if they did they never went alone.
Well the matter of Criss and Crisp was settled finally by some enterprising researchers but that still left in question where did the Crisp come from.  Well thanks to L. A. Little and her blog site, she has informed us all.  I contacted Ms Little and she gave me permission to use an excerpt from her blog.  The following has nothing to do with The Adventures of Conley McAnally other than Crisp Lake is the back drop of Crisp Lake Chronicles.  If you get a chance punch in Ms Little's blog, there is all sorts of interesting local history just for the reading.




By:  L. A. Little of Independence

Forty years after the Emancipation Proclamation gave slaves their freedom, there were some (but not all) white people who absolutely refused to accept the idea of racial equality. One of these was Confederate Colonel John T. Crisp, a Jackson County politician whose career went as far as the Missouri Legislature.

His mission in 1903 was championing a bill keeping African Americans off of railroad cars that white people would be riding on. The Rising Son did not take kindly to Colonel Crisps ideas. They rallied protest through their paper. Among the editorials on the issue they stated:

"...The men of Crisp's calibre can give no plausible cause or demand for such a law. It is only the hateful animosity ranking in the hearts of a few men like the author of the bill that have a desire to crush the Colored man; to impose upon his manhood and to curtail the few public accommodations he has. The broad-minded white man is perfectly willing that we be left to the enjoyment of a few of the civil and personal rights left us in Missouri. The Democratic legislature cannot afford to pass the Jim Crow law."

The "Jim Crow Car" bill made it out of committee in the Democratic-led Missouri House on February 17 of that year (this was back when the Democrats were outspoken racists and the party of Lincoln was considered "the friend of the Negro"). Among the kinder things that Colonel Crisp said that day was this statement to Republicans:

"What would the Republicans do for the blacks -- amalgamate them, make them a race of mulattoes? I do not know why it is, but one drop of black blood in a hundred gallons of white blood contaminates it. It is God's way."

When put to a vote by the house, though, the Jim Crow Car bill went down by a vote of 55 for to 75 against on March 11. The Republican floor leader, O'Fallon of Holt county, reminded the legislature that the parties of African royalty coming to next year's Worlds Fair would be treated with courtesy until they got to Missouri's border. He summed up his party's sentiments by saying that white people kept the Negro in slavery for 250 years. Now that they are free, the Negroes ought not to be discouraged in their efforts to become good citizens. "I look upon this," he said, "as freak legislation. We ought not to put these people down when we could help them and should, in justice, and in expatiation of the crime of slavery, give them all the help we can." The Kansas City Times credited the bill's loss to the fact that Democrats from big cities did not want to anger their black constituents, who had been voting in large numbers in Missouri since 1869.
Colonel Crisp died the month after the Jim Crow Car bill was killed. About his death, the Rising Son said this:

"Col. John T. Crisp of Jackson County, sah, is gone. With charity for all and malice for none, we hope he is at rest. One thing we know there will be no
vaporings from him on these mundane shores, and as far as he is concerned, Jim Crow cars and Negrophobia will have a little rest. Let us look over the past and forget John T. Crisp, of Jackson County, suh!"

But the Jim Crow Car bill would come back again and again, and the struggle would be long, and the bigotry of yesteryear lives on in too many hearts today. And although there are few people around this area that can tell you a single thing about Colonel Crisp, he got the legacy of both a street and a lake named after him in Independence, while men like Lewis Woods and Harry R. Graham live on only in microfilm obscurity and the occasional footnote reference. Crisp would not be the only one to be honored for a career furthered by racial hatred. Someday I'll write about James A. Reed.

Crisp Lake Chroncles - Vol 6, 1953

Charges were dropped against Jim Francis and J.C. Mack last Tuesday by Municipal Court Judge Homer Simms.  A spokesman for Judge Simms said that as always the Judge would have no statement as to the charges in question.  However, the spokesman continued, some times charges are dropped when it is not clear what one has been charged with.

It is no secret that Jim and J.C. were taken into custody after engaging in a brawl across the street from Jim's house and just three doors down from J.C.'s.  Witnesses said that when lead off by authorities both men kept telling Deputy Sheriff Wilson that he did not understand.  Deputy Sheriff Wilson only responded for them to shut up and get in the car.

The question remains as to why these two friends and brother-in-laws were engaged in fighting.  That is the question for the neighborhood around Lake Drive and Crisp Lake but not to this reporter.  As always when there is a travesty of justice, a miscarriage of decency, or just plane interesting gossip, the CLC community can count on us being there and uncover the truth, the whole truth, and mostly resembling the truth so help us Colonel Crisp, CSA.   This is what really happened between Jim and J.C.

Jim Francis liked most of all two things.  One was his hunting dog Killer and the other was playing tricks on J.C. Mack.  J.C. Mack liked two things.  One was scrounging around the back entrances of retail stores up in Fairmount and collecting things thrown out and the other was playing tricks on Jim Francis.

Now the two men were brother-in-laws by marriage.  Their wives were sisters and the sisters did not want to live very far away from each other so only three house separated them on Lake Drive on the lake bank side of Crisp Lake.

The tricks or practical jokes were legendary around the neighborhood.  It had been three weeks since "some one" had wrapped Limburger Cheese around J.C.'s car manifold and that some one of course being Jim was waiting for the return shot.  It was taking a little bit longer than normal for J.C. to respond but respond he would, but when and where and how was getting to be a little unsettling for Jim.

One evening J.C. was scrounging around the back alley of the TG&Y up in Fairmount and he came across a female manikin.  It was in two parts, the bottom and the top.  J.C. thought that that might look funny in the lake stuck in the mud.  The top part sticking up waving its hand and next to her the bottom half with its legs stuck up in the air.  While loading the two parts into his car he notice an old hair piece that must at one time have belonged to the the manikin.  He took it for good measure.  On his way home a seed of an idea started to grow.  It took growth fertilized by the odor of Lindbergh Cheese.  It grew until it was ready for harvest.

J.C. knew Jim took his dog, Killer, down to the junk yard along the Missouri River next to Sugar Creek every Friday night.  There Killer would chase anything that would run and catch anything that didn't run fast enough.  Jim told everyone it was a way that Killer could keep his instinct's in check and not run wild in the neighborhood.  No one ever really believed Jim however because Killer didn't seem at all like the killing kind of a dog.  Dachshunds don't usually strike fear into the hearts of man or beast.  Jim's wife Eve never went with Jim but this Friday she was going because her sister three house down was going to a meeting of the  Woman's Auxiliary of the Crisp Lake Association.  Eve had not joined yet and there for not invited.  Her sister Marie urged her to join that Friday because Mrs Midget was going to bring some homemade Romanian Calzones.  But Eve declined none the less because she wanted to see what Jim and Killer did every Friday anyway.

Before going to Jim's place J.C. stopped by Mrs Midgets place to see what she was serving for the Woman's Auxiliary meeting.  He picked up a couple of Calzones and headed up the street and parked a little further down the street just in front of Jim and Eve's place.  There were no street lights so no one saw him carry the manikin inside the house.  He placed the top part of the manikin in Jim and Eve's bed with only the head protruding.  He then smeared some of the Calzone on top of the plastic head and put the wig over that.  Under the bed he slipped the bottom torso so as only to expose the legs protruding from the bed.  J.C. then moved his car back to his own driveway and headed walking, back to Jim's place with a folding chair and Calzone tucked securely under his arms.  He put the folding chair behind a bush across the street form Jim's place, sat down, unwrapped his Rumanian Calzone, ate slowly and waited.

About half way through his Calzone Jim, Eve and Killer pulled up.  Killer dashed out of the car and ran inside with Eve following close behind.  Jim was getting out of the driver side of the car and rounding the rear end when he heard Killer graul and Eve scream.  As Jim dashed up the front porch steps he first saw Killer come running out of the house with what looked like hair in his mouth and in a dead run was heading up the street.  As he was trying to fathom what was going on Eve ran out of the house with a shawl over her head screaming and running down the street in the opposite direction of Killer.  Jim was very confused.  His first instinct was to run after Eve but she was heading in the direction of her sisters so he knew that she would be safe and given proper medical attention because he had begun to think that Killer had finally shown his true nature and pulled Eve's hair off to punish her for intruding on his time with his Master.  So Jim not wanting to see Killer attack anyone else in a frenzy, went off to see if he could chase down Killer. 

Killer finally stopped running about 5 houses up the street but every time Jim would come close Killer would run one direction then another, always carrying the head of hair that was really the wig of course.   All of a sudden Killer stopped. He looked around, cocked his head and made a beeline towards the bush J.C. was hiding behind enjoying the whole show along with a number of neighbors who had congregated out side when they heard Eve screaming and Jim yelling at Killer.  Killer jumped on the back of J.C. not to harm J.C. but to get the rest of the Calzone J.C. was eating.  Apparently Killer had smelled the Calzone under the wig of the manikin and tried to eat it, not realizing that the wig was only tainted with Calzone odor.  Having a good nose like all Dachshunds he finally smelled J.C.'s Calzone and went for it. 

J.C. fell out of his chair and wrestled around with Killer, Jim saw J.C. and Killer wrestling around so Jim joined in the fray to try and separate the two.  There were elbows and legs and tails thrashing about when finally Keller was successful in snagging the Calzone away from J.C. and he and Jim could only watch in breathless irritation as Keller went off with the hair/wig and J.C.'s Calzone. 

As luck would have it Deputy Sheriff Wilson came driving down the road at the same time and wondered why all the neighbors were outside surrounding a bush.  He stopped the car and saw that Jim and J.C. were laying over one another breathless.  Jim said something about his wife being scalped and J.C. said that his Calzone had got eaten,  Eve had ventured back and yelled that there was a body in the house. 

Deputy Sheriff Wilson was a little confused so he called for back up so the situation could be sorted out.  Well it was sorted out but Deputy Sheriff Wilson thought that there must be something to charge Jim and J.C. with.   Judge Homer Simms thought that Deputy Sheriff Wilson was right but unfortunately Judge Simms told the Deputy "it ain't a crime to be stupid."

Jim and J.C. remain friends and have promised their respective wives and Judge Simms that their practical joke days are over.  We shall see, April 1st is just right around the corner.   I, your roving undercover reporter will keep you posted.    Foot note:  If any one comes across a Daschound answering to the name of Killer a $10 reward has been offered.

Rome

Appian Way - Rome

Sunday morning we got up early and went to the Pisa Terminal which was different than the one at the airport.  We were told that the train to Rome did not leave until 9:30 but we could catch one in Florence if we left immediately and it would take us there.  We did.  We got to Florence just in time to catch the train to Rome and had to run to do that.  It was a different kind of train than the one we took to Florence, it was more like the ones you see in the movies, you know like side compartments and a small hall way running down one side.  We had to split up and sit in different compartments. 

The trip took about 3 hours so along the way I walked up and down the length of the train.  I met a guy from Romania who I some how figured out was a reporter.  We didn't have a real long conversation because he couldn't understand me more than I him.  Mostly I just looked at the country side going by.  There were many farms and now and then you could see what looked like ruined castles in the distance. 

When we got to the out skirts of Rome the train stopped and we were told not to get off until the second stop if we wanted to be in the heart of Rome.  Rome Central, as they called it was much bigger and more crowed than the terminal in Florence.  We ventured outside and found a little cafe, sat and drank coffee while trying to figure out our next move.  No one thought about getting a map or anything so we just started walking in a general direction that some body in the cafe told us the Colosseum was. 

On our way we came across a lot of interesting looking landmarks and ruins but had no idea what we were looking at most of the time.  I do recall that one place I think might have been the Forum smelled like cat urine and I guess that was because I bet there were a hundred cats just lazying about.  We did see the tomb of the Italian unknown soldier and witnessed a change of guard ceremony.

We had no trouble recognizing the Colosseum of course and I was surprised they just let you walk around the place with few places being off limits.  They had some guides giving lectures to small groups but they were not in English so we just wondered around for about an hour.

We did mange to ask directions to the Vatican and ended up catching a bus that would take us there.  The bus ride was free only because when we got on it was to crowed for us to give the money to the driver who didn't seem like he cared much.

When we reached the Vatican we entered the city/country from a side entrance and a whole bunch of people were in the square looking up at this guy on a balcony.  A voice was booming over a loud speaker.  The guy was Pope John Paul II.  We had accidentally gotten there as he was giving his Sunday blessing to the faithful.

If any one regardless of his religion has any historical perspective or interest in history you had to be impressed to see one of the most powerful men in the world. After the blessing I bought a crucifix blessed by the Pope and it hangs in my house to this day.

We went on an unguided tour of St. Peters.  It was more grand and ornate than anything I had or have seen.  The Piata was near the front entrance, two weddings were going on, a group was singing and a mass was being held.  We ventured down a little stair case and saw a place where a lot of the Popes had been buried and even saw the supposed burial place of St. Peter. 

I stopped a priest on the street and asked him where the Sistine Chapel was.  He pointed it out but also told us it was closed for repairs.  I was disappointed.  That is one thing I really wanted to see.

We walked back to the train station. We crossed the Tiber River, ate in a cafe, saw another Basilica and countless other strange, interesting, and beautiful places. 

We ended up getting on the right train back to Florence some how, our trek was over.

Florence

Appian Way - Florence

Feb. 1992

After winning the bowling bet and paying for every ones ticket we left Saturday morning by train from Pisa near Camp Darby.  The train station was also near the airport.  The train ride was only one hour and when we got to Florence their central train station was extremely busy.  It reminded me of what the US train stations must have looked like back when commercial train travel was in its heyday.  Apparently most of the larger cities in Europe have train stations just as big and just as busy.  We immediately found our way to the Galleria dell' Accademia where resided Michelangelo's David.  The Galleria was sort of a small place considering the giant reputation of the statue.  There were other statues and painting and many tapestries of a religious nature.

We then ventured towards the center of town and visited a big church  known as the Duomo.  It was huge, impressive, artistic, and being used for several weddings and religious services.  I had never seen anything that large and that majestic.  Across the street was the Basilica and the best I could tell was a church smaller than a cathedral and larger than a chapel.

I went off by myself trying to find a Gucci store.  I stopped several people on the street and asked them directions.  It soon was apparent that unless I stopped middle aged well dressed people it was a waste of time.  Finally I stumbled onto enough people and in their broken English they guided me to the right place.  Sort of small and unimpressive for such a big reputation on the out side.  The inside was lavish and expensive as one would suspect.  The sales person was not very helpful and if one can look down ones nose he did.  It might have been because I was unshaven, dressed in jeans, and had a flannel shirt on and I asked him what was the cheapest thing they had in the store.  I ended up buying a key chain for $50.

I ran into the LTC and he and I shared a spot of tea and a pastry.  It cost about 17000 Lira, about $15.  This was before the Euro and the rate of exchange if I remember correctly was $1 for every 1,225 Lira  It was really something I thought to carry around L500,000 in your pocket.

We caught up with the rest of the group and went to the Medici palace I think it was and saw all kinds of painting.  We did not know what we were looking at and no doubt saw a bunch of famous paintings not realizing how famous they were.  There were two big pictures by Michelangelo and Leonard Di Venci which for some reason I recognized, probably because the plaque on the wall beside them.  They were impressive of course.  If I had been up on my art work or paid closer attention in Art Appreciation I might have had a more enriched experience.

My overall impression of Florence was that it was large but quaint, dirty but had an individual sparkle.  There were small cars and many scooters.  Many girls held hand and arms as they walked around town, a sign of friendship nothing else.  To a lesser extent men did the same thing.  Not sure about them though.

I saw men rowing on the river, saw people from all over the world with all types of dress.  I was surprised to see as many Africans as I did.  Their cultural dress were just so so, but they held themselves with dignity.  The Italians were not dressed that well but for those who did they rally stood out and smacked of money.  The men wore their coats over their shoulders without using the sleeves.

There were no bars like we know them.  There were many cafes however that sold bear, wine and liquor and coffee, ice cream always being available a log with Coke. 

I just walked around most of the day and observed and eventually made my way back to the train station and back to Pisa.  The next day would be Rome.

Log 11 - Alaska

Log 11,  Alaska

8/17/04

Gee, no entry for a long , long time.  I am in Pitka's Point. Paula stayed back to take care of the boys.  I'm alone up here and really don't like it - the part about being alone.  But that has always been one of my fantasies, to winter in the far north alone and isolated.  Well perhaps I am not that isolated there are three other white teachers, several native staff, and 120 other villagers.  Interesting place so far.

8/23/04

This last week has been spent getting ready for school.  It starts Wed the 25th.  I went for a walk after dinner tonight and found myself on the banks of the Yukon River talking to a couple who were kayaking to Nome.  I told them they could come up to the school and use the Internet to check mail.  They may come up later.

8/24/04

School starts tomorrow.  I am about as ready as I ever am.

8/26/04

School is OK.  I only have seven in the class.  A real dream job.  There are only 35 in the whole school.  The grades are K - 8, and then the kids transfer to St. Marys, about 15 miles down the one road in these parts.  There is one young man named Gabe who is very smart and one other who is funny as all get out.  The others are good kids, but there is always one with an attitude.  The problem is that his grandmother is my assistant.

8/28/04

I am the cross country coach which is stupid because I don't know the first thing about it, but some one had to do it and I am the only man on staff and the ladies did not want to.  I got a book about it and set up a practice schedule but the kids sort of come and go at will.  They don't like to practice for very long.  Their parents take them netting or hunting, or they have to baby sit.  There is always some reason.  Gabe seems to be the best.  There is a district rule that they have to practice 10 days before a meet.  To accommodate the kids I have practice on Sat and Sun, sometimes 2 per day so they can get in the required practices, gee what a nice guy I am, but it is not like I have much else to do.

8/29/04

Went to church in St Marys.  They have a Jesuit society there.

9/1/04

Got paid, $3781 clear.

10/16/04

Took Claudia, our principal-lead teacher to the airport this moring.  She is going to Anchorage for a principals meeting.  Left me in charge.  Perhaps I will call school off for the rest of the week.
                                                                           *
11-26-17

Note to reader:  For some reason I stopped keeping a log as such and have no more day to day entries to make.  Some how now and then I run across items that seem to fit this narrative and if I do I will share them with you.  

I didn't call off school that week.  I don't remember the names of the other teachers except for Claudia and I can say we were all friends but not close ones.  I had thought that that would be my last year but Paula filed for divorce when I was there and sort of left me in a financial bind.  Absence makes the heart grown fonder, but usually for some one else.  That is not really fair, she had a host of family problems  to deal with and one can only do so much.  We tried to reconcile but its is hard to do over the phone etc.  I saw her once the following year but nothing really came of it. I have not seen her since - that shipped sailed.  I came back one more year and have visited three additional times.

Deutschland Diary - Going Home, Last Entry

Sat Sept 29, 1984

We are air born.  As typical things got all screwed up before we got on the airplane.  I will not try to account for a day by day dissertation.  I will just write down those things that seem to be of some interest.

One thing I forgot to mention is that while in Rothenburg a bunch of Germans were singing in this bar we were in.  Towards the end of the song one of the men drank beer out of his shoe.  I wasn't there when he did it but when I heard about it later that evening I did not think the US should be out done.  So when they started the song again I went up to the guy , took off my shoe, poured beer into it and drank away.  He did not want to be out done so he took off his shoe and took my shoe and placed it on the table in front of us.  He poured beer into both shoes then took my shoe, gave me his shoe and started drinking out of mine, so to be polite I drank out of his shoe.

The last bivouac area we had was in a town cal Feldheim.  We were going to leave at 3:00 so about 11 a bunch of us decided to walk around town.  We were looking for something to eat.  We asked directions from a guy who spoke about as much English as we did German.  We all ended up in his house and was served food by his wife.

She brought out all sorts of meats, cheeses, roles, drinks.  We thought they were poor and just wanted to be hospitable. I told everyone to put some money under the table cloth when they were not looking.  Soon afterwords through broken English and a lot of signing we discovered that the guy owned a plumbing company, was the mayor, had four children.  One was a doctor in Canada, one taught English in England, another was and Engineer, and the other a soldier, and he and his wife had just gotten back from a trip to Russia.  We decided that the money we had stashed under the table cloth really didn't need to be there but really had no way to retrieve it.  We did want to show some personal thanks for hospitality so Dutch gave him a flash light, I gave him a knife with U.S. stamped on it, another guy gave him our unit patch.  We took their address and will send a Christmas card.  It was a very pleasant experience.  But we did wonder why he took to us so quickly and so nicely.  Come to find out he had been a prisoner of war during WWII in France and his guards were Americans.  They had treated him well.  We were the first American soldiers he had come across since his release.  He just wanted to repay the kindness shown to him.  I think he felt a little melancholy because once we were enemies and now we sat together in friendship.  He seemed touched when I gave him my knife.  It was his wife's birthday so we all sang her Happy Birthday.

 The next day we went to Tent City.  It was the Rear Assembly Area.  However like always we got lost.  We were supposed to go to a place called Heidershime, but wouldn't you know it there were two.  We went to the wrong one.  It was OK by us however.  We got to see a lot of Germany and got to eat at a regular German restaurant.

You may possibly have seen old newsreels of American GI's going through German towns standing up in the back of trucks.  Now I know why.  It was to see the towns they were passing through and the people who waved at you as you passed.  We would toss the kids candy.  One girl blew us a kiss.  I yelled out at her that I was Michael Jackson.

We finally found the right Heidershime and got settled in but of course into the wrong tent and had to move.  They had a big beer tent.  The town was off limits so naturally we went.  We visited a church, a cafe where we ate.  At the cafe over coffee we met 3 Lutheran sisters and a Lutheran minister.  He came from Nurnburg.  He said he would call Jerry's relatives.  One of the sisters was a Berliner who saw JFK when he gave his famous speech in Berlin.

Like I said earlier we are flying home.  First to Bangor, Main then to South Carolina, then to KCI.  I'll try to call from SC unless they let me off the plane in Bangor.

REFORGER is the over all name for the yearly exercise that is supposed to show the resolve of the NATO allies to defend western Europe.  Each country names it own maneuvers, the English call it Lion Heart, ours was Certain Fury.  They take war very seriously and over all I am proud to be a part. I have found that I am just as skill full in the art of artillery as some of the regulars and most of my guard counterparts are more skillful than I.  If I and my guard buddies were doing this full time we would be better than most of the regular army guys I came sccross.  I don't think that will happen, I enjoy civilian life.

Regardless we are ready.  Certain Fury means just that.  We have the knowledge, ability, and determination to the fight the Russians and if we do we will kick their ass.

Snapper/Dad - Some where over the Atlantic, heading west.  
Post Script:  I wonder if the first McAnally going west could have envisioned the mode of transportation I am using now.  I doubt it.