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.