A Wilson Bay preview

http://www.amazon.com/Wilson-Bay-Conley-Stone-McAnally/dp/0615869785/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1383158568&sr=1-1&keywords=wilson+bay

Tales From the Crisp Lake Chronicle

The Crisp Lake Chronicle was an underground newspaper published in the early to late 1950's. It's circulation never amounted to much and the best I can determine from reading the now yellow toned pages it was a paper that printed all the news that was really unfit to print anywhere else.

Some might call it a gossip rag, others might say it was a collection of a bunch of stories that were meaningless to anyone other than the reporter, still others might say everything was made up and untrue. I on the other hand believe every word of what I read in the CLC and look at it as a little slice of Americana.

What is really strange to me is that other than my grandfather's collection there does not seem to be any record of it ever existing. The Examiner has no mention of it in its archives, the Jackson County Historical Society has no record of it among their catalog of the Inner City News, nor does the Internet give it any mention. It is like a conspiracy. It is a mystery.

So I feel it is my obligation to resurrect some of the articles and place them from time to time in my blog. Social historians will applaud me, my readers will gain some idea as to what it was like back in the 50's living in and around Fairmount, Maywood, and even Englewood but even more so on Crisp Lake proper, and some might even be offended if they have a thin skin about their ancestors.

The big mystery however is that in all the papers I have perused so far there is not the slightest mention of who the reporter was or who actually was the publisher or distributor.

The few old timers left in the old neighborhood claim they have no knowledge of the publication and change the subject when questioned about an event that was claimed to have happened.

My grandfather left a note on the outside of the box the papers were in that said not to open until 40 years after his death. A note in side the box, just opened recently, says that anyone reading the contents could do anything they wanted with the information contained in the CLC because most of the people mentioned would be dead or to old to read anyway.

First edition coming soon.

Wilson Bay

The following is the most recently published book.  If you get the time and have the money buy one through Amazon.com.   If you don't have the money get in touch with me and we can work something out


.http://www.amazon.com/Wilson-Bay-Conley-Stone-McAnally/dp/0615869785/ref

A'Natural Sport

The follwoing is taken directly from the pages of the Devere Weekly.  The reporter asked that his named not be used for fear on not being able to enter O'Brian's Black and Tan ever again.

What follows may seem a little delicate to report but it is the job of all reporters to state the truth as they see it and let the chips fall where they may.  However it is also their duty to warn the reader that if they are of a sensitive nature or get easily offended that they should stop now.  Also if you are not of a mature age and on the front side of puberty it best you stop now unless you have the permission of your parents to continue. 

Mrs. Francis Huggins read an article in the Belfast  Monthly that described a nude bathing area that was becoming the rage in Yugoslavia.  She wondered to herself if that was one reason the people in Raymore County, most of Slavic decent, did not usually associate with those living in Devere in general and Lake Donnie Man in particular do to our areas supposed modesity. She had no proof of such but the thought was intriguing.  So intriguing was the thought that she suggested to the  Lake Donnie Man's Woman’s Auxiliary if they would be interested in developing such a place around Devere

where people could sun bathe in the nude.

At first the women were not really keen on the idea but Mrs. Huggins explained it would be only women or only men and not naturally at the same time.  She then showed the article she had read to the women and with the few pictures that were present in the article the women got as intrigued as Mrs. Huggins.

A delegation met with the Devere City Council and the suggestion was made that if they would build a privacy fence around Mrs. Sullivan’s, president of the Auxiliary, back yard it would be a healthy benefit to the neighborhood.  Being nude she said in an outdoor atmosphere was beneficial to ones health with all the vitamin D the sun provided all over the body.  The Council readily agreed and saw the wisdom of the attire affair.  The fence was built in record time after receiving a pledge from Mrs. Sullivan that she would keep her blinds closed when it was the men’s turn to use the sun bathing facility.

It was decided that since it was a woman’s idea, that the women should be the first ones to use the facility.  The day came and many women from Devere and Lake Donnie Man

showed up.  At first there seemed to be a little timidity in taking off their clothes but one by one the garments were discarded and the ladies lounged around on chairs, hammocks, and blankets.  Eventually they all decided to play volley ball.  It was then that strange sounds began to be heard from Mrs. Sullivan’s backyard.  There were deep sounding vocalizations of “Boom, Boom” and then sounds less than a big Boom all the way up to small little “Peep, Peep.”

The men kept their promise and did not try and look in on the women in fear they would see their mother, sisters, or daughters naked.  They even prevented Morris Applegate, an 80 year old vet of the Banshe War, from climbing a tree to find out what all the Booming and Peeping was about.  It was very perplexing to all.  This investagative found out.

The ladies on the west side of town had challenged the ladies on the east side of the town to a volley ball game.  Everyone was naked of course so when the ladies would jump up and spike the ball the audience would make the sound of a boom or a peep or somewhere in-between depending on the size of the player’s breasts.  The bigger the breast the deeper and louder the chant from the crowd would be.  The smaller the bosom the higher and softer the response from the crowd.  The ladies found this very amusing among themselves and felt no embarrassment or shyness in all the bouncing bosoms and the subsequent noises that followed.  A good time was had by all.

A couple of days later it was the men’s turn.  They were a little shyer about discarding their clothes than the women had been but eventually got with the program.  They felt a little awkward just lying about so they started playing croquet but stopped because they could not hit the ball just right given the impediments associated with the between the legs swing necessary for excellent performance.  They then thought about wrestling but immediately dismissed that idea for the obvious reasons.  There was a net still up, so bad mitten was tried but there was one to many careless swings and the term shuttlecock took on a different meaning altogether.  Eventually a volleyball materialized from over the fence, no one knowing who through it over, and like the women the east side challenged the west side.

The women reported later that they did not know who played volleyball.  Several of the women were sure that their husbands did not play because they only heard a lot of “Boom, Booms” and no “peep peeps.”

Ducks Unlimited

Our Emerald Isle – Ducks Unlimited “So you see gents, when the ice freezes over only the power of the polar bear or man using tools can break through and survive.” I was just finishing up regaling once again the throngs that hung on everyone word of my stories about the Last Frontier while indulging in their quarts and pints at our pup in Devere. What a great job I had even if I did have to bartend that evening. Brian was off visiting some lady friend of his in Dublin that showed up unexpectedly from the states and of course Traci was at the library studying Irish literature she claimed. Bev and Ray the Raven along with Abdul where in the kitchen conjuring up a bisque recipe that can be made from sea weed or so Abdul claims. Everyone seemed very impressed with my yarn except of O’Shannasey. He just stooped over his pint and ignored the whole story. Although he was the only one, it did stick in by craw a little. I said, “O’Shannasey, you don’t believe my story? ‘tis the truth, I swear by the Ferries of Banshee County.” “Oh, I believe you mate, it is just that I am not that impressed. I think you are making a bigger deal out of it than it deserves. I mean it is fine thing to do to break the ice up for various reason but unless you are saving a life like that of a whale or changing the contour of geography for the better than it is of little consequence. I mean at least here in O’Malley County when we did have a cold spell nature and man got together and literally changed the world. Or at least that part of the world that affected Mallard County just three counties over.” So said O’Shannasey as he went back to bending over his pint. Ok, I thought now this is a story I have to hear. “OK, O’Shannasey, you won, let me hear your story and yes, yes I know it will cost me a pint.” O’Shannasey didn’t move. “OK, Ok, make it a quart.” “Well,” O’Shannasey began, “It was the best duck season anyone could remember. The ducks seemed to land on our lake just west of here out side of town by the thousand.” “Wait a minute O’Shannasey, there is not lake on the outskirts of town except Lake Donnie Mann and that is east not west.” O’Shannasey: “You want me to finish this story or not? ( I kept quiet) Like I was saying ducks were numerous but then the game warden showed up and he told us that we could not shoot the ducks anymore this year and had to wait till the following year. He said it had to do with conservation and to insure that there would be ducks for our children’s children to enjoy. “One of the boys thought that since it was sort of a fluke that the ducks came here this summer in so many numbers why didn’t we make sure they come back next summer in fact why not fix it up so that they don’t even leave. We had a bumper crop of corn so if we just kept feeding them and provide some hay for them to nest in why would they have to leave at all. Seemed logical to all of us meaning us the duck hunters. “So around September we started feeding the ducks corn, bread scarps and any eatable thing we thought a duck might like. They seemed to like everything especially fried green tomatoes for some reason. “Because the ducks swam around in a circle a lot the water didn’t freeze like most winters. The kids were a little miffed to lose their ice skating place but they had little to say about it. But then it happened, it was around February I believe. It was a freak of nature. It was one of those things that animal evolution is made of. It was something that just can’t be explained but happened none the less. A bitter cold spell hit, the temperature dropped to a record level so quickly that the ice froze solid instantly. Water freezes faster than animal tissue so the ducks were trapped in the water, now ice, and the only thing they could move were beaks, necks and wings. The several thousand ducks through instincts I guess all started squawking and flapping their wings. They knew if they did not move out of the area they would freeze to death. As if they all had one mind, the flapping of wings became more intense and frenzied that the whole frozen lake rose as one block of ice and carried three counties away by the flapping ducks were it was warmer and the ice just melted off the duck’s legs and dropped into an area of Mallard County that needed the water to irrigate their newly planted cherry orchards. “Unfortunately the ducks never returned in such numbers again, being no lake they were interest in you see or perhaps they were just terrified and didn’t want to take a chance of history repeating itself.” I drew another quart for O’Shannasey. I knew when I had been defeated.

Our Emerald Isle - Legacy

Our Emerald Isle – Legacy

 

Inheriting a lot of money is an awesome responsibility.  I was not taking it lightly.  Of course I did not know for certain how much I would be receiving but I expected it would be several million.  I was bound and determine not to let the windfall change me or my way of life.  A trip now and then, perhaps a new car, an Italian handmade suit, Gucci shoes, catered meals, you know just the necessities of life.

 

Brian and Traci were not as fortunate as I because they would have to share the portion Doris would leave them.  They were not overly upset of course but their needs would have to be scaled back and could only be half of mine.  My mother had another son by a former marriage but he was pretty well off and while I am not a pauper my assets do not match his.  He probably would not care if mom’s cut of the three way pie were just given to me.  Marsha had a daughter, Rene’ who would get Marshas’s share.  So everything was as it should be.  It never occurred to us that perhaps our mother’s and Marsha had plans of their own that may not have included indulging their children that really didn’t need anything anyway.

 

All of us scampered around to bring the pub up to standards that our mother’s ( Marsha included in the term mother because she had been part of our lives for over 30 years) would approve.  It wasn’t so much Brian and I that cared but Traci and Bev did want to show the mom’s that their boys were being well taken care of, a woman daughter wife mother thing I guess.  Anyway the place sparkled, all was where it should be, nothing out of place.

 

They arrived promptly at three like they said they would.  It was great to see them and they were just as glad to see us and were really impressed with what we had done with Devere’s Pub.  We chatted about this that and then another but nothing of any consequence, meaning inheritance, was brought up, but that was OK, we really enjoyed ourselves and for short periods forgot when the grand announcement would take place and what the particulars would be. They were enchanted by Ray the Raven and thought Abdul was a nice guy after they found out he was not a Muslim but a Baptist as proved by his wearing of an Irish Baptist Convention name tag. 

 

After dinner that night Doris was the one who broached the subject.

 

Doris:  Well you all might want to know the particulars that found us, the three of us visiting all of you and partaking in such a lovely Italian meal.  We three won the  Lottery of sorts.

 

I guess I was the first one to pick up on the words “of sorts.”  What do you mean by “of sorts” Doris?

 

Marsha:  Well let me answer that.  I had gone to Oklahoma for a church convention and stopped by to see Doris.  We chatted and decided that it had been years since we had seen the Grand Canyon and decided to drive out that direction.  When we got to the Arizona state line I mentioned to Doris that the last time I had been in Arizona was when your Dad and I stopped in Tucson on our way to California and looked your mother up, Snapper -  Jan.  Doris always the adventurer said she had met Jan a couple of times and why don’t they just change plans a little and drop down to Tucson and say hello.  Who knows, Doris said, Jan may want to go to the Grand Canyon also.

 

Jan:  So they did.  I must admit I was very shocked because I had not seen either one of them since that time at Mama’s house when all three of us where there for one reason or another and Ted was helping Rene’s boy friend fix his car or something.  I thought it very funny to see Ted so uncomfortable.

 

Doris:  I thought so also.

 

Marsha:  Me to but I wasn’t about to say anything because I had to go home with him that night.

 

“Well,” I said “I remember that also, but how did you win the lottery?”

 

 Brian, Traci, Bev and I were finally told the story.  Although all three women told different parts of the story at different times and sometimes and the same time, let me try to consolidate it for brevity sakes.  

 

Doris, Marsha, or Jan:

 

“We talked about what we all had been doing and who perhaps we had been doing it with, just girl talk.  Then we talked about all the kids and grandkids and as you might suspect we talked about Ted.  It was funny that we all had similar stories about our lives with him but there was just enough difference in every ones age and his at the time we were together, that he was a different man when we each new him.  But there was a continuity that made things very similar when in came to his basic personality.  Places and times change but people don’t, or at least not a whole lot.   Now we are not here to talk about all that.  That was then and this is now.  For one reason or another we decided to buy a lottery ticket, you know just for fun.  We thought about just getting an automatic pick but decided to pick the dates of our children’s birth days.  However we were two numbers short.  So we picked Ted’s birthday  and the date we bought the ticket.

 

Well we hit five out of six numbers, the date we bought the ticket was the one we missed.  So instead of the multi million we only won $50,000.00 a piece after taxes.  

 

We decided we would all take a round the world trip and thought what a better place to start than visiting the kids in Ireland.  We will leave here tomorrow, for Dublin, then Belfast.  Then on to London, Pairs, Rome, Berlin, Istanbul, New Deli, Hong Kong, Tokyo, Anchorage, and San Francisco.  Jan will go back to Arizona, Doris to Okalahoma, and Marsha to Kansas City.  If we are real lucky we will have spent all the money by the time we get home.

 

“ I think it is about time to go to bed now, we leave tomorrow morning and have a busy schedule ahead of us as you can see.”

 

Well as you can tell my Gucci stuff was a thing of the past, but I really didn’t care.  It was nice to see them altogether and happy.

 

I suspect Brian and Traci felt the way I did.  For me it might have been a little deeper feeling because I knew all three where as they had only known two.   Here they were three women off on the adventure of their lives all of which I knew at different times in my life and theirs and Dad’s, and in ways that may seem hard to explain, loved everyone of them and still do.  You love many different people in life for many different reasons.  Each had done something special for me.  They may not remember some of the kindness they displayed when I needed it the most, but I do.  I have a good memory and a long one.

 

That night Bev asked me if I thought it strange that Dad’s ex wives seemed to be friends “of sorts,” or at least comfortable and compatible with one another. “ No, not really.” was my reply.  “What is it they have in common then?” Bev asked.  “They all married Dad,”  I said.

 

 

Our Emerald Isle - Lotto Luck

O'Brian's Black and Tan
Our Emerald Isle – Jackpot

Diary Entry

Many of us have fantasized on what we would do if we were to win the Big One.  I mean the one that would set up your family for generations to come.  I mean the one that would provide your grandchildren’s grandchildren with more money than they knew what to do with.  I don’t know what that amount would have to be but I am sure that lottery officials could send me in a direction to find out.  But such is my luck, the lottery numbers never seem to fall my way, well not directly anyway.

The National Enquirer is not the type of newspaper you should probably base a lot of your knowledge about world affairs unless you have a desire to keep up with Elvis and UFO sightings or alien abductions of the third kind.  I never read such trash and feel far superior to those who do.  However now and then a headline appears that is so sensational that one has to stop and ponder the possibilities. Abdul reads the Enquirer every week and when done throws it in the trash.  I just sort of happen to notice it is there every Saturday afternoon at three o’clock right behind the garbage container near the corner of our back ally in the white plastic container drawn tightly with a yellow bow.  Pure coincidence you see.

The headline read “Three Women Share in Power Ball.”  The sub headline stated “All were married to the same man.”   Well that is certainly enough to get one’s attention if one has not much to do while dumpster diving.  The first line of the article gave me a little shortness of breath.  “The ladies, which live in Missouri, Oklahoma, and Airzona are scheduled to meet with lottery officials in Des Monies, IA soon.”  Now what are the odds I asked.  They are the same states Jan, (Dad’s first wife,) Doris, (Dad’s second wife,) and Marsha (Dad’s third and last wife) live in.  Nah, it cannot happen the odds are too great. 

I went back in the pub and poured my self a cup of tea.  Brian came in and I casually asked him if he or Traci had spoken to their mom (Doris) lately?  No he said, had I talked to my mother (Jan) Brian asked? No not for a week or so I replied.  Traci walked in poured herself a cup of coffee.  I asked if Traci had spoken to Marsha (step mother to all) lately?  No she replied. 

I sort of chuckled to myself and said listen to this, and quoted the article the best I could.  They laughed along with me.  Bev came out of the kitchen wondering what was so humorous.  After relating the story I had read in the Enquirer Bev saw the outlandishness of the possibilities.  “Besides,” Bev said, “Don’t you think one of them would have called us by now.” 

Just then Abdul  came through the front door with a Western Union Telegram. “I got this message yesterday.  Sorry, I forgot to give it to you.” 

The telegram read: “Are arriving by three o’clock cart Tuesday stop Interesting news stop prepare three rooms stop Hope there is room at the inn stop Marsha.”  We had two days to get ready, for what I was not certain.