required to rebuild the home and following my parents hospital discharge I brought them back to Washington where they spent another couple of weeks with the North's for R & R. One of my former patient's, Mr. Norman K. Haig a VP for Government relations of the General Motors Corp. and voluntarily contacted me and purchased a new Pontiac "off the line" in Dearborn and was chauffeured in it for delivery in Washington; only one notable example of the kindly response of many individuals throughout the country to the Arkansas tragedy. In turn, to partially reward Eddie Roy Hampton for his unfailing assistance and care I arranged for him to come to Washington ostensibly to chauffeur my parents back to Judsonia..
In this endeavor, however, the ugly head of racism made an unexpected, vile appearance. I decided one evening to demonstrate the night life and entertaining features of the Glen Echo Amusement Park to Eddie and my parents. The park was Washington's closest analogy to Coney Island with permanently covered carousel, swimming pool, dance floor and band, roller coaster, Ferris Wheel, whip and the usual array of "side shows" and games with kewpie doll prizes, etc.
To my utter surprise and consternation we had barely walked into the grounds of the park when we were completely surrounded by 6 or 8 "rednecks" who made it physically and vocally apparent that we were personae non grata because Eddie was a black. Nothing had been further from my thoughts, and no one in the family would have subjected Eddie to such behavioral expressions, embarrassment, or humiliation for anything... hurriedly I led all of us back to the car in which we departed, happy to escape with only words being exchanged. I was mortified by embarrassment and even more chagrined when Eddie quickly assumed the blame for being Black attempting to spare us. Such was the racial climate in America in those days. Eddie safely and uneventfully drove the parents back to Arkansas over the next two days, but it provided another human blemish and unwelcome experience which I've never forgotten.
Saturdays in Judsonia were marked by the rural folk and their families coming into town to shop, sell, visit the blacksmith shop, and reputedly obtain some refreshments at Frank Rudd's still on the northwest side of town. Alcohol was outlawed, but only those who passed out or otherwise became public nuisances were treated to a night or two in the tiny local jail. Means by which to determine alcohol levels were unknown.
The wagons transporting these farm folk were pulled by teams of mules and were clustered and hitched to a cable extending across the south border of the city park, adjacent to Waggoner's grocery and feed store. Every week or so unscheduled entertainment would be provided briefly by a runaway team, usually with its owner in hot pursuit and up to an hour might be required to catch, calm, and settle again in the hitching area. Rarely did anyone seem to be injured. Stun guns and similar paraphernalia were non-existent and unknown. The southeast side of the park contained a dirt croquet court which was utilized almost continuously during the day by adult men weather permitting and provided for a ring side perspective of the happenings. The competition was vigorous and spirited and usually congenial.
The city park was also the scene and site of big holiday picnics on the fourth of July and other occasions. In my early years a sheltered bandshell was located in the center of the park where concerts were performed. The bandshell was replaced during the depression by a rock veneer Community Hall, but an improvised wooden platform was provided for some music and political speeches.
Some 3 1/2 blocks to the north, also on the East side of Judson Ave. which served as U.S. highway 64 & 67, were located [ this sentence doesn't seem to be completed ...]
The first and second grades were housed in a one room, single frame building on a northeast corner and presided over for years by Miss Maude Dunn who "started" scores of young Judsonians, myself included, upon their formal education. She meritoriously established her own dynasty, essentially unchallenged. Miss Maude was very strict and an excellent teacher. She was a member of the family running the Elliott Hotel which attracted migrant jobbers for both room and board. She was a busy lady and greatly appreciated. If any of we children went home from school having been reprimanded or punished by her for any infraction it was with the knowledge that additional reckoning would be forthcoming at home. I recall thinking for some years that it was easier for girls to be quiet than boys, but couldn't fathom why (and it continues to elude me.) The first graders occupied the "right half" of the room and 2nd graders the left. Because this building was slightly remote from the square two story brick building on the west side of the large school grounds and housed the remaining grades through high school until the late 1930's the play ground was largely used only by first and second graders , also supervised by "Miss Maude". When the main building was enlarged eastward in the late 1930's by the addition of two additional stories and a basement, the latter housing locker rooms for the athletic teams and several additional classrooms; this was about the same time a wooden gymnasium was constructed between the high school and Miss Maud's domain, functionally replacing a standard sized dirt basketball court that lay to the south of the main school building. This "Gym" became the site of several basketball tournaments as well as serving as the main high school auditorium and was the site of numerous exciting regular contests during the exciting JHS years of 1939 thru 1941.
A one room school for the local black children for all grades was maintained in the "depot section" of town and Rev. Professor Brewer taught all students but attendance was spotty, more a reflection on the parents, I believed, than the aptitude of the students.
Outdoor red brick privies separate for boys and girls were near the east boundary of the schoolyard with a large playground between them and the main building, and sometimes displayed vulgar graffiti. They were replaced by "indoor facilities" at the same time the school was supplemented by the gymnasium with indoor full scale basketball court. My father was mayor and president of the school board when this occurred. I recall Dad witnessing the delivery of an upright piano for the gym by Mr. J. S. Pope, owner of a music store in Searcy delivered and unloaded from a truck without assistance on his 90th birthday. Subsequently he utilized a photograph of the incident for publicity purposes.
Electricity was also scarce and primitive in nature and remained so until sometime following the Rural Electrification Act. Illumination in my grandmother's house was principally by coal oil lamps until about 1929-1930 when Mona, Bud and mother pooled resources at Christmas and had several hanging bulb outlets and a sparse number of electrical plugs installed, but the coal oil lamps never totally disappeared during her lifetime. The road to Highway 67 N. formed the west campus boundary running northward to "Woods curve" and then onward to Bald Knob, Memphis, Russell, Bradford, etc.
"Wild West" movies were a standard fare on Saturday's but one Saturday afternoon in the 1930's we were exposed to a live episode in which one Frank Scott who lived about a block north of the park apparently under the influence of a week-end toddy and became "mean". He was accosted by the town marshal, Homer McCauley; a quarrel and shouting match ensued. Frank heatedly went home; returned with a shotgun, and proceeded to shoot Homer who fell upon the curb on the east side of the street just north of the Roth's butcher shop and meat market. A cautious crowd had gathered observing the distraction, and began verbally to negotiate with Frank to allow them to "tend to Homer". He refused for what seemed to be some ten to twenty minutes, menacing those close-by with his shotgun which he had prominently reloaded. Finally, however, he verbalized that he would allow "Doc Felts" to come and check on Homer. The site was only a half block across from the drug store and office and a number of the audience promptly delivered the message to Dad who picked up his hat and was about to walk up to the scene. I was with dad, and terrified of the prospect of a "town drunk" and his gun confronting him, and initiated my own wailing scene of "I don't want you to go". Dad paused sufficiently to attempt to reassure me that he would be o.k. and was the most appropriate and obligated person to assess Homer's condition. By the time he had delivered this message, however, several of the men had "jumped" Frank, overpowered him, escorted him none too gently to the town jail, and carried Homer to Dad's office. Homer had been pelted with buckshot, and the injuries were only superficial but painful. But Homer got considerable mileage from it for months. All of which illustrates that one could never predict what Saturday's might bring forth, and that some of the action depicted in the western movies obviously had some occasional basis in reality!
For three or four summers during the active berry season I was employed part-time as the delivery boy for the Western Union Telegraph Company which was housed in the Missouri-Pacific Railroad depot. One of my qualifications was in owning a bicycle upon which I could ride across either the "upper or lower" dump from the depot which housed the telegraph station into town where most of the addressees (primarily railroad car-load berry purchasers) were located. The trip one way would take some 15 to 30 minutes, and I recall a couple of the "from out of town" buyers complaining that it took too long. But, I was the only delivery boy and the low volume of messages could not justify more. The shorter distance "upper dump" took the longest time to traverse because it was a dirt/mud road while the lower dump at least had a concrete sidewalk upon which I could pedal fairly easily. I received something like 15 cents per hour; and rarely a dime tip from the recipient of the telegram. Picking berries usually generated no more than three cents per quart and in some years only 1 1/2.. Some problems were encountered with Western Union because I was "under age" to be paid legally under the Social Security act which had been enacted early in Roosevelt's presidency, but the telegram volume was low and they finally just ignored the issue.
While awaiting arrival of the next telegram for delivery I would sometimes be allowed to "flag" a passenger train if there was a passenger to be boarded. [The flag consisted of an approximate 18" square of white cloth secured to a short pole or stick, and when the engine of the train came into sight I would position myself in the middle of the tracks and vigorously wave the flag back and forth. The engineer would acknowledge it by two short toots of the whistle. We also had a red flag but it was reserved for emergency, danger signals to the engineer and rarely needed.] Some of the RR supervisors became very annoyed with stopping a train for a 10 cent customer to ride the three miles to the next town (Kensett); "stopping a $25 train for a 10 cent customer". The Judsonia depot like all others of that day was segregated and a busy place during berry season for the shipping shed was 1 to 2 blocks north of the depot station, and the Railway express cars had to be "iced" with multiple 100 lb. blocks by the local ice factory before berries could be loaded for the several hundred mile trip north. I recall one season when over 100 express car loads of Judsonia berries were shipped with appropriate pictures taken of the 100th car and dignitaries. Mr. J. H. Graves was the station master and telegrapher in those years, and he was very knowledgable, efficient and pleasant in carrying out his job. The Railway Express agent was Mr. Dinwiddie. Mr Graves' wife, Gladys, a daughter of Dr. and Mrs. Woodyard was my piano and voice teacher.
The first Christmas which I recall was at age 3 (1926). I had been housebound for ten days or so with pertussis (whooping cough). A 2-3" snow fell on Christmas eve, and dad carried me from my maternal grandmother's home (three houses south) to the First Baptist Church. The "Home Talent Approach" was highly utilized in those years for most public events, including church services), and all youngsters were encouraged (expected) to participate. This date was no exception, and I was guided to front and center of the church stage at the appropriate time where I sang "Away in a Manger" as taught and repetitively rehearsed at home for several weeks in advance to my mother's accompaniment. I also had memorized and recited "The Night Before Christmas". I'll never know the success or lack thereof of my performance; everything we kids were assigned to do was always regarded in our presence as well done and actively commended.
A large cedar tree had been decorated for Christmas on stage over the Baptistry (no electric Christmas lights at that time). To my great delight following the performances it evolved that Santa had left me a small green metal car -- with pedals --by which I could propel myself in short order. However, some time thereafter I developed a retrospective "guilt" awareness because the car represented a substantial present in the eyes of we kids; while the great depression had not yet begun, I was conscious that other children had failed to receive a present of comparable significance. It was a revelation I did not forget.
Entry to the First Grade, was a major step. A one room wooden frame school house on the north east corner of the combined grammar and high school grounds was devoted to the first and second grades and sternly presiding over by Miss Maude Dunn, a legend for a half century and beyond when she finally retired. One method of bragging for years was that "I went to Miss Maude." She was an early source of discipline enforcement outside the home. If we talked to someone, or turned at our desks to look behind -- and were caught--, we boys had to spend the next thirty minutes wearing a fancy girls hat or cap bedecked with ribbons and lace (and they all seemed to wear them in those days; complete with ribbons!) and some similar but now forgotten indignity was meted out to the girls. The embarrassment this stimulated seemed unbearable.
Because this building was remote on the school grounds from the large building, our play ground was largely used only by ourselves, and Miss Maude supervised our activities there, too. She was very strict but fair and just, and an excellent teacher. She also was a member of the family owning and running the town's Elliott Hotel which attracted the migrant jobbers for both room and board. She was a busy lady and greatly appreciated by the townspeople. If any of us went home after school having been punished by her for any type of infraction it was with the knowledge that some additional reckoning would be forthcoming at home. I recall thinking for years that it was easier somehow for girls to be quiet in school than for we boys, and couldn't fathom why. (and it continues to elude me).
The Drug Store/Doctor's office was one of the town's focal points for the "loafers"; especially in the evenings and on Saturdays. Wooden benches on the outside front (under a shed cover) were popular in the summer, and an annoying target for "whittlers" during summer months, and a coal stove in the medium rear of the store was the attraction in colder part of the year. Lots of tales were spun in both locales, and hunting and fishing experience and exaggerations were among them. Dad and his partner, Dr. W.H.L. Woodyard initially had occupied a frame building adjacent to the J. C. Rhew general store, but before I was old enough to start school they'd moved into a frame building just across a vacant lot from the original office which served also as a drug store. Vernon Huntley became the manager, a position he continued to occupy until he became caught up by World War II. In those years most doctors dispensed their own medications, often charging only for them in lieu of the physician's service. APC'S [aspirin, phenacetin, and caffeine], was widely prescribed for pain and/or fever came in three colors, white, green and pink. Although chemically and quantitively identical all had their followers and those accustomed to one color resisted substitution of the others, swearing that their specific color "just works better". My first introduction to the practical world of placebo effect.
Hospitals were scarce; the nearest was in Searcy, six miles away, and the only two there were proprietary. People went to them chiefly for necessary operations, very serious illnesses and/or to die. The latter was not infrequent due to infections, especially pneumonia in the winter. I recall many "railroad workers", middle-aged men, being afflicted after working long hours exposed to rain and cold. The latter was highly suggestive of immunologic exhaustion following the exposure with inability of the body to muster sufficient antibodies to prevent infection, but of course I didn't know that at the time. It was only in the 1930's the sulfa drugs came into use, and I recall the villagers expressing opinions about how good Dr. Felts' is in treating pneumonia. He spent the night with many patients over those years sitting with them "through their crisis", a physiologic phenomenon of which most of today's young doctors/students have never witnessed. With current antibiotics patients rarely experience it anymore, thank goodness.... Penicillin appeared about 1941-42 but was so scarce that in the University Hospital we saved the urine from the pediatric patients to whom it was administered to allow it to be reclaimed so it could be re-administered. It too was a miraculous discovery.
Dad made hundreds, probably thousands, of "house calls". Some were in town but most were in the adjacent countryside, where many of the homes were inaccessible even when utilizing graveled roads. In my youngest years he had a buggy with horse; could unhook the latter and ride it into the backwoods or "bottoms", as delta land was called. Later the model T Ford replaced the buggy and when it was unable to access the destination site the family members or friends would meet him and a stipulated spot and take him either by wagon or horseback on to the home. If a woman was in full labor he remained for the duration, sometimes being gone for 18 to 30 hours "on the case". It was a hard life, but one he found gratifying and about which never expressed regret.
The "drug store" had a fountain with Coca Cola, cherry sodas, some ice cream and infrequent milk shakes/malts/sundaes. It became a burden as a relatively low profit center (although not so designated in those years), and was gradually abandoned before I was large enough to make my own drinks or other specialties. Games of dominos and checkers were frequent. I have wondered whether or not anticipation of my discovery and propensity for free-loading provided a major motivation to its abandonment. In the late 1930's slabs of marble from the old fountain were cut for fronting and hearths for two fireplaces in our home. (They are still in situ having survived the tornado of 1952.) The store also featured a ceiling fan about midway of the front chamber with sofa, a couple of old soda tables and chairs beneath, another favorite indoor meeting and loafing site during summer months.
Dr. Woodyard eased into retirement during the late 1930's and early 40's. He and Mrs. Woodyard lived in the north end of town, on the "main drag" known as Judson Avenue, but south of the school grounds and on the west side of the street. The distance was about 5 short blocks from his home to the office/ drug store, and the latter was adjacent on the south side to the Farmers and Merchant's Bank where he dependably appeared daily as it's President. Dr. & Mrs. Woodyard raised their four children in Judsonia -- three daughters (Jessie, Gladys, and Gypsy) and one son (Billy). They were of my mother's vintage. Dr. Woodyard commuted from home to bank, for many years in a black Model A Ford coupe. He was an avid
Democrat whereas Dad was a Republican. Their long association and friendship did not necessarily extend to philosophic political tolerance. I can recall an election day where several dozen