As I was reminiscing about growing up in Alexandria, so many former businesses came to mind. Now, going down Alex's Main Street there isn't much left to see -- certainly not many businesses left from years ago. This probably won't hold the attention of my kids so well, but Pat and my brothers will relate. And hopefully they can correct any errors in my memory.
A couple businesses are still in familiar locations. Security State Bank still anchors its corner of Main Street. I barely recall the old Security State Bank building which, I believe, burned down the night before Jim's motorcycle accident (in 1965?). My recollection of those events is quite sketchy, but I seem to recall we were fishing at Lake Hanson when we learned of Jim's accident, and then I spent the next night or two staying with the Mohrs in Emery while the folks went to Jim's bed side. Security State Bank, of course, was rebuilt in the same location with its modern, one-story building it still occupies today.
The Alexandria Herald also still stands in its familiar location on Main Street. That building, in itself, will be the topic of a future blog. While sturdy as a rock, its cracks and crevices provided easy entry for bats, which always made summer nights a lively experience. Just ask the kids.
Just kitty-corner across the street from the Herald, and where the senior citizen center used to be, was Burlew's Store. Earl and Bus Burlew, as I recall, were the brothers who ran the store, which featured a snack bar and a counter where you could order a scoop of ice cream for a nickel, or two scoops for a dime. Bon bon was my favorite! The Burlews were an interesting pair. Their store was my regular Saturday night stop on the way home from the city library as they displayed several recent comic books on hooks on the wall, each with the handwritten date it was put out on display. My favorites were Archie, Hot Stuff, Richie Rich, and the lighter comic book fare. I wasn't as much into Batman, Superman, and etc., although sometimes I'd pick them up too when I felt particularly rich. Back then, a comic book cost a dime. The "giant" issues -- with more than twice as many pages -- were a quarter. When I felt particularly rich I'd come home with a couple comic books in addition to a book for myself, along with a couple of novels -- usually romance novels about nurses -- for Mom. My visits to the library including weekly conversations with librarian Shirley Letcher, who knew what books Mom liked.
Burlews' store also featured a number of magazines for purchase. Playboy was among those "adult fare" magazines out of the reach of little hands like mine. Not to worry. Back then I was a fan of Sport magazine. I was (and still am) an avid sports fan, and I loved reading about my favorite teams and players. Sport, however, ceased publication some time ago.
Another great memory of Burlews' was when you'd buy a soda, one of the Burlew brothers would serve you and take your dime while the other brother would retreat to the back of the store to get a replacement bottle of soda to put in its place.
Ah, the things we remember...
Next door to Burlews' was an apartment building, and next to that -- on the corner north across the street from the bank -- was the post office, where the folks' good friend, Bill Mohr, worked. In later years a new post office building was built across Main Street to the west.
That's enough for this second blog about growing up in Alex. Next time I will concentrate on the businesses that sat along the second block of Main Street near the bank -- Schmitt Meat Market, Pitts' Dry Goods, Rourkes' Drug Store (?), Haines' Hardware, Folsom's GW, Clancy's Discount Store and the Rosebud Cafe. There was even a music store in Alex once. Anyway, more reminisces next time.
Saturday, May 28, 2011
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Growing up in Alex -- Part I
Alexandria was a great place to grow up. I had a unique perspective on the town, having lived there for the first 21 years of my life, and then moving back in 1987 as editor of the Herald. Now it's a rare occasion when I get through Alex anymore, and although not that much has changed it seems to have shrunk a little more each time I'm there.
The latest visit was during Mom's funeral in January. It used to be -- back when I lived in Canistota and Montrose and when the kids were much younger -- our free Saturday afternoons we packed up and went over to Mom's apartment where we kicked back and relaxed, and caught up on visiting with her and Roger. Our visits always ended with a bowl of vanilla ice cream topped with chocolate sauce. Yum!
Growing up in Alex, I lived just one house away from corn fields on the west side of town. It was an ideal location. We were right next door to the Sunset Motel, where sometimes we would help Len and Mary Egland watch the office or check travelers into one of the motel's six units. And we lived only a block from school. I could walk home at noon and eat with Mom and Dad, and then walk back to school.
A small town is a great place to live. My friends -- Lee Thomas, Chris Hauge, Rollie Pitts, Mike Wenande, Rod Huber and others -- would put together baseball, softball or wiffle ball games. There was a large, open field next to Mike's grandma's house on the north edge of town and that's where baseball was often played. And Rollie's back yard worked well for our wiffle ball games. The "real" ball park south across the highway and just south of Dad's elevator was a great place to explore too. I would ride my bicycle out to the ball park 30-45 minutes before practice began and sit in the dugout, listening to the wind whistle and whip the long grass.
Some will remember Alex's other softball fields. We used to play softball on the lot where St. Mary's parish center now stands. That field was bordered by large hedges along the first- and third-base lines. Another softball field -- and a popular gathering spot -- was where the apartment four-plex sits south across the street from the Methodist Church. There was a bandstand there too. That was a popular gathering spot, particularly during the week that the Methodist kids held their summer vacation bible study.
And of course if we just wanted to ride our bikes, we could set out for Lake Hanson -- two miles south of town. And if we had lots of time and felt like exploring we walked around the lake. Or sometimes we biked out to the rock quarry a half-mile east of town. Later in my high school years, both the lake and the quarry were popular destinations established by our track coaches for us to jog out to and then jog back.
The lake was a popular summer spot. I never learned to swim; it interfered with baseball practice, but Lake Hanson was (and probably still is) a popular beach area, and our teen-year "cruises" usually included a detour lap through the spillway parking area with a short side trip down to the beach and around the band shell that was there.
There is so much to remember and write about. Next time I will write about some of Alex's businesses. Back then there was Pitts' Dry Goods, and I barely recall a drug store (Rourke's?) along with Folsom's, Clancy's Discount Store, Bake's Barber Shop, the pool hall, Burlew's, RoseBud Cafe, Haines Hardware, Schmitt Meat Market, and more. And when I was growing up there was also (Jim's) Stoltz Standard Service. That's for my next blog.
The latest visit was during Mom's funeral in January. It used to be -- back when I lived in Canistota and Montrose and when the kids were much younger -- our free Saturday afternoons we packed up and went over to Mom's apartment where we kicked back and relaxed, and caught up on visiting with her and Roger. Our visits always ended with a bowl of vanilla ice cream topped with chocolate sauce. Yum!
Growing up in Alex, I lived just one house away from corn fields on the west side of town. It was an ideal location. We were right next door to the Sunset Motel, where sometimes we would help Len and Mary Egland watch the office or check travelers into one of the motel's six units. And we lived only a block from school. I could walk home at noon and eat with Mom and Dad, and then walk back to school.
A small town is a great place to live. My friends -- Lee Thomas, Chris Hauge, Rollie Pitts, Mike Wenande, Rod Huber and others -- would put together baseball, softball or wiffle ball games. There was a large, open field next to Mike's grandma's house on the north edge of town and that's where baseball was often played. And Rollie's back yard worked well for our wiffle ball games. The "real" ball park south across the highway and just south of Dad's elevator was a great place to explore too. I would ride my bicycle out to the ball park 30-45 minutes before practice began and sit in the dugout, listening to the wind whistle and whip the long grass.
Some will remember Alex's other softball fields. We used to play softball on the lot where St. Mary's parish center now stands. That field was bordered by large hedges along the first- and third-base lines. Another softball field -- and a popular gathering spot -- was where the apartment four-plex sits south across the street from the Methodist Church. There was a bandstand there too. That was a popular gathering spot, particularly during the week that the Methodist kids held their summer vacation bible study.
And of course if we just wanted to ride our bikes, we could set out for Lake Hanson -- two miles south of town. And if we had lots of time and felt like exploring we walked around the lake. Or sometimes we biked out to the rock quarry a half-mile east of town. Later in my high school years, both the lake and the quarry were popular destinations established by our track coaches for us to jog out to and then jog back.
The lake was a popular summer spot. I never learned to swim; it interfered with baseball practice, but Lake Hanson was (and probably still is) a popular beach area, and our teen-year "cruises" usually included a detour lap through the spillway parking area with a short side trip down to the beach and around the band shell that was there.
There is so much to remember and write about. Next time I will write about some of Alex's businesses. Back then there was Pitts' Dry Goods, and I barely recall a drug store (Rourke's?) along with Folsom's, Clancy's Discount Store, Bake's Barber Shop, the pool hall, Burlew's, RoseBud Cafe, Haines Hardware, Schmitt Meat Market, and more. And when I was growing up there was also (Jim's) Stoltz Standard Service. That's for my next blog.
Monday, May 16, 2011
Graduations remembered
May is the month for graduations. This year in this family it's Brandon's and mine. Brandon will graduate from Bridgewater-Emery on Saturday, May 21. Since he's the youngest, this will mark the last high school graduation for me, but probably not the last graduation. Jessica just completed her sophomore year at South Dakota State University. Brandon is yet to decide where his post-high school education will take him.
Graduation is a time to look both forward and back. It can be an exciting time with college just ahead and an uncharted future. And a time to look back and thank those who helped us get this far. But I'm not going to preach. I'll leave that to the commencement speakers.
Somewhere I still have a picture from my high school graduation. Classmates Dan Wagner, Ron Dexheimer and me in front of the Alexandria auditorium, ready to accept our diplomas and get on with life. Ron and I were heading to SDSU; Dan was bound for Mount Marty College in Yankton. As I recall, I finished 9th out of the 44 members of the Hanson High School Class of 1973. A solid "B" honor roll student. And, being seated mercifully by name, I was somewhere near the back of the class on stage, where I could fidget and daydream without attracting much attention.
Then four years later came graduation day at SDSU. Can't say I remember much about that day other than it was a graduating class of probably a couple thousand. That was also the day I was commissioned a Second Lieutenant in the United States Army.
Then just 10 days ago, on May 7, I entered Frost Arena at SDSU to receive my MS in Journalism/Mass Communications -- thanks to an understanding wife, the Post-911 GI Bill, and a desire to give myself a competitive edge. Ironically, I sat in the last row -- in fact, the last person of the last row, seated among mostly other graduates who were easily young enough to be my children.
But it was an extra-special ceremony. Barb and our friend Heidi Swanson of Seward, NE were there. Ironically, the guest speaker -- former two-term South Dakota Governor Mike Rounds -- was a fellow 1977 SDSU grad. Conveying the degrees was SDSU President David L. Chicoine. But even more special for me was the presence on stage of my friend and former boss, Jerry Jorgensen, dean of SDSU's College of Arts & Sciences. "Dr. J," as I fondly called him, was a fellow officer and friend from the 5043rd US Armed Forces Reserve School, and later my commander in the 2nd Battalion 361st Regiment in Sioux Falls. I worked for Jerry both as a Reserve soldier and then later as a government civilian for our Army Reserve unit. Jerry's referral letter helped get me into SDSU's graduate school, and he's still listed as a reference on my resume. And as I left the stage with degree in tow, I got to shake his hand. That meant a lot.
Good luck, Brandon, as you cross the stage on Saturday. It would be interesting to see -- 34 years from now -- how you recall this day. I hope it's the first of many memorable and rewarding achievements for you.
Graduation is a time to look both forward and back. It can be an exciting time with college just ahead and an uncharted future. And a time to look back and thank those who helped us get this far. But I'm not going to preach. I'll leave that to the commencement speakers.
Somewhere I still have a picture from my high school graduation. Classmates Dan Wagner, Ron Dexheimer and me in front of the Alexandria auditorium, ready to accept our diplomas and get on with life. Ron and I were heading to SDSU; Dan was bound for Mount Marty College in Yankton. As I recall, I finished 9th out of the 44 members of the Hanson High School Class of 1973. A solid "B" honor roll student. And, being seated mercifully by name, I was somewhere near the back of the class on stage, where I could fidget and daydream without attracting much attention.
Then four years later came graduation day at SDSU. Can't say I remember much about that day other than it was a graduating class of probably a couple thousand. That was also the day I was commissioned a Second Lieutenant in the United States Army.
Then just 10 days ago, on May 7, I entered Frost Arena at SDSU to receive my MS in Journalism/Mass Communications -- thanks to an understanding wife, the Post-911 GI Bill, and a desire to give myself a competitive edge. Ironically, I sat in the last row -- in fact, the last person of the last row, seated among mostly other graduates who were easily young enough to be my children.
But it was an extra-special ceremony. Barb and our friend Heidi Swanson of Seward, NE were there. Ironically, the guest speaker -- former two-term South Dakota Governor Mike Rounds -- was a fellow 1977 SDSU grad. Conveying the degrees was SDSU President David L. Chicoine. But even more special for me was the presence on stage of my friend and former boss, Jerry Jorgensen, dean of SDSU's College of Arts & Sciences. "Dr. J," as I fondly called him, was a fellow officer and friend from the 5043rd US Armed Forces Reserve School, and later my commander in the 2nd Battalion 361st Regiment in Sioux Falls. I worked for Jerry both as a Reserve soldier and then later as a government civilian for our Army Reserve unit. Jerry's referral letter helped get me into SDSU's graduate school, and he's still listed as a reference on my resume. And as I left the stage with degree in tow, I got to shake his hand. That meant a lot.
Good luck, Brandon, as you cross the stage on Saturday. It would be interesting to see -- 34 years from now -- how you recall this day. I hope it's the first of many memorable and rewarding achievements for you.
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
Those "where were you?" events
Some events are forever etched in our memories.
This past Sunday night I was intrigued watching the Twitter traffic that President Obama was about to deliver a rare Sunday night broadcast message -- topic unknown.
It just had to be something big.
Because if there's one thing I've learned in my journalism studies it's that news that governments or agencies would like shielded from the public eye is released close to the weekend, when news production sources are minimized and people's thoughts turn to other -- usually outdoor or recreational -- activities. By publicizing these events late in the weekly cycle they are either buried on inside weekend pages or are "old news" by the time the Monday work week begins again. That's what made a Sunday night pronouncement particularly curious. An announcement to be made on Sunday night when people's thoughts are turning to the coming work week had to be something really, really big. And the links gave me that feeling, but we'd have to wait to hear from the president. Finally, as I was waiting for another tweet to let me in on the big secret, I instead turned on Fox News, where a headline already announced that sources had confirmed that bin Laden had been killed. While the details were still sketchy, the cat -- so to speak -- was now out of the bag. It was very much a biggie. And what a capper to an historic weekend, which began with the royal wedding on Friday, the beatification of Pope John Paul II, and then the announcement of the death of bin Laden.
Most anyone old enough to remember the 9-11 attacks can tell you where they were when they first heard the news that somber day almost 10 years ago. I was at my computer, working in the Jonas H. Lien US Armed Forces Reserve Center in Sioux Falls. With the radio on. Listening to the report of the first airplane crash, then the second, and the third in a series of ghastly, related events.
Now while I don't remember exactly where I was when I heard about the space shuttle Challenger's destruction on Jan. 28, 1986, I was working as a writer at the Fairfax Standard back then, and was moved to commemorate the astronauts in a column that ran in the Standard.
And when South Dakota Governor George S. Mickelson was among eight people killed in the crash of a small airplane near Dubuque, IA on April 19, 1993, that death hit particularly hard. Earlier, Governor Mickelson had been our surprise tour guide in the state capitol when we visited Pierre. The governor, whom we met in the hallway of the Capitol, invited us into his office and had the children take turns sitting in his chair. He told the kids about a determined mother goose who doggedly incubated her eggs through the worst of weather on the lake beside the capitol. And after his easy-going visit with us, he gave the kids each a gold pin emblazoned with the likeness of a buffalo. After his death, I recalled the visit in a column for the Alexandria Herald/Emery Enterprise, and sent a copy to his widow, Linda. Mrs. Mickelson, in turn, wrote a warm letter of thanks.
My earliest recollection of history in the making was President John F. Kennedy's assassination in 1963. I was a third-grader in Alexandria. As I remember, someone came to the door of our classroom and our teacher, Mrs. Hershey, answered the door, and returned to the front of the classroom -- obviously shaken. She told us that the president had been killed. At recess we asked each other why would someone do that? Kill our president?
Some historic events evoke those memories of time and place. I'm not sure I can place bin Laden's death in the same category, but the online traffic prior to the announcement created a curious "buzz" that I won't soon forget. Some events are forever etched in our minds like a snapshot in time. We become witnesses to history.
This past Sunday night I was intrigued watching the Twitter traffic that President Obama was about to deliver a rare Sunday night broadcast message -- topic unknown.
It just had to be something big.
Because if there's one thing I've learned in my journalism studies it's that news that governments or agencies would like shielded from the public eye is released close to the weekend, when news production sources are minimized and people's thoughts turn to other -- usually outdoor or recreational -- activities. By publicizing these events late in the weekly cycle they are either buried on inside weekend pages or are "old news" by the time the Monday work week begins again. That's what made a Sunday night pronouncement particularly curious. An announcement to be made on Sunday night when people's thoughts are turning to the coming work week had to be something really, really big. And the links gave me that feeling, but we'd have to wait to hear from the president. Finally, as I was waiting for another tweet to let me in on the big secret, I instead turned on Fox News, where a headline already announced that sources had confirmed that bin Laden had been killed. While the details were still sketchy, the cat -- so to speak -- was now out of the bag. It was very much a biggie. And what a capper to an historic weekend, which began with the royal wedding on Friday, the beatification of Pope John Paul II, and then the announcement of the death of bin Laden.
Most anyone old enough to remember the 9-11 attacks can tell you where they were when they first heard the news that somber day almost 10 years ago. I was at my computer, working in the Jonas H. Lien US Armed Forces Reserve Center in Sioux Falls. With the radio on. Listening to the report of the first airplane crash, then the second, and the third in a series of ghastly, related events.
Now while I don't remember exactly where I was when I heard about the space shuttle Challenger's destruction on Jan. 28, 1986, I was working as a writer at the Fairfax Standard back then, and was moved to commemorate the astronauts in a column that ran in the Standard.
And when South Dakota Governor George S. Mickelson was among eight people killed in the crash of a small airplane near Dubuque, IA on April 19, 1993, that death hit particularly hard. Earlier, Governor Mickelson had been our surprise tour guide in the state capitol when we visited Pierre. The governor, whom we met in the hallway of the Capitol, invited us into his office and had the children take turns sitting in his chair. He told the kids about a determined mother goose who doggedly incubated her eggs through the worst of weather on the lake beside the capitol. And after his easy-going visit with us, he gave the kids each a gold pin emblazoned with the likeness of a buffalo. After his death, I recalled the visit in a column for the Alexandria Herald/Emery Enterprise, and sent a copy to his widow, Linda. Mrs. Mickelson, in turn, wrote a warm letter of thanks.
My earliest recollection of history in the making was President John F. Kennedy's assassination in 1963. I was a third-grader in Alexandria. As I remember, someone came to the door of our classroom and our teacher, Mrs. Hershey, answered the door, and returned to the front of the classroom -- obviously shaken. She told us that the president had been killed. At recess we asked each other why would someone do that? Kill our president?
Some historic events evoke those memories of time and place. I'm not sure I can place bin Laden's death in the same category, but the online traffic prior to the announcement created a curious "buzz" that I won't soon forget. Some events are forever etched in our minds like a snapshot in time. We become witnesses to history.
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