It didn’t take long before I realized having a driver’s license was going to open up a whole new world for me. The first solo trips were like adventures, even though I had traveled those roads before with my father. Mother had never learned to drive so I became her new chauffeur.

To get into town I had to drive through Dead Man’s curve which was just outside the city limits. In its day it was known as one of the most dangerous curves on Old Robinson Road, and a lot of people hadn’t slowed from sixty-five-miles-an-hour to thirty in time to make the bend in the road.

Many had had been injured and several had died in that curve.

Among those that had had wrecks was my cousin, Al, who had failed to slow down, missed the curve and zipped off the road into the nearby pecan orchard. Luckily, squeezing between two pecan trees had slowed him down enough that when he crashed, head-on into another one, he was able to survive.

Both sides of his car were nearly ripped off, plus the front of his car had been shoved backwards nearly a foot. He was able to climb out a little worse for the wear.

After that and tumbling out the window onto the fire escape at school he should have considered a career as a stuntman, yet he went on to become a pharmacist.

Also located in that curve was our county Poor House. That was where elderly people and the infirm went to live when they had no family to take care of them. Taxes from the county were set aside to take care of them and the property.

There were a couple of long bunkhouses just off the highway on its grounds. A long porch ran along the front of each of the buildings and each room had a chair parked beside its front door for the residents.

A barn was on the east side of the property and there was a small pasture for the mules that were used to till their garden.

Willie was a a simple minded adult who lived there and he was in charge of the livestock and garden. Handling the mules was his special talent. He also took care of the milk cow and did the plowing. The people tended to the garden and firewood, if they were physically able.

It mattered not who was passing by on the road out front, Willie would always stop what he was doing, carefully inspect each vehicle, give them a toothless grin and wave. It made his day when someone stopped by and talked to him. He was a very lonely soul.

I can remember stopping by with my father when we had extra produce from our garden to share with them. They were always grateful and eager to talk to anyone. Every Christmas we made up a basket of fruit, cookies and candy to drop off to them.

It was sad how little they had, but they were always appreciative.

I remember seeing Willie stop, grin real big, and wave at me on my first solo trip into town. He felt like somebody and so did I.

Navigating down Main Street during summer months was a bit of a challenge. It was plenty wide enough, but the center of the street was marked off for trucks that delivered merchandise to the stores and many times it was like driving through a farmer’s market with people from the country parked in the center of the street trying to sell their produce and wares.

On Saturdays it wasn’t unusual to see a man that was a deaf-mute on the sidewalks that would draw your likeness for any spare change you would give him.

Then there was another man who walked around and sold small bags of peanuts for a nickel or a dime.

Of course, Johnny Hightower could be seen making his rounds as well. Our little town was special. We looked after each other.

Soon after I had my driver’s license, I was asked to be a photographer for The LHS Review, our school newspaper. I began traveling to shoot most of the athletic events, band trips and other school functions.

One week a reporter and I were assigned to cover an article about a haunted trailer-house in an adjoining county.

It seemed like it took forever to find the place on rural back roads, but when we arrived the owner assured us her trailer was haunted. The ghost supposedly appeared in her foggy bathroom mirror on a daily basis.

The reporter was writing it all down and taking it all in while I strained to see whatever it was that I was supposed to see in the bathroom mirror. Personally, I suspected the mirror needed a good cleaning, and I couldn’t find anything to take a picture of. Perhaps it was the ghost’s day off.

But the lady described what the ghost looked like and I sketched out a picture of whoever it was. She said I had captured a perfect likeness and that was the picture that appeared in the next edition of our school paper.

(To be continued)

	Al's, the best hamburger in town.
The Rebel Cafe.
Forster Motors.
	The Charles Fair home on South Columbus.
Inside the old Calvary school house.	Calvary School.
Inside the garment factory.	The men who restored the Calvary school house in the 1950s.
Inside the old library at the city park.

_______________
Rick Algood
September 10, 2021