Many of you know Bill Wellman and know that he has a great recall of his years of living in Fort Gay during the 30’s and 40’s. Bill writes extensivenly of this time in his writings called “Fort Gay Memories”. I have asked Bill for permission to periodocally publish excerpts from these writings on the Viking Chronicles. I think all will enjoy this and we will continue to periodocally publish some of these here. We would like to hear comments of what you think. Please use the comment section on the web site
Other Toys of Youth
I may have mentioned something about this in other places but a thought came to me recently as I observed some of the animals and insects that abound in this world today. I saw a couple of June Bugs on my usual morning walk in the neighborhood. None of them were in flight but they were obviously alive as they were making headway with their legs along the side of the street. The almost iridescent green shone brightly in the morning sunshine and it easily caught my eye. They were moving sluggishly so I assume they were either at the very beginning of their active social life span or at the very end. There was no visual evidence of either state, so I will assume they were just beginning their social life.
The sighting caused me to think back when we were young. Remember we would capture some lively June Bugs and keep them either in a jar or something like that to keep them from escaping our grasp. If we saw the bugs first, we had to corral them until we could steal some light thread from Mom, or just boldly ask for some and hope that she would relent and “waste” the thread on a short lived toy. If we thought of “flying some June Bugs” before the capture, we would prepare ourselves by getting the thread beforehand.
Because the bugs were relatively strong and they were always trying to escape, we had to have a loop tied in the thread ahead of time so that we would not lose possession of our prize. After slipping the knotted loop over the bugs leg we would pull it tight enough to retain possession but not so tight as to cause the leg to depart the body. Sometimes that was a difficult task because of the backward pointing barbs on their legs. I think we mostly used the June Bug’s back legs and then let him (or her, if you prefer) take to the wind. Flying a June Bug could be a lot of fun given the right circumstances, like letting it fly into a girl’s hair or into their visual space so that they would scream and duck out-of-the-way. I didn’t give too much thought to the bug’s origin or I might have ducked too, instead of flying them like a live toy. I still do not know where they were hatched but thinking back, I can now I assume it was near a dung heap somewhere.
So, could that have been so bad given the fact that some members of high society have the habit of capturing harlequin bugs, decorating them with jewels and gems, placing a gold chain harness on them and wearing it on an expensive evening gown. Then they parade around in the social gathering to let all who see them know that they have a chic toy, a living piece of jewelry.
Now for something a little grosser: Remember when we would capture a grass hopper and make it “spit tobacco juice”? In reality, I think it was a regurgitation of half digested grasses and plant material. But back then that didn’t mean anything bad to us.
While I am on this subject, I recalled trying to find and capture horsehair “snakes” from water puddles. I think I did actually find some ‘swimming’ hair snakes in water puddles but I don’t recall getting them out of the water for any purpose. It was just a thing for us guys to do and talk about, I think. Because of the name, our search was mostly towards the hoof prints or hoof puddles in wet, muddy areas around creek banks, farms or gardens where horses and other hoofed animals were congregating to eat or drink.
And I thought of one more home-made toy which should have been included in the section on soda straws and pea shooters. Remember that the old-time milkshake straws were just a bit larger in diameter than the plain soda straws. Back then, these straws were made of spiral-rolled waxed paper and they would barely last through one soda or milkshake, if you were careful. They could not tolerate slow sipping or they would become water-logged and begin to collapse. However, when they were fairly new and crisp, the smaller straw could be made into a missile by crushing and twisting one end into a cone-shaped sharp tip. With that step finished, you could slide the smaller diameter straw into a larger milkshake straw, with the pointed end outward, and then you were ready to shoot a missile at a target all the way across the Honky-tonk. It would fly pretty straight, and the speed, depending upon the lung power of the shooter, would be blindingly fast for a short distance.
And were you ever taken in by someone with the challenge to lift a soda bottle by a straw? When the mark or victim couldn’t accomplish the feat, the challenger would bet that he could do it in a such and such time period. If the mark bit, they would offer up a dime or quarter or something else of value and the bet would be on. The challenger would take a fresh straw and bend one end back on itself with a calculated length and insert the doubled straw in the bottle. The doubled end would be longer than the inside diameter of the bottle. As it was withdrawn, the end of the straw would unfold just enough to engage sloping neck inside of the bottle, thereby resisting removal. A strong straw would always lift the weight of the bottle and the mark would lose the bet. Yes, I know, everyone knows that now. But back then, nearly everyone had to risk something in order to learn the trick and see it for the first time.
And there were other things that occupied our time, at least for me. In the late spring of the year, there were many flowering shrubs that were positioned just in front of the high school building. They were large enough to reach up to the ground floor window sills at the front of the building. At the right time of the year, they were filled with thousands of small blooms that were grouped in tiny bunches about the size of a large egg. These blooms attracted thousands of honey bees, and the air would be filled with a sweet aroma as well as the buzzing sound of the many bees. Some of the guys had a knack for catching honey bees in their double-cupped hands, and they could do it consistently without getting stung. I was not one of those guys with that capability. Oh, I did prove that I could catch the bees but I just couldn’t do it consistently without getting the obvious resulting sting.
There may have been a hidden trick to the knack of catching a bee without getting stung. There may have been enough cigarette smoke residues on the hands and fingers of a guy who smoked to allow the bee to be becalmed by the nicotine. I still won’t try it again, anyway. Besides, I have not smoked a single cigarette since May 1985. On the other hand, I believe that a person who has a true fear of some event or action, the person who has that fear exudes some vibe or aura that is detectable by animals, including the bees. Then the response by the bee is to sting that person.
By the way, I know there were bee keepers in and around the area of Fort Gay but I just don’t remember who they were. I remember seeing quart jars of honey with large chunks of honey comb on display during high school fairs and such. Honey was one of my favorite things to put on buttered toast. Now I long for some buttermilk biscuits, sweet creamery butter and a spoon full of honey. (Remember chewing the wax comb to get every last bit of the sweet tasting honey out of it? As I remember, the wax became crumbly very soon and became difficult to expel from your mouth.)
I remember visiting Fort Gay one time while I was on a business trip to Ohio. During my stay there, I drove my folks around on a casual “sight-seeing” drive. We began by going down the river road past the Lycan Nursery farm and continued on to Tabors Creek. We just wanted to visit and to see the area, and for me, that was the first time I had visited the area in a very long time. During that drive, we wound up at a location that my parents knew well, and the owner family with whom they were very well acquainted. They chatted with the owner of the place, a gentleman who was a widower, I believe, for several minutes about old times, old family ties and such. I noticed that he had several bee hives at the edge of his garden but I think his main crop was trees and wood products, not garden or farm produce. Besides, his property that we saw there was almost all on the hillsides and extended down to a small creek, none of which was level enough to have decent row crops. And there were numerous tree stumps indicating that a recent harvest had taken place. I wonder what he did to help the bees survive over the winter. That family is the only one that I specifically recall having bee hives. In the back of my mind, I can see some white hives sitting out in a semi-wooded area but for the life of me, I cannot localize and identify that scene.
And there was another “toy” that was not actually a toy by any definition you could think of. That was the detonation squibs that were prevalent during some parts of my youth. I think they came from the mines, a device that a miner used to shoot dynamite in a way that allowed the operator to put a good distance between themselves and the dynamite charge. I do not claim to know exactly how that was done but they were sometimes comical to watch out in the open. They were similar to a miniature rocket when fired. They were small diameter and rigid, much like the size, color and feel of a soda straw with a short, rag like, fuse on one end. When lit with a match or cigarette, the fuse burned slowly until reaching the body of the straw. Then they would shoot out trailing sparks and smoke and at the end of their travel, they would emit a small burst of sparks. The range seemed to be about 30 feet or so. You could enhance the fun by slightly bending the tube in a small arc and they would describe either a large circle or tight twirls, depending on how sharp you made the bend. I did not appreciate the possible danger of this ‘toy’ when we were using them. Thankfully I know of no accidental mishaps occurring during that time.
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