Eddie vs Eddie Rerun

This was on this blog about three years ago.  I came across it today while reviewing some of my posts.  I thought why not recycle it?


I had another memorable fight that I would like to tell you about now. I say “now” because I want to tell you about it while my previous story about my fight is fresh on your mind. You might not get the two confused.

In my mind, this conflict stands out because it almost ended my life… you know, snuffed out? Never more?

The time period was several years before the fight with Ichabod Crane took place. I was probably 11 or 12 years old. I lived on Manget Street in Marietta. The part of Manget that bordered Larry Bell Park on the west side. My friends I hung out with lived mostly on Glover Street which mostly bordered the south side of Larry Bell Park.

I basically hung out with Gene S. and Tony H.. Tony was a couple of months older than I am and Gene, about a year younger. There were other kids about our age that would materialize every so often and hang out with us but then go. They came and went.

One kid that came and went was Eddie N. He was friendly and all, and we enjoyed his company and all. Eddie N. and his older sister lived in either Douglasville or Newnan, I forgot which, it has been so long ago. I think they lived in a broken home. But at months at a time they would visit their grandparents who lived on Glover Street that would be behind the Marietta Journal building if it was still standing.

There were several boys that were at least 16 that lived in the neighborhood. I know they were over 16 because they quit school already. Also, some of them drove old junky cars. They smoked, they cursed, they had a wise-crack for everything. Gad, how I envied them.

One day, they as a bunch, were hanging out in the yard at the corner of Manget and Glover Streets. We thought they were interesting and got closer and not long we were joining in with our 2¢ worth of conservation. Then they got the idea they would like to see Eddie and I get into a fight.

They circled around us and pushed me back in the circle when I tried to get out. They were telling Eddie lies about what terrible things I said about him. They were pushing up against each other. They kept telling Eddie more lies about what I said about him. Ed was becoming enraged.

Their favorite wisecrack that day was, “Eddie hit Eddie!” They were regular Bob Hopes.

Then, Eddie lunged at me swinging. When Eddie got nervous he put his mouth on the back of his hand. He always had wet slobber on the back of one hand. When he came at me swinging he was swinging with one hand. The other hand was in his mouth. I think it was a comfort thing.

I dodged his swings and kept out of his reach, I knew he was strong. One time he got a hold of my shirt and ripped it. It took two hands to pull me to him and when I got close enough I popped him in the nose. Blood spurted. I later found out I broke his nose.

He never hit me. When I saw my first opening I darted through my so-called friends and ran home.

Later Eddie’s sister came looking for me. She wanted to have me arrested for assault and battery. My so-called friends said they had no idea who she was talking about; they didn't see any one get into a fight.

Not that they were protecting me so much, they were brought up to not to be stool pigeons.

They were fine pillars of the community weren't they?

For several weeks I avoid getting close to Eddie. But, one day he came over to Gene’s house when I was there and we were back friends again.

Then one day we were up in the loft of Eddie’s grandfather’s barn. Either Tony or Gene brought up the fight Eddie and I had. I think he brought it up thinking no harm would happen and we would have a big laugh over it, but in a split second Eddie leaped on top of me and was choking me.

Eddie was strong. He was extremely strong. His strong hands squeezed my throat made me feel like the life was being squeezed out of me, which it was about to be just that. I could not breathe. I felt something changing in my head.

I suppose I squirmed some and we both moved a few inches. What we didn't’t know, was the floor we were on was not nailed down. It was a wide sheet of particle board or plywood paced over the rafters.

We wiggled ourselves to the edge and the big board and the board politely tilted like a seesaw and we slid to the floor of the barn. As soon as I hit the dirt floor I sprinted off like a rabbit and ran all the way home.

I stayed away from Eddie for over a year.

Then Tony’s mother said she was taking all us kids to see Eddie in Douglasville (or Newnan). I didn’t think about my near death experience with Eddie. I guess time heals.

Or, I mean to say, I didn't think about my tumble with Eddie until we were half-way there; out of sight, out of mind. Then I started dreading our visit.

Eddie lived on a farm that had rows of long chicken houses. We got the tour of the chicken houses and the room the eggs are brought to, cleaned, and sorted.

Eddie was nice. I was hoping he forgot our scrap or forgiven me one. Just the same, I prefer to keep on the side of wide opened space, like a pasture to run if I had to.

We went walking around across the pasture to look at the different cows. We came upon a pond that apparently the cattle drunk water from. I imagined Eddie suddenly grabbing me and throwing me in the water and landing on me and holding me down.

Then, Tony’s mother blew her car horn. It was time to come back to the house. The blaring of the horn was a noise of happiness.

We left and that was the last time I saw Eddie N.

I heard at a Bell Gang Reunion that Eddie is in prison now for killing someone.  I'm glad it wasn't because of me he is there.

Whitehead and the Little Spy Who Came in From the Cold

The second favor I did for Miss Whitehead : I remember it was a cold rainy day. She came to our class and told the teacher she wanted to see me and for me to bring my coat. "Oh-oh, what did I do this time?" I wondered.

She told me she wanted to know if I knew where the new Polish refugee kids lived. I said yes and she smiled and said she thought I would. I was about to tell her they lived on Atlanta Street, just around the corner from the other Polish Refugees on Goss Street. She interupted me and told me she needed to know if they moved or were still there. Both kids haven't been to school in two weeks. She said not to tell anybody this, what she was telling me was between her and me. We were buddies. She said her as a principal didn't need to know until officially told, but if they had gone, her as a person wanted to know. We understood each other. She sent me on my way.


I walked in the rain to the house, about 2/10ths of a mile away and knocked on the door. No one came to the door. I walked around the house looking for signs of life. No sounds, no lights, no nothing.



I walked back to the school and reported my findngs or no findings to Miss Whitehead, my co-conspiritor. She said she thought they might have moved during the night someplace but reminded me not to tell anybody.


I just did.

The Brick stirred Up Memories

The Waterman Street School brick that Walker Gaines gave me Thursday triggered some memories.

I remember in the 7th Grade one school night I was playing in the front yard after dark.  A streetlight was in front of our house.  I begin to notice a bat would  fly quickly under the light.  I sat down and studied the situation.  I finally figured out the bat would swoop under the light when a moth or someother bug attracted by the light would be near. 

Then I experimented.  I threw up a rock and the bat materialized and charged at it but it fell to the pull of gravity before the bat could reach it.  I tried again and again, each time getting lower and each time the bat would swing in lower.

I had a plan.  Cars passed now and then.  I wanted a car to hit the bat.  I knew this was risky.  The rock could hit the car instead of the bat.  As the car approached I would have to shoot the rock low and hopefully it should shoot past the oncoming car before actuallyu approached the "X" spot and the bat should be right behind the rock chasing it and wham!   I practiced my throw and watched the cars that sped down the street now and then. 

I made my move.  A car was speeding down the road and when it was about 15 to 20 feet  before the "X" spot I threw the little rock.  The stupid bat, as planned, fell line right behind it, and SPLOT!!!  The car missed the rock and hit the bat.  Was I a genius or what?

I went over and studied the bat.  It looked dead.  I put it in a netted orange sack, put it under a box and got ready for bed.

The next morning I carried the bat in the net to school with me.  I don't think I told my parents.

I wanted to show it to my teacher Mrs. King.  Mrs. King was very nice and flirty with me so I naturally liked her.  I wanted to impress her with the bat I caught.

The bell had not rang yet.  A cluster of us were standing in the hall just outside our 7th grade classroom.  I showed off the bat in the netted sack and was running my mouth about probably how I killed it when a girl classmate said, "Look!"

I looked down and the dead bat was prying itself loose from the bag by making one of the net holes bigger.  Then it was airborn.

Oh shit!

In a matter of minutes the bat was flying up and down the hall with hordes of kids running crying and screaming.  Cliff the janitor was chasing it and swinging a broom.

Miss Whitehead, the principal, came up to me, red faced and shaking, said, "Eddie Hunter what were you thinking?  Don't you have any sense?"    The look on her face looked to be complete hatred or fear, I wasn't sure which - after all, there was a bat flying rampant overhead.

I thought that old bat (pardon the pun) came close to having a breakdown I think.
I don't remember the fate of the bat.

Now, This is a Brick

This brick came off Waterman Street Grammar School, collected after the landmark historical school was bulldozed away.

The picture above of the Waterman Street School brick was taken on our carport with a brick-lined backdrop.  The WS brick looks slightly bigger than the carport bricks.  I guess the statement, "They don't build things like they used to."  will always be a true statement.

If I remember correctly the school building was built in 1888.  Which means this brick is at least 124 years old.
My daddy and his eight siblings went to Waterman Street, and a generation later my two siblings and I went there.

Miss Whitehead taught my father, his sister, and seven brothers, so later when I showed up, I think Miss Whitehead. then principal, probably considered retirement.  She earned her pay my seven year tenure with her, to say the least.

I have plenty of memorable memories there during my formative years, some good and some not so good. 

Yesterday my friend Walker Gaines gave me the brick.  Walker went through Waterman street together.  Walker used to live across the street from the school.  But in time moved on, getting married to Darlene in the process.  Apparently his father and mother stayed there, because when the school was demolished Walter's father was there to pick up a few bricks.

Walker and I met at the Varsity and had lunch.  It was a pleasant lunch.  We had a one- on- one conversation, mostly playing the "whatever happened to bla bla game".  Recalling people that used to be in your life is always fun and educational - and good excercise for the brain.  It was two hours well spent. The hotdogs and onion rings were pretty good too.

EXTRA! READ ALL ABOUT IT, ASSHOLES!

Today is National Newspaper Carrier Day.

I used to be one of those when I was about 13 or 14 years old.  I  delivered the Atlanta Journal. 

My route was in the Waterman Street and Frazier Streets area.  A few years ago I read in the paper that area was the lowest in income and highest in domestic crime in Marietta. 

There were cheap apartments on my route.  My customers in those approximately 50 apartments moved frequently, sometimes in the middle of the night.  Do you think they made sure they paid me?  Ha ha.

The weekly amount was 47 cents.  Very few people gave me 50 cents and told me to keep the change - a whole 3 pennies - wow!  Mostly they would give me 52 cents and expect a nickle back.  That way they got rid of some of their pennies.

They did not hesitate to complain to me if the paper was wet or something and asked for a refund whch came out of my own pocket. 

Several friends would come over to the corner  where I was folding papers and shoot the breeze.  And they also sometimes walked around the route with me.  They were Mickey G., the late Jimmy Pat Presley,  and Snookey P.,  They were good friends who kept me enteraintained while I worked.  Yancy Store was a regular stop for refreshments.  Mr and Mrs Yancy were an old grandparent age couple, it was truly a Mom & Pop store.  A block down the street on South Avenue at the corner of Frazier Street was a spider monkey on a chain in the front yard.  I usually brought him a cheese cracker (from Yancy's Store) to eat.

As I mentioned above, several years ago this area was said to the have the highest crime rate in Marietta.  Of course the highest crime rate equals more expense keeping the peace in the area.  I think city planners, not only in Marietta, but other towns also, have decided to simply delete the high crime areas.  Most of the houses have been bulldozed away and replaced with more expensive homes.  That is Gentrification.  If Gentrification is not unconstitutional, it should be.

Old Fashion Baptisms in Marietta Long Ago

There was a pond off Bells Ferry Road on Old Bells Road that was used for Baptisms for nearby Shady Groves Baptist Church.  The terrain of land looked something like the pictre.  It might be it.  The picture was said to be Baptisms in Marietta, it just didn't point out where.

Which reminds me of a picture I recently saw on the Internet of a young lady, who had just been Baptised, walking out of a pond in a wet white dress.  Evidently she didn't think to wear under garments.  It was like she was the winner of a wet-t-shirt contest.


On a side note, one time I went to a wedding of my friend Tony at the house on Old Bells Ferry Road that was beside the Baptism Pond.

Campground Methodist's 175th Year Do Dah!

(click on any picture to make it larger)

The Arbor

The Marietta Methodist Campground Arbor is a famous landmark of Marietta and Cobb County.  For OM's I think it even has more of home feeling than the other famous landmark The BigChicken.  See more Arbor pictures at the end.

This is the 175th Anniversary celebration of the Campground Church which is now named East Cobb Methodist.  It is a ten day celebration.  We carried my mother-in-law Marie there on Saturday.  She will soon be 92.  She grew up practically in the shadow of Arbor.  Well, she was actually born in the parsonage there August 1920.   True!

Years ago she attended the Camground annual meeting.  This year she returned to see her items she donated to the Campground HistoryMuseum, which are housed in the old schoolhouse she attended many years.

We attended the morning service.  The music was  led enthusiastically by Sheryl Smith Lassiter.  The preaching was done by Dr. Dwight "Ike" Reighard, the pastor of Piedmont Church.  He talked about Bible vs science and said the Bible claimed the earth was round long before it was popular.  As a comic relief he talked about the smell of barbecue they were cookling just feet away and  Varsity Hot Dogs, in fact he mentioned both several times. - He knew how to get an "amen" out of me.

While we were sitting in the pews listening to the energized music, a sermon, and food I studied the huge exposed rafters.  They are well over a hundred years old.  Then I noticed the little mud-huts of the dirt dobbers.  Each rafter was lined with many dirt dobber nests. It was like a little well-planned sub-division.  Humans only come around ever so often, maybe a week in the summer and an occassional wedding - but these dirt dobbers carried on daily routines - it was their city.  We humans were only visitors, soon to leave.

This is the museum on the campground grounds.  It used to be a school house called The Academy.  Marie attended school there for years.  Years later the alumni  formed an organization to meet annually and keep up with each other.  Marie was the archivist for the group.  She kept old newspaper clippings, newsletters, pictures, and other materials, which she donated to the museum about a year ago.

James Walker Gaines.

To me and other old class-mates he is Walker Gaines.  To others he is Jim Gaines.  I was in school with him since at least the 2nd grade, maybe the 1st grade too.  On Waterman Street he lived directly across the street from the East Playground of Waterman Street School.  He and his family owns a "tent"* at the Campground.    There are two that was handed down in the Gaines Family.  His household owns one and his sister Grace's family owns the other one.  When we got to the Campgrounds I asked around and found out his "Tent" number and hunted him down.  It was the first time I have seen Walker since about 1960.  Once my eyes adjusted to him and my mind calculated the age factor, I came to the conclusion that he hasn't changed a bit since the last time I saw him 52 years ago, except the hair of course, and he told me the same thing, including the hair difference.

* They are called tents because they actually used to be tents when people came from miles around.  Now, they are cabins - two story cabins with front porches, swings, and probably all the comfortss of home inside.

Walker and his wife lovely Darlene were the catalyst that brought all of Marie's archives collection of the church and the Academy to the museum.  We renewed our friendship because he saw this blog and through email converstions I told him Marie wanted to donate it to someone who would care and he knew just the right party - his church's history committee.

The Mars Hill Back Porch Pickers

The above bluegrass band entertained the people at the picnic.  We have heard them play several times at the Acworth Opry and the Red Top Mountain Bluegrass Concert.  They have a good bluegrass reputation because they are good.  In between songs when the leader introduced the members of the band, he introduced the banjo player as being from Franklin, North Carolina, which got my attention, because of family research.  Between the next few song sets I wouldn't leave him alone, pumping him with questions with who he was related to.

Thelma, Belinda, Marie, & Tammy

Rex, Angle, Drew, & Jessica

The above two pictures are some of Marie's family who attended the event also.

J. Walker Gaines and his wife Darlene.  He met her in Maine while in the service.

Darlene Gaines and Marie standing by the antique old store display case that had some of the stuff she donated.

Speaking of the Marietta Methodist Campground History Committee, here he is:  Ron Phillips.  I remember Ron and his brother Gene.  They lived on Waterman Street just down the street from Walker - in fact they they are first cousins.  A lot of the members of this Methodist church are related, cousins and once and second removed cousins, when they say welcome to our family, they mean it.

Below.  I try not to let anything go to waste.  Here are some more pictures of the much photographed Marietta Campground Arbor that I took from different angles - remember to click on each picture to get the most out of them.

Marler & Thomas Little League Team early 1950s

(click on the above to make the picture larger)
first row, L to R: Maybe Lawton Evans, Unknown, Harvey Scott, Tommy Pair*, and Tommy Randoph*
Second row: L to R Rick Kendricks*, Mike Clark, unknown, Charles Bagby, and Danny Martin* (probably).
Thrd row, L ro R: Sammy Cox*, unknown, Chris Stinnette*, and Termite Martin*,
Coaches: Pepper Martin and Mr. Pair*.

*Thanx to Paul Roper.

Most of these YMs in this picture would one day be OMs.

The kid front and center, Harvey Scott, sent me the above picture. He went to Waterman Street School the same time I did. He has seem my Chicken-fat blog and wrote some emails wanting to know what happened to some of his old friends and the places he played at in his formative years.

If you recognize somebody I didn't please let me know.

People Who Left Us in 2011

From my viewpoint, looking through my usual tunnel-vision, the following people left us in 2011:

Ron Bennett - Anna's ex-coworker.

Carl Poss - neighobr and family friend.

Dave Dixon - friend and ex-coworker.

Elazabeth Rae Poore Johnson - Hunter relative.

Frances Price - Near relative and family friend.

Betty Henderson Disharoom - teenage friend.

Mike Hobby - Childhood friend.

Ruth Ivey - Anna's friend.

Jack Meaders - Teenage friend.

Jeannette Westmoreland - Relative of Hunter relatives.

Jerry McBee - Friend.

James Kendrick, son of friend Jack and Ann Kendrick.

James Malcomb - Father-in-law of Petty relative; and ex-coworker and friend.

Mytrle Priest - Mother of Bill Rampley.

Lynn Orr - son's teacher and childhood friend.

Shirley Prance - Sister-in-Law.

Barbara Clarke Robinson - sister's ex-coworker and mother of friend Robbie Robinson

Jim Scoggins - Nextdoor neighobr.

Alberta Shouse Kinney. Grammar scool teacher.

Michelle Canada Southern - friend's daughter-in-law.

Helen Steele Fowler - childhood friend.

W.G. Sterling - Friend's father.

I hated to hear of all of their passing. I'm sure I left out some.

Bell Reunion Sept 24, 2011, the Video

Yesterday you saw the still pictures of the Bell Reuion this past Saturday. Today you see the video of the same people (more or less) making facial expressions and talking. Gosh-a-rootie!!!

OM Don Wallace

Don Wallace at the Bell Reunion September, 2008.

Don Wallace was another one in the same scout troop (132) as I was. But I think he did everything right like he was suppose to and we didn't have a bad influence on him at all.

OM Micky Wilbur

Micky lived around the corner from me when I we were kids. Later he owned Wilbur's Garage that I think specialized in VWs. He also sponsered a fishing tournament held weekly at Lake Alatoona. One time in the first or second grade in the Waterman Street School lunch room I made him mad about something, I forgot what, and he grabbed a little container of honey and smeared in my hair. The teacher and I were speechless. I wonder if he remembers that - and if so, I wonder if remembers what the conflict was about? But I do remember stickey honey in your hair is not a pleasant feeling.

OM VD

I never thought about what Vernon's initials are.

OM Tom

Thomas Stokes at the 2007 Bell Reunion. Thomas and I were in the same Boy Scout Troop, which was Troop 132, sponsored by Saint Joseph's Catholic Church.

OMs Howard & Arnold

Bell Reunion, September 2010.

As young kids Arnold's family lived just a few apartments from our apartment in the Clay Homes.

Every once in a while I feel the need to explain to newcomers to this blog what an OM is: Somebody with some age on them who has been in Marietta as far back as they remember. I know there are other definitions, but as for at Chicken-Fat goes, if you have been here long enough to see all the changes that makes you an OM.

OM Dickie Sullivan

This is OM Dickie Sullilvan. Did I tell you the time Dickie Sulllivan saved my life when I was 4 or 5 years old? Sure I did. Search up top o this blog for his late brother Eddie Sullivan and it will tell you all about Dickie pulling me out of Sweetwater Creek.

Dickie lived in the Clay Homes with his parents and siblings just as I did. Many years later, the authorities demolished the Clay Homes and had big dreams of having an office park in its place. The office park deal so far hasn’t worked out, but at least they probably accomplished what they really wanted to do, get rid of a low rental housing project, aka, poor people.

As they bulldozed away the Clay Homes Dickie would visit the site where he spent his formative years often. They were bulldozing away an important chunk of his life.

OMs Ken & Sarah Carlisle

Ken and Sarah Carlile and somebody I cannot identify at the Bell Reunion 2010.

Old Mariettia (OM) No Longer Among Us

This is the late Eddie Sullivan taken at the Bell Reunion in September 2006. Eddie and I were kids who played together in the Clay Homes. Eddie was a few years older so we ran in different crowds. However, Eddie and I (also named Eddie) shared the same birth month. For a few years Eddie’s family and my family would have a birthday picnic every year.

The only Hunter-Sullivan Birthday picnic I remember was at Sweet Water Creek near Austell and Powder Springs. There was a bridge and to the right was a dirt road going down the slope of a red-mud bank into the water. On the other side of the creek the road left the water and went back up the slope. I suppose at one time there was a bridge that had to be replaced, which was overlooking us. We used the dirt road as a beach. I was playing in knee deep or maybe waist deep water to me when suddenly I stepped into nothing. It must have been the edge of the creek at one time.

Swoosh! I went under water and a current grabbed me and down I went. I was only about 4 or 5 years old. Daddy and Eddie’s brother Dickie jumped in and rescued me.

The Sullivan family did the concessions at Larry Bell Park.

Eddie died near the end of June in 2008

Honor & Tattletales

A few days ago I had a post about Bubba Sutton and Brad Martin. They were both tall and both wrote books that were successful and were in the same yearbook picture. That deserved a blog post.

That led to a comment that led to another post, about Bubba leading a pro-Vietnam demonstration.

And all this reminded me Bubba in the 8th grade when we first met. Our first and only conversation was that Bubba came across me doing something against the school rules and he threatened to go tell the 8th grade principal, Mr. Bailey*, if I didn’t stop.

I stopped what I was doing but I was puzzled. That is was the second time I had a problem with a peer telling on me. I thought there was a unwritten code that peers just didn’t tell on each other; something like the “honor among thieves” code.

The other time I had a problem with a peer telling on me was that the peer actually told on me. It was two years before in Miss Miller’s 6th grade. At recess time a Duncan Yo-Yo man came on the campus of Waterman Street School and demonstrated all the neat tricks he could do with his sharp looking designer Duncan Yo-Yo.

On the outer fringe of the crowd of kids gathered around him a friend and I were more or less scuffing, pushing each other and and one of our shoves one of us knocked the crown inward towards the yo-yo man and disrupted his demonstration.

I was surprised at Kenneth for telling on me. I thought we were friends, and even if we were enemies boys just didn’t tell on each other. I kept my distance from him from then on. That was a dishonorable thing to do. I just couldn’t trust someone that dishonorable.

At the Bell Reunion last year I ran into Kenneth. He acted like nothing happened. He acted like he didn’t remember telling on me. Even though it was over 60 years ago, he should have remembered.

*Mr. Bailey’s ended in an auto wreck within a year or so. He was driving the wrong way on the I-75 Expressway, on the way to get his medicine. People that were close to him said they thought without his medicine he got things confused.

4-B Class at Waterman St School - c1950

Our academic year in the 4th year was cut in half by two teachers. One teacher left us and a new one took over. One was an old witch, like the Wicked Witch of the West and the other was a pretty gentle thing, which was Miss Rakstraw. This is Miss Rakestraw here.
Left to Right:
3rd Row: Mickey Wilbur, Gresham Howren, ?, Jo Ann Mitchell, ?, ?, Jerry Flowers, Larry Southern, Van Calloway, Sam Carsley, ?
2nd Row: Janice Benson, Patricia Rainwater, Betty Edwards, Donna LeVann, Alice Tibbetts, ? , ? , Janice Belmore,? Carolyn Mills.

1st Row: Tony Hester, Me, Archie Richardson, Frankie Holder, Walker Gaines, Robert Martin, Tony Partain, ? , ?

There is a girl in this picture that the kids made fun of. Her only crime against society, as far as I know, was living in an unpainted shack with her parents. Kids can be cruel. I don’t know what ever happened to her, but I hope she made it big.

What we didn’t know at the time that many of us that lived on the south side were poor. One friend who went to Park Street School said, “We didn’t know we were poor until our teacher told us..”
Any corrections you have, as I said before, on these pictures, please let me know.