Coming Full Circle

When I started Child of the Fort - a couple of years ago - I couldn't tell you exactly what prompted me to do it. Maybe it was a combination of things - the Christmas holidays, being off of work on vacation, my longing for my hometown...I didn't know why...I just felt the need to write. And when I thought about a name for the blog, this is the first one that came to mind. I was literally - a child of my hometown and I'd hoped - an example of the good that Fort Wayne had to offer (from my particular generation).

I've written about people, places, and things. It's amazing that my memories of my childhood are as crisp and clear as they are given the fact that sometimes, I can't even remember what I did three years ago!

SO - why is there a picture of my grandfather's obituary at the top of this posting? Well, I'm glad you asked.

Today is the anniversary of his death. If you were to read over the past couple of anniversary posts about him, you'd see that his absence has left this gaping hole in my heart. This year though, I'm feeling a little differently. While I still miss him, instead of sitting here and sobbing for hours about him (on this anniversary), I am holding myself together quite well.

It's not that I don't miss him (duh - of course I do!). Something for me is different this year.

Earlier this year, I wrote about how angry I had been at God - because of my grandpa's early departure from this earth. I had held on to that anger for over twenty years. Something happened in late 2009 - and miraculously - that anger is gone. I can't explain it. Well, maybe I can't articulate it.

So this anniversary of Grandpa's departure - I actually have a gift for him and so if you'll humor me for a moment....

Dear Grandpa,

I have a really awesome surprise for you. First, your last words to me - they have never left me and despite my rebellion and anger - they finally sunk in. But hey, you know that I'm a stubborn girl and that sooner or (much) later, I'd listen to you.

Second, I have renewed my relationship with God and the weird thing is - it feels right and it feels natural.

Third, I joined a church here in the Indy area (and that wasn't easy - had to visit quite a few to find the one that felt like that glove fit). But that's not your gift. Your gift is this. I have committed myself to finally going through with the Sacrament of Confirmation. You know I should have done this years ago, but one thing (parents divorce and our many moves) after another (my anger) kept me from recommitting myself.

I've done all of the research, talked to folks, and I will go through with my Confirmation this year. I have my fingers and toes crossed that I will be allowed to go through this process at Cathedral of the Immaculate Conception. I wrote to Msgr. Robert Schulte and explained the importance of my recommitment taking place there and why it would be like coming full circle for me. I know that wherever it takes place, YOU will be there with me - just as you were there for my Baptism (as my godfather).

I love you with all of my heart and soul. Thank you for...everything...you know I couldn't possibly even begin to write down what I mean by that! xoxoxo
_____________________

So really, I think I understand now why I started Child of the Fort. Yes, it was (and is) about sharing my memories of growing up in a city that had more character than most will ever have. Yes, it was (and is) about reliving some of the most significant times of my childhood (and that includes the people, places, and things). But really, I think it was about coming to terms with the sadness and anger I felt about the loss of my grandpa. You see - just like Fort Wayne - he is my childhood.

Like Fort Wayne, he was always there and offering up fun, food, and tidbits of information that I soaked in - but didn't always realize the significance of - until many years later. He is gone. The Fort Wayne I grew up with doesn't exist in the same way either. And while both realizations are hard to accept - they are what they are - and I can either be angry or I can feel warm and fuzzy and thankful because really, how many people can look back at their childhood as fondly as I can? While I hope lots can, I know that I am lucky lucky lucky.

So today's post - I guess you can call this a growth moment for me, eh? :)

Ice Skating at Reservoir Park

Photo Credit: IPFW ContentDM

I looked far and wide for a picture of the Reservoir Park Ice Skating Pond - the one that *I knew* and experienced however, I didn't have any pictures in my own collection and a web search yielded very few results.

I picked this picture (yes, even though it is from almost 100 years ago) because it comes close to how I remember the place that my mother used to take me and my sister skating to. I remember the "big hill" (which is what I called it), the crowds of people (young and not so young), and the odd shape of the ice pond. I even had my own pair of ice skates! No rentals for me!

I've never talked to my mom about Reservoir Park - if she went there often as a child - but I got the distinct feeling that she had been there a lot. She was very comfortable with where everything was and when we first stepped out on the ice (one hand each in her hands), I felt like I was with a pro.

She glided across the pond with ease. Me - not so much. I fell. Lots of times. She would tell me - Kris, you need to bend your knees a little bit. Don't stand so stiff. It's advice my husband STILL repeats today and advice that my body still ignores (thus the number of times I still manage to land on my butt - not while ice skating but while navigating the ice outdoors). By the way - my sister Patty was a pro also. She's always been WAY more coordinated than me. Ice skating, gymnastics, cheerleading. Yep. She inherited my mom's coordination gene.

When I think about Reservoir Park and ice skating with my mom and sister, I am reminded of something that I purposely ignored in my teen years (and later in my adult life).

My mom - who had me when she was seventeen - no high school diploma - second child within 11 months of me - married to a man who didn't have a high school diploma and many times - not even employed - worked at KMart and at other places...well...she really did a lot for me and my sister. She made sure that we experienced Fort Wayne - probably - in all of the ways that she had. But of course she was working with a budget of practically ZERO.

And for that, I am grateful. Even if I forget to tell her :).

The Death of a Timeless Man

When I was alerted by my husband that Monsignor Lester had died, I felt a terrible sadness in my heart.

Monsignor Lester was this pillar of the Catholic community and not only did lots of people know him but his presence and influence was felt over several generations - in fact - four generations of my family.

Several of my family members received the sacraments of baptism, reconciliation, eucharist, and confirmation. There were home visits, hospital visits, last rites, and funeral services.

My mom and aunts went to Central Catholic High School and they, along with my grandpa and great-grandma were faithful congregation members at churches where he presided.

My husband and I were married by him - June 2, 1990 - in Cathedral of the Immaculate Conception.

The weird thing is - I wasn't "close" to him like I was to the priests that were in service at St. Therese (Father Rock, Father Frank).

I think because he was "old school", I held him at arm's length because I knew how much my grandpa (and others) respected him and I never, ever wanted to offend him. With Father Rock, I would crack jokes or poke fun at something and we would both have great belly laughs over it. With Monsignor Lester, I was serious and on my best behavior.

I knew Monsignor Lester had retired from his duties at Cathedral of the Immaculate Conception. I knew that he was certainly up there in age. But I guess what I wasn't prepared for, was the death of this man who I thought of as timeless.

And because I had recently renewed my relationship with God and the Catholic Church, I always thought that I'd run into him again. And like always, he'd remember the face, but struggle with my name :).

But unfortunately, it is not to be.

God bless and keep you Monsignor Lester. I know that you are in a better place and that your life here in Fort Wayne was adored, admired, and appreciated by multiple generations of families. You touched many of our lives in ways that cannot be fully articulated. You will not be forgotten.

Key III Candies

Key III Candies
4211 Earth Drive
Fort Wayne, IN
46809-1513
260-747-7514

Photo Credit: Me! Taken in May 2008

My family and candy have deep, deep ties! Not only do we love candy, but some family members have even worked for candy companies.

My mom and my Aunt Carolyn both worked at Wayne Candies. I don't remember that period of time but what I do remember is when my mother went to work at a NEW candy place called Key III.

Key III Candies was a solid bike ride from my house. It was on Earth Drive which was right off of Sand Hill Drive.

Key III existed in this warehouse structure and their main purpose was to make awesome candy!

I asked my mother how she came to work there and she told me that folks from Wayne Candies had left the company to start up Key III. They asked her to come work there and she did. My mom had all sorts of jobs within the candy factory but her most favorite was "quality control". I have to laugh because my mom, who was rail thin, loved her some candy and she could eat lots of it and you'd never know that this is how she passed the time of day ;).

There were two sets of memories that I have of Key III Candies.

First, my mom got to bring home the "rejects". Oh my gosh - when you grow up poor - "rejected" candy is like heaven on earth. She used to bring home boxes of chocolate covered pretzels and chocolate covered peppermint patties - oh - and the chocolate covered carmel nut thingies were THE BEST!!! When the company started experimenting with the white chocolate - well - those were the boxes I tended to leave alone ;).

My second memory was when we had the opportunity to take tours of the facility. I remember the big mixer machines and the conveyor belts where the chocolate was gracefully set up to coat those luscious buttons of carmel nut clusters. Everyone seemed to be wearing white from head to toe.

I haven't been inside Key III Candies in over 30 years (wow!) but my gosh, if I just close my eyes and concentrate real hard, I can still remember those awesome, chocolate smells.

Fort Wayne Box Company

My Grandpa was the kind of guy who worked multiple jobs. He was a responsible man and did whatever he could to support his family.

One of the jobs he had was working for the Fort Wayne Box Company. In fact, it's the place where my grandparents first met each other.



I absolutely adore this invoice - mostly because it has a drawing of the actual building in the left hand corner.

I thought the detailing of the building was magnificent and I said to myself - ain't no way...given Fort Wayne's history of tearing down things that exist in the downtown area - ain't no way - this building still exists.

But guess what? I was wrong.

From Google Earth Maps

This is the Downtown that I Remember (Kinda)

I'm going to go see my Grandma this week and whenever I think of Grandma, I think of our frequent trips to the downtown area (in the 70's). I don't have a picture of G.C. Murphy's from that exact time period, but this postcard comes pretty close to what I remember things looking like when I was a youngster.

Mention G.C. Murphy's to any child of the fort and the first thing they'll probably bring up is the donuts (machine now in place at Cindy's Diner). Yes, of course, those comments would roll off of my lips, but the first thing that always pops into my head is...the basement area.

I know, you think I'm crazy...the basement area? When you went in doors, you'd go down a couple set of stairs. It was like 10 steps and then room to rest ;). And then another 10 steps - something like that ;).

Anyway - what was in the basement? Clearance, my friends...clearance! Murphy's had these shallow bins with things marked down ridiculously. It always always always smelled like the rubber from the bottom of our tennis shoes in that place. The ceilings were low and the place was badly lit. Still, my grandma could sniff out a great deal and I was sure to leave with something new!

Another neat thing about Murphy's is that the PTC buses had their main hubs there. We might take the bus downtown, shop at Murphy's while waiting for our transfer out to say - Southtown or Park West (had to hit up Mr. Wiggs some days). And heck, if we missed our transfer - just more time to hang out in Murphy's! Plenty to do, see, and certainly eat.

When Murphy's - well the building - was demolished or redone or whatever - I was no longer living in Fort Wayne. Now, when I'm in the fort and I'm walking in this area, I don't even recognize much. Almost all of the "landmark" type of buildings or businesses no longer exist or have been changed to a point where they are unrecognizable. Sometimes I think, Fort Wayne might have been better off building that 465 type of a loop through Downtown (this was like back in the 40's? 50's?).

But back to Murphy's. There will never, ever be another place like it again. And I'm thankful that my grandparents immersed me in the experience of it.

P.S. If you want to see even MORE detail of the postcard, click on the picture and it will take you to my Flickr account. At the top, you'll see an option to see ALL SIZES. The details are pretty amazing!

Fifth Grade and the Overthrow of Miss Majewski

I know it's been awhile since I wrote about St. Therese, but now that I'm literally having dreams about it - and specifically- the fifth grade - I thought it was time to revisit the school in my blog.

Remember - I went to Indian Village Elementary School until the second semester of fourth grade. At that time, my mother switched my sister and I over to St. Therese and my first experience with parochial school was with Mr. Wunderlin.

One thing to mention to you is that I never felt like I fit in at St. Therese (although this was a pretty universal feeling for me at ALL of the schools I attended). A couple of kids used to make fun of me for the hand me downs I wore (my winter coats always came from Goodwill/Salvation Army) and except for being tall, thin, and one of the smartest kids, I pretty much did my best to blend in to the background.

Fifth grade should have been a lot like fourth grade, right? Same building, same kids, just moving one room over, with a different teacher.

Boy - we were wrong about that!

Our teacher in fifth grade was Miss Majewski (and apologies if I have misspelled her last name). She was new. She wasn't the one that was there the year previously. Miss M - allegedly - used to be a nun before becoming our teacher. I only had heard this as a rumor and still...to this day...don't know if it was true or not.

Miss M's style of teaching was very different. We would spend a great deal of time, during the school day...meditating. Seriously. Like everyday, we would have the lights shut off in the room and the door closed and she would instruct us to close our eyes. We could even move to the floor or sit in a corner if we wanted to. It was very odd.

One day, my mother asked me what kinds of things I was learning in fifth grade. I couldn't think of anything remarkable to tell her - nothing exciting and new. For me, it seemed like a rehash of the past four years. I did tell her that I was learning how to meditate and her ears perked up real fast.

When I told her what I meant by meditating and how often we did it, she was speechless. I wasn't sure if there was something wrong with meditating (was it against the Catholic religion??) but soon enough, she told me that she wasn't spending money to have me sit in a classroom every day with the lights out.

I wasn't sure what would happen next and frankly, I had other things to worry about (they were repaving our street and I wanted to make sure that I could sneak out and leave my handprint somewhere for all of eternity).

Over the course of the next few weeks, my mother was meeting with the parents of some of my other classmates - Shannon Juza's mom, Alice Jordan's mom, Tiena Spears's mom, Gregg Jehl's mom...and pretty soon, there was this small mob of them, knocking down the principal's door. They were pretty ticked off that their kids were "meditating" instead of learning.

It's not like the adults tuned me into what was going on but I assume that Miss M was put on some sort of probation. And then one day - POOF - she was gone.

It's not like I wished her any ill will - she was nice enough - just seemed not interested in teaching the class.

For a short span of time, my mom bonding together with those other parents...well...it made me not feel like such an outsider in their world. I was very proud of my mom for taking action and I had the opportunity to get to know two of my classmates (Tiena and Shannon) lots better.

It Was A Tuesday, in November...1973

I came home from school like I normally did - on the yellow bluebird school bus. My bus stop was at the corner of Pinecrest and South Cedar Crest Circle so I had to walk a little bit to my house. As I neared my house, I saw that there was an ambulance parked in front of the Boice's house. The Boice's lived exactly - right across the street from us at 4718 West Cedar Crest Circle.

During the summer time, my sister and I would play with Jackie. Jackie was nearer my sister's age (at least 1-2 years younger than me) however, her backyard was just way too awesome to let age get in the way ;). In her backyard, there were several fruit trees - apple, cherry - and some vines that grew up against this latticed fence panel. I was thinking that there were grapes and blackberries but perhaps I am mistaken. My sister Patty will probably remember though.

We would always pick the apples and cherries for Jackie's mom. In turn, she would make some of the best pies ever. She used to reward us for our hard work (summertime is hot for sure!) by meeting us at the screen door, in the back, with Popsicles by Good Humor. Orange, Grape, and Cherry for the three flavors and it mattered not which of the three I had. The most important factor was that I got to have one of these yummy treats!

Jackie's mom (her name - Joahn - pronounced like Joanne), was a very soft-spoken woman. For anyone with five children to be soft-spoken - wow - isn't that just a complete freak of nature!! That's right, Mrs. Boice and her husband Carl, had five children: John, Carl Jr., Kurt, Kathy, and Jackie.

We knew all of the kids. Kathy, who was about five years older than me - well - I worshipped her. I thought she was beautiful and kind and model-like. John still lived at home although he seemed to not be there much and Carl Jr. and Kurt came around enough...in fact, one of them lived in a house down the road.

My dad was friendly with Carl aka Mr. Boice. I'm not sure how their friendship started but I know that beer was involved.

My mom tells me that Joahn kept to herself. She didn't seem to have any friends but she was always friendly to everyone she came into contact with. I always thought it was odd that my mom and her weren't close friends given that we played with her daughter, we lived across the street, and my dad hung out with Carl. Now I understand why.

Although I remember Joahn being pretty, and I can see her standing at the back porch handing us Popsicles or giving us pies to take home to our family, I have absolutely no recollection of her face. I can see her body, I can see her hair, but the rest has been blurred in my memory. My sister and my mom tell me that daughter Kathy looked very much like her mom.

When I came into the house that Tuesday, in November 1973, my sister was already home (she only had half-day kindergarten) and my mom was in the kitchen.

I asked my mom why there was an ambulance in front of Jackie's house. Was somebody hurt? Her face was solemn and she tried to change the subject. But me, never to be derailed by wanting to know answers, asked her again. She said that it had been there since 1pm and that she knew that Jackie's mom had been hurt.

HURT?!?

I needed more information. My mother calmly sat me down and said that there had been an accident. Mrs. Boice was up in the attic cleaning while little Jackie took her afternoon nap. My mom said that she didn't have all of the details but she had been told that a gun had accidentally been discharged.

I ran back to our front entrance area and pulled the curtains open to see what I could see? Was Mrs. Boice alright? Where was Jackie? And Kathy? And Mr. Boice? My mom made me get away from the window (staring wasn't nice ya know!) and I spent the rest of the evening, fretting over the Boice's.

I know that my dad talked to Carl. I know that my mom and dad whispered a lot in the kitchen (without me or Patty) that night. Eventually, they did tell us that Mrs. Boice had died and I remember crying myself to sleep that night, with the pillow covering up my whimpers as much as possible. I had to be strong for my sister.

The funeral was held three days later - at D.O. McComb & Sons. Mrs. Boice was later buried at Covington Memorial Gardens. She was only 38 years old.

I've mentioned before that our neighborhood was close-knit but the odd thing about this situation is that absolutely NO ONE talked about it. It's like the entire situation never occurred. I was intuitive enough (yes, even at seven) to know not to ask Kathy or Jackie questions but it always weighed heavily on my mind. Why was there a gun in the attic and how could Mr. Boice have been so irresponsible as to have left it out where Mrs. Boice tripped (this was my theory) and accidentally shot herself?

Years later, my mom had told me that Mrs. Boice had purposely taken her life...using a rifle. She went up to the attic, we assume, so that Jackie would not be the one to find her.

Almost every time I feel the first Fall chill in the air and/or the first grey Fall skies of the year, I often think of Mrs. Boice. I wonder what made her climb the stairs of the attic, take that rifle, and end her young life in the most gruesome of manners. I wonder if she was depressed for a long time or if something recently had happened to make her feel such despair. I wonder if she even understood that she would be leaving her five, beautiful children...motherless.

A Guy and His Gun

In January of 1986, I worked three jobs. Why? I was 19 and I was on a quest to make money and to keep myself as busy as possible. I always liked to be on the go and with three jobs - I certainly was!

One of the disadvantages of living on Third Street was that all parking occurred on the street. My used 1979 Red Honda Accord could amazingly fit into small spots and believe me, I took advantage of that as much as possible. If I happened to come home late, I usually had to park at least a block away. My grandparents (who I lived with), were never thrilled if my car was not within view. I think they just liked to keep an eye on me and my stuff :).



On one particular Winter night, the parking situation really sucked. Instead of getting to park on Third Street, I had to go down to Orchard and then, park at the very end of it - almost at the corner of Orchard and High Street.



The black splat is where I ended up parking.

As I was walking up the sidewalk, nearing the corner of Orchard and Third Street, the light of a street lamp bounced off of one car and made it stand out more than the others parked on the street.

I looked to the right and I saw a guy - about my age - sitting in the driver's seat, with a gun in his hand. He looked distressed. We made eye contact. I diverted my eyes - but in a way that showed no fear. Why? I couldn't tell you. I probably should have been afraid. But everything inside of me kept me composed and calm and I continued walking at an even pace towards our house.

I walked inside - it was after 10 p.m., but my grandpa was still awake. He had just retired a few weeks beforehand and he claimed that he couldn't get used to not being awake for second shift. Secretly, I think he worried about me being out "in the dark" and so staying up, watching television kept him entertained until I got home.

So anyway, I walked in and I told my grandpa that we needed to call 911. I explained to him what I had just seen and amazingly, I was still very calm about it. For many years, Grandpa worked as a Security Supervisor at St. Joe Hospital so before we picked up the phone to place the call, he asked me specific questions.

Where exactly was the car parked?
Was it running? Or off?
What did it look like?
What did he look like?
Did he see you?
Did he make any attempt to get out of his car?
What did his gun look like?
What position was the gun in?

Most of my answers weren't specific enough (like I knew it was a mid-size American car but I didn't know what model/make/year), and forget the gun stuff. I just knew that it was a small pistol - it didn't have a wooden handle (you know - like handguns did in the Westerns on television).

My grandpa was very patient and in the span of 2-3 minutes, he got a lot of information out of me. He placed the 911 phone call himself (giving the details I had provided) and within 15 minutes, a uniformed FWP guy was at our door.

My grandpa and him got on well. The policeman took my statement and he asked the same type of questions that my grandpa had (and then some).

At the end of this process, he told us that the guy was upset over a domestic situation and that he had planned on killing himself. I was kind of shocked - I guess I never really stopped to think what was wrong with him or why he had a gun (or what he was going to do with it).

The policeman explained that he and his partner had approached the car (and its driver) to ascertain the situation and that is what took him so long to get over to see us. The individual had a gun permit but they did not feel comfortable with letting him go. It didn't sound like he was arrested - more that someone (or someones) were spending some time, talking to him. He was definitely out of the immediate area and the police gave him strict instructions not to come back near this area.

I guess I should have been comforted by that last part but really, I don't ever remember being scared or frightened. Something in his eyes - that split second we made eye contact - told me that this wasn't a guy who was going to hurt me.

But you know, I got a lecture from both the policeman and my grandfather about walking alone, so late at night, blah blah blah.

As he was leaving, the policeman shook my grandfather's hand and then looked at me and said, "You probably saved his life tonight". I didn't know what to say to that. So I said nothing. He didn't appear as if he was looking for a response.

After he left, and my grandpa locked up for the night, we sat in the living room and watched some late night television (Channel 55!). Neither of us said much and about an hour later, we went to bed.

The next morning, my grandma was all frantic. She pulled out every possibility (I could have been raped, murdered, kidnapped) and I just shook my head at her. Usually, when she got this way, me and grandpa just let her rant. Eventually, she went a little over the top and my grandpa stepped in to cut her off.

"Irene. Our granddaughter did the right thing. I don't like that she was out walking in the dark but in the end, it all turned out alright for everyone, including the young man who might have been found this morning by someone else walking past his car."

That quieted her - real quick :).

Every once in awhile, whenever I had to park on Orchard, I always wondered what happened to the guy. All of these years later, I still can't look at that corner without thinking about that night. Although we only shared a couple of seconds of co-existence, I hoped that he had been able to move past the type of pain that led him to that night in his car with his gun.

The Interloper

Neighborhood Kids
Originally uploaded by kristinafh

In our neighborhood - everyone - and I do mean EVERYONE - knew each other. It wasn't just a one neighbor radius either (meaning - you probably expected us to know the people who live to the right of us, to the left of us, across the street, and directly behind us). Oh no, this neighborhood I grew up in - everybody knew everybody. In some ways, knowledge equaled a sense of safety and security. We were a young neighborhood, but already, we were pretty set in our ways.

And then, there were these "rules" that almost every kid abided by (or tried to). Most of these weren't rules that were written down or given to us as instructions. They were rules (and boundaries) that we all sort of picked up as we experienced life in the neighborhood.

For example - there were some neighbors who were really grouchy about people crossing through their yards. In fact, over a one year period, Sears must have been licking their lips at the windfall they experienced by the number of chain-link fences installed in our neighborhood.

More examples - kickball games usually took place on Cedar Crest Circle; the bike "route" was Cedar Crest Circle - Pinecrest - back to Cedar Crest. Kyle Road was too dangerous for bike riding. Skateboarding happened on Pinecrest. Tree climbing was usually reserved for the big ole cherry tree on Scott's Court. If you had to use the (ahem) facilities and you were playing with the Beckstedt kids - too bad. You had to go somewhere else cause their momma never let you in.

One summer, while playing with Tricia Manter in her big ole backyard (we were doing our typical Barbie things), we heard a voice from the other side of the wood fence. I looked at Tricia, she looked up and then looked back down, getting back to the business at hand (putting together Barbie's swimming pool).

The voice called out again. Tricia just ignored him. Not me though. I wanted to know who it was. I went to the back of the yard and I saw a boy, up in a neighbor's tree. I didn't recognize him. "Who are you?" He answered, "Wouldn't you like to know?" Of course I did. He was an interloper in our neighborhood. He was climbing trees of neighbors I knew - clearly - he was not a "neighbor". Then I heard a voice. "Tom. Come down here. Lunch is ready." To which he answered, "Okay grandma."

Weird. I went back to playing Barbies with Tricia. We didn't even acknowledge the voice in the back. By this time, the pool was up and it was time for Barbie, Ken, and Skipper to bask in all of their tanning glory.

Three Rivers Festival Souvenir Program

Three Rivers Festival Souvenir Program
Originally uploaded by kristinafh

I don't know why it takes me so long to write stuff on my blog. I have millions of stories to tell - maybe I'm just suffering from writer's block!

Anyway, I thought that a good way to clean out the cobwebs would be to upload the Souvenir Program from the 1970 Three Rivers Festival. It is the first one I have memories of attending.

My entire family - mom, grandparents, aunts - all loved this festival.

There were some events we always went to (i.e.the raft race, the parade, the fun rides, music on the landing/at Freimann Square, the FOOD, the children's zoo events, boat rides, bed race, flea market).

There were some events where I only remember them happening once - or - us attending them once (i.e. boat race, bicycle race, great train robbery).

When I was seven, I marched in my first TRF parade - as a PAL-ette (Police Athletic League baton twirler). The route was VERY different from the one today. I'm not sure when it changed but at one time, we marched on Broadway, past G.E. and the park.

Even after my parents split up and we moved out of the area, we still returned for the festival. As an adult (when I lived in Fort Wayne and worked at Lincoln Life), I became a little disenchanted with it. It seemed to go from a community-type event to an ADHD type of event. What I mean by that is that the focus seemed to be OUT of focus. Some of the core events were chucked. Many events were scattered around the city so it was difficult to plan your day. It used to be that we parked and walked (when I was a kid). As an adult, I still parked and walked, but I had to drive, park (pay), walk, drive, park (pay), walk - on and on...

It's been about five years since I attended my last TRF. Although the elephant ears are always calling to me, it hasn't been enough to get me back to town.

Maybe someday.

As an aside - all of the pages of the program are located on my flickr account. I think you'll be VERY surprised at what you come across. From the events to the advertisers - wow - this is some walk down memory lane!!!

http://www.flickr.com/photos/kristinafh

The Southgate Plaza Shopping Center

Postcard of Southgate Plaza Shopping Center, Fort Wayne, Indiana.
Photo by Madelyn Hendry.
Published by Marquart Photo Service, Fort Wayne, Indiana.

If you'd like to see a gigantic view of this picture, just click on it and it will take you to a much larger version on flickr.

There's no date associated to this postcard, but guessing by the cars pictured, it was sometime in the early 60's (although I am not a big car follower - I'm just wildly guessing here and I'll wait for one of you car buffs to correct me!).

I haven’t been to Southgate Shopping Plaza in years. By the time I was born, Penney’s had moved to Southtown Mall and of course, we never shopped at Kroger’s because the gigantic Scott’s shopping experience was on the other side of the road.

If and when we stopped in here, it was to visit the paint store (I think Ream Steckbeck Paint Co.). I also remember a shoe store too but we always walked by it without actually purchasing anything.

The Southgate Plaza, north of Pettit Avenue and east of Calhoun Street was opened April 18, 1955. It contained 40 store units at the outset on an area of 40 acres. Developed by the American Shopping Centers, Inc., it was the city’s first large center and provided parking for 2,500 cars. Major stores included Stillman’s, J.C. Penney, F.W. Woolworth, W.T. Grant, The People’s Trust Bank, Richman Brothers, Walgreen Drug Stores, and Kroger Supermarket.

Twentieth Century History of Fort Wayne, John Ankenbruck (1975) - Page 499

So I guess the parking was a big deal back then but for me - as a little kid - my biggest memory is how lost and disoriented I felt by the layout of the place. I was so used to shopping with my grandparents downtown or at Southtown Mall and this particular arrangement was confusing and to tell you the truth - lacked "eye candy".

Downtown, there was hustle and bustle and a connected sense of community. At Southtown Mall, once you stepped inside, it was like you were in another mini-city. Southgate was just a bunch of connected 'things' to me and an after thought to a Saturday shopping/outing.

Rejected

Photo Credit:
Life Magazine, September 1967

Caption - "Lost child being traced in supermarket by store wide public address system."



So...when I last spoke to Mr. John Elliott (spokesman for Kroger), I had requested to take pictures of some special places within the store before it closed. He said that he was fine with my request and that I should contact the store manager to arrange a time that would be least disruptive to employees.

Although I've been very upset about the closing of the store, I have been looking forward to being allowed in to take photos of all of those hidden places (gems) that we employees were aware of that maybe shoppers either didn't know about or didn't have access to.

I took the day off of work today (vacation day) and placed a call to the Scott's Decatur Road Store manager this morning. After speaking with Dave, he said that he needed to run this by his management and that he would return my call.

About an hour later, John Elliott returned the call. It went to voice mail because I was on another line. He stated that my request was being turned down for two reasons.

First, because my presence would be a disruption to current employees. Second, it was his understanding that without prior authorization, I had already been inside the store taking pictures.

When I returned his phone call - it went to voice mail. I explained that I had followed his instructions to me - to the letter of the law - and that I hadn't been to Fort Wayne or Scott's Decatur Road and I had not taken any pictures. I do have pictures that were sent to me by readers of this blog however, they weren't necessarily the shots I was intending to take myself. I did not request for them to take pictures and frankly, I would have never posted them if I thought that this would invalidate the agreement.

It has been three hours, and I still have not heard back from him. I'm assuming my opportunity is lost and to say that I am upset - well - it's an understatement.

5:00 P.M. Update - John Elliott returned my phone call and said that the store's management was not comfortable with me because according to them, I had made an appearance at the store a few week's ago and while I was there, they confronted me.

It's just too bad it never happened. I haven't been to Fort Wayne since sometime in 2008.

Not sure why someone would feel the need to impersonate me and not sure why the store management is being a bunch of jerks.

Goodbye Scott's. It was nice knowing you.

Finger Lickin' Good

Alright. Here's a new postcard for you. On the back it says, "5 Locations, Fort Wayne, Indiana. Specializing in Col. Sander's Kentucky Fried Chicken - Mac's Famous Barbecue and Original Pancakes.

Color photo is by Virgil V. Marquart (my Fort Wayne, pop-culture historian, RIP)

It was mailed to someone on May 31, 1965.

SO - where were these restaurants located at?

You can click on the picture - which will take you to flickr and you can look at the postcard in even more detailed (about 4 times the size you see here).

Is that center picture the KFC that was on Bluffton Road???

And whatever happened to the Hobby House?

Mayor Tom Henry and His Wife Met at Scott's Decatur Road

Here's yet another photo from LIFE MAGAZINE's story on the famous Eavey's Market.

As you all know, Don Scott recently passed away. I had left a message on his guestbook and Cheryl Scott (his daughter), replied to me this weekend, thanking me for my kind words.

She told me that she had heard that Decatur Road was closing and that it was good that her dad had died not knowing about it. I'm sure those of you that know the history of Scott's understand how much that particular location meant to Mr. Scott.

I haven't connected all of the dots together, but I do know that at some point, Mr. Eavey was ready to get out of the business (I assume retiring???) and someone else took over the Decatur Road location. Articles I have read said that Don Scott came in later and took it off the hands of whomever had it because it was "fledgling" and because he saw opportunity written all over the location.

Now, I'm a bit younger than some of my readers here :) so I don't remember the things like the coffee grinder or the swimming pool. But I'll tell you what I do remember.

As a little girl, I remember walking under the grand arches of the store, feeling like I was walking in to an adventure! I remember the smells - I remember the enormous amounts of fresh produce (I even told my grandma one day that Scott's must have the largest garden ever!)

I remember the big red slide that was adjacent to the property. We used to take our burlap sacks and ride down that slide - faster than cars on I27 - I was sure of it!

One of the comments left on my blog talked about the potential for a "missed" opportunity. Read it here.

"Back in those days, Fort Wayne could do big things because there were individuals who had vision who didn't think about limitations. Back then, people honestly believed that Fort Wayne could be a world class city, no matter what side of town you were talking about."

Let me tell you - that captures a huge slice of why I have such great love for Fort Wayne. I cannot even tell you the number of folks who were always confused when I told them that Fort Wayne wasn't about the big chains (grocery or restaurants). People would look at me - confused. And it's the second biggest city in the State? Yep, isn't that neat (I would say).

Unfortunately, I can't get one designated leader (elected or otherwise), to give me the time of day. Maybe they're afraid of offending Kroger's because Kroger is keeping folks employed in this horrible economy....

Who knows the reason why. I guess I need to go to Plan B.

Incidentally, that nugget about Mayor Tom Henry - that came from Cheryl Scott in her latest email to me today. I'm sure that there's more behind the story - oh Mr. Mayor - where are you???

P.S. Did you know that the Decatur Road location is already pulling things out even though the closing isn't for another three weeks? Read about it here

No Response Yet From Fort Wayne Leaders - Re: Scott's Decatur Road

Photo Courtesy of Clay Blackburn

(I like this particular view of the cornucopia because it shows the "bones" of the structure. Although the external appearance has been changed, the bones of the structure are from the original store built in 1956.)

Just wanted to let folks know that I wrote to Councilman Glynn Hines, Southeast neighborhood association leader Bill Crowley, and the City of Fort Wayne's Southeast Area Advocate - Chreise Dixie. No response back yet from any of them.

Maybe today!

In case you missed it, the News-Sentinel wrote up a nice blurb on our concerns.

Also, SuperValu purchased Scott's (originally - before Kroger's) and they were the ones responsible for altering the original sign. If anyone has any contacts at SuperValu they can forward to me so that I can talk to them - that would be awesome. Or - I think Rick Bender? used to be the store manager there for several years....his contact info would be great also!

Update On The Cornucopia (New Information - 4:30 est)

Wanted to add another shot of Eavey's from the Life Magazine Image Collection.

Also, I spoke with John Elliott - the media spokesperson from Kroger. If any of you would like to contact him, he is open to it - his email address is John.Elliott@kroger.com and the number he can be reached is 317-538-1495.

This appeared in today's Journal Gazette:

Scott’s cornucopia unlikely to be saved

"A local landmark is expected to be lost when the Scott’s Food & Pharmacy at 5300 Decatur Road closes Feb. 14.

The large cornucopia adorning the front of the building is anchored with steel that extends from the top of the horn into the foundation, Kroger Co. spokesman John Elliott said.

Elliott didn’t know of any plans to preserve the sign. And he expressed doubts it could be saved without destroying part of the building."

So here's the good news. The Journal Gazette took some liberties with its reporting and certainly, with its headline.

I spoke to John Elliott for approximately 15 minutes. He was very open, polite, and gracious. The question he was asked by the Journal Gazette was - would Kroger pay to move the cornucopia to another place.

Kind of a different question than what I was asking.

I asked him - is there any possible way - we can save the cornucopia? I explained to John (me - a complete stranger) that this cornucopia was an iconic symbol to the citizens of Fort Wayne. I probably blathered on for a good 5 minutes, explaining the emotional attachment to it and my gosh - the man listened to me.

He not only listened - he gave me feedback that he - and Kroger - were certainly open to a dialog with us (us being those emotionally attached to our cornucopia).

He did go into some explanation regarding why they were closing the Decatur Road store versus the Kroger located across the way.

A couple of items (and I am paraphrasing)

1) That area of the city has not been generally supportive of the store. Sales are very poor.

2) The Kroger across the way is located in a shopping center which gives the place more foot traffic.

3) The closest Kroger had been recently remodeled and one of the deciding factors in closing Decatur Road, was a combination of its declining sales and the price to have to remodel.

John said he was going to check in to see what the status was of the real estate situation. He was optimistic and said someone from Fort Wayne could always come along and purchase the place. And you know - he's completely right. He also said that a new owner wouldn't necessarily NOT preserve it. I wanted to bring up Southtown Mall to him but then I didn't want to burden him with Fort Wayne's issues.

SO - I'm passing this all off to my buddy Stephen Parker - and between the two of us - and anyone that is willing to jump in and help - we want to figure out how to save a piece of Fort Wayne history. By the way, ARCH remains silent and passive on the situation which pisses me off. Send them some of your love, k?

The elected representative for the district where the Decatur Road Scott's is located is Councilman Glynn A. Hines. He can be reached here - 260-447-7144 or glynnhines@aol.com

WE WILL NOT LET ANOTHER PIECE OF FORT WAYNE / SOUTH SIDE HISTORY BE DESTROYED. WAKE UP FORT WAYNE LEADERSHIP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Update (4:31 p.m. est)

I would like to formally apologize to Angie Quinn from ARCH. After I emailed her my blog posting, she responded very quickly. She indicated that Stephen Parker and I were the only ones to reach out to ARCH - there was no contact from the local, traditional media outlets.

Here's her response.
*******************

Here is ARCH's response:

Since the Eavey's grocery store opening on July, 31, 1956, the Eavey/Scotts Cornucopia sign has been a beloved and familiar landmark on Fort Wayne's south side. Although it is not the original sign—the sign and lighting were completely replaced in 1992, but the support structure is original—the sign is a significant local landmark. As one of the last of the grand "spectacular" signs of the 1950s, the cornucopia stands 70 feet tall, and formerly was made of porcelain coated steel, with neon lights outlining each fruit and vegetable. In 1992, the sign was replaced with a new metal sign, which did not include new neon outlining the produce. As a community landmark, however, the changes are almost imperceptible, and the sign is every bit as loved now as it was loved in 1992.

However, the removal of the original materials may make preservation efforts difficult. Most funding sources for historic preservation projects require that the building/site/structure be listed on the National Register of Historic Places. We're in the process now of getting a determination of whether the sign is eligible, since the sign materials are not original, and are not yet 50 years old—the usual criteria for inclusion on the register.

We've also begun investigating whether the sign could be protected through the Fort Wayne Local Historic Preservation Ordinance, which allows property owners to have a special designation—much like a special zoning—that will require that the city's Historic Preservation Commission review all visible changes to the exterior of a protected resource. As a sign, all of the cornucopia would be subject to review. The main problems with this avenue are that, 1) the owner needs to initiate the designation; and 2) the ordinance marks a specific piece of real estate, and not the historic resource itself. So, in this case, it would involve making the entire Scotts parcel a local historic district. Unfortunately, the store itself has been remodeled so many times it is not architecturally significant at all.

IF the owner would donate the sign, and IF a location for the sign were located, and IF funds were found to pay for its removal and replacement, then it is possible to have the sign protected. As a piece of public art [which it most definitely is] it might then be eligible for Local Historic District protection. Otherwise, we will need to hope that the next owner of the store chooses to keep the sign, as Eavey's, Scotts, Super Value, and Kroger did while running their grocery store operations in the building.

One other option to consider, should the above fail, is donating the sign to one of the national sign museums (there's one in Cincinnati) or to a local entity like NATMUS in Auburn, which has collected other local retail signs of the 1950s (though I do not think they have the space).

The ARCH Preservation Committee will discuss the sign, and may propose further action at its meeting later this month. I'll be happy to keep you up to date, and I would be happy to speak to a group of concerned citizens about the sign, if there is interest.

I'll also upload this to our blog: www.archfw.wordpress.com, to see if other interested folks contact ARCH about the sign.

On a personal note: as a child of the south side, myself, the cornucopia has been a most important landmark my entire life. I was in the marching band at Bishop Luers (when they still had one) from 1978-1982, and every practice was timed to the big neon clock on the west side of the store, easily seen from Luer's football field across the highway. The clock is gone now, too.

*******************

YES! A South Sider! Yay for us. Please - everyone - pass the word - tell your friends - your relatives - have them make noise - have them contact ARCH, Glynn Hines, and the local media. We actually have a chance here to make a difference!

Confessing My Sins

This Is Where Ericka Accidentally Tripped Me
Originally uploaded by kristinafh

At some point in time (1974?), my mother enrolled me and my sister PJ in CCD (Confraternity of Christian Doctrine) classes at St. Therese. They were held every Wednesday evening and at one point in time, they almost cut into my favorite new show – Happy Days.

Selsa Couch also enrolled Ericka in CCD and between the two of them, they coordinated the pick up and drop off of the three of us to the classes.

During second grade, Ericka and I went through some special preparation which led up to two events – First Communion (and more on this later) and The Sacrament of Penance. I was puzzled by the latter. The idea was to confess our sins and to be freed from them while at the same time, seeking mercy and forgiveness from God. There were categories of sins and ways in which people showed that they were sorry for them.

My very first time was a bit scary and intimidating. In the multi-purpose room (in the St. Therese school/church building), they set up the confessional – um – I guess box? It was dark brown – one side was where the priest sat – cloaked in privacy and the other side was where the confessor sat. In between us was a wooden, sliding window. It was to be pulled open when the confessor was ready to begin.

I thought long and hard about what to confess and amazingly – I had to really stretch the “bad” things because I truly was a good kid. Seriously!

I remember telling Father Frank that I had been mean to my sister Patty (I left out the part that she provoked me – the little brat that she was), I thought mean things about my mom and dad, and I had told 2 lies to friends (okay – those were white lies because Colleen Wooden had asked me if I liked the way she cut her Barbie’s hair and I said sure – I didn’t want to hurt her feelings).

Ericka went right before me so when I was finished, I joined her in the church, with my rosary to say the prayers assigned to me (10 Our Fathers and 3 Hail Mary’s). Although we were being watched closely by our CCD teachers, we compared our punishment through a pre-designated sign language system. Fancy that we both received the same number of prayers!

After it was all over, and we were waiting for Selsa to pick us up, Ericka dropped the bombshell on me that she would probably be moving at the end of the school year. It seems that her dad Larry was moving up in the world so they were going to move into a big ole house far away from me.

I was stunned and said nothing.

As we were running down the sidewalk to meet her mom’s car, I tripped and fell, cutting up my calf and knee pretty badly. I accused Ericka of tripping me and truth be told – I’m not sure if she did (accidentally) or if my clumsy self with my big feet, tripped over something like an indentation in the pavement. We were horsing around as we were running so either could have been the case. I sobbed – almost hysterically. Sure, there was lots of blood and crappy gravel-ish stuff in my knee but looking back, I think the tears were really about me losing my best friend. She had been my “constant” for three years. I felt like the rug was pulled out from under me. But I never told anybody that (until now).

The next day, Ericka came over to my house and delivered to me a "get well" plant along with a handwritten note about how sorry she was for tripping me. I couldn’t even look at her. While looking at the ground, I accepted her gift and then went back to the dinner table to eat.

My mom was impressed with Ericka’s gesture. I kept silent during the entire meal. Everything tasted like paper but I knew that if I didn’t eat, it would draw attention to myself and I would be subjected to questioning. I ate. Kept quiet and took the pain to bed with me.

Me and Ericka never talked about the accidental tripping situation again nor did we have any discussions about the move. When we were together, we just didn’t talk about that. Selsa would give my mom details and my mom would mention things to me. But me and Ericka – nope – we never talked about her moving.

And it happened. She moved to a big ole fancy house on Hadley Road. And another chapter in our relationship began.

More Southside Pictures - Blast from the Past

Lots of awesome responses yesterday! I found some more gems from the south side of Fort Wayne - enjoy!

Burger Chef with KMart's auto center peeking out...



Fabric World with KMart's main store to the right...



I THINK - Ponderosa

AYR-WAY'S South Location

AYR-WAY'S South Location
Originally uploaded by kristinafh

John Good has been posting pictures from this side of town (ala now and then) which made me nostalgic and thus, led me to the CONTENTdm ACPL database. I was in search of my south side of Fort Wayne - the one I used to know.

I found this picture and at first - I was like neat! Ayr-Way's! But then, I started zooming in on the different areas of the picture and that's when I saw all of the other gems.

Starting from left to right.

1) Kmart (probably their garden shop)



2) This looks like a Ponderosa!



3) A church? A cemetery? I don't remember this at all.



4) Burger Chef (I miss the works bar!)



So then, I had to go out to Microsoft Maps and see what the area looks like today.

1) Empty Building - what used to be Ayr-Way's. Sadness. Church and cemetery seems to still be intact.



2) Not Burger Chef. Sadness. Ponderosa? Not sure. Doesn't look like it. Not sure what that other building is. That's what I think had the KMART sign on it in the 1970's picture.



It's just really sad to me that first, downtown was shred to bits and then the south side of town followed suit.

Sigh.