Notes from the Hollow

Cleaning out the workshop, I found this item I forgot I even had. This bumper sticker was stuck to a barrel when we bought the place several years ago.

Back in 1974, Bill Clinton ran for the House of Representatives in my very own district against the popular incumbent John Paul Hammerschmidt and lost by only a few thousand votes (52% to 48%). Not bad for a 28 year-old lifetime student and novice law professor. John Paul Hammerschmidt went on to serve a total of 13 terms in congress.

I saw Bill Clinton several times before he left Arkansas for greener pastures, but only two instances come to mind at the moment. In 1984, I skipped school and attended the famous “Super Cow Clinic” in Green Forest, Arkansas with Grandpa (or the legally named Jack McCall). The place was overrun with politicians and candidates, including Bill running for reelection as governor. His opponent, Woody Freeman, was the clear favorite among the old cattleman and farmers in attendance. Actually, I had to look up Woody Freeman’s name and once I saw it I still had no recollection having ever seen it before. Even so, he was a hit.

One of contests at the cattle show was the always popular buffalo chip throwing contest. The announcer on the loud speaker asked the governor to come up and give it a try. When Bill politely demurred, the announcer started ribbing the governor pretty good. So Bill went forward and chose a buffalo chip and let her fly. It didn’t hardly go anywhere at all. Some in the watching crowd let their displeasure be heard. The opponent in the governor’s race (apparently named Woody Freeman) eagerly came forward and threw the buffalo chip like he’d been a professional. The crowd cheered.

A big attraction at the “Super Cow” was the free barbecue lunch. There was a long line waiting to get their plates filled and Bill Clinton started at the end and worked his way up the line shaking hands and talking to people. The governor just wasn’t in his element that day. When he got near to us, I saw that he was pale, sweating hard and clearly nervous. He did look Grandpa in the eye, though, as he shook his hand and at least attempted that earnest look of his. Then Bill Clinton came to me. I don’t guess I was one of those Friends of Bill’s, but I had nothing against the guy and was a little excited to meet the Governor of Arkansas. I stuck out my hand. Well, Bill didn’t look me in the eye. He quickly studied my face, apparently noting that I was not yet of voting age and withdrew his hand before it touched mine and moved on down the line shaking hands, sweating, and looking like he wished he could get out of Green Forest, Arkansas.

The last time I saw old Bill, I was driving east on highway 62 going towards Berryville, Arkansas. I knew Bill was in Eureka Springs for something or another, so when I came up behind one of those Lee Iacocca K-car specials with an Arkansas government license plate, I wasn’t too surprised to see the governor in the car. I was a bit surprised though that he was alone. I followed him into Berryville and then he turned to take highways 21/221 north. I wonder where he was going?

Some of the signs are here that the hollow is springing, like the robins hanging around and the tree frogs tuning up their chorus and half-drunk wasps flitting around. Saw several big bats this evening up in the woods, too. I think it’s too early yet for the little bats that live down the hollow that come out every evening during the warm months.

I got in a bit of spring cleaning in the workshop, too. I’ve not seen or heard any wood rats for a few weeks, but they sure left a mess behind. Tearing up rat nests, I was amazed at the junk I found. Why did they need so many nails? I understand a few for small home repair projects, but not the mass quantities they stole from me. Found a rock, and many, many pieces of turtle shells I’d found in the woods and displayed on a shelf. Wish they hadn’t broke them up. And, of course, dog food, shredded paper, and short sections of wire.

Thursday evening, happenstance allowed me to browse a few, short minutes in the Dickson Street Bookshop in Fayetteville, Arkansas. What a wonderful used bookstore. Though my intention is to write a bit about Virginia Tyler, I can’t allow this opportunity to get by without enthusiastically endorsing the Dickson Street Bookshop, which I’ll do with someone else’s words, since mine would be feeble in comparison. This is from www.abebooks.com:

David and Susan Siegel, in The Used Book Lover's Guide to the Central States puts it this way, "The Dickson Street Bookshop...is truly a fabulous establishment with books in scholarly and technical areas as well as popular culture categorized in sub categories of sub categories. This is one of those establishments where you could spend hours if only your partner weren't reminding you about other obligations."

Wheeler Printing published two anthologies of the columns Virginia Tyler wrote for the Eureka Springs Times-Echo newspaper and I’d been keeping an eye out. I found Around Town, Book II, which I greedily clutched until it was safely locked in the car. Dickson Street Bookshop has what has to be the finest section of books on Arkansas and the Ozarks anywhere on earth (bold words, I know).

I’m told Virginia Tyler died several years ago, though I’ve yet to figure out which year. I was aware of her name since childhood since it was in the weekly Eureka newspaper the mail delivered and I heard her occasionally mentioned in stories my whole life. Everyone seemed to know her, though I have no recollection of ever meeting her or even seeing her.

People remember her wit and kindness, but they especially remember her love and knowledge of all things Eureka Springs. As I got older, I also heard some unexpected stories about Virginia Tyler, though usually the stories were just hinted at (sometimes in a whispered voice and sometimes with a smile).

One day I asked a native old-timer who knew her, “Are the stories about Virginia Tyler true?”

He said, “All of them.”

That didn’t clarify matters much, but I decided it really wasn’t my business anyway. I just wanted to find and read her books. Then I stumbled upon a concise summation of the alleged stories in lurid detail. I wish I’d not seen it, I know it wasn’t meant kindly.

Now the rumors seem beside the point. A deceased lady known for her kindness, writing, and love of Eureka Springs and the Ozarks - I can’t help but feel like I should be on her team.

I’m only partway through the book, but am really enjoying it. The tone of the writing is both eager and earnest, like she couldn’t wait to get it written down. She’ll mention things like the funny incident where she was walking to the New Orleans Hotel to meet the Alpine Hiking Club or the Ukulele Club in the lobby when she met so-and-so from a little town in Minnesota on Center Street and they said this and that and they drove an old Ford with bald tires and she’d tell them the story about the old lady that rode her Jersey Cow down Spring Street because she had a smart, little dog named Nipper that had been brought to town by old Doc Miller and when old Doc Miller died he bequeathed Nipper to the old lady because she always laughed when little Nipper chased his tail or recited Latin or something And, of course, the funny part of the story was that old Doc Miller had retired from a small town near where the tourist couple lived in Minnesota, and they’d actually heard of the old doctor because he had once treated their gardener’s sister for the gout. And Virginia Tyler regretted that she’d only had a few minutes to talk to the couple because she was running late for the club meeting and it was her turn to put out the snacks. I’m exaggerating, of course, but her columns are amazing.

Hope I can find the other volume on my next trip to Fayetteville and I hope that the silly rumors that still circulate don’t discourage people from seeking out Miss Tyler’s old columns to read. And I hope that when the columns are read and enjoyed that the readers can’t help but have the same fondness I feel for Virginia Tyler.

Up on the hill yesterday evening visiting neighbors and the dogs treed this little possum. Took the photo with my cell phone.