Notes from the Hollow

Mountain Dew made with real sugar instead of corn syrup does taste better. And using old Willy the Hillbilly is a throwback, too. He was the front man until 1973.

Grandpa Jones used to sing an old song called “Good Old Mountain Dew,” written by Bascom Lamar Lunsford, an attorney known as the "Minstrel of the Appalachians.” This verse gives away part of the secret recipe:

You take a little trash and you mix it up with ash,
And you throw in the soul of a shoe,
Then you stir it awhile with an old rusty file,
And they call it that good old mountain dew.

Interesting that you throw in the shoe’s soul, instead of sole – I’m not sure I know what that means.

The Nature Conservancy has announced it purchased 4,557 acres on the Kings River south of Eureka Springs, Arkansas. This would be the land owned by the family of the late J. Hugh Liedtke of Pennzoil Oil. While he was alive, J. Hugh Liedtke was the largest land owner in Carroll County.

I’d heard a rumor that the land was going to be developed and feared the worst. Instead, seven miles of the Kings River will be protected. That stretch of the river includes the Mason Bend where the John Southerland farm was located and my Granny was raised.

The Yahoo! Satellite map below shows the general area of the Kings River Preserve and the Mason Bend.

This all started with a discussion of what I always thought of as “Little Lake Eureka,” the small spring-fed lake at the end of Douglas and Steele Streets. I’ve always thought it was one of Eureka Springs’ prettiest spots. I’ve read that it was the city’s first water supply and that it was fixed up nice as Eureka’s main swimming hole at one time.

Here is a Yahoo! aerial photograph showing that area of the city. I circled the lake, but it is so small it is hard to make out.

Using Google Maps' Street View, this is what you'll encounter if you drive to the end of Steele Street:

This is what you'll see if you drive to the end of Douglas (Street or Road, I've seen it both ways):

And here is a view looking up the lake from the dam:

If you look toward your right, you'll see this picnic table under a little bluff with some nice rockwork:

As an aside, I noticed this item in the November 17, 2007 police report in the weekly Lovely County Citizen: 9:53 a.m. -- A caller informed police that one of the raccoons which frequent Little Lake Eureka was apparently a little under the weather.

So what does all of this have to do with the aforementioned Water Street?

I did a little reading up on Little Lake Eureka and in one spot it mentioned that Water Street ran up this same hollow and was the original main entrance into the city. I couldn’t recall a Water Street and had a difficult time imagining that hollow as the main entrance into the city.

I perused a modern street map of Eureka Springs and couldn’t find Water Street. But then I read an article referring to the hollow from Little Lake Eureka to the Flint Street Chapel as the Water Street Park. That seemed to be a clue.

Then I recalled that the website www.eurekaspringshistory.com had scans of some old maps from the Carnegie Library. On a 1923 Sanborn map the website displays, there is indeed a Water Street between Douglas on one side and Flint and Steele on the other side. These streets run off the edge of the page shown and the map doesn’t include the lake, so I’m still having a tough time picturing Water Street. If it weren’t snowing so hard right now, besides being dark out, I might run down there and take a look.

I hadn't paid any attention to the weather forecast, so I was surprised to receive the following alert:

Hi Steve Weems,

Alert Message has been issued by the Eureka Springs Police Department.

Saturday March 20, 2010 13:07 PM CDT

WINTER ALERT...
EXPECT HEAVY SNOW LATE THIS EVENING**SNOW ACCUMULATIONS COULD REACH 10-14 INCHES BY SUNDAY 7PM...

I photographed these deer 20 minutes ago in the field above the house.

In keeping with the Irish spirit of St Patrick's Day, here is O'Connor's Texaco of Eureka Springs, Arkansas. The O'Connor name is obviously Irish in origin, and this family came to the United States from Ireland. The O'Connor family opened this gas station in 1950 and it stayed in operation until 1983.

This 1954 photograph shows Duane O'Connor on the left and his father George O'Connor on the right.

The old O'Connor's service station now houses a popular restaurant.

Even Chandler knows there is a time to dance.

If you look back through these Notes from the Hollow, you'll see that once upon a time a giant oak stood sentry at the entrance to the hollow. In the early morning hours of September 14, 2008, the remnants of Hurricane Ike swept through and toppled the big old oak. I regretted that I didn't have a good photograph of the tree. Sure, I had photos that had part of the trunk, or maybe the branches overhead, but the tree was of the size it was hard to fit into a single picture.

Leave it to the boys (and girls) out at Google, wherever that might be, to send someone down our county road to prepare a "street view" for Google Maps. Imagine that. Not sure when they did it, but it must have been before September 14, 2008. This screen capture turned out pretty good - good enough for me, anyway.

http://jensbookthoughts.blogspot.com/

Once upon a time, March meant the NCAA Men’s Basketball Tournament and analyzing the minutiae of the various team’s abilities to fill in the brackets. Since it appears the Razorbacks will not participate this year, I’ve moved onto something new and exciting that will certainly take my mind off basketball.

Jen’s Book Thoughts is hosting the World’s Favorite Detective Tournament. What a great idea. The Week 1 Showdown has begun and I’m about to fill mine in…

All the great ones are here, as well as my personal favorites: Sherlock Holmes, Philip Marlowe, Rebus, Morse, Dave Robicheaux, and the list goes on and on. Even if you aren’t obsessed with detective fiction, you’ll see names you know.

I must be honest; I’m not familiar with all of these detectives so I end up choosing the one I know. And a few times I knew neither – but that is okay since you can leave pairings blank. Having to choose between two favorite detectives are the toughest ones.

For example: John Ceepak vs. David “Kubu” Bengu is pretty tough. I’ll have to go with Kubu.

Adam Dalgliesh vs. John Rebus. Just like in the NCAA brackets, sometimes you start out with two teams deserving to make it to the final rounds. What can you do? Dalgliesh is a great, original character, but I’ve got to go with the Scotsman.

You get the idea.

But there are easy ones, too. Like choosing if Duke played the Arkansas Tech Wonder Boys. Obviously Duke would win, whether I liked it or not.

I’ve got my ballot completed and look forward to Round 2 next week. Go fill out your bracket choices. I hear there are even prizes.

http://jensbookthoughts.blogspot.com/

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.