Thoughts of 1955 - By Kit

Thoughts of 1955 - By Kit

Written by Harmony Carrigan

Everybody said it was a queer graduation gift.

I was just finishing Harvard Law School with the class of 1955, and wondering where in the world I'd find the money to set myself up in an office in style.  I decided to take a short break at home in Chattanooga, Tennessee, when what should arrive but a registered letter containing two checks and a brief note.  The fat, fat check could be cashed only on one condition -- that I locate all my Chattanooga class-mates from elementary school 10 years ago and submit a written report of their whereabouts in not less than 30 days from graduation.  The other check was to be cashed immediately and used for expenses. 

Now, how in the world would I go about such a task? It would certainly take a scientific mind to figure out such, so I sought the advice of my good friend, John Engelhardt, who had already made quite a name for himself in the scientific world.  John was delighted because he had just invented a marvel of a gadget that he thought would put fortune tellers out of business,... that is, if they would not pay the price he asked for it.  This queer little machine, guided by air waves and sound, could lead one right to any object or person mentioned -- Boy-ee -- I was more than ready to try it out.  John said he had better go with me to operate this machine and maybe make adjustments if needed.

He called his wife, the former Jayce Gilbert, to see if she would like to go too, but she was having a reception the next day for that brilliant doctor, who came to address the medical students, Dr. Arthur Henry Adams.  She told John she was just too excited to leave -- that she had at the last minute been able to persuade the famous radio television pianist, Phila Crane, and the noted swing and sway singer, Mary Lou Ashworth, to give a program. This seemed pretty important to her, so we decided to let her have her reception.

Well -- maybe this won't be such a hard job after all -- five of my classmates accounted for so far and we haven't even started.  The rest of our class-mates surely had traveled across the country, settled, and made a name for themselves elsewhere.  We decided a plane would be our quickest bet, so with hurriedly packed bags, we hailed a cab for the air port.  We instructed the driver to hurry! No sooner had he obeyed our instructions, we heard the shrill siren of the State Cop who had just emerged from the bushes and had started on our trail.

"Pull over there!", he shouted at us.

John and I looked at each other, is that who we think it is? -- Why, yes, we were right -- It was Dan Whitaker's face, as well as his voice.  He seemed so glad to see us and kindly offered to escort us to the air port when we told him of our mission.  Good old Dan!

We were breezing along, well past the set speed limit of 90, when POW!  The left rear tire suddenly blew out!  Lucky for us, we were in the middle lane of that six lane highway and safely coasted off the highway on to a small road.  Our driver called the Highway Cab Office over his car radio telephone once we had pulled off to the side of the road.  He informed us it would be 10 minutes before we could go on, if we would like get out of the cab to shake our jolted joints.

We decided to step back over to the highway and have a Bridgman Cooler at the small restaurant -- As we walk up to the entrance, who do we see? -- Why, it was old Bob Lawrence stumbling out of this popular drink, looking for an empty bottle.  Before we finished our refreshments and headed back to the cab, the owner of the restaurant walked in.  Her face seemed familiar -- But no -- It couldn't be -- She was too much on the plump side -- But, yes, she came over with...

"Why if it isn't old Kit and John. How are you? What are you doing now? Where are you going?"

Yes -- It was Emma Tucker , all right -- And did she have news for us!!  She said we would just have to go to Ooltewah and see the new six ring circus that Jimmy Matheny had ready for a world tour.  It was simply marvelous.  His star trapeze performer was none other than little Clara Burger -- Jo Anne Woodward directed a monkey orchestra -- the first of its kind.  Norman Hoffman was Jimmy's business manager and we would see him in the ticket booth -- Oh, and Leon Sutton was his animal trainer, training them with the sweet music from his guitar -- and we would never guess who had sent in all the animals for the show -- David Johnson and Willie Ann Woods. We were both amazed. We would never have guessed these kids would have gone into such a business together. Amazing!

The postman arrived while we -- I mean, Emma Tucker was talking.  I happened to see that he brought her invitations from Janette Caste and Joane Smith to attend their graduation from Bob Jones College. So that's where they were!

John tapped me on the shoulder to let me know that our cab was calling us -- Oh! Boy -- Things are really happening for me! We hurried to our cab and we were pulling up in front of the air port before we knew it!  As we came to a stop, why -- There was Azell Cheek taking reservations! We talked briefly as we unloaded the cab and she asked if we knew her old friend Jesslyn Rowell had just been added to Greenwood faculty.

We said our goodbyes to Azell and the cab driver and went inside the air port only to discover that we would have to wait an hour for a plane, I thought this might be a good time to get that long needed haircut -- But once I got to the air port barber, I decided against it when I saw the barber was J.E. Statham -- We had a good long talk. It was great catching up with him!

Finally our plane was just about ready for boarding. While our plane was warming up, we discovered that our pilot on this flight would be Eddie McClanahan.  We loaded our luggage onto the plane and climbed the stairs into the cabin.  I went to my seat, unfolded my news paper, and there on the front page was a poem "Ten Years Since The Disappearance of Japan" by Doris Collough.

"Why -- Do you know what, John?  We have found out the whereabouts of every one but Patty."
"It's just as well," Sighed John, "I just happened to think, I left my new detector machine at home!"
"Oh, my!", Thought I, "Well, just one more to go!"

I stretched out and got comfortable in my seat. Slowly drifting off to sleep before the plane has even taken off.

"Wake up -- Wake up."

I opened my eyes. Why, it's Patty Vanouver, the plane hostess.

Everything then began to fade away. Fade away. Fade away.

"Kit, Kit -- Wake up -- You will have to hurry, if you want to finish writing that class prophecy to night!"

I'm jolted awake once again. I looked down at my paper.  This isn't my news paper, but an assignment. Class prophecy! And I haven't even gotten a single word written yet. Maybe if I just close my eyes for a moment, I can think of where to begin.

Henry Richard Pattengill (1920-1944)

 

Henry Richard Pattengill
Entered Fourth Form

"Rich" is a member of several clubs of his own invention, notably the R.O.O.T., of which he is President. His pride and joy is a '35 Buick which he proudly calls "Hepzibah," and he burns up the streets of Lansing with this gas buggy. Pat likes to tinker with electrical devices, and 'tis small wonder that he wants to be an electrical engineer. As a member of the Erg, he is one of the few who understand the lights on the stage.

Ergasterion 5-6, Radio Club 6, Glee Club 4

Source: The Brook, Cranbrook School, 1940

---------------------------------

Henry Richard Pattengill, 1944

H. Richard Pattengill, private in the Army, was killed in action in France on July 3, 1944. Pvt. Pattengill was enrolled in the School of Engineering and the general course during 1940-43, entering from Lansing. His mother, the former Edwina Prudden, w'10, and two brothers survive.

Source: Michigan State College

---------------------------------

REST IN PEACE
b. 8 November 1920, Lansing, Michigan
d. 3 July 1944, France

The Allhoff Family of Coloma, California

A few years ago, I purchased some 1860s cartes-de-visite from eBay. My main attraction to them was the sour looks on the both young boys' faces. I later found out, after researching the names on the back of all the photographs, why the poor boys probably weren't very happy.

Martin Allhoff was born in 1827 in Prussia and emigrated to the United States at a young age. By 1849 he and his brother John had arrived in Coloma, among the first of the wave of gold seeking Argonauts to search for their fortune in California's newly discovered gold mines. They prospered, and soon Martin had enough money to buy a home and 35 acres of land a short distance southeast of Coloma's main thoroughfare.

In 1852, John and Martin returned to their home in Dayton, Ohio where Martin then married Louisa M. Weaver in the Emanuel Church. John stayed in Ohio, but Martin and his new bride returned to Martin's home in Coloma, where they had three sons: Joseph (1857-1897), Martin John, Jr. (1858-1942) and Charles (1863-1866).

By the time Martin had returned to Coloma, the gold was becoming more and more difficult to find and the Coloma valley was becoming known more for it's fruit growers than gold miners. Martin planted a vineyard on his property and went into the wine business. It was, for a time, one of the largest wineries in the state of California, producing a variety of wines, cordials and brandies which were sold primarily in the Comstock Lode towns near Virginia City, Nevada, and also into Utah.

In 1867, Martin's agent in Virginia City was arrested on tax and license violation charges, and their stock was confiscated. Martin immediately set out for Virginia City to see if he might be able to straighten out the issue, but he was quickly arrested himself, albeit on a minor charge. He worried obsessively that he might be sent to prison, and concerned about the disgrace that would bring to his family, he decided to commit suicide. Early one morning, he slit his throat and bled to death.

His body was transported back to Coloma and buried in the Protestant Cemetery (now simply called the Pioneer Cemetery) across the street from his vineyard property. About two years later, Louisa married Robert Chalmers, who continued to run the prosperous vineyard, and in 1878 built the now-famous Vineyard House.

Robert built his dream house on a hill overlooking Coloma in 1878 for Louise and the children. Their Victorian mansion had 4-stories, 19 rooms, 9 fireplaces with a large shaded porch that wrapped around the home.

Their mansion quickly became the place where the local wealthy and elite gathered and partied. Many of the guests had made their fortunes during the Gold Rush.

Former President Ulysses S. Grant visited the home where Chalmers announced proudly that he intended to run for the State Legislature. The Chalmers were happy and seemed to have it all but then disaster struck.

Robert started experiencing a loss of memory. Louise became concerned when he would say one thing and do another. He became short-tempered and scared Louise, the children and the household staff.

His odd behavior worsened. Every time a grave was dug in the cemetery across from the mansion Robert would cross the road and lay down in the freshly dug hole. He would be found with his arms crossed in the traditional manner.

Family and staff had to restrain him and forcefully take him home. As his behavior became more violent several of the staff threatened to quit. For the safety off all concerned Louise made a hard decision.

She had a cell with iron bars constructed in the basement of the mansion. Robert was then lured into this space and locked in. His mind was lost to madness. He spent his days moaning and banging his head against the bars.

He was fed and checked on everyday but there was little anyone could do to help him. He eventually lost his sight to the basement’s darkness. In the end, he became convinced that Louise was trying to poison him--he stopped eating and starved to death in 1881.

Louise died 32 years later in 1913. The mansion was then sold to a series of owners and quickly became run down.

Sources:
+ The Weekly Pioneer
+ Seeks Ghosts
+ FindAGrave: 1, 2, 3
+ Images of America: Coloma by Betty Sederquist

Freckles

Gem tintype, circa 1860

Casper the Friendly Ghost

Snapshot, 1973

Our Clones

In 1963, James and Susan Hale had themselves cloned.

Space Cat