Manistique Mind Musings

by John B. Anderson

(Dick Graphos said that I'd better get busy, and write another story about Manistique, so here's some musings.)

One winter's day in Manistique it snowed like crazy. Then it snowed all night and into the next day. By the time it was done, we had at least four feet of snow on the ground! Dan, Art, (a kid who lived above Liz Orr), and I walked over to Crow's Cliff. Crow's Cliff was about 15 feet high, and it was located across from the hospital. During the summer months, it was a rock climber's challenge to climb up the face of the cliff to reach the cedar trees at the top. The cedar trees provided us another place to pee, as we had many of those places around town. On this particular day, however, the cliff provided us with an opportunity to do the unthinkable, jump into the snow beneath the cliff. After we boosted our courage, we ran off the top of the cliff, and landed in the four foot banks of snow below. That's when we faced our next problem, how to dig ourselves out of the snow. Dan and Art finally were able to free themselves, but I could not. They threatened to leave me there, stuck in the snowbank. That motivated me to try harder. I finally dug myself out.

Crow's Cliff became passe' when Dr. Wehner built his huge house on the property. That was about the same time that he bought his new Corvette. Dr. Wehner told my dad once, that one of his goals in life was to be a million dollars in debt. The Corvette put him over the top. My sister babysat for the Wehner's upon occasion. When she had a conflict, I had to fill in. It was good duty. The kids were in bed by the time that I arrived, and they never uttered a peep after that. The Wehner's had a beautiful stereo, and mny records, so I could amuse myself until they returned. Also, the Wehners paid 50 cents an hour for babysitting, as opposed to the usual 25 cents paid by other parents. When Doc and Mrs. got home one evening, Doc asked me if I had ever driven a Corvette. I said, “No. I'm only 15, so I haven't driven anything.”

Dr. Wehner gave me the keys, and said, “Here, you drive us to your house.” It was a foggy night; I couln't see very well. We made it all the way to my house without incident. That was the last time that I drove a Corvette.

Doc figured that his car was the fastest car in Manistique. One day he was making a house call out of town, down U.S.2. A black '57 Chevy passed Doc, which, in Doc's eyes, never should have happened. Doc floored it, and burried the needle at 120 mph. He couldn't catch the Chevy. I think that the owner of the black Chevy was George MacNamara(?). We found out later that George had never been beaten. He had gone through three clutches, before the Chevy garage installed a truck clutch.

There were a lot of fast cars in town. My parents had a '53 Pontiac, straight eight. It was really a pig. Bill's parents had a Chevy Yeoman station wagon. Bill discovered that, if he would back up across the Copenhagen Bridge, slam it into first, floor the accellerator, he could squeel the tires all across the bridge. Neither Bill nor I won any races. When my folks traded for a stick-shift '58 Pontiac, I won a beer from Mike Harbin. I had a heck of a time finding second gear, but when I did, Mike was in the dust. Ray Roussin sometimes drove his step-dad's new Plymouth. The Plymouth had a push-button transmission. We were out on the Tannery Road, when Ray said, “Watch this!” Ray pushed reverse, backed up fast, pushed the drive button, and hit the gas. The car went, “Clunk,” and didn't move. Ray said, “Oh, s**t! Willard's going to be mad!”

Don Lindroth securred a stick-shift Pontiac Bonneville from his dad's dealership, at that became the fastest car in Manistique for a little while. One evening, a young man from Milwaukee showed up at the pool hall with a 1936 Ford truck. The young man asked for the fastest car in town, and we all told him about Don's Bonneville. The challenge was issued, and the race was on. Don was no match for the young man and his truck. When they returned to the pool hall, the young man revealed the engine. The engine was hard to look at, as it was all polished chrome. A real beauty!

Joe Brown got into a discussion with Jimmy Stewart one night, about the relative speeds of Jimmy's Dodge versus Joe's Lincoln. The race was down Range Street. When we got to the stop sign at Arbutus Avenue, Joe hit the breaks, and fish-tailed to the stop sign. Jimmy, disregarding his life, sailed through the intesection. I was glad that Joe didn't have a death wish that evening.

Church Groups

We Methodists didn't really get anything going, as far as the Wesley Youth Groups were concerned, so we tended to flow to the other church groups in town The First Babtists had an active group and the Presbyterians were active as well. The Lutherans had Luther League and the Catholics had C.Y.O. I hung out with the Lutherans for awhile, as they had a lot of fun projects, and because a lot of my friends were part of the Luther League. They had ice cream socials and pancake suppers, all geared to finance a trip for the youth to a rally in Texas. At on pancake supper, a pudgy man for Riverside showed up for his unlimited pancakes. This particular gentleman always wore a three-piece suit with breakfast drippings still on his vest. I volunteered to wait on him, as everyone else said, “I'm not waiting on him.” The man kept me running with more pancakes half the evening, and I left with maple syrup joining the breakfast assortment on his vest.

Later on, I really liked C.Y.O. This group held dances. Lots of fun. One dance was held with the C.Y.O. Group in Newberry. Again, lots of my friends went to C.Y. O.

Elementary School Abuse

I don't know who got abused more, the teacher or the student. One day, Mrs Cookson had had enough for Jenks Jensen. She called him to the front of the room and asked him to put out his hands. He did, and she smacked them with a ruler. Rather than cry in front of his classmates, Jenks picked up a book, smacked Mrs. Cookson on the ass, and ran out the door. The room was quiet and tense. I think that Mrs. Jensen home-schooled Jenks from then on.

John Herlik met a similar fate at St. Francis. One day, Sister Anthony called John to the front of the room for discipline. She hit John with a ruler, and John smacked her across the butt with a book. That was John's last day at St. Francis. His mom enrolled him in public school after that.

Elementary Sex

by John B. Anderson

Girls, apparently, mature faster than boys. That became clear in the sixth grade, when we shot baskets during recess at Lakeside School. Mary and Joanie started hanging out by the basketball court, trying to engage us boys in conversation. That made it hard to concentrate on shooting, and it was actually irritating.

Finally, Dan couldn't take it any more, so he asked Mary, “What the hell is wrong with you? Are you pregnant?” That worked! Mary and Joanie left, and we were able to continue shooting without a disturbance from the girls.

The only trouble was, Mary went home and told her mother. Her mother called Mrs. Cookson, our teacher and principal, and asked Mrs. Cookson to do something about it.

The next day, all of the fifth and sixth boys were summoned to the auditorium to meet with Mrs. Cookson. We were all pretty nervous. She started out my saying, “You all understand that there is a connection between the male and the female to make a baby.” (That kind of shot holes in Lloyd's theory that babies came from pills, as he had heard from his sister, the nurse, but we were past that anyway.) “...But, I don't know where you got this word, 'Pregnant'. You boys can't be talking that way at school, or there will be consequences.”

To wrap up the meeting, she added, “If you boys have any questions about sex, you may ask them now, or at any time.” Every head was bowed. All of us thought, if anyone raises his hand, we'll beat the crap out of him after school. No one spoke.

All the fifth and sixth grade boys were called to the auditorium by Mrs. Cookson one other time. It seems as if Rodney and Jerry had been caught by Mr. Krause, the janitor, trying to urinate on the ceiling of the boy's bathroom. At that discussion, we learned about the do's and don'ts of bathroom etiquette. Almost all of us learned that to be careful when Mr. Krause was around.

After school, we walked outside behind Rodney and Jerry. Jerry said to Rodney, “Ill bet Muriel couldn't piss on the ceiling.”

Further Adventures with Pat

by John B. Anderson

As Snoopy said, “It was a dark and stormy night.” …..No moon, really dark. Pat, John R. Kelly and I were, “loitering with the intent to commit a felony.” Actually, we were engaged in planning for creative mischief. Pat was always the most creative in this regard. He came up with the best idea ever, “Let's raid Mr. Olson's plum trees.”

What a great idea! It would have been, but we didn't know that Bill Matlin and friends had raided the trees earlier in the evening.

We sneaked down Michigan Avenue and into Mr. Olson's yard. Pat and John R. climbed up one tree, I climbed up the other. All of a sudden, I saw a black shadow coming from the porch toward us. Oh, Oh, Mr. Olson! I saw the shadow head toward Pat and John R.'s tree, so I dropped to the ground.

Mr. Olson tackled me, and threw me to the ground. He slapped me hard on my head.

“I didn't mean it!”

[SLAP!]

“I didn't mean it!”

[SLAP!]

Just then, Pat and John R. saw their opportunity, and they dropped to the ground. Mr. Olson jumped up and lunged for those two.

I got up and started running as fast as I could. I figured that he was old, and that I could run faster and further.

I ran to Pat's house, where I found Pat and John R. They had escaped unscathed. They were also kind enough to share a plum with me. That was the last time that we even considered raiding Mr. Olson's plums trees.