A FUNNY THING HAPPENED TO ME ON THE WAY TO THE JOHN

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One evening, after it had gotten pretty dark, I ran down the back steps of our old Cracker house towards our "Johnny." But before I had proceeded even 12 feet from the steps. I was hit in the back of my head by something that knocked me to the ground where I lay addled for a few moments, dazed and in a semiconscious state. While lying there, I cautiously opened one eye, and spotted the two largest mosquitos standing over me you have ever seen, and they were having a mild argument about me.

One of them was saying, "Do you want to eat him here, or tote him back to the nest?" I distinctly heard the reply of the second mosquito who said, "Let's eat him right here, because if we get back to the nest with him, one of the big boys will take him away from us!!!"

by Malcolm McDonald, my cousin

RUBBING SHOULDERS WITH AN ASSASSIN

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Following is an excerpt from a Civil War journal written thirty years after the war by my 3x great Uncle.

REMINISCENCES OF THE WAR BETWEEN THE STATES BY A BOY IN THE FAR SOUTH AT HOME AND IN THE RANKS OF THE CONFEDERATE MILITIA

By Joshua Hoyet Frier II

Chapter 3 – Lewis Paine

It was in the early part of the year 1862 that by chance I happened to meet the boy Doc Powell, who afterwards became the man of unenviable fame; Lewis Paine, the attempted assassin of Secretary Seward. I was the bearer of a message to his father who lived at this time in Hamilton County Florida. I had become acquainted with all the family, with the exception of him prior to my visit there. I had heard of him as a very indolent, and worthless boy; the black sheep of the flock, I had fancied him as a boy of my own size.

 His brother, Oliver and I walked out to the barn to put away the horse I rode and found him asleep on the barn floor. Oliver aroused him, and when he awakened he leered at us in a manner I shall never forget, and after rubbing his eyes awhile, the boy that was destined to figure so prominently in one of the most remarkable tragedies in this, or any age, looked me square in the face for the first time. I thought him one of the ugliest, and most repulsive looking boys I ever met; great coarse hair and a dull stupid countenance, slow and awkward in movement. Such was my first impression of the boy who as a man became the pliant tool of such a scoundrel as J. Wilkes Booth. 

Later on in the evening when I got better acquainted I found him remarkable good natured. We wandered around a lake that evening and he pointed out his favorite fisherman stories which showed him to be a sportsman of the first-water. Among them was one that was of peculiar interest to me; he told me he had slipped off one Sunday morning with tackle for some sport and caught the devil. He had a terrible fight to land him and when he finally succeeded, he came near biting off one of his fingers and walked right back into the water. I asked him how he farther identified the “Old Man” when he told me Uncle Green, an old Negro on the place had told him the character of his game. From the description he gave of it I have since been able to make and alligator turtle out of it, one of the most vicious reptiles that was ever created. This one accomplished a reform that the fear of the rod never could; breaking a bad boy from fishing on Sunday. Before the evening was over Dock and I were great friends; all his repulsiveness had vanished, and it was with regret next morning that I parted with him. 

I exacted a promise from him to visit me at my home, and gave him a similar one in return, neither one of which was ever fulfilled. I never met him but once afterwards and that was purely accidental as he shortly afterwards joined Capt. Stewart’s Company of the 2 Fla. Regmt. And I never heard from him but once until his father got a letter from him after Lincoln’s assassination. His father endeavored to go see him in Washington, but lack of funds prevented it. The old man was the soul of honor, no stain rested on any of his family with the single exception of this boy, whose full name was Lewis Thornton Powell. The old man died a few years ago in Orange County in this state; full of years and honor. 

It was circulated some years after Paine was hanged that the Elder Powell said he had yielded up his life in a good cause. This I am satisfied was an untruth; for while the entire family proved loyal to the South, Lewis excepted, (he having joined the United States Army at one time) they were to high toned and honorable to countenance assassination in any form. His brother Oliver before mentioned died or was killed early in the war. While the oldest brother George is still living in this states. Such, dear reader, was my acquaintance with the man who for a given price attempted to take the life of Secretary Seward, and thereby coupled his name to one of the most atrocious crimes of modern times. While Paine’s execution was deplored by his family, and their sympathetic friends it was generally acknowledged to be just as such penalties ever is. 

Of one thing, I and everyone is satisfied, that he knew anything of him; it is this; that he was incapable of conceiving or aiding in the origination of such a fiendish plot as this. And in acting his part he was simply clay in the molder’s hands, it was his nature to be easily influenced for either good or evil, and persons who knew him well said, that any move or enterprise that had the element of danger in it, had a fascination for him that he was unable to resist. It was said of his family that the fear of man was something they knew nothing of. Still, they were peaceable in manners, and courteous to all, and a more law abiding citizen, or better neighbor than his father never lived.

DANCING WITH DOC

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 My great great Uncle William Henry Taylor Dowling was one of the final surviving veterans of the Civil War having fought in the final year of the war, and living to the rip old age of 99. He was one of the last National Commanders of the United Confederate Veterans organization, and the final resident of the Georgia Confederate Soldiers Home in Atlanta, Georgia.

Henry Dowling and his wife Georgia Hayes Dowling knew Doc Holliday, a dentist who, at one time, lived in Valdosta, Georgia. Georgia Dowling danced with Doc Holliday when he lived in Valdosta before he migrated west, and became well known for a different ‘vocation.’

by Bill McDonald, PhD

WILL THE REAL KOJAK PLEASE STAND UP

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Will the real Kojak please stand up?

No, it’s not “To Tell the Truth.” Simply the case of the well-known actor, Telly Savalas, meeting his look-alike, John T. Ervin of Valdosta, Georgia.

For years people have been barraging Ervin with pleas for his autograph; believing him to be the highly visible character actor. It’s gotten so that he sometimes signs the name for the ones who are belligerently disbelieving of his look-alike story just to get away.

All this time he has been hoping he could meet the man whom he so closely resembles. The end of it is that it actually came true when Ervin who is stationed in Germany and serves as an Army vet got to meet and talk with Savalas who is on location for a new movie.

Ervin was born in Dasher, Georgia, and his hometown is Valdosta where his mother and step-father also reside. He has seven brothers and sisters.

The resemblance between the two men is striking. They have similar facial characteristics, both have bald heads, and they weigh within three pounds of one another.

It wasn’t until recently, however, when Savalas began getting more choice parts in movies and television that Ervin has reaped some of the rewards of the actor’s acclaim.

While Ervin was in high school at Valdosta, from which he graduated in 1950, he was just one of the crowd.

Even when he came back from his first four year stint in the Navy, and studied at the University of Georgia and worked with Dr. Loyce Turner here until he went back into the military in 1964, Ervin still retained his anonymity.

But now people from all over the world, from Hong Kong to Las Vegas to Berlin, mistake him for Telly Savalas.

The similarity between the two is so real that once in Berlin, while Ervin was waiting in the hotel to meet Savalas, that the latter’s business managers walked up to him and began “talking shop;” according to the story Ervin told his family in Valdosta.

One woman who ran into Ervin on the subway told him that he should be traveling in a limo like a star, instead of traveling on a public transit system.

Most people are very good natured when they find he isn’t the real Telly Savalas, he said. But some people feel like he’s a snob when he claims he isn’t the star.

Once, he thought he was going to be tossed into the water by an irate mother who wanted Savalas’ autograph for her daughter, he reported.

Especially since “Kojak,” Savalas cops and robbers program has been so popular around the world, Ervin has been dodging autograph hounds.

But it all paid off in their final meeting when Ervin got an autographed photo from Savalas for his step-father and mother, Mr. and Mrs. H.B and Lena Barwick, of Rt. 2, Valdosta. Savalas inscribed the photo “To Mom and Dad. From your other son, Telly Savalas.”

Ervin told his family that he had been nervous about meeting the star. But as soon as the men met, they apparently “hit it off.” Of course, they had a lot to talk about just comparing vital statistics. Telly made John feel right at home, the Valdostan said.

“He was friendly and gracious. I felt welcome. As soon as he smiled, and put out his hand, I forgot all about being nervous, and the photographers, and everything else,” Ervin said.

“If I am going to look like an actor, I can’t think of any actor I would rather look alike. He could have posed for a quick picture, but he didn’t. He made me feel real good. I’ll remember this weekend for the rest of my life,” Ervin was quoted after he left the hotel in Berlin.

Savalas was in Berlin shooting a movie about an Army major. Coincidentally, Ervin is also a major in the Army.

Ervin has about five years left in service before he retires. His family hopes he will return to Valdosta.

By Becky Vail

The Valdosta Times Newspaper

(John T. Ervin was my mother’s 1^st cousin)

 by Bill McDonald, PhD

GEORGE JONES, A RIDING LAWNMOWER & THE DIXIE PIG

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During the 1950's, we moved from a perfectly good concrete block home in the Miami area to a wooden frame house in the quaint little town of Highland City, Florida. 

My grandfather was already living in central Florida, and was the owner-operator of an establishment he named, "The Dixie Pig." As I reflect on it now, I don't recall ever walking through the front door. However, I do recall the cartoon-like caricature of a pig on the sign which graced its entrance.

Over the next sixty something years, (Yeah, I'm an old guy), I was under the assumption that "The Dixie Pig" was a barbeque place. I mean, there was the pig and the title. What else could it have possibly been? However, to be fair, I don't remember asking my dad or mom about the place; (but then they never volunteered anything either).

In the past couple of days everything I knew and believed about that "barbeque place" (at least figuratively) "went up in smoke."

For you see, there is a group page on Facebook which is dedicated to that little unincorporated town in central Florida, and I happened to post a paragraph or two about my granddad and his "Dixie Pig." And, as you might imagine, I mentioned my perception of the type of cuisine which this particular establishment served; (a faulty belief which I had embraced for the past six plus decades).

And this is when the floodgates opened, and all my illusions, (or should I say delusions), were (almost literally) washed away.

For you see, with this, one person after another offered me some enlightening comments about the nature of my grandfather's business.

"Hmmm, if The Dixie Pig was a barbeque place, those pigs must have been raised on a diet of pure grain alcohol 'cause my dad was a regular customer, and he came home plastered every night of the week!"

(and)

"I filled my tank there more times than I can count."

(and)

"They even had go go girls there!"

(Dear readers, can you imagine go go girls in Highland City)?

But to top it all off, the most surprising comment of them all.

"George Jones would ride up to The Dixie Pig on his riding lawnmower!" 

(And a couple more people dittoed this remark).

But, as Paul Harvey was prone to say, there is, obviously, a "rest of the story."

George Jones and Tammy Wynette had built a home, (well, a mansion) a mile or two down the road. (The mansion is still there, though old George and sweet Tammy have long since "left the building").

George had been ticketed numerous times for DUI. (There's even a Youtube video of the old boy resisting arrest). And there's plenty of internet articles which inform us that Tammy always hid his keys when he "got the urge" for liquid refreshment. It is said that the country singer's first wife had resorted to the same course of action, and that when he lived in Nashville, he had driven his... riding lawnmower to a liquor store an hour and a half away. (All of which is "new and different" to me since my wife made me aware of these stories, after I read the foregoing social media comments about old George to her).

In my day and time, children were "meant to be seen and not heard," (which pretty well sums up the relationship I had with both my grandfathers). But "had I known then what I know now" I would have quizzed old Webster about his memories of old George, the lawnmower, and "The Dixie Pig."

The humble little "Dixie Pig" and its Highland City version of "Porky Pig" out front has been gone more than sixty years now, and has been replaced by a modern office building. (When I sit in a current Highland City establishment called "Catfish Country," and have lunch with several of my friends, and look across the street, I can still envision it there).

To be sure, I don't drink, and I have little or no use for people who get out on our highways in an inebriated state, and put other peoples' lives in danger. (And it goes without saying, I wasn't thrilled to learn that my recollections of "The Dixie Pig" and its raison d'etre were woefully wrong).

But it is what it is, and it was what it was, and to be honest, I would love to hear the stories my grandfather might have told me about old George and the nights he drove his riding lawnmower to "The Dixie Pig."

Did the bar patrons gather in the parking lot to welcome him when the familiar roar of his lawnmower broke the silence of a moonlit night? Did a drunken old country singer do an acapella version of "A Girl I Used to Know" or "I Can't Get There From Here" halfway through his nightly tenure at "The Dixie Pig?" Did my granddad and old George strike up a lop-sided relationship? Did Wilbur and Winnie wake up about 2am to the roar of a riding lawnmower? 

Did Wilbur shake his head, and remark, "There ole George goes again," before the sand man sprinkled a little more fairy dust in their eyes, and sleep overcame them once more. 

by William McDonald, PhD

MRS. OLESON WAS ALIVE AND WELL AND LIVING IN SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA

 4255

From my perspective, Katherine MacGregor of “Little House on the Prairie” is one of the two or three greatest supporting actors of all time; (including, of course, Don Knotts of “The Andy Griffith Show” fame).

“Mrs. Oleson” is, at different times, endearing and maddening, hilarious and despicable, conniving and manipulative. And Katherine plays the part “to a T.” (One may witness a pale comparison of her singular abilities in the similar role of “Mrs. Godsey,” actor’s name omitted here, on “The Waltons.”)

Little could I have known when the series originally aired in the 70’s, and when I viewed reruns in the first decade of the new century, that I would ultimately experience the privilege of “meeting” the 1880’s television storekeeper. Well, to be fair, I never met her face to face, but rather…

I discovered Katherine MacGregor’s mailing address, her actual residence to be sure, on the webpage of her television daughter, “Nellie.” And on this site Alison Arngrim claimed that Ms. MacGregor enjoyed receiving fan mail, and attempted to answer any and all correspondence which she received. As a result, I decided to write the (now) 90 year old actress, and make her aware that among millions of viewers, past and present, she was finally reading a letter from her biggest fan in this, or any other universe.

I told her what a great actress I considered her to be, I mentioned the existence of a Wikipedia page in her name, and relayed a message from a distant cousin who claimed to have known her, and whom she assisted in a little theater stage play.

And true to “Nellie’s” assurances, two or three weeks later I received a letter with the unfamiliar “Katherine MacGregor” and a California address in the upper left hand corner. And then the unfamiliar became all too familiar.

“Mrs. Oleson,” of course!

I lost no time ripping open the letter, and began reading.

Not only had “Harriet” returned my original letter, but she had responded with a half page of cursive beneath my signature, and also filled up the entire back of the page with her handwriting. She thanked me for my stated appreciation of her acting skills in the old television series, disclaimed knowing anything about Wikipedia, but found my description of one of my edits on the Katherine MacGregor page humorous. And she denied knowing my distant relative.

(Interestingly enough, my cousin is a former Hindu, and it seems Katherine is also a Hindu; in spite of her church attendance on the Little House series. “Ruby” had told me that, at one time, she and “Mrs. Oleson” had been members of the same Hindu sect, and that the great supporting actress had, as I previously alluded, come along side my cousin on some local stage production in the area).

And tucked inside the envelope was, as “Nellie” had inferred there might be, a noticeably aromatic slip of paper with her own hand-drawn cartoonish caricature of herself; along with Katherine’s scribble, “A Touch of Perfume!”

And what began with one letter sent, and one received metamorphosed into a short-lived pen pal relationship. (However, the subsequent interaction between Katherine and I was, at this point, a matter of her own initiative and interest, and not my own). And the content of the two or three follow up letters was all about discovering whom my distant relative, (who had claimed to know her) was, and in the meanwhile denying any acquaintance at all with her.

After several letters promoting this vein of thought, including one addressed to my cousin, the retired actress ultimately wrote,

“Dr. McDonald, I’m too old, and too involved with my other admirers to continue corresponding with you as I have. This will have to be my last letter.”

And of course, I thought,

“Well, my dear, you’re the one who has insisted on writing and mailing these copious and extensive letters, not I.”

I sometimes pull out my old scrapbook and re-read the dear lady’s letters. And based on Ms. MacGregor’s words, tone and apparent personality, I can safely say her portrayal of the prairie storekeeper seems just about right.

“Mrs. Oleson” (was) still alive and well, and living in southern California.

by Bill McDonald, PhD

THE QUEEN OF COWGIRLS

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I grew up watching a real-life husband-wife duo on black & white television in their portrayal of an old west husband-wife, cowboy-cowgirl duo by the same names. I will always remember my favorite Saturday hero and heroine, and that fast-paced, dramatic ‘shoot ‘em up, save the city from the bad guys’ portrayal.

In actuality, Roy and Dale were wonderful Christian people, and though they owned a western ranch which was populated by horses and cows, to my knowledge they never shot anyone, and their time was more taken up with making movies and their appearances at fund-raising events, than saving the old west from bad guys.

Fast forward several decades

I suppose it was the late 80’s or early 90’s, and my wife and I learned that my favorite western heroine, (minus my favorite western hero) would be speaking at an evangelical church in the central Florida area in which we reside. Of course, I would not be denied.

The day dawned bright and clear, and I was looking forward to sitting in the audience of someone with whom I had devoted so many hours of my childhood; (though my name and face might easily have escaped her).

As Jean and I walked into the large, aluminum conference hall, (for the building doubled as a Christian retreat center and a church) I noticed that the first row, left was almost devoid of people. (What a deal. What a deal). You guessed it. My wife and I headed for the first row, left, and ‘staked our claim;’ (as one of the characters on their old television series might have alluded to it).

Within minutes Mrs. Dale Evans Rogers found her way to the podium, and proceed to speak. I don’t mind telling you, she just seemed so ‘there there,’ common, and personable in real life, and not at all like the television and movie personality of whom I was so thoroughly familiar. And while I cannot tell you, at this juncture, what topic this good lady spoke to that day, it was a privilege and a pleasure to sit no more than ten feet from the cowgirl, who along with her own cowboy, Roy, saved the old west. (At least, as far as I was concerned at the time).

My only regret, (and I cannot account for it) is that I allowed that magic moment to come and go without having spoken to one of my favorite childhood television personalities, and without having procured her autograph.

Dale Evans Rogers has gone on to her reward now, and I am approaching a comparable age to her own; when she spoke to the overflow crowd that day.

Some opportunities present themselves once, and never come again. This was one of those golden opportunities which slipped from my grasp, or I it, and which represents one of my most profound.

 by Bill McDonald, PhD

 Post-script - Since I saw Dale Evans at the local retreat center, and years after her demise, I purchased her autograph on Ebay.