Eastman #4; Before Costco; Kingsport's WWII Spy

 

When Eastman was Number 4.

In 1926 the Kingsport Times surveyed the local employment scene and published a chart listing – not in any particular order – the fledgling city’s top industrial employers.

If you had asked Kingsport folks in the 50s who they thought was the city’s top industry thirty years earlier, most of them would have guessed Eastman.

But it wasn’t.

Kingsport Press was.

Eastman was fourth, only a handful of employees ahead of Kingsport Hosiery Mill.

The newspaper estimated the local population at 12,000 with more than one-third of them gainfully employed.

“It is probable that there is no other city in the United States which has a larger percentage of workers and a smaller percentage of drones.”

 

 

Before there was Costco, there was Poston’s Grocery.

The tiny market located at the so-called Upper Circle (now the intersection of East Center and Memorial Blvd.) advertised in 1954 – two decades before Costco’s first warehouse store opened in Seattle as Price Club - “Groceries by the Case” economically priced at “25 cents per case over our wholesale cost.”

 

 

Larson and Suzanne Hall in 1949

Kingsport Woman Was Wartime Spy

Suzanne David Hall, war bride of Kingsport soldier Larson Hall, worked for the French Underground before meeting her future husband.

She described the experience to Times-News Staff Writer Herman Giles in 1949:

Her time during World War II reads like a spy story and that's what it is. Mrs. Hall was a member of the French underground, and if the Americans had not invaded Normandy when they did, she may never have lived to tell about it.

She was one of 140 persons in Cherbourg who worked with the French Marquis. Now she is one of the four members of that group still alive.

The Germans were taking the men of France and shipping them to Germany as forced laborers. Before they went, they were examined by doctors to determine whether or not they were physically fit for the job. But the doctor in Cherbourg was not as trustworthy as the Germans thought.

He sent out false identification papers, changed reports of other physicians in other towns. How he got these papers is not known, but he sent them out of his office by Mrs. Hall. She carried them sewed in her coat lining, sometimes in a hollow slot carved in the heel of her slippers. One wrong move could mean death, and one day she made that move.

She was on a train, and one of the papers she was carrying fell to the aisle. A German guard found it, and she was taken into custody. Despite her denial of any knowledge as to where the paper came from, she was jailed for further questioning.

The first night she was in jail a sentry suddenly walked in, threw open the doors and set all the prisoners free. It was unbelievable! Once free, she learned what had caused the miracle. The Americans had landed, and the Nazis were retreating. There was no time to worry about prisoners.

Mrs. Hall is eligible for the Purple Heart, too. She has two pieces of shrapnel in her body, the result of bombing raids on Cherbourg

"American shrapnel," Mrs. Hall smiled with mock accusation toward her husband. But she quickly explained she was only teasing "Some of the French were bitter about those killed by the bombers, but there is always death where there is war. Those killed were nothing compared to the many saved from certain death. The French know that now, and they are grateful."

At present, Mrs. Hall has no idea when she will be able to visit France again. She's more interested in finding an outlet for the restless energy which an adventurous life has left her, and she wants to take a job in Kingsport as soon as she can find one.

"I think I’d like telephone work,” she said. "I like to hear a voice by itself, and then try to imagine what the person looks like from the sound of it. It's an exciting game."

 

The next year she was awarded the Croix de Lorraine by General Charles de Gaulle for her heroism.

She never got that telephone work. She raised her son Larson III (Larry) and daughter Tina in Kingsport. Her 2011 obituary listed her as a homemaker.

Suzanne Louise David Hall became a naturalized citizen of the United States in November 1975.

The 2003 novel “For Freedom: The Story of a French Spy” by Newberry Award-winning author Kimberly Brubaker Bradley was based on her life.

 

One-Hour Santa

A Drawstring Away From Disaster

I Played Santa in Sears...And Lived!!!

“Why is Santa behind Plexiglass?” the New York Times asked in today’s edition. It’s a different experience with Santa this Pandemic Christmas.

Don’t fret too much over this year’s Santa experience.

I’m here to tell you that not every kid wants to sit on Santa’s lap anyway.

I know from experience. You see, once upon a time – the time being lunch time in December 1975 - I was the lunch-relief Santa at Kingsport’s Sears store.

Sitting in Santa’s seat is not easy.

I remember the most surprising thing to me was that to be Santa you had to pass a physical. And therein was the rub. Most Santa wannabes can’t pass the physical. The nurses at Dr. Hugh Rule’s office told me that most of the Santa-hopefuls that Sears sent down were too fat. It’s good to be fat if you want to sub for Santa. It is not good to be fat if you want to pass a physical. They said many of the Santa subs flunked because of high blood pressure.

I wasn’t fat then so I needed a pillow to play Santa. But at least I didn’t need blood pressure medicine.

When it comes to Santa suits, I discovered one size fits all. The Sears Santa suit was 74-34: 74 inch waist (!) and 34 inch inseam. And that famous black belt that Santa wears? Just a prop. The Santa pants were really held up by a drawstring. Santa is only a drawstring away from the ultimate embarrassment.

Most modern Santa’s have real beards but in 1975, I couldn’t grow one so I had to use the Santa suit beard, which also attached with a drawstring. I had to tighten it like a tourniquet. I had been warned that there might be an unhappy camper who hadn’t gotten what he or she wanted last Christmas and hadn’t forgotten. Revenge might be wrought on Santa’s beard.

I was all dressed up with no place to go because they couldn’t find the Santa I was to replace. They couldn't just announce: "Santa Claus, come to the office. Your replacement is here" over the loudspeaker. And they wouldn't want two Santas wandering around the store. So they had to send out a local and an all-points bulletin. They finally decided he was either asleep in the stock room or in the bathroom. No determination was ever made but he eventually showed up.

In my one-hour stint, I sat seven kids on my knee, talked to another nine who would stand nearby but wouldn't do the old up-on-the-knee trick. I talked at a great distance to four more, and sent one off screaming into the carpet department.

There were no holy terrors. No one pulled my beard. Or kicked me. Or even talked nasty. Most wouldn't talk at all. And when they did, they were so nervous they couldn't remember what they wanted.

What a disappointment it must have been for them. Spending all those cold winter nights thumbing through the Sears Wishbook, making lists, checking them twice, narrowing it down to the three or four things they couldn't live 'til June without, and then meeting Santa in person and blowing it, forgetting it all, going blank and having to live with the failure till next year.

There are no funny stories from my one-hour stint. Little Johnny and Little Susie didn't say anything memorable, insightful or cute. They just told me straight out what they wanted, by brand name, listing color, style and quantity. All they lacked were catalog numbers.

I retired from Santa-ing five minutes early. There was a lull in the action and besides the suit was hot and the beard itchy. I was anxious to get back in my own clothes because I was still thinking about that tennis shoe string that was holding my pants up.

I actually sort of regretted giving up being Santa and having to go back to my routine old self.

Everyone says hello to Santa and gives him a smile or a nod and a wink.

Everyone loves Santa.

Another Kingsport Teacher Enters the Eternal Classroom

 

Margaret Melton in college

Miss Melton and I arrived at Ross N. Robinson Junior High at the same time. I was a newly-minted seventh grader and she was a newly-minted English teacher, fresh out of Berea College and joining an already formidable English Department at RNRJHS that included the legendary She Who Must Be Obeyed Of RNRJHS, Mary Erin Riley, the kind-hearted Sara Spracher and a dozen other Kingsport school system legends and future legends like Gerry McCammon.

I was never assigned to Miss Melton’s class during my three years but I got to know her later after I moved back to Kingsport.

She was a wonderful person with a delightfully dry sense of humor.

Miss Melton – Eunice Margaret Melton Tunnell - died earlier this week.

At a teacher’s reunion in 2004 I told her my most memorable story about English class at RNR and she responded with a story that was even better.

In ninth grade I was assigned to the lovely and versatile Miss Snyder, who taught both English and Spanish.

Right before spring break that year Miss Snyder finished up our unit on Charles Dickens’ “Great Expectations.”

That Friday morning is indelibly etched in my mind. I hopped out of my dad’s car and was walking toward Robinson’s front door when I noticed several of my classmates carrying boxes and lugging other heavy objects.

Oh, I thought, they are carrying in their “Great Expectations” projects.

And that’s when it hit me.

Are our “Great Expectations” projects due today?

Suddenly my stomach started doing cartwheels.

I thought they were due…well, I didn’t know when I thought they were due.

Now I knew. They were due today. It was a nightmare come true.

I had two choices:

I could go to the office and tell our principal Mr. Webb the truth, that I felt nauseous and he would need to call my father to come and get me.

Or I could hurriedly create a project.

I didn’t have English until seventh period. I had a study hall and health class – which was like study hall with a teacher – before English.

I thought maybe I could pull off creating a project out of thin air. Plus I knew if necessary I could always get “sick” during sixth period.

There was no way I could bake a cake or sew a wedding dress or papier-mâché a diorama in study hall.

So I did the only thing I could do in a study hall period. I wrote a new ending for “Great Expectations.”

Dickens had never been satisfied with the original ending to his story and on the advice of a friend he had written a second more upbeat ending. I knew this because Miss Snyder had told us.

I would write a third ending! It was the easiest solution. It was the only solution.

I turned it in and forgot all about it over spring break but when I sat down in my seat the first day back, I suddenly remembered it. I suddenly remembered because I saw that Miss Snyder had my paper in her hand.

Oh, crap.

She began to review the projects situated around the room, the cakes and costumes, the models and the miniatures. And then she came to mine.

I knew she had figured me out. I was ready for my figurative flogging. Then I heard words like “creative” and “unique” and…and I wondered who she was talking about.

That’s when she told the class she had given me an A plus.

I tried to accept my accolades with humility. Because, believe me, I knew the truth and I knew I should be humble. I had plenty to be humble about. But…I had pulled it off.

You may think that the lesson here is that necessity is the mother of invention. Or when the going gets tough the tough get going. Or something equally as clichéd.

The real lesson is that there is such a thing as luck.

 

When I finished telling Miss Melton that story, she laughed out loud.

And then she began to tell me a story about her first year teaching at Robinson.

“It was the end of the school year and one afternoon Mr. Webb came into my room. That was not something he normally did, so I was on high alert.”

She said he told her he would be back Monday to look at her lesson plans from the year.

She said there was suddenly a queasy feeling in her stomach. “I thought, what lesson plans? Was I supposed to have been doing lesson plans?”

But like that 14-year-old boy in Miss Snyder’s English class, she didn’t panic. She pondered.

“I went home and spent the entire weekend writing lesson plans for the past year. On Monday Mr. Webb came in and I dug them out of my desk drawer, as if they had been sitting in there all year, and handed them to him. He thumbed through, reading a few pages and moving on to the next notebook. Finally he got up and started out the door. ‘Those are excellent,’ he said. ‘I look forward to working with you next year.’”

She taught at Robinson for the next 30 years.

 

Rest in peace, Miss Melton.

(She married Truman Tunnell in 1975 so the name on her obituary is Eunice Margaret Melton Tunnell. She was 83.)

 

 

Remembering other teachers

Here is a list of all the teachers in the Kingsport school system for the school year 1962-1963. (Click to enlarge.)

I remember so many of them. Most of them fondly….

 

 

 RNR Teachers in 1962

Here is a photo of the 1962 Ross N. Robinson Junior High School faculty. (My eighth grade math teacher Jim Scott gave this to me about 20 years ago. Gerry McCammon Frazier helped me with the names.)

 

Row 1(l to r)

Tommy Hill, Hazel Stewart, Johnnie Wray, Rowena Johnson, Maude Dishner, Mildred Kozsuch, Lucille Massengill, Shirley Garrett, Don Stevens, Delbert Webb (principal).

 

Row 2

Jack Campbell, Nancy Randall, Sarah Gouge (McKee), Gerry McCammon (Frazier), Margaret Melton (Tunnell), Wanda Bledsoe, Lorena Hoover, Hope King.

 

Row 3

Oscar Dalton, Nell McLean, Bea Gilbert, Sarah Spracher, Mary Tuggle, Faye Neergaard, Madeline Thomas, Ruth Sauer, Mary Riley, Wilma Snyder (Bunting), Dolly Wallen(behind Mr. Webb).

 

Row 4

Reba Robinette, Jim Scott, Jo Ann Emmert, Sam Hicks, Charles Flanary, Bob Shepherd, Don Little, David Wise.

Pandemic Potpourri

 Famous in the future…

This page from the 1940 edition of the D-B yearbook has three future famous folks. Can you identify them?

 

Bobby Cifers was already famous. He lead the nation in scoring as a junior on D-B’s football team and was featured in a wire story that was carried by newspapers around the country. He would star in football at UT and later play in the NFL for the Detroit Lions and Green Bay Packers.

Margaret Deck would become a legend as a Bible teacher in the Kingsport city school system, a position she held for 30 years. Her most famous exclamation, and the closest she came to profanity, was “Merciful Fathers!”

Rita Groseclose, who came from one of Kingsport’s pioneering families – the family farm is at the intersection of Stone Drive and Bloomingdale Pike - would go on to teach girls phys. ed. at D-B for almost one hundred years.

 

Tales of the pandemic

We were visiting the kids and grandkids back in the summer and I was babysitting five-year-old Sammy. After a few awkward minutes, he looked at me and asked, “When do you think you’ll pass away?”

Honest, he really asked me that.

(I headed to the computer, surfed to the Social Security Life Expectancy Chart and told him, “2033.”)

 

Boring headline….

I first heard about it in 1980 from Louisville radio legend Bob Moody, a voracious reader, especially of minutiae, especially of humorous minutiae.

Bob told me about a yearly contest among copy editors at the London Times to see who could write the Most Boring Headline. The 1929 winning entry was apparently so beloved that the award was retired.

The Most Boring Newspaper Headline of All Time?

Small Earthquake in Chile

Not Many Dead

I’ve searched newspaperarchive.com for proof of the headline to no avail. I have found many stories – mostly by newspaper columnists – relating the same story. But never a facsimile of the headline itself. The closest is Cockburn’s own version from his 1956 book, “A Discord of Trumpets:”

“Someone [on the staff of The Times] had invented a game – a competition with a small prize for the winner – to see who could write the dullest headline. It had to be a genuine headline, that is to say one which was actually printed in the next morning's newspaper. I won it only once with a headline which announced: ‘Small Earthquake in Chile. Not many dead.’”

Cockburn is also credited with the quote, much beloved by newspaper folk: “Believe nothing until it has been officially denied.”

 

 

On a hallowed hill in Tennessee….

I was looking around in old University of Tennessee yearbooks, trying to find a sports team photo that resembled that very odd 1917 Kingsport High basketball team photo I posted recently.

Instead I found this early school song in the 1917 Volunteer. You don’t need to read past the first line to understand why it didn’t survive into the “Rocky Top” era:

Tennessee Song

When college joys and college lays

Have faded with their makers days;

When Sol's swift wheels have made us old,

And college life's a tale that's told,

Then Tennessee, Tennessee

Our hearts will ever turn to thee.

Thy Honor, Glory, Fame

Abroad we sing

With gladsome souls

We tribute bring.

 

 

Tales of New York….

It was 1981 and Diane Sawyer, a Louisville native, had just started a stint as co-anchor of the CBS Morning News with Charles Kuralt. The Louisville newspaper sent me to New York to write a story about her new gig.

Photographer Michael Coers and I had to get up very early – the eventual headline on the story would be “The Yawn Patrol” – to meet her at the Manhattan studio of CBS News.

We were finished by 9 a.m. so he and I decided to walk back to our hotel. It wasn’t far and we figured it would give us a chance to soak up some of that New York atmosphere, interact with the locals.

We hadn’t gone two blocks when we had to veer out onto the street because the sidewalk was blocked off with yellow crime scene tape.

Welcome to New York, right?

It was an apartment building blocked off and cops were going in and out, up and down the stairs. We joined the crowd watching the scene.

There was one patrolman standing near us in case any gawkers got too close.

An elderly woman next to me asked him what had happened.

“I’m not supposed to say but there was a murder in one of the apartments,” he said, matter of factly.

The woman shook her head knowingly. She’d been around the block. She knew how it was in New York.

Finally she asked him one more question.

“Is that a one bedroom or a two?”