All posts by Jim

Cat Box

A Pocket of Resistance

This morning, Patsy Manning answered my request, and jogged my memory. She noted that the restaurant before Cat and Birdie was owned by the Winfrees. That is the name for the restaurant in my family. Thanks, Patsy.

i’m finding it a bit more difficult to write something meaningful about growing up in Lebanon. i mean between Lebanon Democrat columns and posts here, i’ve written a ton. Maybe i’m running out of material. Maybe i don’t remember as well as i used to remember.

The other day, while working in my garage, making the third parking space an even better work/play place for me.

My father and i turned it into a workshop when he and my mother were coming out every winter. We moved my father-in-law’s work table into one side, and Daddy built another workbench on the back wall. i hung my tools on the walls and filled up old organizers with nails, screws, and lord knows what. And then, of course, being me, i added some music machines that over the years have gone through a bunch of replacements and upgrades: there aren’t any newfangled things in that workshop. i added my LP albums and CDs. When Sarah left home, i moved the desk my father made for her out there. Over the years, i have added photos and art work that are no longer appropriate for Maureen’s beautiful and tasteful house decor.

It’s not a “man cave.” That’s too trendy a term, an excuse for men to create some luxury lounge with a iMax size television to watch sports and drink beer, or perhaps whiskey. If i ever finish the renovations, it will be my escape, my briar patch, where i can go and wallow in memories of growing up in a beautiful (and ugly sometimes) time and place, where dreams have turned into pleasant memories. i took some photos but decided i would wait until it’s finished to my satisfaction to post, which, of course, means there will be no photos here because it will, like an innumerable number of my pursuits, never be finished to my satisfaction.

And perhaps that is the nature of my life, and it is good to pursue, to chase satisfaction but unfulfilled. The chase. Ahh, the chase.

But i, as i often do, digress. In this new renovation effort, i relocated CD’s. Those memories i couldn’t remember came flooding back. i found a CD of an LP album Billy “the Agent” Parsons introduced me to almost seventy years ago. Some Nashville dentist, a folk music pursurer had gone up into the woods of Grundy County, Tennessee and recorded Hamper McBee, a moonshiner and folk singer and teller of tales. i remembered hitting the apex of I-24 headed east right after it had been completed and seeing the tavern. i was told that if a white mule was tied to the hitching post, Hamper was inside giving the folks a thrill of tall tales and good ole hillbilly music. i regret i never went in but loved listening to Hamper, something most folks nowadays would find politically incorrect.

But i loved Hamper, and i listened to the album with glee. Then, another one hit me in the head with memories. It was an Ernest Tubb, the Texas Troubadour, album. One of the tracks took me back. Ernest teamed with Loretta Lynn to cover Nat Stuckey’s song “Sweet Thang.” Ernest and Loretta’s version came out in 1967.

Back in the late 50’s, our family would dine out on Sunday’s after church. We went to a number of local eateries. The name of this particular one is causing a brain fart in my recall. i will remember it hopefully before i finish this post. i think it was on the corner of Nashville Pike and Winwood, although it could have been Blair Lane. Later, Jimmy McDowell sold cars there. For Lebanon, it was high end dining. (Okay, some Lebanon folks help me here: i think the name started with an “S”). Sometime in the early 60’s, it closed and became one of the few beer and sandwich diners in the county.

When i returned to pursuing a college degree in 1965, i was the night time FM disc jockey and engineer at WCOR FM five nights a week. i would close down the station at 10:30, lock up and head home. Except on a number of evenings, i would head to the new diner. i think they retained the old name, but Clayton and Katherine Birdwell ran the new place. We called it “Cat and Birdie’s.” They served beer, pizza, Stewart sandwiches, beer and sodas and beer, did i mention that?…as i recall. On the west side next to the wall was a shuffleboard table. i would have a couple of beers, play several games, listen the the good folks around the place before heading home.

And, of course, they had a juke box. One evening and then, for a whole bunch of following evenings, one of the most played tunes was…yep, Ernest and Loretta singing “Sweet Thang.” The song was about a man cheating around on his woman with someone else in a bar. One of my favorite lines of all time was when Mabel (Loretta) barges into this bar and sings:

Well, has anybody here seen my sweet thang?
I got a notion he’ll be headed this a way
‘Cause when my sweet thang is out tom cattin’ around
He’ll find a sandbox like this to play.

Listening to those two singing those lyrics nearly sixty years and about 2500 miles ago, i was back shooting shuffleboard in one of the best periods of my life.

Of course, just about every period of my life has been pretty good.

And if you are looking for me, just remember when i am out tom cattin’ around, i find a cat box like that to play.

A Tale of the Sea and Me: A Change Is Gonna Come

Sea Stories

Destroyer School was coming to a conclusion. It was autumn 1973. i was disappointed to learn i would not be returning to a weapons or operational job on the East Coast, but had received orders to be the Chief Engineer of the USS Hollister (DD 788), home ported in Long Beach. The mitigating factors were i felt i needed to have more experience in engineering, and my old friend Earl Major also would be going to Long Beach. His ship, the USS England (CG 22), was in the Long Beach Naval Shipyard.

My wife and daughter pulled up stakes in Newport and headed home with my parents, who had flown up to help. i went to Norfolk for almost a month of engineering training. As nearly always happened with me, i was not trained on a FRAM destroyer like the one i would be attached. They put me on a 1200-pound steam plant, a Forrest Sherman class destroyer. i learned a bit, but not like the plant i would inherit.

Earl and i returned to Newport and traveled to Tennessee, switching off driving in Earl’s 1967 Porsche 911. Then Kathie, Blythe, and i headed west.

i was entering a new phase of my Navy: West Coast, engineering, and the new split tour program, which meant in about 18 months, i would go to an amphib or service force ship.

A new world was about to begin.

A Tale of the Sea and Me — Destroyer School Was Fun

Sea Stories

Destroyer School was seven months of enjoyment. Our class began in May of 1973.

i learned. Lord, did i learn. i think it might be the most complete and thorough learning experience i’ve ever had over seven months. Every aspect of being a department head on a destroyer, every department was covered. In addition, the group of officers were a rather incredible group of guys. Nearly all were single, and Kathie enjoyed being with them as much as i. We had parties at our Navy housing duplex in Fort Adams. We spent a lot of time in the small officer’s club up from the destroyer piers. WE went out to dine at Salas in Newport and renamed their house wine because Mr. Cribari, we decided looked like Harry Truman.

And i reconnected with LCDR Earl Major. i followed Earl through our childhoods together. He was six months older than me and lived up the hill just over a block from my house. He played third base on the Little League all-star team. i played third the next year. He was the co-captain of the junior high football team, i was the co-captain the next year. We were counselors for Tennessee Boy’s State together. He went to Auburn on an NROTC scholarship. The next year, i went to Vanderbilt on the NROTC scholarship the next year. We had not seen each other since 1961.

And out of destroyer school, we both were assigned ships in Long Beach. We remained close friends when he died of cancer at 56. But boy, did we have fun.

It was a wonderful time, and we all shared our sea stories. i think this one is one of the best i’ve ever heard.

Several officers who had served on the USS Brownson (DD 868).

CHENG (chief engineer for landlubbers) on the  Brownson had won the respect of the ship’s officers who were with me in the six-month course was just on the south side of daffy and apparently had done several wild and goofy things while aboard . But he was a superb engineer and somehow the captain tolerated all of his shenanigans.

The Brownson had been operating for about two weeks with exercises in the Atlantic op areas off of Newport but had been independent steaming for several days. There was not much going on, no shipping to speak of, and relatively calm seas. Those watches, especially at night, are boring where you struggle to stay awake. CHENG had the mid-watch on the bridge, nine total bodies on the bridge in the dark. In watches like that when i was OOD, i would query the watch standers about the actual names of the 16 points in the compass, like “one point off the starboard bow” is “nor, nor by nor east.”

But Brownson’s CHENG had a bigger idea. About half-way through his mid-watch, he transferred steering control to after steering. Then he shifted the entire bridge team to the flying bridge on the 04 level directly above the bridge. Finally, he had the Boatswainmate of the watch go to the 1MC (the ship’s loudspeaker system) and pipe attention, followed by the announcement, “Captain to the Bridge!” On old destroyers or for that matter any Navy ship i served during my career, every captain when underway spent his nights in the “sea cabin” immediately aft of the bridge so he could quickly access the bridge in an emergency — apparently, the new age of commanding officers no longer feel required to sleep in the sea cabin but choose the much larger, more comfortable Captain’s Cabin below the bridge for the evening.

So the pipe had called attention and the BMOW had called the captain to the bridge. The captain erupts from his rack, crashes out of the sea cabin in his pajamas with his housecoat dragging behind…and there in the middle of the night on the “darken ship” bridge no one is on the bridge. The bridge was empty.

The officers telling the story did not explain what happened after that except to say, the captain and CHENG had a meaningful conversation in the wardroom the next morning.

i keep trying to imagine what ran through the captain’s mind those first thirty seconds or so when he ran onto the bridge ready for an incredible emergency and the bridge was empty.