Author: Vance Lauderdale

Several weeks ago, one of my colleagues asked if anyone had ever “ask-vanced” me about the headstone in the woods at Shelby Farms that marks the grave of Robert and Mary Mann, who died in the 1890s. It was, she said, along a trail that runs close to an old barn that is falling to pieces and — another surprise — a couple of abandoned cars from the 1950s.

The truth is that in recent months, I have actually received several inquiries about this mysterious tombstone, the barn, and the cars. But I did nothing about it because delving into this would require superhuman physical effort — namely, walking in the woods — and the Lauderdales have never been known for their wilderness adventures. Also, none of the previous queries gave me the precise location of these oddities, and the idea of getting lost in the forest, covered with ticks and brambles, just made my skin crawl.

But one pleasant Saturday afternoon, my colleague offered to guide me to this strange site, so off we went. I can’t really tell you the exact location, except that it’s in the far northeastern corner of the park. You basically start from Gate 13, hike across a field, then plunge into the woods and trudge along a dirt trail for what seems like 40 miles. And if you look closely, you’ll start to notice many interesting things.

On November 25, 1949, “Miss Memphis” Gladys Dye snipped a red ribbon and Memphians were treated to the grand opening of the city’s newest shopping complex — the Bomah Center at the southeast corner of Union and Cleveland.

According to an old Commercial Appeal article (which was also the source of the somewhat grainy photos here), “special activities are planned by some of the firms in the building.” Jenkins-Leach Appliance Store (shown below) would give away a new Frigidaire refrigerator as an attendance prize to some lucky customer, and Wallace E. Johnson — builders of the one-story L-shaped building — announced they would give away a brand-new Pontiac.

On those nights when I find myself alone in the Lauderdale Mansion (that would be Monday through Friday, plus Saturday and Sunday), I often amuse myself by digging through the trunks in the attic, looking for loose coins and poring over the old scrapbooks compiled by my ancestors. Sometimes those contain the most fascinating stories — such as this account, reported in a December 1941 issue (I don’t have the exact date) of The Commercial Appeal, about the life-saving exploits of a mutt named Poochie.

Poochie, according to the paper, was a mongrel, one of seven puppies born to a mother who was a rat terrier and whose father was a German shepherd, so it’s safe to say he was not a particularly beautiful dog. His owner was a fellow named Faber Becton, who lived in north Memphis on King’s Road, and he gave away the other pups, keeping the ugliest for his own. The newspaper reported, “Like a weed in a garden, Poochie grew and thrived. The Becton children loved Poochie and he returned their love.”

Well, one day Becton took Poochie with him to the Mississippi River, just above Memphis, to train him as a pointer. Just as they arrived at the banks, they encountered a tragedy: A group of men and boys who had foolishly tried to swim in the Mississippi were being pulled under by the strong current. Here’s how The Commercial Appeal tells the story:

In the September issue of Memphis magazine, I tell the compelling story of the little green cottage on South Front Street, which opened in 1939 as a Pure Oil Station (above). The building went through many owners over the years, and is now the property of a nice fellow named Kris Kourdouvelis, who lives next door and uses the old gas station for storage.

Yesterday I received an email from a Memphian named Kenneth Pasley, whose uncle was the original owner of that station. Here’s what Kenneth had to say about it:

“I worked at that station for my uncle, William Willingham, from 1956 to 1966, when I graduated from CBU. My uncle Bill owned the station from about 1938 to 1970, when he retired and closed it. During the war, Bill’s younger brother Tommy left school early every day and ran the station. When Bill returned home from France, in 1945, Tom spent time in the Army Air Corps, then moved to Walls, Mississippi, and opened a Pure Oil Station on Highway 61, just north of Twinkle Town Airport. Henry Halbert may have owned the little station in question before Uncle Bill, but he did not own it after 1938. Henry Halbert ran the Pure Oil Service station at 836 South Third (Third & Iowa), when my other uncle, Reggie Willingham, went into the Army Air Corps. Reggie took the station back over when he returned from the war. Henry then went on to open “Halbert’s Auto Supply”.

Thanks for the additional information, Kenneth.

“The alarming increase in automobile accidents everywhere during the past few years has rendered the correction of traffic conditions one of the most important municipal problems of the present day. The motor car has become the greatest menace to human life, and has made the streets of the cities places of real danger.”

Except for that quaint phrase “motor car” you might have thought this was written yesterday, because then as now, Memphians have always been bad drivers. Why, my chauffeur tells me about near-death experiences almost every day! But this observation actually comes from the introduction to a little booklet archived in the Lauderdale Library called “Memphis 1929 Traffic Code,” and it’s just full of fascinating rules and regulations.

Then as now, city officials probably realized the situation was hopeless. It really doesn’t set a very confident tone, if you ask me, that the advertisement on the FRONT COVER is for J.T. Hinson and Son, the “world’s finest ambulance” service.