Yes, it happens to the best of us.
A tombstone (and family name) at Calvary Cemetery in Memphis.
Categories
Well, This Goes Without Saying …
Author: Vance Lauderdale
Work is progressing nicely, I think, on the Lauderdale Mausoleum at Elmwood.
We had a bit of a dispute, you may recall, with cemetery officials and the Land Use Control Board, over the amount of neon signage that would be allowed on the roof, spelling out “LAUDERDALE.” Eventually we reached a compromise; the 12-foot-high neon letters would be acceptable as long as they didn’t actually flash on and off.
When finished, the magnificent building — sheathed in the finest vinyl siding — will contain more bricks than the old Sears Crosstown, and will be large enough to hold precisely 156,784 people, expected to come from all corners of the globe to pay tribute to the Lauderdales and study the beautiful mosaic panels telling the story of our accomplishments in America. Plus, there will be punch and candy.
I’ll post another photograph, next time in color, as the structure nears completion.
Oh, I can’t wait to go there!
Categories
The Audition – Who? Where? When?
This photo tumbled out of an old book I had purchased at a Memphis estate sale.
I love the composition. It perfectly captures the “moment” — an old-time audition, with a pretty girl on a fancy stage, dressed in a sexy costume, and singing her heart out, a piano in view in the bottom corner of the image. No bored piano player visible; that would have spoiled the effect.
The 5×7 photo has a rubber stamp on the back (see below), indicated it had been carefully inspected (I’ll bet!) and approved by U.S. Army censors, so this must have been mailed to, or from, somebody in the armed forces during World War II.
But who is she? Where is she performing? When did this take place?
We’ll probably never know. But I sure hope she got the part.
Categories
Mulford Jewelers
How many of my half-dozen readers remember Mulford Jewelers — a Memphis institution for more than half a century?
Well, I certainly do, because that’s where the Lauderdales purchased the gold, silver, and platinum baubles and beads that made the Mansion glitter like a comet flashing through the night. Of course, that sparkle lost most of its luster when the Lauderdale bankruptcy proceedings — which made front-page news in every newspaper in the northern hemisphere except South Dakota — took away just about everything but the tattered clothes on our backs.
But that wasn’t the fault of John N. Mulford (the dapper gentleman shown here), who owned and operated one of this city’s oldest and finest jewelry stores. Born in London, Mulford came to this country in the 1870s. He loved to hunt and fish and roamed America in search of a place where he could pursue those interests, eventually settling in Memphis. If he hadn’t done that, you wouldn’t be reading about him now. Not here, anyway.
In 1880, he opened Mulford Jewelers at 6 South Main Street in a building known as the Marble Block — possibly because it was made of marble, but maybe that was the owner’s name; I just don’t know. The store remained at that location until 1942, when it moved a few doors down, to 26 South Main. At least, I think it did. You have to remember that Memphis changed (and standardized) its street numbering system in the late 1800s, so it’s possible this was the same building, with a different address. See how complicated my job can be?
Anyway …
The rumors are true. Tonight (Tuesday, January 11th), I will make a rare public appearance at Davis-Kidd Booksellers, to autograph copies of my brand-new 2011 “Ask Vance” wall calendar AND to inscribe copies of my sort-of-new book, Ask Vance: The Best Questions and Answers from Memphis Magazine’s History and Trivia Expert.
Here’s the deal: If you buy a calendar for the amazingly low price of just $10, you also get a FREE one-year subscription to Memphis magazine.
If you’ve already bought the book, well I really think you should buy another, but if you don’t want to do that, bring your old one in and I’ll autograph it.
The whole shebang kicks off at 6 pm at Davis-Kidd, 387 Perkins Extended. All the snow has melted from the streets, so don’t even think about using that as an excuse to stay home.
See you there!
More than a year ago, I ran a photo of Tiny Knee Stadium in Ripley, Tennessee, and pondered why it had such an unusual name. A few readers chimed in, but I don’t think they really had a definitive answer.
Well, I have the complete explanation now, since I recently received an email from Willard Rooks Helander of Libertyville, Illinois, who just happens to be the grandson of a rather remarkable fellow named Irvin Knee.
Here’s what he tell us:
Coach Irvin Knee was a standout athlete at Wabash High School in his hometown of Wabash, Indiana, and then at Wabash College in Crawfordsville, Indiana, where he excelled at football, track, and field events. He was called “Tiny” because he was a formidable figure, whose many Drake Relays records were unbroken during his life. He played against the University of Chicago football team wearing a leather helmet and slept under the stadium in the space where the creation of the atomic bomb later occurred.
Tiny Knee also coached college football in middle Tennessee and also played professional football for Clarence Saunders’ Tigers. He moved to Ripley, Tennessee, to build the athletic program and teach science courses. At Ripley he recruited laborers to build a football field and cinder track described by Tennessee sportswriters as the finest track in West Tennessee.
Coach Knee developed standout track, field, and basketball programs, as well as coordinated building two public swimming pools for youth, Tiny Town kiddie park, and the Tiny Knee Shack where teens could “hang out” in the 1940s right through the ’60s. He was a familiar sight in his green Willys jeep. Nearly every child in Ripley had a ride in Coach Knee’s jeep and he was affectionately called Chief White Cloud by the Native American community in the area. When he died in 1968, a memorial service was held at Tiny Knee Field and the stands were filled with the many men and women who paid tribute to the man who taught them lessons on succeeding, not just in athletics and sportsmanship, but in life both on and off the field.
Tiny Knee was my grandfather.
— Willard Rooks Helander (Brownsville, Tennessee, native and Libertyville, Illinois, resident)
This unusual photograph turned up on eBay recently, purporting to show a group of circus performers from the late 1800s. What made this photo especially interesting was that it was taken by a Memphis photographer named Day, who had a studio on Main Street.
Nothing more is known — not yet, anyway — about this interesting family (if they indeed are a family — where is their mother??). What was their act? Trapeze artists? Jugglers? Strong man, with assistants? It’s hard to say from their outfits.
I really like the smaller boy’s crazy-striped costume, and if you look closely, you’ll see that the dapper man (the father?) is wearing a shirt with a rather curious design on the front, which is similar to (but not exactly the same as) the shirt worn by the older boy.
If anyone has any information about these performers, I’m sure you’ll let me know.
Yesterday I journeyed with some of my colleagues at Memphis magazine to the Malco Paradiso for a rather unusual event — a chance to not only sit in but DRIVE the famous “Black Beauty” vehicle used in the upcoming Green Hornet movie, which opens across the country in January.
The picture here shows Frank Murtaugh, our managing editor, behind the wheel of the 400-horsepower behemoth (a 1965 Chrysler Imperial in an earlier life).
The ride certainly wasn’t as cushy as the rich velvet seats in my Daimler-Benz, but I was mighty impressed with the dual, hood-mounted .50-caliber machineguns, and think I’ll add those to my own vehicles.
The rocket launchers below the bumper are another nice touch, as is the flame-thrower mounted in the grill (visible in the photo below), but I think I’ll keep those features in mind for the front entrance of the Lauderdale Mansion.
You can never be too careful.
Here’s another view of the car, with my pal Hall Prewitt behind the wheel.
TOP PHOTO BY HALL PREWITT. THANKS, HALL!
One day, I was rooting through the old photo files in the Memphis Room, and came across this image of a quaint little cafe called Bergville.
It was quite a handsome little establishment, and even the signs painted on the windows proclaimed it “A Clean Place to Eat.” But I was perplexed by what I could see in the background — rows of storage tanks of some sort (barely visible in the left background). If not for the “Poland Photo Memphis” logo at the bottom, I wouldn’t have thought this was a Memphis establishment.
But it certainly was located here, a tiny restaurant that opened in 1932 at 459 Union Avenue. The proprietor was Alex Guigou, who with his wife Helen had previously operated the curiously named Orange Palace Cafe on Summer. Those mysterious tanks in the background belonged to the Beacon Filling Station next door, and in fact, in those days that section of Union was fairly industrial, in a car-related way.
In the same block, you could find McCreery Used Cars, the Automobile Piston Company, Charles Ham Auto Service, and Farber Brothers Auto Tops. Just a few doors down was the old building — originally the Ford Motor Company — that housed The Commercial Appeal.
I have no idea why Alex and Helen Guigou called their little eatery Bergville. It didn’t last long. Old city directories show a different manager running the joint every year until 1936, when the owners renamed it the Spick & Span Restaurant. In the 1940s, it became the Blue and White Spot Restaurant. Does anybody remember any of these places?
In the 1950s and 1960s, the tiny building housed a used-car dealership, joining many others in that area, back in the days when Union Avenue was considered “Automobile Row.” But all that is changed now, and the little place called Bergville is long gone.
PHOTO COURTESY MEMPHIS ROOM, BENJAMIN HOOKS CENTRAL LIBRARY
Back in the 1960s and ’70s, one of the most popular places in town was an amusement center on South Perkins called Al’s Golfdom. Don’t let the name fool you. There was a heckuva lot more than just golf here. In addition to the fine driving range and a pair of fancy 18-hole miniature golf courses (complete with odd critters), Al’s had baseball batting cages, go-karts, a giant slide, a concession stand, picnic tables, rides for the little kids, and more. During the winter, Al’s even sold Christmas trees. Maybe some of you bought yours there?
The sprawling place on South Perkins (just about where the Mall of Memphis stood for years) was so popular that owners Al and Susie Fister opened another one on Raines Road, called Al’s Golfhaven.
I’ve previously told the story of Al’s Golfdom in the pages of Memphis magazine, and I sure hope you read that. But now you can learn even more about Al’s, and see tons of vintage photos and old TV commercial’s, on the December edition of the WKNO-TV (Channel 10) show Southern Routes, hosted by my good pal, Bonnie Kourvelas.
It airs Monday, December 13th, at 6:30 pm on Channel 10. If you miss it (or just want to watch it again and again) the show repeats on Saturday, December 18th, at 2:30 pm and again on Sunday, December 19th at 12 noon.
Here are a few shots of Al and Susie, taken in the 1980s at Al’s Golfhaven. It was quite a place.
PHOTOS COURTESY AL AND SUSIE FISTER