Forever Arabian: Life in a Small Southern Town

By Don W. Laney

Forever Arabian is a recollection of the authors memory of growing up in the small town of Arab, located in north Alabama. The book describes the years from 1956 through 1966 when the author was in school. It describes the local, national, and international events that influenced an entire generation. There are stories about kids playing outside games such as kick the can, sandlot baseball, and slow-motion football. Segregation, assassinations, the atom bomb, the space race, music, TV, movies, and sports are all discussed. It is a look back at the way it was.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Aug 30, 2013
• ISBN: 9781483688596

Don W. Laney

Don began his writing career with short stories for a regional magazine. Several of his stories have received recognition for their humor and realism. He published his first book, Charley’s Boys, about his college days in the sixties. His second book, The Laney Saga, is a historical fiction about his own ancestry. His inspiration for writing Forever Arabian is to depict what life was like for his generation. Don is an avid jogger and cyclist, enjoys hiking, and loves to read. He and his wife, Cheri, reside in Lacey’s Spring, Alabama. They have three grown sons and three grandchildren.

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Copyright © 2013 by Don W. Laney.

Photograph credit legends:

AT—Arab Tribune, AY—Arab High School Yearbook

Library of Congress Control Number:   2013915079

ISBN:   Hardcover   978-1-4836-8858-9

             Softcover    978-1-4836-8857-2

             Ebook         978-1-4836-8859-6

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted

in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system,

without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Rev. date: 08/28/2013

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CONTENTS

PREFACE

FOREVER ARABIAN

MAY 28, 2002

THIRD GRADE

FOURTH GRADE

FIFTH GRADE

SIXTH GRADE

SEVENTH GRADE

EIGHTH GRADE

NINTH GRADE

TENTH GRADE

ELEVENTH GRADE

TWELFTH GRADE

FROM 1954 TO 1966

A FEW EXCERPTS FROM MY DIARY WHEN I WAS TWELVE YEARS OLD

INTERESTING EVENTS

SOURCES

FORMER ARAB ATHLETES WHO SHOULD BE CONSIDERED FOR THE MARSHALL COUNTY SPORTS HALL OF FAME

HALL OF FAME CREDENTIALS

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

OTHER BOOKS BY DON LANEY

This book is dedicated to my three wonderful grandchildren:

Hunter, Ella, and Hudson.

You can’t relive your youth.

But you can always revive your memories.

—Don Laney

PREFACE

I have so many fond memories of my school days in Arab, Alabama. My family moved there when I was in the third grade. I immediately started making lifelong friends, accepted by the other students as if I had been there all my life. The teachers, coaches, administrators, and many others helped prepare me for the world. I owe a lot to so many people. This book is an attempt to reflect on those events and people who influenced my life.

If someone doesn’t write about the way things were, it could be lost forever. The Frosty Freeze, bomb shelters, the drive-in and downtown theater, Linn’s 5 & 10, picking cotton, and many other events were a part of so many lives. They will be forgotten unless someone saves it for posterity. Will we forget our former teachers, athletes, coaches, and fellow students who were so important to us at one time? Will well-known individuals such as Dr. Barnard, Woodrow Hinds, Reba Hart, Margaret Clark, and Fred Green be remembered by future generations? What about some of our outstanding athletes like Billy Rhodes, Dick King, and Glenn Spann? They will be forgotten unless someone writes of their exploits. I guess I’m that someone.

I felt an overwhelming compulsion to share my memories of Arab and the time I went to school there. I wanted to keep things positive and humorous, dwelling on the good things that I recalled. However, there were other events which occurred that also should be mentioned. I covered as much as I could about school and local events, state and national events of significance, and a few international events that had us all on edge. To many of those in my generation, our grandparents had been affected by World War I and the Great Depression. Our parents had also endured the Great Depression, and many of them served in World War II. My generation was confused by the Korean War and worried about the possibility of a nuclear war. And a far, distant country most of us had never heard of, Vietnam, was impacting us in a very negative way.

Some of the stories are personal, things that happened to me throughout the years. Others have to do with the times, the everyday events on TV, the music, and the events that influenced our way of thinking. We experienced the echoes of the Big Band Era and the transition through rock ’n’ roll to the music of the Beatles. We did without so many modern conveniences which youth of today take for granted. Yet we thought nothing of it because that’s just the way it was.

Many names are mentioned in each story, names that should be familiar to most longtime Arabians. I’m sure I left out a lot of people and events that others deemed important. I didn’t know everything that went on, nor did I know everyone. My memories of sporting and school events are pretty much confined to the early to mid sixties. Perhaps someone else can write a book and cover another era, covering events the way they recall them.

This is what I remember and the way I remember it. It is my fond memories of a time gone by. I think you will enjoy reading about it.

Either write something worth reading

or do something worth writing.

—Benjamin Franklin

FOREVER ARABIAN

May 28, 2002

It was my last day of school—I mean my very last day. I was officially a retired teacher as I walked out the back door of Arab High School and stepped into the brilliant sunshine of a sunny and warm Alabama day. I had completed my last tasks, grading semester tests, submitting final grades on the computer, and turning in my keys. I had also read a farewell poem to my fellow teachers, and like Milton Berle, I left them laughing. There was nothing else to do but go home. My time as a teacher was over.

Many thoughts raced through my mind as I headed for my pickup truck. I had already loaded everything into the cab, so I was empty handed as I slowly eased my way along the sidewalk to the parking lot.

I began to think of the old high school, the decrepit gym where I played so many basketball games, the old football field where we students had to take down the bleachers at the end of football season and reassemble them in the gym for basketball season. I thought of my teachers and the influence they had on my life. I thought of fellow students I had gone to school with, many of whom had helped me out in so many ways. I thought of all the athletes I had played against and with and how I had grown from the worst athlete in school to a college basketball player. I thought of the six to seven thousand students I had taught or coached over the years. So many teachers who had touched my life—so many students whose lives I hope I had touched in a positive way. So many memories.

As I reached the parking lot, I turned and looked back at Arab High School. How it had changed over the years. I had attended school there as a student from 1960 to 1966, the last class to spend six years there. It was a seven-to-twelve-grade school back then. The class behind us, 1967 graduates, started there as seventh graders, went to the new junior high as eighth graders, then returning again to the high school as ninth graders. They had the distinction of being low man on the totem pole twice.

I chuckled to myself as I recalled my physical appearance back then—crew cut haircut, pathetically skinny, and wearing thick, dark-framed glasses. I started as a twelve-year-old adolescent, graduated as a seventeen-year-old teenager. I was retiring at the age of fifty-three. I had spent the majority of my life in the Arab school system as a student and a teacher, altogether a total of thirty-one years.

So many thoughts, so many memories, so many friendships, practically no regrets. I vowed to write about it someday; I guess today is that day.

1956-1957

Third Grade

It’s just my imagination. Some people have flat feet.

Some people have dandruff. I have this appalling imagination.

—The Seven-Year Itch

1955

Moving to Arab

My family moved from Anniston, Alabama, to Arab in the summer of 1956. I had just turned eight; my brother, Phillip, was six. Paul and Phyllis were my mom and dad. Dad had been hired to work as a master moldsman at Redstone Arsenal in Huntsville. Mother was a housewife. Arab was about twenty-five miles south of Huntsville, Alabama, commonly known as the Rocket City. The space race with Russia was gaining momentum, and a lot of emphasis was being placed on designing and building rockets at Redstone Arsenal.

In 1956, Arab was a small, sleepy town located on the far western corner of Marshall County. At that time, the other main cities in Marshall County were Albertville, Boaz, and Guntersville, the county seat. Arab was a rural area, with farming and poultry being the main sources of income for the local residents. It was an all-white community with a large high school serving students from not only Arab, but the surrounding communities of Union Grove, Grassy, Midway, Ruth, Strawberry, and Eddy, as well as other areas. The county had just recently built a new high school on the east side of town for grades seven through twelve. Elementary students went to the old high school, located north of downtown. Although it was relatively small, Arab boasted a number of eating establishments including the Frosty Freeze, Fred’s Diner, the Triangle, El Rancho, and a few drugstores with grills. Linn’s 5 & 10 was the big department store, with a vast variety of goods to choose from as well as their own grill. The Bank of Arab stood right in the middle of downtown. There were also two theaters for a while, with the Arabian being the one that most people attended. Cobb’s Farm Supply, Western Auto, Stamp’s Hardware, the Trading Post, Eastep’s Dry Goods, Thrower’s Shoe Shop, a couple of gas stations, the Water Works and Foodland Grocery Store. It was a very busy little town, and growth was all but imminent.

My father had scouted the area, looking for a good place to raise two small sons. He had considered Huntsville, Hazel Green, and a couple of other local cities. But he was very impressed with the Arab citizenry, determining it to be the best place to live and raise a family. He found a really nice two-story house on Highway 231 just north of Arab, making it a convenient location for his drive to the Arsenal in Huntsville.

I had gone to kindergarten in Cleveland, Ohio, the first grade at Eulaton in the Welborn area, then the second grade at Mechanicsville in Anniston. I had gotten to the point where I expected to move every time school was out. So I wasn’t surprised to hear that we were again moving at the end of my second-grade term. I just wondered where in the world Arab, Alabama, was.

I can remember loading up our car and heading for Arab. A big truck had our furniture and appliances and had gone on ahead of us. I recall that the only item I took with me was a lizard that stayed out near the back shed. I had hurried out there before we left, easily captured the lizard (which I had named Mr. Peabody), and placed it in a shoebox. Mom wasn’t very pleased when she realized what I had done, but Dad thought it was okay.

We moved into a brown-shingled, two-story house on Highway 231 about three miles north of downtown Arab. The house had three bedrooms upstairs, while downstairs there was a living room, a den, and a very nice kitchen facing the woods behind the house. Stairs led from the kitchen down to a roomy basement. However, the house was missing one important room that I had been accustomed to—a bathroom. There was a shower in the middle of the basement, making it the largest shower in this part of the world. There was an outhouse with a well-worn path about fifty feet from our back porch.

The house was located about halfway between two of north Arab’s finest institutions: Dickson’s Truck Stop and Head and Son’s Grocery Store. Each was within easy walking distance from our house. More commonly known as Dickson’s, the establishment consisted of a service station, a restaurant, and a motel. Dickson’s Truck Stop was a popular stop for truckers as well as weary travelers as they went down Highway 231.

Head and Son’s Grocery was really a general store for the entire area. Not only did they sell groceries, they had farm supplies and large bags of flour, meal, potatoes, and the like. I was always attracted to their candy counter, with the best of penny, nickel, and dime candies which I seldom got to sample. But when I did, I usually got a Tootsie Roll pop. Three licks, maybe four, and then it was crunch and bite. I think my dentist and Tootsie Roll were in cahoots.

Primarily because of my mother’s fondness for soft drinks, I was sent to Head and Son’s on numerous occasions to bring back a carton of Cokes. I usually chose from a variety consisting of RC Cola, Pepsi Cola, Dr. Pepper (10, 2, and 4), Orange Crush, Nehi Grape, or Bubble Up. Mom always requested the basic Coca-Cola. Mr. and Mrs. Head were very nice to us, and I always enjoyed visiting the store.

Across the road from Head and Son’s was another store, a very small convenience store operated by a Mr. and Mrs. Chastain. They had a wonderful selection of very cold drinks and the best dip ice cream around. They didn’t do much business, but I occasionally visited them. They were always cordial and very appreciative of our business.

One other thing about Head and Son’s: they had a rolling grocery store. I saw the truck many times, stocked with all sorts of foodstuffs, as it was being prepared to go out into the community. It would visit various homes and farms of people who rarely went to town. So Head and Son’s traveling grocery store brought the town to them. I was envious because we lived within walking distance of the store and were thus ineligible for the truck to visit us. I had to be content with walking to the store whenever we needed a few items.

Some of the people who lived in that area would barter with the rolling grocery store. A lot of people depended on farming for their income. Sometimes they just didn’t have the money for certain items, having to wait on harvest time. Therefore, many country folks bartered for their groceries. A common transaction might include a family trading eggs, homemade butter, or a hen for a large sack of flour, sugar, or coffee. It wasn’t unusual for a transaction to be completed with no real money changing hands.

Arab Elementary School

My brother, Phillip, and I were supposed to attend a local elementary school at Eddy. However, the school had burned down, so all the local kids were being bused to Arab. That didn’t matter to me since I didn’t know anyone at either place. I was assigned to Mrs. Bailey’s third-grade class. I was surprised to find out that she lived between us and Dickson’s Truck Stop. I think she went out of her way to help me out since I was new and I was also her neighbor.

Arab Elementary School was located downtown behind the Frosty Freeze and Foodland Grocery Store. It encompassed a square area about the size of two football fields. As a matter of fact, just a few years earlier, the playground was where the high school football field was located. It separated the elementary school from the high school across the street. It was surrounded by a plank fence and was the location of Arab’s only undefeated football team back in the forties.

The elementary school building itself was very old. It was a wooden structure with huge windows, wood floors that were oiled down, high ceilings, a basement which housed three classrooms, and a covered walkway which led to a separate building, the lunchroom. There was a very wide area for recess (the old football field), with a smaller area consisting of playground equipment. There were roads, houses, and businesses all around the school, so slipping off would prove to be very difficult.

Across the southern street was a brick building which housed the Church of Christ. Just behind it was the Water Works and City Hall building. To the north and east were a number of houses and vacant lots. Facing east was a road which separated the school from the back of Foodland and the other building next to it (which used to be the old high school auditorium). The Frosty Freeze was on the other side of those buildings. The school buses would line up on the eastern road, loading and unloading frolicking kids, for their rides to and from school. It was a time when practically everyone rode the bus. Very few people rode to school with their parents. A few local kids would walk to school, but the vast majority rode buses. That’s what Phillip and I did for the two years we lived north of the city on Highway 231.

Linn’s 5 & 10 and People’s Drugstore, located in the middle of downtown Arab, provided students with their books. We had to stand in a long line, awaiting our turn to receive our books for the upcoming year. Everyone was excited to receive their books, but it also cost their parents a lot of hard-earned money. Every kid in the area came to one of these stores for their books. When George Wallace became governor, he provided free books for all of Alabama’s grades one to twelve public school students. I was so happy to walk into school and be handed my free textbooks. That move in itself made Wallace very popular with a lot of people.

Most school days began with praise, patriotism, and singing. Students recited the Lord’s Prayer, the teacher read from the Bible, and sometimes a student might present a devotional. Of course, we always said the Pledge of Allegiance. Singing was considered part of the curriculum. Patriotic songs were very popular, including God Bless America and America the Beautiful. The old version of Alabama was very popular, as were Row, Row, Row Your Boat, My Old Kentucky Home, Old Black Joe, and Vera Jacka. Old Black Joe probably wouldn’t go over too well today.

As already stated, the two buildings across the road from the elementary school used to be the high school. The bigger building (at that time it was Foodland Grocery Store) contained the high school classrooms. Rooms were on the main floor, in the basement, and on the second floor. It housed grades seven through twelve. The smaller building next to it was the auditorium (gym). Like practically all schools at that time, it was used for basketball games, physical education classes, and school functions. The students were moved to the new high school (today’s school) during the Thanksgiving break in 1949. So the class of 1950 was the first group to graduate from there.

The high school homecoming and prom were both held in the auditorium. In 1954, the senior homecoming float almost proved to be a disaster. It was put together on the back of a flatbed truck with the typical chicken wire and paper mache. Everything went well until after the parade. The seniors were supposed to meet back at the school and remove the paper mache and chicken wire. As the truck pulled into the school, it got a little too close to the school incinerator. There was a pretty good fire going at that time, as well as a strong north wind. As the truck eased by the incinerator, a gust of wind blew a flame toward the truck. Those students who were standing nearby saw every scrap of paper mache burn up in less than fifteen seconds. The truck itself was practically unscathed. The driver and the students were unharmed. There was nothing else for the students to do; their work was done for them.

By the way, back then the homecoming king and queen did not have to be seniors. Most of the time they were, but occasionally someone other than a senior was elected. In 1953, the titles went to junior Carolyn Brannon and senior Kay Gibbs.

In the fifties, the prom was more of a presentation than a dance. The 1953 prom was a three-ring circus, with various acts going on in each ring. Some people still say it was the best prom Arab ever had.

Arab’s football teams during the fifties were sometimes known for something else besides good football. There was a saying going around the area that Arab might not win the game, but it would win the fight. Apparently there were a few select Arabians who enjoyed a good fight more than a good football game. One particular fight almost caused Arab to lose its football privileges. Arab was playing at Oneonta during the ’52 season. Oneonta was undefeated at the time while Arab was struggling to break even. Arab played the game of its season, giving Oneonta all it wanted. When the fourth quarter ended, the score was 13-13. But the referees huddled together and made the clock operator put twenty seconds back on the clock. Oneonta managed to run four straight end sweeps during the twenty seconds. On the final play of the game, Arab’s Lyle Darnell knocked the Oneonta player out of bounds on the two- or three-yard line as the clock expired. But one of the referees ran up and threw up his arms, signaling touchdown. Darnell was so angry that he picked up the ball and punted it off into the woods. Arab players and fans were livid. Fans ran onto the field and began berating and pushing the referees. Individual scuffles broke out all over the field. A pro wrestler from Birmingham, there to watch Oneonta play, stepped in to help the referees out. That turned out to be a mistake on his part. He was last seen half conscious as he rolled down a small embankment.

Arab’s players couldn’t get back into their locker room (the door was locked), so Arab lineman Jim Williams knocked the door down. Arab quickly got on their bus and left the premises, with Oneonta fans throwing coal and rocks at the bus.

The following week, Arab had to send a small delegation to Birmingham to defend their actions. The ruling was harsh. Not only were they fined, they were put on probation for a number of years. If there was any trouble during that time, Arab football would be dead. Apparently, they behaved.

My First Friend

Remember, George, no man is a failure who has friends.

—Clarence (Henry Travers)

It’s a Wonderful Life, 1946

I remember my first day I climbed on board old school bus number 35. Phillip and I didn’t know a soul on that bus. Yet they greeted us with smiles and hellos, making us feel welcome. The first person I really got to know was a boy in my grade, Jimmy Tinley. He lived across the highway and just past an open pasture. We would become close friends for the rest of our school years together. I guess we hit it off so well because we both were skinny and immature, silly as baby monkeys, and impressed with one another. At that time, no one who knew us would predict that Jimmy would become a scientist and I would become a teacher. I remember one day when Jimmy had to go to the doctor because he had been sick. He came back to school in the afternoon, having missed lunch. Our teacher allowed me to accompany him to the lunchroom so that he could get something to eat. But when we got there, the lunchroom ladies had already cleared everything away. All they could muster up for poor Jimmy was a creamy peanut butter sandwich on white bread. Since that was all they had for him,