December 14, 2015
| By Bob Fugett
FORUM CLOSED TO COMMENT
Currently showing 41
|#||Time EST||Name||Comment||Bob's Response
|7589||12/19/2015 11:34:11 PM||Bob|
|Now everybody knows how to reach me, and the New Year is fast approaching. |
Google returns for London, OH show that I succeeded in pulling a bunch of images off the deep returns and getting them to the top of the charts, especially my favorite photo which I now believe was shot by Darla Darlington's father.
|Time to shut this puppy down and get back to finishing my degree.
This forum has done its job and can now be closed to comment.
|7587||12/14/2015 4:35:24 PM||Greg Eades||Thanks for calling my office today. |
I apologize, but I was on the other line and couldn't get to the line quick enough.
Yes, there was some confusion, as I thought you had published your book, and I thought it was a GREAT gift idea for Dad as a retirement gift.
I've enjoyed reading your comments on here about people I knew, such as Helge Markus, who was personally my favorite physician.
There has been a book about London in the 70's published by J Mark Jackson titled "Touched by Fire" from Amazon.
I guess when I saw the mention about Amazon in one of your comments, I should have read the entire entry instead of skimming thru it.
I don't know if Ballenger has finished his book.
Thanks again for the reply, I'll take a little more time to read more closely what is posted here.
|Hi Greg : )
Let me make this perfectly clear: it is the policy of this website that not one single person from London can ever never ever do a single thing wrong.
Therefore, since you can do no wrong, apologies are not necessary.
The only reason I bothered you at work was so I could confirm your post was not just one of my favorite trolls pretending to be yet another person to whom I might respond.
Thanks for the callback.
When I heard your voice on the machine my first thought was, "Wait! That's me talking. Why am I calling myself."
My wife attested you sound a lot like me, so your post is confirmed from London because none of my trolls have anything close to the skill required pretending so perfectly.
I hope your saying that Helge is one of the people you "knew" and he "was" your favorite physician does not imply he has left us.
If so there would be no point in my mentioning Helge can be as great a physician as he wants, but he will still never best his dad Martin.
If Helge was no longer with us, he would not get to see what I said about his dad, laugh, and renew his pride in him.
You will notice I added a link to the book you mentioned, and when I looked at its intro and got to, "London skews Republican, Catholic and Ohio State," I single click purchased it on the spot.
Now you can add literary agent to your list of skills while telling everybody I loved that book and thanked you for the referral!
|7586||12/14/2015 1:04:28 PM||Greg Eades||I would like to get a copy. |
I read through the forums, and it appears this may be the best way ... by contacting you directly.
My dad is David Eades, who is finishing 24 years as the Mayor of London.
I think one of the biggest reasons he ran for office was to make London like it once was.
He was a 1958 graduate of LHS, and he remembers everyone going to the downtown area and socializing on Saturday nights.
I would also like a copy of your other book about London.
|Hi Greg : )
Your question seems to be part of a conversation that was started elsewhere online, so I am confused.
I just left a phone message at your office.
In any case, what sort of "copy" are you looking for, and for what "other" book?
In the meantime, tell your dad for me that I said he is not allowed to stop being Mayor, and he should just shut up and get back to work.
There's too much left to be done.
Tick, tick, tick ... ok, I looked over the pages here and think I see where the confusion comes from.
This website is actually the contents of a folder on one of my domain name sites, and it is placed in a book style format (of my own design) titled: "London Ohio: an American dream", and it does not currently exist in any form other than this online version you are reading.
When I first started putting the pages together (basically trying to track down the name Moore's Store which I had forgotten), I pre-supposed someday taking it to print, so fashioned a startup "Cover" image, but a print version was never needed.
At the bottom of the cover page is a link to another few book type pages that I started in the same manner but got distracted away from continuing.
Otherwise, at one point in this Forum, conversations with Earl Ballenger mentioned a book of London history that he was working on, so maybe that is what you are referring to.
That's all I come up with at this point, but anything I can do ... glad to help!
|7584||12/13/2015 7:22:09 AM||Mary Van Horn Hodgdon||Just wanted to comment that your class was very special and that several of you hold a special place in my memories. |
Leslie and Dick, you and Nick and of course, Burke made me feel I was in rarified company.
I feel, as many do, that London was a great place to grow up for many reasons, our freedom to explore not being the least of these.
Enjoyed a wonderful Multi-class reunion last fall with many of our classmates reuniting their old bands.
The class of 1970 has a Facebook page if you are interested.
It looks like you have led a very interesting life which comes as no surprise.
Just thought I would say hello.
P.S. Please send me an email as I'm on my Kindle and probably won't check this forum anytime soon if you would like to reply.
|It is exhilarating to once again be reminded I am not the only one who was aware how special that time and those people were.
Being able to just hop on your bicycle and have the run of the town was incredible; probably still the same there for all I know.
I especially remember a very cool almost frigid Halloween night.
The only way to describe it: seemed all the kids in town were out on their own wilding!
For reference you might listen again to Van Morrison's Wild Night and think about the wind catching your feet to set you flying.
Every Friday night was more or less the same thing.
A few years ago I had my wife convinced that if what was shown on Google street level was true (the building abandoned) we should move back to London, buy the building, and get the Dixie Drive Inn going again.
Fortunately for me (and London) the Google street level was out of date and the building is being used quite nicely.
Then there was the moment when I was feeling rich and decided I should donate money to the Catholic church on the corner of Union and 2nd Street in order to restore the steeple back to its former tall slender glory of my youth.
Except I quickly realized they probably had good reasons for chopping it stubbier, and I would only be handing somebody an ongoing maintenance nightmare ... assuming I could even bend them to my will and somebody could be found with the skills to do the work.
Luckily I stopped feeling so very rich of myself soon after, once again fortunate for me and for London.
These days I shy away from email, and it would take water boarding to get me on Facebook ... though there is a known troll who continues pretending to be me on fb.
In any case, double extra incredible thanks for your comments.
BTW: That feeling you were in rarified company around Burke, Leslie, Dick, and Nick (I am assuming Noble, a mathematical genius among many other wonderful things) was really just a recognition of the facts.
I felt the same about them, and I would certainly not be in the memories of anybody had I not been wrapped in the company of those people and many others like them.
|7069||9/12/2014 11:07:50 PM||Andrew Smart||Hi, I am the grandson of Bruce Lewis, former President of the Central National Bank in London, Ohio. I noticed that he may have briefly appeared in a 1961 documentary.
I found mention of him at:
Does a copy of this documentary still exist?
How can I get a copy of the DVD?
|Hi Andrew : )
Absolutely, copies of the documentary exist.
Here is a link to my entry on the Historic Photos page with information about how to track down a copy:
In summary you can borrow a copy from the London Public Library, or purchase one from the Ohio Historical Society (or view it on-site at their Columbus facility).
Worst case, I will send you my own copy ... if you promise to take good care of it.
If the link above does not take you directly to my entry on the Historic Photos page, use your browser search function while viewing that page to find: 138
I should mention that your grandfather was President of the bank during the time my father explained to me, "The bank will loan people money based on their character; so, Bobby, make sure you work hard, pay your bills, and do everything possible to keep your good name and reputation."
In the years since (having lived out in the world and away from London, Ohio) I came to believe my dad was mistaken until I read somewhere that in fact banks did previously lend people money based on their character, but now the policy is to loan based solely on a person's ability to pay the money back.
If not for the older policy (despite the slippery slope that might be thrown into the mix due to racism), my parents (basically poor white share croppers from Kentucky) would never have had the opportunity to own two restaurants and a house on Main Street in London, nor would I have had the opportunity to use that situation as a springboard to having the oddest and best life a little kid could never have been able to imagine.
Therefore, please thank the memory of your grandfather for me.
Thanks for writing,
|6583||12/19/2013 10:00:22 AM||Pam Smith||Hi Bob,|
In trying to order a copy of your CD for Judith, I found this site! I sent the last one Amazon had to Sandy. Will wait for further instructions. Best,
|Good lord, Pam, hold your horses!
First off, Judith and Sandy's money is no good here.
I'll ship as many CDs as you want for free; don't buy them from Amazon, they don't really "have" any of them, they will just tell us to drop ship them and take most of the money for themselves.
Not to mention, there are not very many of those CDs left, and there never will be considering the hand work that went into making them, plus a printer that is no longer made while ours has been fried for a few years now.
The only reason they are listed on Amazon is so I can make people think I did something.
[To anybody else who is reading here: No, this is not a deal you will be getting, only Pam, and it is relative to MacMurray College, which college is the only reason I can do things like this anyway, so nobody else ... just forget it.]
I also would like to apologize to you, Pam, for the fugettsound website, which is more or less orphaned, and I haven't updated it in a few thousand years.
That site is just a place where people download free MP3 tracks off the album, which doesn't worry me at all so long as I don't have to be bothered by it (plus I couldn't stop that from happening if I tried).
In any case, a few years ago we were babysitting a friend's kids, took them to meet their father at Barnes and Noble, and thought they would be entertained while waiting if we took them into the music department.
The fourteen year old girl said, "Look at that, CDs; I didn't even think they made those things anymore!"
I looked around me and saw she spoke the truth.
So I put everything online thinking, "Good. That's over. Don't have to bother with that anymore."
Otherwise, here's a couple little vignettes about that CD.
When I was just finishing up the production, one of my musician friends was in my studio listening to it on the studio monitors (he had an odd look), and when it finished he said very carefully, "Bob, I hope you don't take this the wrong way, but I have never heard any music like that. Now don't get mad."
He actually thought that what he said might be taken as an insult, but it was one of the best compliments I have ever gotten.
My other greatest compliment came from a former navy guy who "drove" nuclear submarines and because of that we called him "Nuclear Dan" during competitive bicycle riding; Dan said, "I downloaded your music last night and I really like it, but then, I always like music that nobody else likes."
He also did not understand what a compliment he had given me.
Therefore, I'm not real worried about a run on those CDs (especially since the music can be downloaded for free), but still ... Mary and I have decided we are not allowed to profit from knowing Judith and Sandy, or you.
Sorry, for the delay in responding here; I was working on the email that I just sent you before beginning my daily routine.
|6555||11/20/2013 9:39:27 PM||Pam|
|Hello Bob, |
How are you? Hope you're well.
It's been a while, but the final piece has been published today for the John Markus short-form documentary video, and I thought you'd be interested in seeing it.
You are welcome to post it on the blog if you think that would be appropriate:
Thank you once again for all of your help!
We hope you enjoy the piece.
All the best,
It was great to see John's mom and dad again, and the excerpts from the historic London, Ohio, video gives me a chance to point to a taste of the full length video available at the London Public Library.
[This is a follow up to London, Ohio posts starting at #6287-6371]
|6538||10/24/2013 7:08:12 PM||Hazel Your sister||FYI: The name of 'The Truck Stop' was, before our time, The Green Apple. During the time we had it, the name was The White Star. Why, I am unsure.
The reason for the gun incident (which I barely recall with your prompting) was the fact that dad blamed me for his son being killed in Korea. He was drunk (with grief and spirits) and said had I not told of a time when Bill touched me inappropriately (he had told me to do so), Bill would never have left home, joined the Army and been killed.
I have enjoyed reading how you remember things. Was happy to see your notes which cleared my mind regarding the mix up of places.
Does explain a lot.
However what you are referring to is something I wrote on a different website not this one.
|6529||10/19/2013 3:16:24 PM||Dottie Creech||Can I get this photo, please?||I assume you mean the photo immediately below.
Click through all the way to the largest image (it will be the only thing showing inside your browser); then Right Click, Save As ...
You might like to ask Timothy Alton if it is ok to download it.
|6523||10/13/2013 5:37:57 PM||Timothy Allton||Bob ... I do have a pic of the store on High Street.||I am sending you an email addess which you will not share with anybody else, put on any e-blast list, or misuse in any other way ... just send me that picture!
Love it, love it, love it.
From the lower left trash can, I am guessing early 70's?
Whoops, just read your e-mail: 1973.
Soon to be at the top of Google.
|6521||10/12/2013 7:55:56 PM||Sharon Kull||Thanks for sharing Tim! |
Growing up in London holds many fond memories & times spent at the grocery store helping Dad.
Probably best for me to stay out of the way here, unless somebody has something like a photo of a grocery store they want posted.
|6519||10/12/2013 7:53:30 AM||Timothy Allton||Thanks for creating a site that allows us to reminisce and share our memories. I have fond memories growing up in London, having been born and raised in this great rural Ohio town.
London truly was the mecca of the world for a kid like me during this great Americana era. From all of the local businesses that truly were hustling and bustling, the pure innocence of being able to go anywhere in town and not be overly concerned about one's well being and the childhood friendships that were created will never be forgotten.
As a member of the class of 1974, participating in marching, pep, concert and jazz bands along with playing basketball, to having my own paper route and "living the life" in our small quintessential hometown of London ... simply unforgettable times!
My father was a business partner with Bus Chesbrough, as they operated two IGA stores in London at one time. My father ran the second street location which was near the Madison Press and Bus ran the High street location near the high school. The second street location eventually closed as they focused on the high street location, which my father later purchased from Bus.
I now reside in New England but do get back to the great Buckeye state at least once a year with a visit to my hometown of London, Ohio.
|Thank you, Tim ... perfect!
|6495||9/28/2013 9:07:25 PM||Leslie Turvy Nelson||
So sorry we won't get to see you and have the pleasure of meeting Mary.
The 10th was the one I mentioned that we missed because we were out of the country, so we didn't get to meet her.
Contrary to your comical description of her, which I'm sure is a complete exaggeration (except the kicking my butt on a bike part).
I looked at the pictures of her that you posted and my take: she's beautiful, smart, fit, and extremely talented.
Oh, yes, she has an extremely sweet face and let her know I am speechless regarding her works of art, truly amazing, BEAUTIFUL and unique.
As for Mary kicking my butt on a bike, no doubts there.....LOL.....I JUST invested in a new bike, first one since the one I received for my 11th birthday which is who knows where, not me.
I got it so I could pull Macey (our 3 year old granddaughter) in a toddler trailer.
To be honest, I have no idea what possessed me to think I could still ride a bike myself and even more puzzling is why I thought I could ride AND pull a trailer with a 40 pound toddler in it.
The trailer has not yet arrived so time will tell.
Again, so sorry we will miss seeing you and catching up, it would have been great, but totally understand and appreciate trying to organize and work around a busy schedule, sometimes it's just too much.
All the best to you and Mary. Lez
The important one first.
You will absolutely positively no doubt whatsoever be able to ride that bicycle AND pull a 40 lb cart.
No question about it.
Roust that worthless husband of yours out of his doldrums, and he will explain ... based on stuff he made sure I listened to in Roudebush's physics class (stuff that has been central to my understanding of the world ever since and has saved me from falling into all sorts of mythology traps).
Basically start Dick with this: "An object at rest tends to..."
He'll finish it, then explain how pulling 40 lbs with a bicycle on relative flat ground (like the Prairie Grass Trail in London) can be accomplished with almost no effort whatsoever.
Just don’t try to get going fast too quickly.
You are going to love it, and your granddaughter will be gathering even grander memories.
As for the humor in my description of Mary, that is true, but the humor will not be revealed until she gets up in the morning.
She's in bed early and asleep by 8 usually, then up around dawn.
In any case, when she sees how you thought I exaggerated, she will be peeing her granny pants laughing.
The quote at the bottom of my last comment was a direct quote, so she'll be laughing out loud.
Then she'll notice how you thought she had a sweet face, and she'll be coming for you no doubt.
Her main pleasure in life is making men less than half her age wish they had never heard of cycling.
As a closing aside: my notes show the first e-mail you sent me 12/14/2012 says you guys are living in Florida but didn't say exactly where.
If you are on the west coast anywhere near Tampa, get on over to the Suncoast Trail my dear ... it is 80 miles long and there is one 9 mile section with no cross streets ... great for learning stuff about training for competitive cycling that nobody without access to it will know.
Especially about how easy it is to slowly build pace to immense speeds.
You know, the kind of stuff that if ones pays close attention to it, allows a really, really old and weak woman (light as a feather) to make a strapping young man cry in defeat.
|6494||9/28/2013 8:58:22 AM||Leslie|
Thanks for replying Bob.
I was just wondering if you received your invitation to our reunion?
Thought how great it would be to see you.
Dick and I are flying up on Wednesday, the 2nd, and we will be staying at Nancy (Rife) and Garry Florea's.
We are also trying to put the word out if anyone from our class is coming home for the reunion or lives close enough and are inclined, we are planning on attending the football game on Friday night.
I get the idea from your posts that you may not be in a hurry to return to London, but I also have to believe you've got a sweet spot deep inside for it as well.
You have such wonderful recall of so many vivid accounts of growing up there and your various memories and relationships be them family, friends, or acquaintances and despite whether they were good or bad, we all have them.
The number of classmates we've lost is growing and is only going to increase from here on, so please, please, please think about attending.
The great thing about life at this age is that we no longer have to strive for or worry over being accepted, we don't need reassurance or validation of who we are, where we've been or where we're headed and we no longer have to compete for the golden ring.
We are what we are, plain and simple.
Dick and I have gone to all the reunions except one (Dick was still in the Navy and we were stationed in Bermuda).
Can't really remember if he couldn't get the time off or if we just plain couldn't afford it, most likely the latter....LOL).
We always have a really fun time chatting and visiting with everyone and I just feel sure you would as well.
Okay, I'll now get off my knees and stop this lengthy diatribe.
Just wanted you to know that Dick and I would LOVE to see you and meet your Mary. Enough said. Be well my friend. LEZ
BTW....If you're on FB, I have a zillion pictures of our family posted there (truthfully, most are of our granddaughter, Macey).
Did you really think e-mail was private, or any better than posting in this forum?
I did receive my invitation and sent in a $100.00 donation to the flower fund while check marking that I would not be there.
My recollection is that you people were a lot more organized than this, with a lot closer communication.
Any of the stuff you may have read about my problems with people in London were really stories about my own family, and not about my classmates ... of whom it was said by some of our teachers, that we were a very special bunch, and time has proven to me that was true and not just encouragement.
As far as being over the hump and not having to worry about acceptance anymore, that is probably only wishful thinking on your part, or you do not have an ongoing business servicing the public.
In any case, Mary was with me for the 10th reunion, so you probably already met her, and any questions about her can easily be answered online without your having to put up with her insane nastiness.
She would only try to get you onto a bicycle, then kick your ass.
As for Facebook, they don't pay me enough to get interested in having my stuff there, not to mention I pretty much own the Internet and can do anything I want to on it without their help.
Also not to mention every one of the London High School visitors that arrived here the other night came via Facebook links already, so what would be the point of giving a corporate logo back control of my life that I have spent so much time making unavailable to corpor-ocracies?
In any case, I always do have good intentions of showing up for a reunion, but always at the last minute I realize I don't have a second, let alone a minute, to travel cross the country and get excited about stories that will be replaced by delayed necessities in the morning.
Please relay to Florea's how long it took me searching online to find a reference to the pharmacy, found on that photo, and how many different ways I tried spelling their name in the process (should have tried Rife) ... at one point had decided I made the whole thing up in my head.
You know that thing about the evening street lights from outside, adding to the particular fluorescent glow near the front of the drugstore where the magazine racks were, and how you could pass through beyond the soda counter to exit onto High Street.
These are things and places of legend that have seeped into the collective conscious, and the number of people I have run into, in the years since, who would kill to have access to such a store in such a place is astounding.
Better that I write about it here for others to be a part of than show up and review the situation with people who already know it full well.
While we are on that subject, I ran across a video showing how "hard" things are with businesses in London, and it showed Mabe's (the new location) from inside looking out.
But when the article published alongside of the video described the state of affair's with Mabe's and how tough things are, and how hard they have to work, I thought, "Wait a minute, that is just how I remember things way back when: true businesses always work that hard."
So I started to write about it but thought, "Wait another minute, I don't have a dog in that fight and should just keep my mouth shut."
Then I saw an episode of American Pickers where they pulled a stained glass panel out of a trash pile (which looked very much like my childhood living room), and they talked about how that stuff isn't made anymore ... but I knew better.
So I have been working on this:
And along with that I have been running around town talking to any struggling businesses in person explaining, "Well, you remember that photo I showed you of where I grew up, and how my parents had a restaurant on the corner, and how it was open 24/7/365, and how my dad always said to me, 'Bobby, people rely on us to eat, but if we are closed they are still going to eat; they'll just go somewhere else, and they won't be back.'"
Which reminds me, I have to get out there now and remind the weekend shops they probably should try to open full time.
Too bad I have to get off my computer, because looking at a zillion photos of your grandkid is just what I would like to do.
Otherwise, tell everybody for the moment I prefer to remember them just exactly the way they were: that photo of our class outside the gymnasium shows the current reality as far as I am concerned — a very special group of special people who are about to go out in the world and do special things.
I don't think I am wrong on this.
BTW: Mary just came in from walking the dog and asked what I was writing; when I said Leslie wants us to come to the reunion so she can meet you, Mary yelped, "FUCK THAT! I don't even go to my own reunions."
Priceless, right? At least you didn't have to get on a bicycle.
Click on photos above
|6487||9/26/2013 10:53:28 PM||Leslie Turvy Nelson||
Somehow lost your email address, could you please re-send it to me. Promise not to abuse the use of it. Thanks so much in advance. LEZ
|6485||9/26/2013 9:35:28 PM||Kathy Molnar Guenther||
So good to read your story on the Main St. photo and all the "stuff" you did as a kid.
I think you may have invented the urban sport of "parkour" Hahaha.
As Halloween approaches, my mind travels back to going trick-or-treating and going to your home, the huge front door, it seemed so appropriate for a "haunted house" to a child's imagination.
I haven't read your book yet, but will very soon.
|Uh, oh; looks like somebody is having a reunion.
Let's pretend it is late afternoon, almost tending toward evening.
Out back over the tall grass (close to hay) beyond the playhouse is a bounding red fox on its way in for a treat.
Somebody had whistled a call.
You can see it pop up over the grass first to the left, then the right.
Where would we be?
And where in the world do you think they still give kids the run of the town on their own for Holloween.
I remember a cool brisk night with costumed kids from all over town running amuck on main street in between the stream and the park, then everywhere else.
I don't think anybody told us then that memories would become fine re-run movies, always available, always free, and everything viewed from a safe distance.
If you think that house was the perfect haunted house from the outside, you should have lived there.
Hope I'm getting these photos right; I'm guessing without a net.
|6484||9/26/2013 6:34:31 PM||Ann Shiveley Riddle||
Please tell me you are not the same Bob Fugett who put boogers on my desk in 8th grade.
|No, not the same Bob Fugett, totally different these days.
But I hope you kept the boogers, because they are now worth a fortune.
They would probably be worth more if that 8th grade room still existed.
Last I recall, you and I were having a discussion trying to figure out why I was so enamored of Pam Goodyear, at least I believe that is who it was that week.
I remember you are real smart as well as pretty, so maybe you can help me with this.
Here is my best memory of home room teachers:
2: Wertmeuller ?
4: Brown (art)
8: Geer ?
9: Study Hall (Roudebush+)
11: Higgins/Schaim ?
Can you fill in the blanks, or suggest some edits?
The parenthesis with (art) beside Mrs. Brown's name is because that is where I believe we did the project where everybody picked an animal from the Tundra and took turns being allowed to work on our own painting up in the corner during class; then the parents were invited to watch us scroll the images on a boxed screen and give a little five sentence speech about the animal.
I did the Caribou, and either Cathy Collie or Bobby Binns did the Killer Whale.
Do you remember that Cathy Collie never missed a day of school from Kindergarten all the way through Senior Year?
Talk about worth something ... if that scroll of all our artwork still existed.
Did I get that photo right?
|6429||8/31/2013 1:03:28 PM||Trent||I was coming back to try to identify more cars. But, I'm not very good at it. There are only two more cars that I think I can recognize, and I didn't think that was worth posting.
In the left foreground, there is a black, four-door sedan parked in the third space down (next to the red Corvette). I think it is a Ford. Possibly a Customline or Crestline from ~1954.
To the left of the second light in the center-right of the picture is a pale blue and white two-tone car parked at the curb that I think may be a 1956 Plymouth Belvedere.
Sorry, but that's all I got.
|Hey, that's more than I've got, and I was there.
My daily thorough review of my website usage logs reveals that maybe three people total could have seen the photo since you first posted, and I think they were looking at something else.
The standard widely distributed web usage statistic programs would count the number in the thousands, but they routinely count hits that I know for certain are merely search engine bots, etc.
In any case, I myself certainly appreciate the effort (above and beyond), and if any other human ever does find their way here, I am sure they will applaud your efforts as well.
BTW: My recollection of that Corvette is that it was a rich tan with dual headlights, though the photo does shift it significantly toward the red.
|6418||8/26/2013 10:42:03 AM||Bob Fugett||Hi Trent : )
I noticed your IP# showing up on this forum a couple times since your posting, so here's an update for you.
This forum is very rarely seen and even more rarely added to.
Currently I am just waiting to hear word about the historic photo being used in the John Markus documentary, but I probably will not hear for a another few months minimum.
Your input was a major help, but it is unlikely anybody will ever comment on it.
Scroll down and look at the dates of previous postings, and you will get a good idea just how rarely people post here.
In any case, it is always good to see your IP# showing up, and I just wanted to make sure you aren't wasting your time or losing any sleep over the lack of interaction.
|There Bob, now you can stop feeling guilty about this website appearing to be more than it actually is.
Always good to see Trent showing up though.
|6404||8/19/2013 8:07:00 AM||trent||I'm not from London but a couple comments about the photo.
It appears to be have been taken in 1959. The red on white Ohio plates were used in 1959 and 1965, but there are no cars in the photo later than ~1959. The latest model car may be the green vehicle parked on the left approximately in the middle of the photo - that may be a 1959 Chevrolet. There is a late 50's or early 60's Corvette behind the brown station wagon in the foreground left, but not enough of the car is visible to date it definitively. The brown station wagon itself is probably a 1951 Chevrolet.
The black car in the foreground is a 1952 Chevrolet, possibly a Bel Air or Styleline. The green car in back of it is a 1955 Chevrolet (possibly another Bel Air). The green car parked in the foreground right is a 1957 Chevrolet. (Not sure why so many Chevys). The white car turning left at the light in the middle of the picture is probably a 1954 Oldsmobile.
In that era, the license plate color changed every year, so the year of the photo has to be 1959 or 1965. Cars then did not last so long, so it would have been remarkable to have so many 10+ year old cars in a photo from 1965. This photo is almost certainly from 1959.
|Excellent, thanks especially for the information about the license plates.
They sure beat up that '59 Chevy pretty quickly, didn't they.
My understanding is that the daughter of the person who took the photo has been contacted in an attempt to confirm copyrights for use in a documentary film about John Markus.
I am sure they will also confirm the correctness of your comments and date.
If you right click on the image and use the "Save as..." function of your browser the downloaded image is more detailed than the resized browser image, so you will be able to see more clearly that it is in fact a '59 Chevy just as you thought.
Again, thanks for all the great information.
|6371||7/31/2013 11:54:56 PM||Bob|
|With regard to that vintage view of London, OH which is shown on every page of this website and especially the cover, Alexander Fisher has confirmed that the photo was indeed taken by the father of Darlene Darlington, and Darlene has confirmed that another name is on the photo, so Alexander is in the process of tracking down that information. ||Alexander is doing that for Pam Huling who expressed the "keen interest" below in using the photo for an upcoming documentary film about one of the favorite sons of London, Ohio, John Markus.
This is very exciting; check back for the final outcome.
Everybody (all two of you), thank Pam Huling of Blue Chalk Media for keeping us up to date.
[Link to video eventually posted at #6555]
|6303||7/10/2013 4:33:37 PM||Pam Huling||Thank you so much for this information, Bob. |
Would be happy to forward the postcard to John if you'd like to send it my way.
I'll reach out to Earl on the rights mystery.
|Maybe you'll be able to get a better scan of the post card.
Email your physical address.
|6302||7/10/2013 1:19:42 PM||Pam Huling||Hi Bob, |
We are keenly interested in the cover color photo from your book An American Dream, which seems to be from the early 1960's in London, OH.
Where can we find the highest resolution version of this image, and were you able to determine the rights on it?
I believe the photographer was Ben Shahn?
Please advise if this is available for use in the documentary.
|My best information to date is that the photo was taken by Darla Darlington, and that possibility was related to me as a supposition by Earl Ballenger.
However, I have never heard from Darla herself.
It is most certainly too recent to be Ben Shahn's.
I recently found online and purchased what was purported to be an original post card using the image.
However, the resolution was not much better than what I had already found online.
In any case, I scanned and replaced the image that I had found earlier ... the one which I enlarged in Photoshop to enhance Google search rankings ... so the one linked below retains my previous naming convention in order to maintain the image's already achieved page one (1) position, but it is really the best resolution I know of:
Earl also reported that he is working on a book with a photographic history of London, OH, so he previously asked for me to remove some of the images he is planning to use from this website.
You may have run across those images elsewhere during your Internet searches while running down information about London.
I am sending you Earl Ballenger's email address privately as he might be able to head you in the right direction.
Otherwise, worst case scenario, I have been trying to figure out where my recently acquired post card should find its final resting place, and I would judge John's pocket is as good a place as any, so I could send it to you in hopes it would find its way there.
If you find a larger image, I would certainly enjoy some confirmation about text and images on the sides of buildings.
I have to tell you, I am pretty pleased with myself for having found that image in the backwaters of Google and pushing it up to where it could be seen!
|6298||7/8/2013 11:57:15 PM||Pam Huling||Hi Bob! |
Yes, it was indeed me, and I appreciate the heads-up as to your response
in the forum.
Your diligent source information and links have guided us successfully,
and I believe our questions have been answered for now.
We'll let you know if there is more information that we need, but otherwise look for the video in a few months.
I will post a link for your forum audience to see and share.
All the best,
Blue Chalk Media
The submittal form will disallow putting a link into the forum directly, but you can e-mail it to me, and I'll post it for you.
|6297||7/8/2013 11:52:46 PM||Curyous||Did you ever hear back from the person working on the John Markus documentary? ||I sent this e-mail today:
Hi Pam : )
Somebody recently used your name and e-mail address when posting a question about online images of London, OH in one of my forums.
I am writing to confirm (if in fact it was you who wrote) that the answer I provided was all you needed.
My answer was posted at:
I imagine you are all set.
Thank you for posting.
|6287||7/4/2013 1:37:05 PM||Pam Huling||Bob--I am working on a documentary that will feature London, OH as the home town of John Markus, the subject of the film. |
We'd love to ask you more about the great images we see here.
Can you please email me to discuss?
I applaud the planned documentary.
I will post all our emails anyway, so let's see if we can't just go ahead and get your questions answered using the forum.
All images found here are merely an aggregation of images found online after a little digging, and my intent was to make it easy for anybody who found this website to track each one back to its source.
What would you like to know, or rather, where did I fall short?
|5995||2/26/2013 5:47:17 PM||James D Campbell||Attached is a sample photo of jeep trailers made in London during WW II. |
All photos are original, no copyright either, taken by either my father, Ray Campbell, or myself.
A lot of my father’s photos, I only know a little about—if only we had asked or kept written records.
There are a couple of hundred pictures, but I am not sure how interesting they would be to others.
Several are of things like JC dances and of various people who might like to see them, but I am not sure how much general interest there would be in seeing them.
To let you know who I am: I was born in London in 1939.
I went to school at Madison Rural and Madison South Schools and operated an electronics repair shop from the late fifties until the early seventies in and around London.
I moved to Columbus and worked for The Ohio State University until 2003, retired and am now located in Minneapolis, MN.
I have two brothers: John living near Winchester, Kentucky; and Gerry living in Madison, Wisconsin.
Should you want to get in touch with me feel free to call on the phone.
I am also on Skype most weekday mornings but email is also fine.
Those photos are incredible.
Personally I don't care whether there is general interest in them or not.
I love them.
I feel like somebody just handed me a bunch of little yellow rocks asking if I thought anybody might like them, and I am thinking they sure look like gold to me.
Not likely to be any money in it for anybody (me for sure), still I don't want to screw this up.
Give me a moment while I figure out how best to get them online.
I feel like I should start charging people at the door to this website saying things like, "Barn fresh country photo finds. Never before published nostalgic photos from Ohio History. London, Ohio in particular. Treasures right out the attic. This is the fine vintage stuff you always thought was on the Internet but wasn't."
On the other hand, there has been about three people here total, so I still wouldn't be getting paid.
At least I can make them available for viewing.
|5994||2/26/2013 12:08:01 PM||James D Campbell||I have a group of digitized pictures taken in and around London Ohio from the mid nineteen thirties to the mid fifties and others in the seventies which I would be glad to share if there is any interest. ||Absolutely beyond a shadow of a doubt.
Of course that is assuming they are royalty free without copyright entanglements, and not ones such as by Ben Shahn easily gotten from the Library of Congress archives such as this one (no need to repeat the work of others).
We can setup a James D. Campbell page just for your photos.
This will be a somewhat long term project, so I'll have to establish specs and a process on this end.
Otherwise you might be better served by posting them on something like Flickr.com in case something ever happens to me, not that I plan on ever being dead or anything like that.
Not to mention, have you told Earl Ballenger about them?
In any case I'll send you an email to see what's what.
|5992||2/24/2013 12:55:46 AM||Theda Chesbrough Smith||Bus's IGA was on High Street, and he also had another IGA store in London on the south end of town.||Thank you so much, Theda.
This pops another significant corner of my universe back into place.
Now I understand why it was so hard to remember the name of the store, or at least I think so.
You jogged my memory with Bus's, and now my recollection is that we always just pronounced it Bussies.
It was a time when the name of the person was more important than any associated organization (corporations were not yet full fledged persons), so we saw the term IGA as merely a nod by the owner toward an organization that was doing good work for them.
It wasn't until I got to college that I heard people making reference to a grocery store as an IGA without using the owner's name and only thought they were doing so in order to run through the dorm shouting Iga (pronouced IGGA) as an announcement it was time for a road trip food break.
Not that I went on many college food trips.
For one thing it was across town and required hooking up with one of the few people who had a car on campus.
Plus I was just lucky to get a snack from a soda machine when I got my (sometimes) monthly $5.00 dollar allowance from home.
So a trip to IGA was a rare exotic adventure.
But I was there a couple times, and it was a large grocery more like a chain store today, not at all like the small excellent family owned franchise I was accustomed to in London.
So I got used to calling a local food market an IGA instead of by its owner's name, and later when I thought of the IGA in London, Ohio, I kept thinking, "That's not right. I know it was an IGA, but we called it something else."
Therfore thank you for clearing that up.
Just the sound of Bussies in my head slammed together a whole slew of images that had been randomized and almost lost.
Which brings me to your Google search that brought you here.
My morning web usage logs show you searched for: "ruth markus london ohio" (without quotes).
Several people have arrived here using the same search over the last few months, so I shudder to think it means Ruth Markus has recently passed.
I knew her only briefly and as Mrs. Markus, Helge's mom, but her high positive energy and frank matter of factness had a profound impact on my life.
It happened like this.
One day, I was over at Helge's, and we were going with his dad out to their property at Lake Choctaw and Mrs. Markus asked me what was up with my life.
I had just been subjected to an Amway presentation, so I was somewhat enthused that the product might hold the key for me to actually do something with my life, and I told Mrs. Markus I was going to be a salesman.
She said, "I'd love to see the product."
Later I brought her some of the cleaning spray.
She sprayed a little on the chandelier above the dining room table and made a big deal about what a great product it was, how it was so easy to use, and how it didn't leave any streaks on the crystal.
She bought the aerosol, and I thought, "Amazing! What that guy said about this stuff is true. It really is excellent. I can sell this."
So I tried to sell her something else.
She cut me off hard (not rudely, just matter of factly) saying, "No. One is enough."
In my world at the time, that was a massive blow, so I thought about it a long time.
"Ok...so there is hope. But there are also limits."
Probably saved me from a lifetime of harassing everybody around me with nonsense run-of-the-mill products.
In any case, many years later I became aware that Helge's younger brother was involved in one of my favorite TV shows, which show became even more my favorite when I found out he was part of it.
I eventually credited one of my favorite moments (in that favorite program) as a direct link to Ruth Markus.
The kid on the show was having trouble with school, and the dad said (something like), "Here's your problem. You keep starting and stopping. You don't work consistently. You are like a jet that keeps taking off over and over again. If you would just work steady you could stay in the air and just soar. It doesn't have to be so hard."
Talk about words to live by.
Maybe I should look up the exact quote, but that was the basic idea, and I immediately attributed the sentiment to, "...Helge's mom—through and through!"
Of course Helge's dad also gave me something to remember.
When we got to Lake Choctaw, Helge and I went out for a spin on a brand new little white Honda motorcycle.
We were too young for Helge to drive on the road, but on the private Choctaw roads it was ok.
When we hit the little gravel patch that put us down, the only thing I could think was, "I sure am glad it was Helge driving. This is not going to end well. Helge's in BIG trouble, and I'm probably in for plenty myself."
But when we got back, Dr. Markus didn't even look at the motorcycle just excitedly asked if we were ok then checked us for bumps, scratches, and bruises.
Helge said, "I'm sorry about the Honda. I think there's a scratch on it."
His dad said, "It's just a thing. The fact that you two are ok, that's what is important. You sure you are ok, Bob?"
So there you have it.
Things don't mean much: people are what's important.
It was an astonishing thought for me at the time, but over the years it has made more and more sense.
Of course, Helge's dad was also too funny for words.
On the drive home from the lake he asked us, "Do you guys know if I'm on call at the hospital today? I might be on call at the hospital. Maybe I shouldn't have spent so much time at the lake. Hope everybody's ok."
I have the same hope, but I know there are limits.
|5964||1/21/2013 6:08:52 PM||denise||It was Shoemaker's Market 179 E. Center Street. |
The IGA was Bussey's (sp?) IGA [more recently a KFC] next to the Fruit Market.
I didn't get Ballenger's email. Would you mind private emailing me.
Thanks so much. LOVE THE PICS! I'm stealing the Dixie's...LOL!
I was a Leach. Parents owned Hotel Pizza.
|Most disclaimers are hidden at the bottom, but these are so important I must put them first.
Disclaimer #1: this is going to be long.
Disclaimer #2: I am about to break my own personal rule with regard to writing about London, Ohio, which is: First, do no harm.
Ok, maybe I am not going to do any harm, but this is going to get very close to "maybe I might" which is a place I promised myself I would never even turn toward.
The reason is this.
Whatever I have to say about London, Ohio, is in the absolute truest sense totally irrelevant not only to any one who has lived there in the past, but most certainly to any one there now.
I would hate myself if the slightest thing I said caused in the smallest way even the mildest irritation to any person living there now who is just trying to get by best they can.
On reviewing my current situation, I recently came to the realization that what I had always considered a very long epoch being born and raised in a small Midwest town was really only about a 10 year stint, and nowadays if I sneeze ten years have flown past.
My wife and I have a neighbor (in Sugar Loaf, NY) whom we consider to be one of the new people, and last week we realized they have lived here for 15 years.
As for me writing about London, it is as the saying goes, "I don't have a dog in that fight," so it is very easy for me to have opinions from afar.
Another rule of mine which I am about to break is my refusal to write about anything that has to do with food.
That is my rule because I know how hard it is to resist being triggered to overeat which for me means eating at all, because I am a cyclist, and although cyclists are apparently allowed to lie, cheat, steal, sue their friends, and take as many performance enhancing drugs as they want, the one thing a cyclist is never ever allowed to do is eat.
Especially when riding competitively in the mountains of upstate New York.
Now that you have the warnings here we go.
One last caveat: I am about to talk about some very good tasting food, but my own personal belief is that restaurants could not do a more efficient job of poisoning people if they set out to do it on purpose.
I have a certain expertise in that area having been raised in restaurants, and having later been privileged to see a bright giggling twinkle in Art Ellwood's eye when I pulled in from college to work as a short order cook in the Dixie Drive-In over the summer, and Art thought, "Great! Bob is here, and I can go on vacation."
Also be aware this following description of a singular bit of culinary excellence is going to include an implicit though not overt reference to animals which have been lavishly cared for up to a point just slightly proximate to dinner and then, well, you know.
Think about this for instance: a pig is smarter, friendlier, more playful, and some would say cuter than a dog, yet you would never consider eating your dog.
So with all the disclaimers out of the way you are now allowed to forget them just like people everywhere do every day.
This is about a morsel of food (even a half mouthful is a treasure) which is of the most absolute excellence, and it is a meal that few in London are likely to even consider unique, because it was a mainstay part of life in London, OH for as long as I lived there.
I can only hope the thing still exists.
As a prelude let it be known that when it comes to excellence you are unlikely to find a more reliable authority than I, because I have spent a successful lifetime studying it, looking for it, figuring out what it is, what it is not, where it exists, and where it does not.
I am a master of the art.
Therefore, I can attest that absolutely beyond a single doubt nothing found in any corner of the universe even approaches the excellence, the raw sui generis, of a Hotel Pizza sub.
Maybe Phat Daddy's has maintained the tradition, but I wouldn't know, ask somebody who actually lives there.
In my own case I did not realize how unique those subs were while I was living there, and I only realized years after being away from the source and looking for a similar treat (which I had become accustomed to getting on a whim) before I finally realized: a sub from Hotel Pizza is like no other sub to be found.
Take my word for it.
I always just thought that a sub is a sub is a sub.
New York subs are by and large merely sandwiches on a roll and never heated, let alone toasted in a 1,000 °F commercial pizza oven until the cheese crusts into the nooks of crinkled aluminum foil and adds the element of hunt, peck, and chase to the most desired parts of the meal.
Only people who have had a Hotel Pizza sub (maybe now from Phat Daddy's) will know what I am talking about.
Not only do New York subs fall short but all subs everywhere barely hint at what a sub can be.
There have been attempts.
The closest I came to the gold standard of the Hotel Pizza sub was in a small shop somewhere near South Beach Miami in Florida circa 1976.
I had driven down from New York with a friend during a lay-off from work, and we had basically used my little green Volkswagen in exactly the way it was supposed to be used during that time, which will let you know just how hungry we were when we got there, and the fact we ended up selling our blood to gather enough money to stay an extra day before returning home probably doesn't even need to be mentioned.
Be that as it may, when I found myself in a little shop that boasted "heated subs" I was coming to some of my senses around a few words on the menu above the counter when I was shocked by the realization that those unstable swirling words were reporting the actual list of ingredients.
I thought, "Could this be a real sub? Could this be what they made at Hotel Pizza?"
I ordered one while I was memorizing the ingredients...a massive effort.
I could tell you about those ingredients right now but that would be stupid and delay the fact the sub came close (very close) but was not exactly the same as the subs people in London order without so much as a thought.
I still make them myself when I totally lose my mind and have to eat something (anything), competitive cycling be damned.
Also, recently a large pizza chain began selling "hot subs" which are reminiscent of the common sub of London, Ohio—where people probably never even bother to add the word 'heated' because it is assumed a sub, is a sub, is a sub—but the large pizza chain version lacks almost everything beyond a light reference to the real deal.
Less quality, less taste, less excellence.
I would imagine that the ingredients alone that were used in the subs I remember cannot be found anymore.
I spent a long time flipping burgers, so I know without a doubt the grissly chewy things people call hamburgers these days are hardly recognizeable as meat.
Undoubtedly the ingredients of the vintage Hotel Pizza sub has suffered the same fate.
I mean we live in a world where oranges sometimes look and taste like grapefruit, and apples seem to be grown inside a thick plastic shell.
I understand why: genetic alterations to throw pest insects off their game, but like the song says, some things have changed forever, not for better.
I once asked a local pizza shop if they could make a sub for me with those special ingredients that I had memorized way back when, in the manner prescribed, and they said, "Absolutely. Anything you want."
I knew it was the same statement I had been trained to use in my dealings with the public in London, Ohio, so although the resulting subs were very close to the real thing, I couldn't bear to make them repeat it when I saw how far out of their norm fufilling my request had been.
So if you live in London, Ohio, you can rest smug, happy, and comfortable knowing that you are in the place, my friend, in the place.
I would be surprised if there wasn't already a massive tourist industry based on: "Come to London, Ohio. Come for the real deal, the true small town USA experience, the salt of the earth essence of humanity. Come for the subs alone!"
And don't even get me started on Hume and Mabe which still exists as Mabe's.
Only the brain dead would choose shopping in some slightly cheaper but significantly poorer big box store over being pampered by vintage truly personalized service at Mabe's.
|5959||1/18/2013 12:08:52 PM||denise||Hey, great site! Can you give me the names of some historical buildings in London? I'm not very techie, and Googling doesn't result in much. Murry Building, Swetland House, Ballenger Building....||I am very techie, and Google still doesn't give me much.
Plus I haven't been to London for 30 years or so.
Other than the three buildings you mention, all I've got is the Bridgman Building (southeast corner of South Main and 1st Street), but maybe it is more specifically here or street level.
I assume you have seen this and this relative to this.
Also Earl Ballenger tells me that he is writing a book about the history of London, Ohio, so you might ask him.
And Alexander Fisher gave me a bunch of locations linked below.
Here are the email addresses for those two people:
I will remove their email addresses after you have had a chance to grab them, and please report back if they threaten to break my legs for posting their contact information.
Would you happen to know the address of Shoemaker's Market?
Was it an IGA and on the southwest corner of High Street and Walnut?
And why is your name so familiar?
|5954||1/13/2013 8:08:34 PM||Tom Holton||Mort! (now you know I'm for real!) |
Did you give Steve Brown and me credit for chasing your skinny butt around all those streets of London?
And do you remember laying out the quarter-mile oval in the grass with Mr. King at the Catholic School since we did not have a quarter mile track for practice?
Those were good times!
|Given the email address you provided with your comment, I have no doubt you are Tom Holton.
I would however point out two errors in your comments.
First off, I believe you mean Dave Brown, not Steve, as the only Steve I recall at the moment is Steve Browning, but now that I'm thinking about it, there was a Steve Carter who was son of the Methodist Minister prior to Dave's dad.
Or so I think.
I might be foggy on that, but I am quite certain on the second point which is: the two of you never chased my butt around that track, nor the streets of London, but were always clearly leading my butt around.
Given that fact, I would have to say the "good times" you remember may have been relative to your own experience, not so much to mine.
Except laying out that quarter mile track was a high point, and I used what I learned in that geometry exercise to outline a practice dressage ring just outside the Palm Beach show grounds many years later.
As for further accrediting, I would only mention that your influence on me certainly went well beyond kicking my ass in the mile and the half mile and would have to include your being my roll model in several other areas as well.
I believe it was probably as early as sixth grade that I noticed your shirts were always clean, pressed, and fashionable.
I thought to myself, "Someday I am going to get my act together, do my homework, and show up with reasonable clothes...just like Tom Holton."
Probably a larger one of your influences on me would be your writing.
It is unlikely you remember the time when (you were already submitting articles to the Madison Press and providing them with phone-in football and basketball scores) and I asked, "Tom, do you think if somebody really wanted to, they could learn to be a writer?"
You said, "I'm sure they could."
I guess my own failure at becoming a writer would be considered "notwithstanding," while the fact I still dress like a slob and get none of my homework done is just an aside.
Mentioning how well you sang (actual notes matching the ones on the radio), would be pointless I guess.
Let's see...what was your favorite: "Happy Together"?
Of course, there was your dad's insane level of influence which would be hard to explain to anybody these days, because one would have to preface it with, "You know, there was a time when the idea that scout leaders could ever do anything inappropriate was just totally absurd and far beyond any stretch of any imagination—even of the insane. Scout leaders did nothing but show you how to survive in the outdoors, and told you stories that inspired you to be smarter and a better person all around. And that is all they did."
In my own case of course, old man Holton did what he could, but impossible is impossible.
Unfortunately I will not be able to glimpse how you may have found the Cycling Performance Simplified website until downloading tomorrow's usage logs, but I'm guessing you first saw the London, Ohio folder over on KeyTap...which reminds me of the number of years I assumed LondonTom (see: flickr) was probably you.
Otherwise, since my flurried response has moved as far away from cycling as possible (assuming you even do such a thing as ride a bicycle), maybe you would allow me to toggle this note off of the Cycling Performance Simplified website and onto the London, Ohio site where I can make a story out of it.
I never did know how I got the name Mort, but I always assumed it must be as derogatory as SlingShot, probably because the person who used it most forcefully was Bill Hillman (and he seemed to live to harass me), so I applaud it.
Ironically, Mort is in fact a name my older brother went by, but I don't think anybody my age ever knew about it.
I believe Bill Hillman found some hapless character by that name in one of the books from his long shelf of already read books: then he immediately started calling me Mort, and that was that.
Bill also organized a group of kids after school one day to abduct me over to his house (on School Street) where they tied me upside down to the swing set tree house.
I think Vance Nichols was in that crew, and I thought, "They finally like me. They really, really like me! Someday I'm going to read as many books as Hillman."
I am begging you once more to let me toggle this over to London, Ohio, so I can address the cross burning incident on your lawn which I guess points somewhat away from the "good times" thesis and happened because your girlfriend was not quite Caucasian enough for somebody else's taste.
At the time I thought, "Let's see...Valerie is very arguably the nicest, smartest, and prettiest girl in school. Somebody's jealous."
I also had a life changing epiphany on the street outside your house one insanely crisp fall evening.
But that's another story.
And, no, I'm not—not that it matters.
|5930||12/14/2012 3:10:07 AM||Leslie Turvy Nelson||Fell across a reference to your site on FB and couldn't believe it. Lost touch too many years ago, not really sure how. |
Dick and I are retired and living in FL.
If you are inclined, please let us hear from you. I've read a bit about what you've been doing since we lost touch....sounds like you've lead a very fulfilling life.
If I remember correctly, the last we knew you were living in NY and you had sent us a type of synthesized (?) music.
This message really isn't intended for your professional site/forum but rather as a personal note. Hope to hear back from you and hope this finds you well and in good health. Lez
|In deference to the person I was when you knew me, I am using every ounce of my strength to refrain from dropping the F-bomb.
I am also, just for the moment, going to pretend you actually are Leslie Turvy Nelson and not just some Internet scam artist pedophile who did their research in order to take advantage of an impressionable little girl like me.
Also the following is being written, edited, and re-written live online (something that helps me focus and not give up), so if you stumble back here before I send you actual e-mail, you might like to wait for awhile and check back after it is ready to read.
Plus your referencing this website as a "professional site/forum" goes as far into overstatement as any words ever have, because my websites designed for a post-tweety-face-world have never (in no way) amounted to a single penny of actual money going into my pocket: endico.com notwithstanding.
I do them because I do them…that is all.
In any case, this is just too, too, too, splendid!
See where the F-bomb would fit?
While I was spotting my wife's bench-press workout this morning I explained it to her thus: "You know how I consider that photo of London the era's quintessential historic view of downtown, well Dick and Leslie were the quintessential high-school sweetheart couple and without them I would not be here."
That did not seem to click with her, so during the next recovery period I expanded, "Let me put it this way, Dick is the person who made me move up to the front of class, gave me suggestions on fine tuning my note taking, and got me through…now pay attention: Physics Class!"
Mary's eye rose significantly as she let out a loud sigh and a, "Wow!"
She and most of the people I know call me "Mr. Physics" and "The Taker of Notes."
But really, I know little or nothing about physics outside of what I picked up in that class sitting beside Dick and competing over who could take the smallest most detailed notes.
I try to tell people that, but they don't want to hear it: that I only have the slightest knowledge of terrestial earth bound classical physics (allowing me to do all sorts of stuff you wouldn't expect), not to mention the fact my finally getting an actual B in a course had no small effect on getting me into college.
Dave Brown and his parents had a big hand in it as well, but that's a whole 'nother story.
In any case, I also told Mary, "Dick and Leslie even went out of their way to set me up with an actual girl. Not that it helped any. I was far too uncomfortable in my own skin to even approach the fact of how desperately I was in need of touching somebody else's skin—not in my private moments of course, but certainly in anything close to a public event. I don't think the girl liked me very much anyway."
In fact after a bike ride (that you guys set up, maybe on a tandem) Dick joked how he had caught me watching Virginia Perry's behind, and I denied it, because at that moment I was far too nervously retreated into my own little world and really was not looking at it, which would have been the only moment in the previous 10 years or so when I wasn't watching some girl's bottom.
Also, nowadays with every daily apple, I always think about how Dick said to me, "No really, Bob, I do like to study. I always set a goal and then give myself an apple after reaching it. Taking a break, listening to music and having an apple is one of my favorite things."
Sounded really weird to me that somebody could actually enjoy studying, but it gave me an aspirational boost that has lasted a lifetime.
The two of you have been intermittent subjects of numerous of my web searches looking to see if even a trace of people I knew back then exists online today.
It has always been an amazement how many searches for different names turn up nothing, especially since putting "Bob Fugett" into google will certainly make you wish you hadn't...and that situation occurred for me with no real effort on my part.
However, the big reason hearing from you is occasion for an F-bomb, is because last I heard about you guys was Dick was really, really sick probably almost dead, and I think I did track down something akin to an obituary somewhere, and my inability to put together Leslie Turvy and Dick Nelson into a successful google return made me conclude, "Shoot! Dick is dead, and I never even got to thank the two of them...which probably also points out how stupidly naive I am to have assumed for 40 years they are still together. Really what world do I think I've been living in?"
But now I find all is right with that world and it appears the quintessential high-school sweetheart couple survives.
Could there be a better story to indicate just what that time and place meant, despite the somewhat ironic title here: "London, Ohio: an American dream"?
F-bomb 'n A!
|5856||10/11/2012 6:00:59 PM||Dianne|
|Just snooping around...lived in London, Ohio from 1947-1965, graduate of LHS, 1965. Sister of Richard E. Flax, London OH attorney.||You didn't by some odd chance sit across the aisle from me in Roudebush's study hall one year, did you?
Let us (just for the moment) pretend that you did, so I can get a long standing embarrassing moment off my chest.
There was an upper-classman woman who sat across from me one year in study hall.
She was avowed one of the most beautiful of all the girls in school.
It took me almost the entire year to get up the courage to even nod in her direction, but one day I decided I was going to talk to her no matter the consequences.
I knew that I got along pretty good with humor, so long as I left it at that, and I had my plan.
I was going to say, "Has anybody ever told you that you are beautiful?"
For that there could aboslutely positively be only one answer which would of course be, "Why yes, actually somebody has said I am beautiful."
Could I go to jail for it?
After all, it wouldn't actually be me who said it but someone else much braver than I.
My carefully planned and rehearsed response was to be, "Well there must be a very good reason for it."
No jail term there.
Once I had my plan it took another month or so to get up the final courage, but I finally steeled my will and went full throttle straight ahead, damn the torpedos.
Everything was going off perfectly until halfway through my canned response, when I realized one of the most beautiful girls in school had just flustered a little and said, "Well no, nobody ever has."
My already in progress, "There must be a very good reason for it," finished way out there on its own somewhere while I shrank inside shrieking to myself, "What have I just done!!"
No jail and no remedy.
Maybe not the absolute worst thing in the world, but something that sort of stays with one for life, even if one hardly ever never thinks of it again...unless something brings it to mind.
Ok, so maybe it wasn't you, but thanks for the opportunity to send out a revision in the smallest way I can.
When my wife reads this in the morning she is going to be overjoyed to see me in the stew again.
She knows the story well and how I can't even remember the girl's name.
|5785||7/30/2012 7:09:37 PM||Alexander|
|Check this out. I was the Madison County delegate to the Democratic Party convention on Saturday and was quoted in the Columbus Dispatch on Sunday. |
See, I told you if you stopped wasting your time hanging out around here you could go get famous.
|5784||7/29/2012 9:03:23 PM||Alexander|
|Just a few comments. |
Bob: “Yes the Google street map showed what used to be a pizza place, I don't know if Cappy's (maybe Ronnettis before them?) but definitely Montgomery Wards Catalog pickup before that.”
Alexander: Cappy’s location [iPhone] was in that block with the original Francis R-TV. May have been the same building. I may drive to London sometime this week and take some photos to compare. Ronnetti’s started down on Maple Street across from McCords (HO Canfield) factory. Later the Sollar’s family bought it and renamed it King Karl’s Pizza. I think they sold it later and it was renamed Ronnetti’s and now they are probably where the old State Liquor store was or right in there on South Main.
Montgomery Wards Catalog pickup. I only remember this two doors to the South of Francis’ after they moved to 62 S. Main. My mother spent lots of cash there. There was a pizza shop that opened on the alley between them called Tonni’s Pizza. They moved not long after because of rodent issues as I recall, to West Jeff. Later they were renamed Flyer’s Pizza and they have about half a dozen locations now.
Bob: ”I think you are correct and the right side was LHS Industrial Arts (which I thought was just an ongoing renovation) but definitely the pizza shop was also a hang-out where everybody sure played a mean pinball.”
Alexander: No pinball machines in Cappy’s that I recall, but there were some at Gift’s Galore (owned by Jack Schmittauer) which was between the Cozy Corner (78 S. Main) and Western Auto. Gift’s Galore was a variety store (not to be confused with the actual “Variety Store” in London), before Jack bought it. I remember they had a soda fountain, but it was about 1967 when he sold out to Jack.
Bob: ”No need to bother Eades, he has enough to worry about in today's world, never mind worrying about a half century ago.”
Alexander: Too late, I already did. I like bothering Dave. He hasn’t responded, but after seeing that photo, I knew the answer anyway.
Bob: “It is a good thing you are not a betting man, I decided my first bicycle came from Moores, would have been 1958 or so, graduated LHS 1968.”
Alexander: I am not sure but, Moore’s was never really referred to as a hardware store, but they had a lot of hardware type item. I’d guess I would have called it a “hard variety store”. It may have said hardware on the sign, but I don’t recall that. My mother worked there for about two years. There was another Moore’s in Circleville. Both had slot car race tracks.
Bob: “I knew the bike came from two doors down from our other restaurant, The Double AA, on the corner of Main and 2nd, right across from one of the Christmas music speakers and now subsumed into what was then Alexander's Jewelry (if I recall that name which was also hidden by tents in the movie) next to what is now Jillian's Bridal Shop which was then Moore's.”
Alexander: The restaurant at Main and Second Street. was called Louise’s when I was in school. Louise just passed away not long ago. Can’t remember her last name. I don’t know what time period you are describing with the Alexander's Jewelry. I know Hunt’s Jewelry ended up there after moving from behind that house in the 190ish block of South Main, but that would have been the 1980’s or so.
Bob: “I sort of recalled the name must be Moore's when I found promotional tokens on eBay, and the name seemed more and more correct until now solid after you called it "Moores store."”
Alexander: I have about a half dozen Moore’s tokens still.
Bob: “In my first email I stupidly assumed you went to grade school in what was by then the Middle School (now torn down), which is why I was asking about Littler, to see if I remembered her correctly across the hall, which I should have known could not have be where you had class, because we had already circled back around to those rooms for English class by the time I was in Jr. High.”
Alexander: We always called the middle school you refer to The Central Building. It had been the original high school until 1929 as I recall. The Central Building was built in 1875 I think. I was referring to the newest building built in 1959. We called it the Primary building and contained the famous(?) ”Multi-Purpose Room”.
Bob: “While you are at it, not bothering Eades, you might see if anybody knows who took that photo (on the pages I directed you to) looking south down Main from High Street.”
Alexander: I am not sure but I think Darlene Darlington’s dad took that photo. I remember seeing it after she posted it.
Bob: “Also do you know what text is at the top on the side of Ballengers, and maybe the deal with that cowboy mural in the alley at mid-block on the wall (where the dance studio was) which is now exposed due to: 1) sale of the quarter block, or 2) tornadic devastation?”
Alexander: I remember the Ballenger’s sign, but the cowboy mural doesn’t ring a bell. I will see if I can get a photo of it.
Bob: “I keep googling "tornado london, ohio" but get nothing except when I think about Xenia, well I try not to think about Xenia.”
Alexander: I wrote this story about the tornado in London
Bob: “I have two additional DVDs ordered from the Ohio Historical Society (one circa 1940 and the 1961) which I was hoping to donate to the Madison County Historical Society.
Maybe I could pass them on to you for a relay in order to keep my name out of it.”
Alexander: Can do.
Bob: “Which reminds me, if you run into somebody who says they are related to me, please don't mention that I am still alive.”
Alexander: I won’t. I remember hearing your last name, but I doubt if that will happen. But you never know.
Here’s another story about London in case you haven’t seen it. I have spent so much time on my music I haven’t written anything lately.
|We are starting to sound like a couple of geezers reliving the past, which may seem somewhat less ironic but is really no less pitiful due to our 15 year time frame difference.
My suggestion for you is to get right back making music while wasting not another second here.
I know exactly what you are going through.
Three times the rest of my life will be far too soon for me to ever feel like dealing with another intractable noise floor problem, everything coming to a complete stop due to a hidden cold solder joint, or a room node causing a hi-hat to shift position on every speaker system in the world other than my own monitors.
In any case, under the best circumstances you are on a tight schedule, especially with the impending arrival of Eades, because those who jumped on him (immediately on seeing your most recent harassment) will soon tire of holding him prostrate and release him to track you down with a hand crafted garrote.
So stop reading right now, and get back to work while I whittle away at an already too complicated attempt to hot link all the locations you provided.
In the meantime, I might mention I had already read the tornado story (maybe a year ago), and it is what gave me the thought that maybe the whole quarter block was destroyed by natural disaster instead of a simple bank buyout disaster as I had always assumed.
I couldn't figure out where Gifts Galore had been located but decided whoever wrote the tornado story would get along quite nicely without being bothered by me.
Otherwise, the story about Mr. Roberts I had not seen, and it makes me pretty sad, because my recollection of him is that he was the most kind, considerate, gentlemanly human on the planet.
In fact, he was pretty much a hero of mine.
I used to watch him wander around town like an unseen ghost (retired, they told me, one cane then) and I would see him sitting on a bench here and then there just watching the town go by.
I always thought, "Man, that's the life. No work. Nobody knows you are there. Just watching."
Later I thought of him as Boo from "To Kill a Mockingbird" and compared him to another elderly gentleman in Sugar Loaf, NY (had Native American roots I believe) who was treated poorly by the local town government... caused me to resign from the Town Planning Board trying to bring attention to it, a whole 'nother story.
But back to then in London: Mr. Roberts would quietly slip into Wednesday evening services at the little storefront church a couple doors down from the State Restaurant and quietly sit in the back row rarely speaking to anyone except for that one revival meeting where he stood up to testify.
I don't remember a word he said, only how brave it was to stand up and speak.
He was crying.
At the close of services I realized by all the conversations he had with members that they all knew him much better than I had assumed.
As for finding out all these years later that he went after those kids with rocks like that, it is sad.
My own father once stood out in our front yard late one night holding his pistol (a policeman, ya know) waiting for kids who were yelling slurs at him from a car to come back around... would have been a right turn onto Garfield, to Elm, to Park and back to North Main, a two mile loop.
Good thing he was too fidgety and gave up the hunt.
I thought it was a slight over reaction, because I assumed they were just kids I knew from high school who were actually taunting me (not him) with the thought, "We are out cruising in a car, going to swing by the Dixie, talk to girls, and you, Bobby, are not."
Here's the kicker.
At the time I believed my dad's behavior was normal, while my own distaste was the crime.
I mean really, was I not constantly told in that little storefront church that it was my god mandated duty to run half way round the earth in order to kill people I never even heard of just because they had different ideas and bauxite?
There was obviously something wrong with me.
Then there was the artist who wandered into town, stayed at the hotel down past the tracks while picking up quick cash by repainting the billboard mural across from Farmer's and routinely stopped in the Double AA after 3:00 am (open 24/7), ordered precisely one root beer frappe (sorry float) with one ball [sic] of ice cream, then showed me drawings he had made which were very distinct tightly penned squirrely lines plus sometimes small oils which he stated, "Looks like what they have just found out in the universe, so I have really only been painting nature scenes all these years."
I loved the smell of the linseed oil.
Made me know there was a world out there.
His name was Harold Mirriam which is another name I have never been able to google adequately due to it being so similar to dictionaries and other big time names.
Now look how I have gotten away from myself, probably should have put it all on a big long canvas that goes on and on forever never veering from a totally straight line.
PS: See how easily "Farmer's" rolled off my pen? Got the name off the DVD.
|5783||7/26/2012 10:26:46 PM||Alexander|
|I didn’t get the pictures. There was nothing other than the file names. |
I’ll check out the Google link.
You aren’t bothering me about it. I am on the editorial board at the Madison Press, and I have been trying to get them to do a fifty years ago in London column for a year. I have been hesitant in volunteering to write it. But I may have to eventually.
The location of Francis TV was 62 S. Main Street. It was there throughout the 1960’s and 1970’s. Hobart died in 1982 (?).
Hobies’s only other location was around where The State Restaurant was, about a block south of the location across from the bank. He was never on High Street that I am aware of. I am not sure when he moved to the location I knew. He told me he opened the first location in 1932.
The old Cozy Corner Restaurant was at 78 S. Main Street.
Later it was the first office for the cable TV company. I worked there too. The address would have been somewhere between 78 and about 120 S. Main St.
When I was in high school I believe that location [the google map link] was the woodworking side of London HS Industrial Arts class or the first location of Cappy’s Pizza.
I know Hobie told me it was very narrow inside. He and his wife Mabel also owned the State Restaurant back then. He owned the building he was in at 62 S. Main St.
The mayor of London is David Eades. He worked for Hobie for awhile and trained me in antenna installation before he quit. I’ll ask him about this and see what he knows.
If I were a betting man, I’d say you got your bike at Western Auto. But there was also the Moore’s store. Both of which were on South Main. Barnharts’s Firestone also had bicycles as did the Landmark store. Both were on W. High Street. I suppose it all depends on how old you are.
|Hi Alexander : )
Nailed it! Got the links pointing correctly.
Yes the Google street map showed what used to be a pizza place, I don't know if Cappy's (maybe Ronnettis before them?) but definitely Montgomery Wards Catalog pickup before that.
I think you are correct and the right side was LHS Industrial Arts (which I thought was just an ongoing renovation) but definitely the pizza shop was also a hang-out where everybody sure played a mean pinball.
No need to bother Eades, he has enough to worry about in today's world, never mind worrying about a half century ago.
I went back and did a close read of your Hobart article, and I have to thank you, thank you, thank you.
First off, for the music.
I always wondered who did the Christmas music (once I realized it doesn't happen everywhere), and that music is one of my favorite memories despite how much I hate religion.
Secondly, thanks for getting the situation about what business was like back then written down as good as it can be.
I may as well just flag my "London, Ohio: an American dream" project as done and in the can.
I certainly cannot do any better than you've already done it.
My weeping fit after reading it is an aside.
One of our restaurants was at 58 South Main.
I believe I recall my older sister with her wry downward glancing smile using the tone she reserved for special beings (such as her cat) saying, "Doncha just love Hobie. I love Hobie."
But I only remembered that after reading your article, so maybe I don't really remember it all.
It is a good thing you are not a betting man, I decided my first bicycle came from Moores, would have been 1958 or so, graduated LHS 1968.
I was hoping for a panorama scan in the movie so I could see the sign and confirm my memory that it was "Moore's Hardware" but unfortunately when the camera came around everything was covered by festival tents.
I knew the bike came from two doors down from our other restaurant, The Double AA, on the corner of Main and 2nd, right across from one of the Christmas music speakers and now subsumed into what was then Alexander's Jewelry (if I recall that name which was also hidden by tents in the movie) next to what is now Jillian's Bridal Shop which was then Moore's.
Makes you want to find an ice cream place doesn't it?
I sort of recalled the name must be Moore's when I found promotional tokens on eBay, and the name seemed more and more correct until now solid after you called it "Moores store."
In my first email I stupidly assumed you went to grade school in what was by then the Middle School (now torn down), which is why I was asking about Littler, to see if I remembered her correctly across the hall, which I should have known could not have be where you had class, because we had already circled back around to those rooms for English class by the time I was in Jr. High.
While you are at it, not bothering Eades, you might see if anybody knows who took that photo (on the pages I directed you to) looking south down Main from High Street.
Also do you know what text is at the top on the side of Ballengers, and maybe the deal with that cowboy mural in the alley at mid-block on the wall (where the dance studio was) which is now exposed due to: 1) sale of the quarter block, or 2) tornadic devastation?
I keep googling "tornado london, ohio" but get nothing except when I think about Xenia, well I try not to think about Xenia.
I have two additional DVDs ordered from the Ohio Historical Society (one circa 1940 and the 1961) which I was hoping to donate to the Madison County Historical Society.
Maybe I could pass them on to you for a relay in order to keep my name out of it.
Which reminds me, if you run into somebody who says they are related to me, please don't mention that I am still alive.
|5782||7/26/2012 10:15:46 PM||Alexander|
|Francis TV was on South Main Street across from the Central National Bank. |
Dick's TV was on E. High St.
Miss Littler's class was in the elementary building at E. High and? Walnut Street. It was in the north wing about midway down the hall on the west side. 2nd floor.
My email is: xxx
I assume you read my blog. You can leave comments there but you have to register.
Not sure about messages from Reverbnation account.
|Hi Alexander : )
Thanks for the quick reply.
I do not mean to embroil you in my nonsense, but I figured a trade for info would make it ok.
I tracked you down from finding a segment about Francis Radio on the Sesqui-centennial celebration [motion picture] available on DVD from the Ohio Historical Society, now that I had them digitize it.
When I couldn't place the location of the shop, I googled "Francis Radio and TV, London, Ohio" and found your story.
Loved it (read some of the others, also special) and decided if you didn't know about the movie you would want to.
This all started because I was trying to remember the name of the place I got my first bicycle (for something else I was writing), and things got out of hand.
In any case, I have been trying to do this without bothering anybody, especially hoping not to harass (or strike up a conversation with) people who still live in London (in particular vestiges of my family) for whom none of what I am doing could be of the slightest help.
I established a web page, made Google appropriately aware of it, then left it open for somebody who might happen across it with some information.
Probably easier to just send you to it:
It appears Hobart's shop in the movie was an older location (maybe taken over by Dick's):
After you adjusted the location for me, the photos with your article read somewhat true, and I think I figured out where (across from the bank) they were taken. [Bob was wrong]
But like I said, no need to get embroiled in my nonsense and thanks for having taken the time to respond.
|5781||7/26/2012 10:05:28 PM||Bob|
|What is immediately above began with my qestion at right posted to YouTube after I tracked down Alexander Fisher's blog per his story about Hobart Francis when I could not identify the location of Francis Radio shown in the Sesquicentennial movie. ||Hi Alexander, I sent the following question to you anonymously at reverbnation before realizing it is unlikely I would be able to track down your answer, but here [YouTube] I have a user account.
Where was Francis Radio located in London, Ohio?
My guess is East High Street.
While we're at it: was Littler's 3rd grade class on the northeast or southwest side of the building?
There. That should be enough of a distraction here.
Thank you for understanding.
I have the same feeling about Facebook and all that nonsense as you do about Wal-Mart.
|5726||6/2/2012 9:47:36 PM||Quiz|
|You don't really expect anybody to post, do you? ||No, but I have used the names of actual human beings here, such as Earl Ballenger, LondonTom, and Larry Peters; so, just in case they run across these pages (unlikely), I should at least make it easy for them to complain about it .
|5725||6/2/2012 9:46:11 PM||Bob||This little get together here is as informal as it gets. ||Ask anything.