Higher Education

A good friend of mine called to tell me that her daughter was just offered a FULL scholarship to UCLA.

Full scholarship....PLUS $6,000 a year for expenses!

Wow!

I congratulated her on her obviously brilliant, hard studying daughter!'

"Hard studying my Pootie," replied my friend.  " Her scholarship is for............ Vollyball."


(I did NOT make this up!   -Ed)

Defragging

I do that about once a week for my computer (PC).

I also do it for my brain.  The way I do that is with astronomy.  All I have to do is read about a half of page about "outer space and the stars and..." and my mind immediately starts to "boggle." It only takes about 5 minutes of this and, "voila," the mental defrag is complete.

"Pillars of Creation"

Like just about everything else, the news is both good and bad.

For example, today I discoverded that the PILLARS OF CREATION....no longer exist.

Darn!

The Hubble telescope dscovered and photographed them in 1995 and they've been an inspiration to millions since then. 

And now, they're gone.

But the good news is that the "experts" didn't expect them to last very long anyway.  If there had been a photograph taken of Earth...from the PILLARS OF CREATION....we wouldn't exist either.


You see, the "Pillars" are 7,000 light years away from Earth. The picture that Hubble took is what the "Pillars of Creation" looked like in the year 4985 BC.  The mythical picture taken of the Earth would have shown it...also as it looked in 4985 BC.

The Astronomy article on the Internet explained that,

. "We see the Sun as it looked 8.5 minutes ago. If you were standing one foot in front of me, I would see you as you looked 1.01670336 nanoseconds ago, which is the time it would take for the light to reflect from your face to my pupil. While our brains live in their present, we see everything else in its past tense."

Are you "boggled" yet?

-Ed

"Time is an illusion"

-Albert Einstein

Rubber Room Time

Watching this country go insane....just breaks my heart.
It's getting close to sending me "around the bend" too.

The fact that the American People haven't stormed the Washington Establishment with pitchforks yet, tells me that they never will.

You don't hear the old expression, "The American People won't stand for it"  because apparently they will stand for anything.

Boys in the girls bathrooms, Girls in the boys bathrooms?

Insane

Or deliberate further destruction of the once greatest nation on earth.

Sad.

-Ed

World's Oldest Person Passes

Susannah Jones

According to CNN, Susannah Mushatt Jones, the world's oldest person, died in New York city Thursday night.

 She was 116.

Jones was born on July 6, 1899, in Lowndes County, Alabama, and her life spanned three centuries,  Her father was a sharecropper who supported his family by picking cotton.

She lived through 20 U.S. presidents, two world wars and the birth of the automobile, the airplane, TV and the Internet.

Jones attributed her longevity to sleep, clean living and positive energy.

*****************

Which reminded me of one of my favorite stories about a TV reporter, years ago, who was sent to interview a 100 year old man. 

He inquired of the man what his secret to living so long was.

"I never smoked....never cussed....fooled around with wild women...and, most importantly, never touched a drop of alcohol!

Suddenly, there was this loud crash.....from somewhere in the back of the house.

The reporter stopped his camera...and said..."What the Heck was that!"

The old man sheepishly replied, 

"Oh, I'm so embarrassed!  it's my father. He's drunk again!"

Put the Third Finger of the Right Hand...

....on the letter L...and the first finger of your left one the letter F.  Keep that position while you "hunt and peck" punching the "found key" with whichever finger is closest to it.

It took my Mom less than 2 minutes to explain that to me, but it turned out to be one of the most useful lessons I ever had. I was perhaps 14 years old at the time, and never again typed with only 2 fingers.  I wish I had absorbed more of her advice with such determinaton.

I "hunted and pecked" a lot after that, but with ALL of my fingers, instead of just two. And almost before I knew what a "Touch Typist" was.....I was one.

And seldom has a day gone by since then that I have not used that skill.
What a Mom!  I would say she was perfect.......except for one thing; she never did buy me that pony.

-Ed

Ah Ha!

I doubt that the "mainstream media" has spent much time discussing this story, but in my opinion, it's the "Ah Ha!" story of the decade.  Maybe even the century.  (In the newsrooms I worked in, an "Ah Ha!" story was one which would make the viewers think, "Ah Ha, it's finally been confirmed and that I was right all along."

There were also ones we called "Grabbers."  Those were anything that would make the listener "sit up in his chair and think, "Well, I'll be damned."

This one is both!

Scientists have captured the flash of light that sparks when a sperm meets an egg

For the first time ever, scientists have captured images of the flash of light that sparks at the very moment a human sperm cell makes contact with an egg.

Sperm Meets Egg

Great accomplishment,  interesting.....but frankly, in "newsroom terms," I'd call it a "Yawner," mainly because it's such an old story.  In fact, thousands of years old!  

Genesis 1.3   "And God said, "Let there be light."

-Ed

When The Swallows Come Back to...

Oh, forget it.

San Juan Capistrano Mission

.They haven't returned to Capistrano for several years now.

They used to arrive every year on March 19th, but like a million similar minded human types...happiness is seeing THE GOLDEN STATE...in the rear view mirror.

It doesn't take a genius to know why the swallows don't return to the Mission San Juan Capistrano anymore.  The brilliant "suits" there cleaned up the centuries old  stone mission...got rid of those dirty eyesore "nests" along the walls....and waited for the birds and the tourists to flock back every March 19th.

Neither did.

"Surprise, surprise," to quote Gomer Pyle.

As far as the humans bailing out, there are a myriad of reasons, high taxes, illegals, nutty government, nuts and flakes, etc, etc.......

All, reasons enough,  but the most convincing one in my opinion is.....

"Too many Priuses.....and Prius drivers,"...hands down the worst in the world.

-Ed

Keeping Up

I think we all fall short of "keeping up" with the many old friends we've had over the years.  I know I'm guilty of it.  And I feel awful about it,  especially after one of those old pals passes away unexpectedly.
  
"Oh, if I only had it to do over again......"

Bob Geneiser 

One of my favorite newsmen I worked with over the years was Bob Gneiser, (pronounced "Nizer") who died a few years ago.

Bob was one of the nicest people I 've ever known.

I think he liked me too, because for years after we both had moved on from WMAL, Bob would often invite my wife and me over to his house for parties and sometimes...just for a visit.

I always turned him down.

But if only I had it to do all over again...........

I would still turn him down.

However, it had nothing to do with Bob.  

The HOUSE

It was his HOUSE!

8103 Lily Stone Drive
Bethesda, Md.

There was no way I was ever going near that Damm place!

The previous owner was a Government Employee named Brad Bishop, who a couple of years before Bob and his wife moved in...had murdered his Mother, his wife and three children in that very house.


From The Washington Post,  Feb 1977 

“I have a strong feeling that Bishop is dead” said George Quinn, special agent in charge of the Baltimore field office of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. But, Quinn added, speculation is ‘a luxury we don’t indulge in. So we assume he’s alive in the absence of any other indication.”The uncertainty of whether Bishop is dead of alive extends to the tangled legal process that occurred in the absence of heirs.

The victims were Bishop’s mother, Lobelia, 68; his wife, Annette, 37; his sons, Brad III, 14, Brent, 10, and Geoffrey, 5.According to terms of a will Lobelia Bishop executed in 1961, her only child, William Bradford Bishop Jr., inherited all of her estate. Neither Annette Bishop nor her sons left a will.

 Robert Wels was named receiver of his brother-in-law’s property.Acting in that capacity, Wels authorized the sale of Bishop’s motorcycle and the family’s rust-colored, 1974 Chevrolet station wagon. The latter vehicle was the object of a nationwide search before it was located last March 18 at a resort campsite deep in the Great Smoky National Park on the North Carolina Tennessee border.To protect the Gneisers from a possible claim sometime in the future by Bishop or his heirs, the title company they employed in the purchase of the house insisted that a guardian, who has greater legal authority than a receiver, be named in Bishop’s behalf.The last confirmed contact with Bishop occurred last March 2, when he used BankAmericard, his only credit card, to purchase $15.50 worth of sporting goods in Jacksonville, N.C., about 100 miles south of Tyrrell County, N.C., where the bodies were discovered earlier that day.

A forest ranger, patrolling the swampy forest near the hamlet of Columbia, N.C., spotted the bodies, which had been set afire, about noon. But it was almost a week before the charred remains were connected to the Bishop family, whose absence from home was attributed by friends to a spring skiing trip that the close-knit, athletic family had planned.

Bishop, a highly regarded, $26,000-a-year career Foreign Service officer, had left his office at the State Department unusually early on March 1, complaining a cold.Police later determined that Bishop drove from his Foggy Bottom office to Montgomery Mall, where he bought a five-gallon gasoline can at Sears and had it filled at the Texaco station there.

Investigators also have concluded that the first victim was his wife, Annette, who was slain in the den. They theorize that Bishop’s mother, who lived with the family, returned from walking the family dog and surprised the killer, who hurriedly placed one of Brad Bishop’s jackets over Annette’s body. After the two women were fatally bludgeoned, the three boys, who were wearing pajamas and apparently were asleep in upstairs bedrooms, were then killed by a powerful blows to their heads.The killer then stuffed the bodies in the family’s station wagon and drove through the night to North Carolina, where the bodies were dumped into a bathtub-size grave and set afire.

The station wagon, which was found more than two weeks later, contained a blood-stained blanket, an ax and a shotgun. A massive search of the park, from the air and on foot, followed discovery of the station wagon. But except for some early false reports, there was no trace of Bishop, or the family’s missing golden retriever, Leo.

In the intervening year, police have found no rational motive for the murders: No evidence of infidelity, or financial or job problems. The Bishops, friends and associates insisted, were the archetypical All-American family, blessed with beauty brains and togetherness.

The lone imperfection investigators uncovered was that Bishop had consulted three psychiatrists in recent years, and that he had been taking the prescription drug Serax to treat symptoms of depression and insomnia. A quantity of Serax was found in the glove compartment of the station wagon.

“When he stepped out of that car,” said the FBI’s Quinn, “the trail ended.”

North Carolina Attorney general Rufus Edmisten, who directed the hunt for Bishop in that state, said last week that Bishop’s disappearance is “the most baffling mystery I’ve ever encountered.”
Edminsten, the former deputy counsel to the Watergate committee, discounted the possibility that Bishop, an experienced outdoorsman, wandered off into the park and met his death.

Jack Linahan, assistant chief ranger of the Great Smoky park, said “the number of people who utilize the park” make it unlikely that a body could go unreported “visually or by one of the other senses.”As a State Department employee, Bishop was stationed in Ethiopia, Botswana and Italy and earlier was with Army intelligence in Italy. He speaks Italian and Serbo-Croation fluently, and in addition to his undergraduate degree from Yale, heared tow master’s degrees, in Italian from Middlebury College and African Studies from UCLA. With his education, language abilities and diplomatic credentials, investigators agree that Bishop could get along relatively well in a foreign land.

At least one of Bishop’s former neighbors said she would “like to see more investigation of Brad’s involvement in intelligence activities.”When Carolyn Gneiser was shown the Bishops’ house last November, neither she nor her real estate agent, owned it, although the Gneisers were vaguely aware that both Bishop and Angell had lived in the area.

“I fell in love with the house,” Mrs. Gneiser recalled. Her husband, WMAL/radio anchorman Bob Gneiser, inspected it a few days later and agreed that it was just what they were seeking. It had an addition that would be perfect for Mrs. Gneiser’s mother, who was moving from Florida to become part of their extended family.“We talked it out,” and decided to make the move, Gneiser said, “although frankly, we renegotiated (the price) a little bit” after learning from Mrs. Kate that the house had belonged to the bishops.  
                                                               #############

BRAD BISHOP PROBABLY LOOKS LIKE THIS....TODAY

Not to be confused with,  this man:

Quinten Tarentino    (Hollywood Mogul)

-Ed

We Pause Now...

One of my favorite people with whom I worked over my many years in Broadcasting was Don Richards.  

Don Richards 1958

I've posted excerpts from a couple of his "talks" at our old station reunions, and as you discovered, Don always had something interesting and humorous to talk about.

About 5 years ago, I got Don to sit down with Chuck Langdon, another old broadcaster friend, and me on the TV show Chuck and I have been hosting for the last 10 years, here in Northern Virginia called OUT OF THE PAST.

It occurred to me not long ago that none of the people entering the broadcast profession today have any idea of what the Radio of our youth (aka THE GOLDEN AGE OF RADIO) sounded like.  

Don and his significant other, Susan O'Kelly, have been demonstrating to fairly large audiences here what "Old" radio was like.

I think you'll enjoy this 4 minute video clip.




Don Passed away this morning.  He was 88.

Rest in Peace, old friend.

-Ed

I Thought I heard a Tweety Bird!

 I did!

(However, in the interest of "accuracy in blogging,"  what Tweety Bird himself (herself?) actually said was,

Tweety Bird

"I tawt I taw a puddy tat!" "I did! I did taw a puddy tat!" )


One thing that still works pretty good on my almost "used up"

 body are my ears.  And this morning I woke up to a sound

that I haven't heard since last year at this time:

The chirping of birds returning from their winter vacation


down South.

 And how do they know that it's time to leave their tropical 

vacation paradise and return North?

Because it's getting warmer up here?


Nope.


It has nothing to do with the temperature.  It's because the 

length of daylight is increasing.



Anyway that's what the experts say.  Furthermore they say the 

reason the birds take the long return journey back, instead

of staying in their tropical paradise, is because it ain't really 

so great down there...for birds:

'Unfortunately, despite what the Jimmy Buffett song indicates, life in the tropics is not as ideal as it might seem. For one thing, the tropics are not chock-full of unused food resources. The migrants from the north have to compete with a huge variety of tropical species that live there year-round. A more subtle issue is that warmer climates also tend to be home to a great many more infectious diseases and parasites.

It also turns out that there are some real advantages to making the trip north. Spring migrants time their return to coincide with a virtual explosion of food resources. As New England emerges from the grip of winter, virtually every local plant and animal begins to reproduce, and it’s not long before there is a huge abundance of seeds, fruits and invertebrates. Migrant species take advantage of these resources to have their own young.

What’s more, day length is more favorable during northern summers. In the tropics, there is little seasonal variation in the number of hours of daylight. As you travel farther north, summer days get longer and longer—in fact, above the Arctic Circle, there are weeks when the sun never sets. These longer summer days mean that there are more hours of daylight in which migrant birds can gather food and feed the hungry mouths of their rapidly growing young. ' -Bird Expert

ELCOME, welcome, little stranger,

Fear no harm, and fear no danger;

We are glad to see you here,

For you sing "Sweet Spring is near."

 

Now the white snow melts away;

Now the flowers blossom gay:

Come dear bird and build your nest,

For we love our robin best.

-Louisa May Alcott

-Ed

Rubbing Elbows

 Reflecting on our many years on this good Earth, I firmly believe we were born in a time and place that has few equals in the "Best Time and Place Ever Be Born" conversation.

It's too bad that fact didn't become obvious to most of us until our journey is almost over.

But, that's the way it always is.  Some things that seem perfectly ordinary and mundane at the time, often become much more memorable in hindsight.

As meaningful and personally significant my move to Washington and working up here was to me, there was also a little bit of "history" involved.  It's talked about a lot at the old "Broadcaster Reunions" I attend. It's called  "Rubbing Elbows" with history.

No matter how good, or how bad a reporter for a major newspaper or radio/TV station was, an interview with the President or Senator or  an important government official...or"covering" news events of significance, etc. had the aura of history about it. The Network reporters were most likely involved in the major events of the day, but even guys on the mostly entertainment end of the media chain, like me, often became involved. I'm thinking specifically of my interview with William Greer, the driver of the Presidential Limousine in Dallas that fateful day our President was assassinated.

I don't believe anybody thinks about "history" as we were go about our daily routines;  just doing our jobs.

Looking back, unknown to me, my first small "brush" came less than a week after I moved to this town. That was Spring of 1961. My employer, WTOP-TV CHS...hadn't even changed my name.  I had hardly unpacked.

 Someone had mentioned to me that if I loved good music, jazz in particular, I should check out a small obscure night spot called "The Showboat Lounge"  It featured a very fine local guitarist by the name of Charlie Byrd. 

Charlie Byrd

Well, it didn't take more than 10 minutes of sitting in that small room listening to the soft and rhythmic sounds of his acoustic guitar accompanied by bass and drums...to get me totally "hooked."
I became a regular at that little establishment, and would insist on showing off my "discovery' to a number of my friends from Charlotte who were passing through town.

They usually agreed with me that there was something unique and different about many of the tunes Charlie performed.

There was.

It was the rhythm.  It was kinda like a "samba beat"...but....different.  Charlie, who later became a good friend,  told me that he first heard it in Brazil, where he, and Washington Jazz Great DJ Felix Grant, had just returned from a State Department sponsored tour of South America.

Charlie Byrd and Felix Grant

Felix and he were both intrigued . Felix talked about it endlessly on the radio....and Charlie played it at that little club on 18th Street in Washington, DC.

He called it simply, Brazilian music.  But he said, down there that call it "Bossa Nova."

That's the name that stuck. 

And, the rest, as they say, is history.

It became THE music of the 60's.  The record album he recorded with Saxophonist Stan Getz, to whom he had also introduced the Brazillian music, became one of the best selling albums ever. 

I'm proud to say that Charlie honored me by appearing on my first TV talk show and a number of times after that.

And what did I personally do to be involved in this small, soon to be forgotten, moment in history?

Not a damm thing.

But, I was there.

-Ed

Super Bowl Sunday Again

Woody Robertson

It was Super Bowl Sunday four years ago, when my good friend and former TV director Woody Robertson passed away at age 78.  A sudden heart attack was the cause. Woody had been hired by the network for their Super Bowl coverage, to help coordinate TV player interviews with stations around the country. He was one of the best TV directors in the country as well a supremely competent administrator.

He was my Director on the morning interview show I hosted for WTOP-TV in the mid 60's, CADENCE. The show was 30 minutes in length, broadcast each weekday morning Monday through Friday. That doesn't sound like much work, but believe me, it was a full time job for several people; but especially Woody and me. Woody owned a yellow Cadillac in those days, and if only...as the cliche goes...that car could talk..........

Well, actually, in this case....it wouldn't be talking;  it would be laughing.

There were many times that Woody would meet and pick up celebrities who were to be interviewed on the show as well as escorting them after the show to their hotel or next appointment...This personalized service made a big difference in our getting more busy celebrities visiting our city than any other of the Washington stations.

I'll never forget that day after the show when I rode with Woody to drop our guest off at his hotel.  You may not remember him, but he was BIG back in the 60's. He was a Danish Comedian named Victor Borge. Back then just about everyone knew his name.

Unfortunately, there was one name Victor didn't remember:

the name of the hotel he had been registered in.

That sounds like a problem, right?

Nope.  What a blessing,....for Woody and me!

It was almost dark when we finally found the right hotel (remember, there were no cell phones then) and, sadly I might add, the most "laugh filled" day of our lives came to an end.

There was one serious topic Victor mentioned a couple of times, and that was his concern regarding his hands. They had been "bothering" him for about six months and of course he was concerned since the piano was such an important part of his success.
That was over 40 years ago, of course, but like most of us, generally, the vast majority of our worries are about things that never happen.

Take a look at what his "old fingers" could do at on his 80th birthday!

-Ed

No Big Deal

Blizzard, Smizzard.

"What do you mean?

I'm talking about a serious event. Snow up to your knees!"

Ha!  I laugh in your face! Big deal.  I've been through it all before. I'm used to that kind of thing....because of where I grew up. 

Alaska?

Nope

Minot North Dakota?

Nope.  

 Charlotte, North Carolina!

Aw, come on....they don't have blizzards in towns like Charlotte.  That's in the South, man.  You're nutty as a fruit cake.

Don't mention that word to me!  But that's another story.  What I'm saying is that I can prove that we had at least one snow storm in Charlotte that came up to my knees. And I can prove it!

All right, you're on. 

OK.  The date was the same as this year's blizzard, January 24th.  

The year was 1940.

I rest my case.

Now, about that fruit cake.  Stay tuned.

-Ed

Introduction

This is probably my final collection of stories, but who knows  At this writing, I'm only 79 and a half so I very well may rattle on enough to fill another one of these "blog books."

By the way...I'm pretty sure these things are all done by machines...which explains why pictures may appear in strange places....and "captions" sometimes wind up as the first sentence of the story...etc.....I've tried to solve that by deleting all the captions before this book goes to print....

But....who knows.

My wonderful sister "Kak" passed away this year, and as far as I know she was the only person who ever read any of my "books," however, perhaps sometime in the future one of my grandkids or someone may thumb through one or two of them.

But, more and more, that's becoming less and less likely, since the way things are going, the art of "reading" will be lost in about 20 years or so.

But, it ain't my fault; nor is what has been happening to our once great country in the past 10 or 15 years.

Here, in the year 2015, I find myself...a white, straight, conservative male...among the most hated groups of people in America.

People like me are the ones who founded this greatest country in history.

And we are not the ones who are tearing it down.

May God help us.

Lee/Ed

Hot Off the Press

Well, it was a long, long time ago....

Haven't We Met Before?

I'm Not sure exactly when the history of the Civil War captured my imagination, but I think it was  when I was 7 or 8 years old. 

My family was visiting my cousin Charles Mateer and my Aunt Kathryn when they were spending the summer with Uncle Harry whose company was building a facility for the government's war effort  in Beaufort, S.C.  (Pronounced BEW-fort....as opposed to Beaufort, N.C. (Pronounced BOW-fort).

Walking around, barefoot (as most all kids did back then in the summer time) I stepped on a "mnnie ball." 

From then on, I was hooked.

I've never tired of reading about it and was especially thrilled to discover early on that I had ancesters who fought in the war...especially Manse Jolly, who was somewhat "famous," or "notorious," depending on which side you were on.

Then when I discovered that my wife also had an ancester, Sidney Davis, who had fought for the OTHER side...and had even written a book......WELL.......my imagination has been in overdrive ever since.

Being a Southerner, my sympathies have always been on the side of my ancestors.  But after "meeting" (via his book) Sidney Davis...WELL.....

Anyway, it's a damm good thing they didn't happen to meet up on some battlefield, and start shooting at each other...and........

Or did they?

Sidney Davis devotes an entire chapter of his book to the

Battle of Brandy Station the largest Cavalry battle of the War. Manse and Sidney were both Cavalry officers, but on opposite sides, and both fought in that battle!

Small world, huh?

But of course there were thousands of men and horses that participated  so the odds against their actually shooting at each other  were still pretty great.

There were also some new things I learned about Manse that I didn't know:

The Confederate Military Records stated that:

 The company comander, Capt. Baker, wrote that Manse was 6 feet 4 inches tall, and that he had a ruddy complexion, blue eyes and red hair. 

In the heat and confusion of the battle , Davis writes that he found himself knocked off his horse and mingled briefly with a few Coufederate Calverymen also separated from their horses scrambling to return to their units.

In the confusion, Davis writes that he passed  

 "....a tall,  savage looking confederate, his long red hair and flaming whiskers, heavy eyebows, and muscular frame made up a formidable object, of which I should have felt shy...if alone."

Manse?

Well, he sure fits that description, especially the "formidable object," part.

Nawwww, couldn't be. There were lots of Confederate Calvery soldiers....6'4"...with red hair........

Right?

-Ed

Stories Told on the Porch by My 170 Year Old Grandfather

Now that I have your attention.

Admittedly, the headline may be a little misleading, but it's all true!

Kinda.

Except it's not about my grandfather, he didn't tell stories on the porch, and he wasn't 170 years old.

Sidney Davis was my wife's great, great, etc grandfather. I never heard him tell any stories, but he wrote a lot of them, all of which were about his adventures as a Cavalry man in the Yankee Army during the Civil War...which occurred 150 years ago at which time he was about 20 years old.
That's how I came up with the 170.

I've passed on several of his adventures before on this site, for example the time he was sent out to forage  for meat for some of his fellow soldiers.....

"By and by, I came upon a flock of sheep, to which I gave chase. I was rather fleet of foot and kept close to them and driving them into fence corners and over all sorts of obstructions.
Finally, one of them, made an effort to jump through a fence but became fastened, and I caught it.

Out came my knife and I felt for its throat; while thus engaged, however, I felt its heart beat wildly against my leg. “Poor old fellow,” thought I, “how hard it must be for even an animal to yield up its innocent life!”

I hesitated, I put down my hand and stroked its head; and then, returning my knife to my pocket, dismissed the sheep with my blessing."

The foraging expedition was a failure that night.


The last I saw of that sheep was after I had crossed the fence out of the field. I looked back after I had traveled about two rods, and there he was, mounted on his hind feet, and with his fore feet upon the upper rail, and his white head up in the air, and his eyes peering after me.

And then there was the time, after the battle of Gettysburg that he was captured prisoner by the Confederates and being driven by "car" (the train) to Belle Isle prison near Richmond.

The ride from Gordonsville to Richmond was devoid of interest. I remember that it grew dark soon after we left the former town, and that there seemed to be an endless monotony of pine forests and lonely fields.

But few words were spoken that night. I managed to secure a seat on the end of a car beside one of the guards...a tall, lean, lank man, forty-five or fifty years of age, with long reddish hair and whiskers...and as comfortable as circumstances would permit. 

About midnight I felt the guard lean heavily upon me, and from his hand slipped the dreaded musket.  As it fell I seized it, and thus prevented its loss. The man was sound asleep.

My first impulse, now that I had an enemy in my power, was to push him off suddenly between the cars, and have him crushed to death; but it occurred to me that such an act would simply constitute a cowardly murder; then the vision of a family in tears rose vividly before me.

I awakened him, gave him his gun, and cautioned him playfully as to his duty as a soldier.

He seemed very grateful, and said he was completely worn out from fatigue.  For a few moments he sat up, and then settled back again...sound asleep, and I once more caught the gun as it fell.

I allowed him to sleep until we reached Richmond, just before dawn, when I aroused him."

Sidney Davis was a good man that the Civil War caused some bad

things to happen to. He saw a lot of death and came close himself on a number of occasions.  Even the one time he was issued a two week "leave" and returned home for a short rest, was not without shock.

Davis was a Motherless child who lived with an "off and on" alcoholic father who worked for a man named Levi Bentley. They also lived on his property. Davis' childhood was pretty much normal for children of that era. In addition to the farm, Bentley owned a printing business at which both father and son worked. A Mrs. Samuel's worked as a housekeeper for Mr. Bentley and was like a "mother" to Sidney.

While relaxing on leave at his home, Davis accidentally discovered a document that he never knew existed;

 Allegheny city, September 20 1845

This article of agreement between Levi Bentley of Washington, County, State of Pennsylvania, of the one part, and Nancy Davis of Allegheny City of the other part witnesseth:
     That the said Nancy agrees to give her son Sidney to the said Levi Bentley to raise until he shall be fit to go for a trade. He also agrees to feed and clothe the boy during the above period.  Mr. Levi Bentley also agrees to give the mother Nancy Thirty-five dollars in cash this day, which she receipts for.  It is distinctly understood by the parties that the said Levi shall have the sole control of the boy, without the interference of his mother Nancy, in consideration of the above thirty five dollars.

He had been an "indentured servant!"

Davis writes only that in hindsight, his father never exercised any claim over him as a parent and "Levi spared my feelings in the matter, for I did not know of the existence of the document."

Davis wrote his memories hoping to have them published and launch his career as a "writer."

But he had no luck.  Instead, his hand written manuscript traveled  unread,  from year to year in descendant's attics until my wife's uncle, John Davis read it....and published it.

Sales were mostly to family members...about half of whom took the trouble to read it, and the other half tucked it away in their attics.

Sorry Sid, but reading is not what many Americans do these days.

Plus, the current generation of youngsters consider the Civil War to be "old" news.  "Something that happened a long, long time ago....probably just after WW2."

It's "so...yesterday."

-Ed