Arm Art at Billy’s in Liberal

by admin

fig. 1.1 Subject: Vizcela dog owner, gentleman, photographer, agriculturist, beast of burden on the jukebox, and boasts a firm man-hand on the two-step. Later.

Fig. 1.2 "Get that Pellligrino bottle out of here, my boss will get mad."

To start, the subjects here have not all been in the Big House, most importantly not Fig. 1.1.

B) the setting is Billy’s Mexican BBQ in Liberal, Kansas. Go here to hang out with

  • the youngins’
  • the “hope no one at work or dad got deported this week because the taillight was out”
  • the frat boys when they’re home from college
  • a few Liberal Country Club people who want to have fun
  • beautiful hispanic girls
  • the aggies under cover, urban relative term (a Wal-mart), Liberal is it.  A nice shirt and pressed jeans doesn’t impress, Hi-Plains ghetto the current chic.
  • people who want really good food:  bbq, beans, baked potato salad to name a few.
  • and,  the real thing, a tattoo Artist just out of the pokey.

I’ll quit talking (so much), here’s some bod(ies) art.

Fig. 1.3 How could I not notice this one....

Fig. 1.4 Left guy said he had tattoos all over his body, friend at right sitting back. But, when I asked him to go in the backroom for a pic he backed out. Chicken.

Fig. 1.5 But his buddy fearless. He's knows he's a star.

Fig. 1.6 A smile and bicep makes it even better.

Fig. 1.7 Hmmm...kind of depressing...

This tattoo’s owner had  worked for Best Well Service in Oil field. Slow economy, so temporarily out of regular work. Thinking ahead about what to get pictured on the internet but still shared.  It says “Death.”

Fig. 1.8 The Yin and Yang.

Life:  how can you really appreciate one without the other? He wouldn’t let me take a second (awkward upside down arm pose) photo, I like the cool. “Rotate your picture.”  And he knows i-photo better than I do.

Now for the specifics on the Artist and how he revealed himself:

Paula:  “are you all using the same artist?  It’s a similar style.”

Artist:  “no, I did these myself.”

Paula:  “where did you learn how to do this? Did you go to school?”

Artist:  “in prison.”

Paula:  “Whoa…(pause).  Do they just give you the supplies?”  (thinking a little rehabilitative craft project…license plates…)

Artist:  “no we just get them.”

Paula:  “how do you do it?”

Well, I’ll summarize the technique here.  In lockup, one can have hair grease which looks really good in ethnic hair, I might add.  Hair grease from the brilcream is lit with a match (a prison network item) to provide  ashes:  the ink. The ashes are pressed into the skin with a needle (inter-prison commissary). And then, all the thought and artistry, zen time.

Very impressed with time use for an otherwise boring day in confinement. Idle minds are the devil’s weapon.

Paula: “so, how did you get in prison?” …..(+ a little more coaxing…)

Artist: “they said for burglery.” (who can afford a good lawyer these days?)

Paula: “did you do it?”

Artist: “Well, someone got killed.” (he only did a year, so I don’t think it could have been him, not to make light of this).

Paula: “so… are you still hanging out with these friends?  A word from mother, “you are the company you keep.”

Fig. 1.9 The Artist's friends chose for his signature piece. Note to self: ask about laser hand treatments.

So, I can’t give the handsome Artist billing on his exact visage above because he was concerned about the coverage. For the record and parole officer, he wasn’t drinking. He and his companions could not have been more lucid and gentlemanly. I was at a midwestern college so I can discern.

I have no worries, I don’t think the burgler-Artists become the Unabombers or on a Tucson tyrade, that’s takes suburbia or a higher education to bring it on. He’ll be fine.

Jody's friend in Paula's scarf, Paula, Jody, Pelligrino.

And last, credit to Jody’s friend for the fun evening of inviting me to sit down, people sharing, and encouragement. He wouldn’t tell me his name, but he did tell me his age, less than half mine. I love it when people ask if I have a daughter.  Better than when the hairdresser asked if Lace was my granddaughter, but I blame this on the culture and region, Wichita.

73 and 74, water, arts&crafts, drama, denise

by admin
  • By 1973, Denise Rabius was there.
  • SME top: Liz Frost in splits, Denise Rabius, Marthe, Polly Johnson; bottom Paula Graves, Sally Burger, best counselor ever Carol Blehm 2nd from right

  • And maybe this was the year Sarah Jones, Madelyn and Karen came but again they’re in a different cabin. I don’t know if our mothers did cabin requests?
  • Sarah Jones, Marthe, Liz. I judge the year on breasts and my haircut. This may have been our last year after 8th grade but if so, Liz certainly matured quickly, you'll have to ask her the date.

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    71 and 72. Windle Wisp, Gunny, music, Marthe

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    Marthe, Liz, Paula and I think back of Anne Thomas's head in foreground departing for Minneapolis from KCI, 1973?KCI,

    I was driving to town yesterday afternoon at 5 and Four Strong Winds, a camp song came on 63 Outlaw. I pulled over to call Marthe so we could sing together but I was out of range, so pleased she was so accessible even for a minute at her new media position at Hallmark after just a month. Reached her at 6:30 after errands and we talked camp.

    It seemed like everyone played the guitar and brought them to camp at least after a year or two of lessons at Toon Shop in the Village. Ridiculous in my case. I had really wanted to take the twangy banjo, Glen Campbell and all, but didn’t get arranged, maybe too un-feminine at the time. Marthe did play the guitar and does my son Jack who I also had haul off his guitar to Cheley. After the first summer he would forget it with a whole different music genre in 90s though I think pre-i-pods which would have been forbidden anyway.

    Paula and never-to-be played guitar, 1971.

    Marthe’s next-to-oldest sister Elise was a counselor or CIT when I went for first time after 5th grade, instantly mesmerized by the Dreher women.

    The Graves girls and the Dreher girls, no brothers.

    These older beautiful young women guided and nurtured us and French mama Elise played her guitar.

    CITs from KC, Carol Blehm, Elise Dreher, Carrie Ball, Julie Jacobs

    All ages of young women, we sat around a big campfire at the foot of steep steps from the lodge on the hill where we ate.

    clockwise: Lodge, canoe house, dock, and steps back up. Ring 'o fire between steps and boathouse at grade.

    Still and all in a circle singing great songs, Marthe and I remembered others played at night in the early 70s; The Great Mandela and Four Dead in Ohio were two. It smelled of pine, smoke, and I’ve never known such quiet as Minnesota at night, the wind blows and coyotes sing where I live.

    As usual, the Marthe-Paula telepathy was all lined up for she was just sending me a link for a card shower for the Camp Director Maxine Gunsolly’s upcoming 85th birthday. See Sherwood Forest Camp Deer River, MN history for best information. Marthe knows, too, as she was a counselor there in college with Ann Morrill. Marthe gave me her family background connection. Georgeanne Dreher, Marthe’s mom, was a Pi Phi at KU and friends with Maxine Gunsolly who was a Kappa. The Dreher’s would host the movies every year to tell people in KC about the camp that Gunny had taken on from previous owners in 1951. There was also a Dreher Salina connection and Molly Maloney from Wichita went to Sherwood Forest Camp.

    Gunny: Maxine Gunsolly

    Gunny was beautiful and I don’t know her age in this photo, I’m must have been 45ish when I met her in early 70s. She was beautiful and handsome, tan skin, curly hair that ageless look and square cheekbones like a combination of a young Barbara Bush with the confidence and reassurance of Ol’ Golly in Harriet the Spy. Helen, her assistant Director and longtime companion, had white hair. They were a team.

    Sherwood Forest Camp Counselors and Staff, 1971. Gunny and Helen at lower left.

    So many of us in Kansas went to Gunny’s camp, especially those of us with mothers who supported local and this incredible KU woman committed to shaping strong women. A new alternative to other more traditional old school Minnesota Camps, Camp Lake Hubert for girls (Lisa Mann) and Mishawaka (Liz Lynd). KC people went north to the Minnesota Lakes, canoeing, sailing and riding. Before this, we all went out to daycamp to Allendale at Barby Powell Allen’s mom’s place to go horseback riding, swim, and jump on the trampoline.

    Those west of Lawrence went to Cheley in the Colorado Rockies for hiking and riding. My mom, Jerry Hesse McGuire, Connie Curran’s mom, my father-in-law Raymond Adams, and my children. After all this riding, I’ve only just learned to suck myself down into the saddle after a brief analogy from my teenage children that helped out a lot.

    Paula in tweed miniskort with yarn ribbon and Gina Graves in suede hotpants & shag, summer 1971

    This is the only year Gina and I went to camp in same session. a) on record before all the camp food I ate and b) pretty great outfits and Gina’s early shag (see Ginny Graves clothes) c)it was the last summer we went the same session. Don’t know if my mother thought sisters needed our separate identities or if my parents could only tolerate one daughter in house at a time.

    These are the years I remember and fellow campers.

    • 1971, after 5th grade at Highlands School. Nancy Falkenberg Puck, my ornery alter-ego and I were best friends and went together (see Nancy Falkenberg and Nancy Mistele, 67th St. construction). We were in Windle Wisp on the Little End of the camp with the grade schoolers. Nancy on bunk beside me, I met Marthe who was on the bunk above me. And Laura Davis who was very stylish, from St. Paul Minnesota, with long dark hair, a husky voice, and wire-framed glasses as were many girls at our camp.
    • The girls from St. Paul went to synagogue or something on Sundays instead of vespers I think because of their not having to go to church I became aware of people being Jewish and going to public schools where almost everyone was Jewish. At SME it seems like we were fairly proportionally Protestant, Catholic, and Jewish and I never really thought about it until college when I realized that Catholics seemed to go to church so much more or at least on Saturday nights.

      Paula asking Ginny for wire-framed glasses, "I'll pay for them."

      I had tortoise shell glasses but this was the move to wire frames, 1972. Wire glasses and braces was way too much metal.

      Indian Hills bound.top: Paula at left, 2 down Ellen, Polly Johnson of Wisconsin at right. bottom: Marthe and Anne Thomas.

    • 1972 is top post pic, post 6th grade, my second year of camp. Those from KC to be SMEast were Marthe, Ann Thomas, and Ellen Haynes from Prairie; Liz Frost and Sally Burger from Belinder; and Paula from Highlands. I’m pretty sure Madelyn White and Karen Kokjer were there this year but in a different cabin but maybe this was next year. Polly Johnson in the cabin picture above was a dear friend from Wisconsin who I have lost-but-hope-to-renew contact with who came one year for Thanksgiving.

    Paula Graves and Polly Johnson, Thanksgiving 74?

    This is a camp newsletter I found that would come out during the winter season and then we would go to Dreher’s house and watch the movies from the previous summer and enlist new campers for the next year.  The style of illustration is Joan Walsh Anglund who I loved and I think I still have these dolls in the attic cradle.  I don’t know who n.p. was the poet.

    The Robin's Arrow

    the golden colors of autumn
    replace the green of summer
    mist enchanted brisk mornings
    silently prey upon the empty cabins
    August winds echo through the fall lofty pines
    Sherwood is alone
    Remember when we were together? -j.n.

    The Sherwood Forest Girl

    And last, Marthe and I sang together on the speaker phone and said goodnight. I heard taps and the loons.

    A for effort Pete.

    by admin

    I’ve never been very good in the training department on ordering up gifts for others to give to me on certain occasions, too much pressure for everyone. I’m tickled with any random thought, dark dove bites, other and I’ve received some nice ones. In going through my scrapbooks where (my mother or I?) stashed every memory jogging thing, I came across a very beautiful keepsake that is history, time, place, and art.

    Philmont Scout Ranch, Cimarron New Mexico

    I had to give you a taste first. It is a letter from Pete Stack to Paula Graves after her return from cheerleading camp  while he was at Philmont Scout Ranch in Cimarron, New Mexico.  “I want you to know that I normally don’t write on shirts for letters!!  But I thought it would be a little different. Do you like the little bull? I found the shirt in the little boy’s section.”  I had just passed through Cimarron a few weeks ago and came home to find this work of art and the bull brought it home.

    Pete Stack in Master Scout Uniform

     

    This was probably summer ’77. There are a few excerpts for history’s sake below, but he asks, “so how does your dating life go these days?” so it was well into a later friendship stage.  Here are a few noteworthy repeats:

    • I talked to Dave (Nixon) last night for about an hour but it was worth it. It was great to talk to him! He said he had a great time in the Carribean” (I’m sure with Liz hosted by Jack Frost at Petit St. Vincent rubbing elbows with Princess Margaret and George Plimpton, good gig).
    • “He was going to send a bottle to make me sane.” (Guess they didn’t allow liquor at camp, even for the counselors?)
    • “Hope sometime you call!”  (very lonely and ready to go home)
    • “I made a belt the other day! It was macrame and leather. (see macrame) …..I made a pot holder! Neat huh!”
    • (I’m not putting in all these exclamation points).
    • a weird thing from his neighborhood that I won’t mention.
    • side two: he’s wearing down, telling my parents and dog, Dooley hello….”I’m messing up this shirt. You know I got it small so you can’t wear it.” Not then, but after nursing two children, it’s perfect, see below.  I think he’s realizing how much time he’s invested and how cool it is, regrets buying the boys S (10-12), maybe wants to keep it.
    • “I (‘m) running out of things to say but I can bore you somehow. You like my artistry? What a joke!”
    • Strong finish “the mail just came” and then these incredibly detailed drawings. And, “P.S. Tell Marthe hello for me! Also happy cheering!”

      Drawing: Mountain range, Philmont Rocky Mountain Scout Camp patch, Pete's cabin, small drawing of Prairie Village kiddie pool.

      So, I tried on shirt and it fits great. I was taking a break and dancing when John came home after 5 days in Turkey, Texas where he was hunting. The man works all the time, so this was uncommon and I was very proud of him.  We danced a little, then I  took advantage of his 5 days away with me alone in country (loved it) and wanted closure so enlisted his help in capturing the right pose but needed the mirror to get my body right.

    John's photographic skill.

    This took 5 minutes so quite a bit of effort and diversion from unpacking his bags which I totally relate to when returning home. And here’s the best part.

    • “That’s really a cute shirt,”said John, concentrating on the task: getting this great picture for me, of me, my ex-boyfriend, and my husband. That’s it. So Pete, I just took full artistic credit for your creativity and cleverness. So anyone?, don’t say anything when I wear it to the next reunion if John comes. Too fun.
    • And Pete, it really was a beautiful and thoughtful gift. Thank you.

    Men in speedos: David, Michael, and the Prairie Village Pool

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    My web designer Shawn just told me that I need to introduce the story with a little background first so someone other than David and Mike might find it interesting which I hadn’t thought of. So, I was the Sr. Business Editor for the Hauberk in 1978, Shawnee Mission East’s Yearbook.

    "Senior Swim Meat"

    Well hung on the lockers

    I mentioned this ad to my neighbor Britt 32 years later, actually two days ago.  With him having no visual reference,  he mentioned the stylization of Steve Hobson’s hand, so Michael, son of an artist, it all holds up, plus Dave’s Esther Williams ballet leg (see water ballet at Prairie Village Pool), nice right side external oblique, Dennis.

    "Linda Thomson"

    Linda Thomson and Little Foxes

    This is Linda Thomsan, our boss, my sophomore Honors English Teacher and bar none best at Regional American Literature selling it with her energy, sense of humor, stylish scarves and ensembles. Business staff meant we took in all the ads which brought in the bucks and laid them out but I think Doris Bywaters did all the work. There were three ads (Blub Club, KC Coloring Book, and Dirty Dozen) that were from the Graves workshop.

    Anyway, since the point? of this website was to encourage everyone to live an artful life, every day, every place, I want to give the award for best ad to the Senior Swimmers, the guys who took SME to win State Champions in 1978.

    I’ll have to dig out pictures from Prairie Village Pool (there is a facebook page for PV Pool lifeguards), but those of us who didn’t belong to a country club were raised here in the summers:  swim lessons, the babysitter post kiddie pool until our moms could get us onto swim, dive or water ballet teams. We all took Lifeguard Training and Red Cross at 15 thru PV Parks and Rec so we would be earning at check at 16.  I barely passed the Red Cross written test and drew blood scraping my victim’s back over the gutter in the drowning rescue test in the diving pool.  This group also included my neighbor Dennis (see Morgan-Graves Circle) and many more.

    It was a 46 hour week, 6 days a week. There’s nothing like dull, monotonous, hot work with the public to bind people together and learn hierarchy. We all had to pay our dues before the coveted job of lifeguard, but that first year I was the “name, please come to the front desk, name” announcer and balanced the cash register while Mike and David took pins in the basket room. So, we were in close quarters together. They also hosed down everything, everywhere, all the time and a lot of it was really gross. On rainy days, we would all pit clor, a vile job. They were in trunks but I don’t know if they went cowboy or had speedos on underneath. Wish I had all those little numbered pins now for an art project.

    I moved up to the kiddie pool so I could ruin my skin and stayed there for 3 more years, but I think Mike and Dave had to do more time because I still called them down from the basket room to remove the chronic flasher (see UMKC Conservatory).

    The alpha males were the Rovers who sauntered around the 50 meter, 50 yard, the lounge with no loungers, and the diving pools while twirling their whistles. Check this out define.php?term=big+swinging+dick. It cites popular use as 1989, but this was 13 years prior, we’re always way ahead in the Midwest.  Correct me Dave and Mike, but it was head rovers Paul Vyhanek and Paul Heurman who took this stroll their last day in the buff.  The women with young children were so thrilled that no one said a word, they didn’t break their pace and made it around the entire complex and out the turnstyle, probably hanging out at the bleachers.

    "John Adams, David and Sue Betzelberger Kerr

    John Adams appears to wearing down a bit, not being his own reunion, though many thought he went to East due to great social visibility, especially for one from Wabaunsee County, both in KC and at KU.

    Too much here, so Dave will have to be another post, though he did research his perfect beautiful wife on the job, but a word about Michael Jackson Pronko.  He always made me work it.

    "Talks too much in Math"

    “Talks to much in Math”

    We were the only holdouts who made it up to French V, maybe he was VI with Madame Speidel (see Maître Corbeau sur un arbre perché). When he’d give me a compliment, I’d shun it, he’d point this out, I’d quote “Le refus de la louange…” and he’d finish my Rochfaucauld.  Sometimes harsh, he asked me one time why I pretended to be spacey. I don’t think I was pretending but I did check myself on using the gray matter…this was when I was spending hours practicing precise movements to cheer on hero-warriers (see Marvin Hall: The Transformations of Society). I hope to see him while he’s on sabbatical.

    "I love your bod"

    My mother didn’t think girls should have cars in high school because, “then you wouldn’t know if he liked you for your car or your body.”

    Blubs and Boobs

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    "Baby Blub"

    Baby Blubs sum '76: Marthe Dreher, Paula Graves, Denise Rabius, Julie Hise, Kathy Kindred

    The Baby Blubs were the little sisters of the original Blub Club. I guess the date below, 76, is when the photo was taken though their trip which this photo documents would have been summer of 75.

    "Blub Club"

    Gina Graves, Marcia McGilley, Karen Majors, Kitty Wilson, Alison Ball

    Ginny Graves organized the trip and logistics and the list of things to bring, mainly an air mattress and swimsuit.  Dean Graves drove the boat (see Dean Graves and water).  I can’t mention the incident illustrating my mother’s sense of humor because my father documented it on film, very upsetting to her, and it’s a forbade Graves topic.

    Dean the Marine, here as Captain

    Dean the Marine, here as Captain

    We would drive to Bagnell Dam, go on the water slides which I have movies of, then board the houseboat where would eat, eat, dance to loud music, swim, and wave to other guys on boats while my Dad drove us around, finding safe coves for the night. There was also a stop to Bridal Cave so we could see the stalagmites and stalactites and plan our weddings.

    Well, that’s it for blubs, but for what this is really about, boobs, a word we didn’t use in the Graves family, we said breasts, another reason why I hung out along with the Dreher sisters and Dick Dreher.  He would know terms like “superfluous papilla” and when a daughter might find an extra mole, he’d suggest that this might be the issue. I think there was a character in a James Bond movie with one.  The Graves also only used the word bra and when I first heard brassiere, I thought it was a dirty word, so French.

    "Boobsy Twin"

    Marthe and Paula: The Indian Hills Boobsy Twins

    For some of us, it all kicked in early, but eventually we all had them. It was a combination of raging hormones and all that salty food we were eating. Fat molecules deposited with the nurturers, while the guys had only blood molecules to rush to extremities.

    I read in seventeen magazine that men who liked really big breastsa were lacking in self-confidence.  I also read in Vogue that anything more than a champagne glass was too much. Little did they know 30 years later we’d have big slurps. So, getting so much attention from David B. throwing paper clips down my sundress in 8th grade did it for me though it took a while.

    And, back to Blubs, I think we should organize another trip and get the Deaner to drive the boat. Maybe the guys can come too if they get their own boat. It is basically a big floating RV, so I’m not sure if we could all handle the plumbing situation now.

    Talking Shop: Stratford, Wood, Graves

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    Lisa, Kelly, Paula, Dave, Denise, etc.

    Design and Nall Karma: Lisa, Kelly, Paula, Dave, Gatty

    Whenever I am with Kelly Stratford or Dave Wood we talk about our work, though of course, not about our clients. Chuck Stratford and Dave’s Dad were both in construction, residential high end and all that entails. Dean Graves was drawing the pictures. They tended to work in overlapping social circles and all have tremendous people and social skills. Dave is in construction, Kelly a decorator, Paula practices architectural design.

    • You know what we said in architecture school, “you don’t know how hard it was for me to draw that, it can’t possibly be that hard to build.” This is still what I say to my contractor. It’s a team effort.

    Dave and Mark Allen would measure for my father on occasion, probably his best help (see holding the tape measure). Later in his career, Dave would still make time to squeeze in a small beautifully detailed and crafted Wood-Graves venture for Dean and Ginny. Dave’s dad, John K. Wood, Jr. passed away last week, Dec 2010.

    "Graves Gazebo by Dean Graves and Dave Wood"

    Graves Gazebo by Dean Graves and Dave Wood

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    My beautiful best friend Marfa

    by admin

    Once upon a time it started with going to camp at Sherwood Forrest. We flew to Minneapolis and took a 6 hr. bus ride to Deer River. The camp director was Maxine Gunsolly with assistant and companion Helen. I think Maxine was a Pi Phi with Marthe’s mom Georgeanne Dreher.

    "Paula Adams and Marthe Dreher"

    Paula and Marthe en route to Sherwood Forrest Camp, KCI, circa 1973

    Paula: some kind of platform I can’t google on internet for posterity, man hair, polyester with collar (see trendy never pays), macrame by Paula (see handmade). Marthe’s snoopy pudding pillow, corduroy bells, baretraps.

     

    I first fell in love as we all do with Marthe’s beautiful smile, straight hair, tibetan eyes and sense of style. The dry humor and all the sister beauty and Dick Dreher health tips sealed the deal.

    The first day of Jr. high Marthe wore a brown polka-dotted silk once piece skort with brown suede clogs, probably a hand-me-down. I don’t have a picture so I may have to draw one and post it.

    Mothers, fathers, guys, sons, daughters and sadness all came later, and the laughing is forever. That’s all for now.

    Fine women, fine food, fine construction. 5328 W. 67th St.

    by admin
    "Party at Graves"

    Party at the Graves.

    Commentary on the Picture

    Maybe this was Indian Hills but it is one of many parties where we solved our yet to be uncovered issues with food (men, mother, other) with food. I think everyone’s mouth is full in the picture. I’m sure we’ve all now resolved these issues and found our perfect size on our own.  The food was actually not fine at all, lots of sugar and salt, before fruit & ranch dip with veggies.

    Back row:

    Madelyn White, Sally Burger.

    Dana Marshall, Ellen Hanes.

    Liz Frost, Linda Shea, Amber Edwards, Julie Newman, Sarah Jones.

    Cassie Brown, Dee Devine, Emily May, I think Leslie Lane is in there somewhere.

    Commentary on the building era

    See the hammock on the patio? and fireplace with the curved stone wall backdrop?  In quest of environmentalist values and aesthetic, my parents bricked in the lower half of the ski lodge fireplace in the 70s. On the brick hearth they placed a Godin wood stove. It really seemed to mess up the thermostats to me. One time a bird came down the flue and flew around our house. And a squirrel.

    Present owners

    The new occupants own Czar Bar, a music hotspot at 15th and Grand.  Connie Suss, owner of Bijin Salon lives in the Morgan’s old house and Greg is a musician.  I’ve heard that the new owners of my parents house do not live there, but that they use it to entertain.  I’m glad to see they’re all carrying on the creative vibe and party tradition (see Morgan-Graves-Wilkin Circle). Dennis was sitting in the Village with a “Morgan” ballcap on one day. The Czar Bar owner recognized the gallery name, approached him and they met. As well, I was able to live next door to Connie and Greg Suss when Jack, my son, attended Pembroke ’06-’09.

    Scale

    When Jack’s friends from east of Mission Road would come to visit, there was often the assumption that the two houses were one house. They were designed and built at the same time, inter-connected by a fence and common circle drive with a John Buck Sculpture.  After I attended Indian Hills and Shawnee Mission East, I realized that the houses are modest in size by some people’s standards. It made for a certain family “intimacy.” While communal spaces are important, I still believe in as much separate territory as can be accomplished, regardless of size. I had a corner in our unfinished basement where I would read.

    Morgan-Graves houses

    The house was built in 1965, see 5328. Both our home and the Morgan’s were featured in Better Homes and Gardens and the KC Star.  I think my parents made sure that house was in print at least twice a decade. Not that it wasn’t an interesting house, but there were at least six houses of this style in my neighborhood. They were all equally interesting. The architect was Bob Wendt who lived the next block over on 66th Terrace. Bob Wendt had many wonderful houses in Prairie Village. Betsy Curry grew up in a wonderful, large Bob Wendt house off Roe and 83 St, but only my sister Gina has seen this. The construction-related people on 66th and 67th Streets between Fonticello and Nall included the following:

    Bob Wendt, Architect-Builder

    Bob Falkenberg, Falkenberg Lumber, contractor

    Bob Yearick, Architect

    Roger Wilkin, Architect

    Dean Graves, Architect

    Glenn Mistele, basement expert

    Jim Morgan, artist and worked with his hands, thus included.

    Jim Morgan and Dean Graves, assistants to the architect

    Both the Morgans and the Graves worked very closely with Bob Wendt on their houses. While in tandem, each has subtle details on the interior and exterior that set them apart. I think Jim Morgan was a pilot for TWA at the time and thus had the time and eye to expend on design when he was home.

    My father’s first degree was in architectural engineering. His schooling was paid for by the U.S. Marine Corps. Upon graduation and marriage to my mother, he served in the U.S. Marine Corps. He first attended Officer’s Training School in Quantico, Virgina where Gina was born. Two years later, I was born at Camp LeJeune, home of “Expeditionary Forces Readiness.” It was not during wartime, but at one point he was deployed on a ship to the Phillipines for some contretemps. I’m not sure of all the timing. While I know he would have been a noble warrior and done a fine job, I remember asking him about this. He said as the ship was cruising through the Pacific, he thought, “holy smokes! I might just go over here and get shot!” The ship ended up turning around. Anyway, I don’t know the order but at some point he worked for Hallmark. He returned to KU to get his Master of Architecture.  We lived at Johnny Walker apartments which I think was over in Missouri of all places. Thus, he wasn’t really in practice yet when I was five and we moved into this house. Or, he was at least smart enough not to make his first mistakes on his own house. That’s what clients are for. That’s a joke.

    The women

    All of the wives of these men were equally interesting and career-minded: Modelle Wendt, Marjorie Mistele, Ginny Graves, Gwen Falkenberg, and Myra Morgan. Their vocations beyond the home at this time included the following:

    television and runway model

    accordian agent

    the Nelson Art Lady and docent

    all around charming southern belle and soon-to-be gallery owner

    and, the quintessential best mother, Betty Wilkin. She funny and loving and encouraging. She would make incredible lunches like hamburgers and french fries. On the grill!! For lunch!!  She had many other talents in preservation, travel and history. But, when you get the best mom award in this category, no one pays much attention to anything else you do.

    The Hyde’s Bruce Goff House

    Next to the Falkenberg’s was a house designed by Bruce Goff, a student of Frank Lloyd Wright. Bruce Goff became a renowned architect in his own right (see Bruce Goff in Sublette, Kansas).  The Hyde’s (Mark’s dad) lived in this house. I think he was a very specialized eye surgeon.  It was green, multi-sided, and had an ashtray clerestory and sunken living room. The bedrooms were around the perimeter and were entered through sliding glass doors. We had more than one family barbeque at the Hyde’s. Clyde and Marty Nichols also lived in a wonderful Bruce Goff house with spikey things out of the top over by the Nelson.

    The Patterson’s pre-civil War Nall House

    Another interesting house on the street is that of Anne and Craig Patterson. I always call this the Nall House.  It was built before the Civil War and was across the street from my neighbors.  My father did all their architectural work and I babysat for their boys. All different stories, I’ll stop here.

    Bob Falkenberg

    Bob Falkenberg lived down the street, next to the Hyde’s. He was the owner of the best German Construction Co. in Kansas City, Falkenberg Lumber. Bob’s was an incredible design. I don’t think he used an architect. Every detail and material was perfect. The plan had a hallway that angled back in segments. You encountered Nancy and Peco’s bedrooms along the way before leading to a beautiful master suite. Nancy and Pecos each had their own bathrooms.

    The place and time. Falkenberg hallway.

    There was an incident I’ll never forget in that hallway. Pecos (model handsome) was playing music in his room and he had a really nice stereo and headset. I was with Nancy and we heard “Give me an F….Give me a C….” He may have even been playing it for us or let us listen on the headphones, it was so traumatic I can’t remember. Within moments, Bob was in that bedroom and had Pecos thrown up against the wall, headphones ripped out of the stereo and thrown on the floor, so now it was blaring “what does that spell?  FV@k! what does that spell? [repeat]! That’s all I can remember… Gina and I were 10 and 12, two girls. The late 60s for us were Mary Quant makeup bought in London, paper dress parties, and twiggy posters.

    Theirs was the first house I had seen with a huge stainless steel refrigerator and all stainless steel appliances. They added a beautiful atrium Greenhouse that Mr. Falkenberg would work in on the weekends. He would grow things like exotic orchids and tropicals here, and their patio was beautifully landscaped. 20% of the cost of your home should be in landscaping and he certainly exemplified this aesthetic.

    Mr. Falkenberg was very handsome and manly. On Friday nights, he and Gwen always had romantic patio cookouts with cocktails, music, and tenderloin on the grill. Maybe everyone did this in the 60s, but the modern kitchen and sophisticated simple grilling seemed way ahead of its time for Kansas. As mentioned, Gwen was the first woman to pass the bar in the state of Kansas. Her sister was Marilyn Van Derbur, the 1958 Miss America. Gwen was from a family of beautiful women with flaxen hair from Denver. Nancy has this hair. I think there was some story that Bob Falkenberg was in Denver, saw a picture of Gwen in the newspaper, and knew what he wanted. He brought Gwen to Kansas.

    Bob began working with his father who started the company and took the family business into the next generation. Bob’s very long KC client list included an ambassador to England, among other things. He was a constant presence at the Walnuts. My father’s clients would always use Bob Falkenburg. He seemed to take on any project, regardless of size. That is, those that demanded the highest standards of craftsmanship, finishwork, and an honest, efficient work ethic. His longtime colleagues were old school gentlemanly finishworkers who left a room as they had entered it.

    Leslie Yearick, Nancy Falkenberg, Nancy Mistele and I all ran around together at Highlands Grade School.

    Glenn Mistele

    Nancy Mistele’s father, Glenn, was a master at basements.  If your basement flooded, you called Glenn Mistele. He would solve the immediate problem and diagnose the longterm solution. I won’t go into mothers here since I’m on a construction tangent, that will be for a Highlands Grade School post.

    Roger Wilkin

    Roger Wilkin, Peter’s dad, was an architect. I’ll say more about the Wilkin’s in Morgan-Graves-Wilkin Circle. Their house had, what are now called, great rooms that flanked an open kitchen.  All of these houses had exposed beams and pitched roofs. They were open plans, but spaces were still divided into functions, inter-connected but intimate.

    That’s all I have for now. As I add more information or pictures of the houses, I may break this into parts. Thank you for your patience.

    The Puddle Face

    by admin
    "My Puddle Face, Paula Adams, 9"

    My Puddle Face, Paula Adams, age 9

    My mom saved everything and I just found this, kind of scary. So this is what I was thinking about on my 50th birthday, March 11, 2010…I hope I never find the answer and quit trying to figure it out. The learning is too much fun.

    And it keeps me humble when I stumble. I’m striving for something multi-faceted in-between rampant ego with short fuse and a loser who completely loses myself.