WSU News Conference (& history of Spokane)

[ZagNative]

By the way, the name of the little grocery store Joe Rooney ran on Hamilton between Augusta and Nora was the Locust Food Market. Joe had the most incredible robins' egg blue eyes, and he was always crabby and impatient. Had a great selection of penny candies, to which, as DogTownKid points out, I was known to help myself when Joe was back in the butcher shop. No wonder he was crabby all the time ... Still feel kind of bad about that.

Which brings me to another fond memory that nevertheless elicits some guilty feelings: The old Heath Library west across the street from St. Al's. Great building with plank floors. I really believe that there are no outstanding fines remaining there on my library card, but I nevertheless feel a sense of regret about seeming to find it eternally difficult to return my stash of books without ransoming myself out of the doghouse.

[ZagNative]

ahhhh ski jogging, of course . . .

Gamagin, what a great memoir! I'm right there with you, hanging on that back bumper in the chill winter air.

We favored Morton Street for our ski-jogging. Two or three of us would stand across the street from each other, and as a car approached and could see us, we'd raise an imaginary rope stretched across the street, and when the car screeched to a stop, our buddies would come out from behind the bushes and latch on. Having the driver stop and yell just added to the allure and adventure.

[kjstoph1]

Yup.

Stoph, what the heck do you know about ski-jogging in the Gonzaga neighborhood? Weren't you south hill Spokane? Was it you who was the mastermind behind closing off Howard aside LC and establishing the west campus of LC?

LOL - i'm just messing with you all. "Ski-jogging and Hookey-bobbing" were used interchangeably. But up on the South Hill, we had chauffers and servants who pulled us behind the Bentleys. :-)

And, yes, rumor has it that yours truly had a hand in closing Howard Street but it was Mrs. Spokane Hutchison who 'masterminded' the campus - I was but a mere disciple of her vision.

[gamagin]

kjstoph1 wrote . . .

<<LOL - i'm just messing with you all. "Ski-jogging and Hookey-bobbing" were used interchangeably. >>

calling it the second choice above would be akin to a French accent in Idaho. Or hearing a Yale graduate try to talk like a native texan. You know ? It just rings hollow.

I need to apologize for accusing someone north of Mission, east of the Mission bridge or above Illinois for making such a claim. and mothers and nuns, too. I should have known better.

It was you, A south sider. a cake eater.

The sort of person who had more than one uniform. more than two shirts and sweaters. his/her own underpants drawer. matching sox. whose clothes were ironed. who had an allowance. who had beautiful cheerleaders.
braces.

I could go on, but I'm making myself sick. you probably had our own room.

I'm going to stop irritating myself. clear my palate with altar wine. then serve mass and try to forget this whole "incident" and my part in it as well as pray for you, sir (mam) that you ditch that term for the foreign language it reveals.

think in terms of watching some young white kid walking around pretending to be a gang banger from the hood. Only his hood is in the gated community while the real banger's hood is a tenemant, or sitting on wheels in dogtown.

[kjstoph1]

No grounds on which to argue

<<LOL - i'm just messing with you all. "Ski-jogging and Hookey-bobbing" were used interchangeably. >>

calling it the second choice above would be akin to a French accent in Idaho. Or hearing a Yale graduate try to talk like a native texan. You know ? It just rings hollow.

I need to apologize for accusing someone north of Mission, east of the Mission bridge or above Illinois for making such a claim. and mothers and nuns, too. I should have known better.

It was you, A south sider. a cake eater.

The sort of person who had more than one uniform. more than two shirts and sweaters. his/her own underpants drawer. matching sox. whose clothes were ironed. who had an allowance. who had beautiful cheerleaders.
braces.

I could go on, but I'm making myself sick. you probably had our own room.

I'm going to top irritating myself. clear my palate with altar wine. then serve mass and try to forget this whole "incident" and my part in it as well as pray for you, sir (mam) that you ditch that term for the foreign language it reveals.

think in terms of watching some young white kid walking around pretending to be a gang banger from the hood. Only his hood is in the gated community while the real banger's hood is a tenemant, or sitting on wheels in dogtown.

We southies attempt to bear the cross of privilege and bloodlines with humility.

More than one uniform? - Nope, none at all...those were the kids at All Saints who we targeted with snowballs from our fortresses.

Braces - check - all the better with which to eat our cake and Texas Donuts from Sigman's IGA - 35 cents for the finest bakery goods in town.

Beautiful cheerleaders - check....the curse of LCHS - though I am also quick to admit the gals at John Rogers were, shall we say, "attractive" in their own big-haired, tight sweater, certain moral casualness kind of way...

Ironed clothes - check...after surviving the lambasting of a mother's rant of "What? Is your arm broken? Iron it yourself."

[ZagNative]

I need to apologize for accusing someone north of Mission, east of the Mission bridge or above Illinois for making such a claim. and mothers and nuns, too. I should have known better.

It was you, A south sider. a cake eater.

The sort of person who had more than one uniform. more than two shirts and sweaters. his/her own underpants drawer. matching sox. whose clothes were ironed. who had an allowance. who had beautiful cheerleaders.
braces.

I could go on, but I'm making myself sick. you probably had our own room.

Good God, Gamagin, it's obvious you were snatched at birth from our home on Baldwin Avenue. Not surprisingly, no one noticed you were gone. Easy come, easy go. Doesn't sound as if the abducter did you any favors, though, stashing you under a cabbage leaf south of Mission. You had the same steenkin' (literally) single uniform we did North of Mission, the same shared bedroom. Did you buy your uniform at Mrs. Hill's house on Indiana and Dakota, from the garage in back? Or was there another uniform outlet south of Mission?

I suppose that in your new family you also did not escape the nightly Rosary to pray for peace, kneeling together in the living room.

Did you also sing in the St. Aloysius Grade School Choir? In my day, we sang Gregorian Chant at a Latin Mass for each and every funeral at St. Al's. I remember singing at funeral Masses where we in the choir were the only people in the church aside from the deceased, the priest and altar boys serving the Mass, and a handful of regulars who happened to be there for daily mass. If you died in St. Al's Parish, you'd at least have the St. Al's choir to give you an escort to the gates of Paradise.

My favorite chant from those funerals: Dies Irae (click to listen to a Midi file that will take you back in time). Hey! It ain't Sam Cooke's You Send Me, but that's a song for another day.

[gamagin]

ZN: point-counterpoint

ZN: << Good God, Gamagin, it's obvious you were snatched at birth from our home on Baldwin Avenue. >>

Like one of those families in "The grapes of Wrath," we actually migrated right through your neighborhood and continued south from Hillyard to Boone Avenue. Railroad stock, we were. My grandpa was an engineer. He was killed in a rockslide in Montana in 1916, plunging the family from middle class straight into poverty. education was the only way out. It took them most of their adult lives because first they had to earn enough $$ to go to school, but they all attended, eventually & graduated College. those who survived.

ZN: << Not surprisingly, no one noticed you were gone. >>

No one in my family ever noticed when I was gone. Or there. It was heaven for me. total freedom.

ZN: << Did you buy your uniform at Mrs. Hill's house on Indiana and Dakota, from the garage in back? Or was there another uniform outlet south of Mission?>>

You had a "new" set of salt an peppers/skirts? and new shirts ? That didn't happen to me until about the fifth grade, when a few of the older bros got jobs. I was the youngest of five. I grew into a bigger brother's pair. Or bought someone else's who had grown out of them. Or, more likely, I wore a "donated" pair which would appear at our door, or at the school, church basement or in a box somewhere. It was always an empowering moment for me to have to try on a pair in a hall somewhere; or to have some jerk ask if the pants i was wearing "used to be mine -- they look like the ones my mom gave to the rectory."

I didn't have to worry about breaking them in at any rate. Or worry about stains. All done for me, in advance of my "ownership," by anonymous people. pre DNA, I had no idea what "it" was that couldn't be washed away. talk about "ready to wear." Or stone washed. or patches. We were WAY ahead of the trend curve . . .

All five of us had the same first communion suit. My mother, I think, bought it new for my oldest brother. there were more pins in that suit than there was fabric by the time it got to me.

ZN: <<I suppose that in your new family you also did not escape the nightly Rosary to pray for peace, kneeling together in the living room.>>

Yes, we prayed south of mission. Mostly at church, which was nearby. efforts to get us to say the rosary generally did not work. There were devotions, stations, first fridays, special masses for the dead, the living, the missing, those in limbo, those hoping to get to limbo on their way to (1) heaven or (2) elsehwere, Italians, irish, those not mentioned, plus that catch all "special intentions."

ZN: << Did you also sing in the St. Aloysius Grade School Choir? >>

Obviously you are of the female persuasion. I wouldn't be caught dead singing in a choir. Although I was caught and forced into singing (mouthing the words) once or twice for recitals. We served mass, drank from the cruets before mass and occasionally used this fine special blend to wash down a (unblessed) wafer or two to keep a body and soul together (so to speak) on a cold day. Or a warm day for that matter.

<< If you died in St. Al's Parish, you'd at least have the St. Al's choir to give you an escort to the gates of Paradise.>>

if we were lucky, we servers also got a buck or two for serving at funerals/weddings etc. If we didn't we went to the reception anyway.

Come to think of it, we went to the most receptions anyway, whether we served or not. Great place to see how the other half lived, grab a meal and generally be happy or sad with the crowd.

A favorite time of the year was the Novena of grace. Served it, too, many times. And other times I sold Novena of grace booklets (pamphlets?).

they were supposed to be 10 cents, if I remember correctly. However, we would NEVER have the right change, whether it was a quarter, a 50-cent piece or even a dollar.

that way folks would give us a quarter and wait for change. "Sorry," I'd say. "I haven't got any change."

"Keep it," would always be the wonderful, profitable, retort.

And I did.

Nothing like a good shakedown to help a Novena attendee feel like he/she is entering the day's session with a giving, open spirit, I rationalized.

Yes, we learned alot from the Jesuits. Most of it good. Some of it unintended (by them) about just exactly how to get a good Catholic to empty his wallet and feel good about it in the process.

[Birddog]

Did you buy your uniform at Mrs. Hill's house on Indiana and Dakota, from the garage in back

Hmmmmm, not sure I remember that, although there are faint memories of somebody having a biz like that. I do remember them having either samples or actual product lined up on tables in the cafeteria/auditorium when we did the annual registration. I also remember buying the required "salt and pepper" cords up at the JC Penney on Division near Indiana. I must have had it pretty good, I remember having two sets of cords, usually one was new, and the other leftover from the year before. Mom would buy them new with cuffs then let out the cuffs the next year if I grew. Most of us weren't exactly "fashion plates", esp with those tell tale thread lines and the "new" look of the fabric where the cuffs had been. I always had 3 shirts, a white one for special days, and usually a light blue one and a tan one for everyday use. Mom always got pretty agitated if I wore that white one on anything but a special day. Of course these were worn under the required (except for Sept and May) "V" neck Navy blue sweater. Girls of course didn't have so many options, theirs was always just a navy jumper with a white blouse, cardigan sweater optional. There were failed attempts from time to time to ban tennis shoes (the smell) and loggers (the supposed marks) Cleats of all sizes and shapes were of course banned. It was no problem matching socks, when everyone one of them was white. The only problem arose when for reasons unknown to me they would fail to make it to the dirty clothes pile, and they would have to be recycled without a wash.

I sang in the Choir for 3 years, 6th, 7th, and 8th. Well I didn't really sing in the 8th grade, at least not towards the end. Since I took music lessons too (piano and violin, 3 years orchestra) I had a pretty good handle on reading music and all the terms. I think It was Sr Gretchen Mary that led the choir, but I could be wrong. Anyway, in 8th grade at practices, she kept giving me the sign for Pianissimo (quieter) . She would make eye contact and give me the sign. Finally one day, I stopped singing altogether and just mouthed the words. She gave me a big smile with an energetic thumbs up signaling "just right". At first I was somewhat crushed with hurt sensibilities. Later on I figured this might have had something to do with my voice changing. I always dreaded those class recitals, probably even more than the parents. I had to sing with the class and then play in the orchestra, and then butcher some solo on either the violin or the piano. At the beginning of 8th grade I convinced my mom, that despite all the rave revues from my music teachers (they claimed I had untapped musical talent) that I really had a better future if I devoted my spare time to sports and athletic pursuits. I felt free, since 4th grade I had been miserably slaving away at the piano and violin with little to show for it IMO. After 3 years, I was only 2nd chair violin, that should have been sign enough.

Birddog


PS, how'd we forget to mention Willie Wiley in this thread. Hell, I bet he skijogged barefoot.

[gamagin]

I think I have it . . .

BD & NZ: You were the guy(s) next to me on the bumper of some car, freshly ironed salt and peppers, v-neck sweater (dry cleaned), new coat, with brand new loggers, freshly greased, on your way to choir, or band practice.

You were singing and holding a violin case under one arm, as I recall.

I was heading down to molers to get a haircut in the free line, afterwhich I planned to sneak into the Fox for a movie before returning.

those were the days, eh ?

[Birddog]

This could be posted under Catholic Grammar School, but prolly has more local history so I put it here.
KOA (Knights of the Altar) CHECK (6th, 7th, & 8th grades) This was also my first gig as a Somelier as you always asked the Priest if he wanted Red or White (if you didn't already know) At St Als, we used Novitiate Wine http://www.jesuitscalifornia.org/NET...=392&srcid=184

http://www.testarossa.com/nHist.html

Sampled the wine: CHECK (I preferred the white back then)

Sampled the unconsecrated hosts: CHECK (they were kept in large cellophane or plastic wrapped bags. Once in awhile we would score the big ones the priest used)

Bookcovers from grocery bags: CHECK (When we hit Prep, a select few of us had some really cool ones made from Budweiser advertising paraphernalia donated by a local legend. Some one raised a ruckus though,and we had to remove them.)

PB&J sandwiches: CHECK I think I had a PB&J damn near everyday except right after Thanksgiving (turkey) and after Easter (egg salad).Mom made her own grape jelly from the vines that grew alongside the driveway, the Peanut Butter was usually Skippy (my favorite and the sponsor of the TV show "You Asked For It" with host Art Baker. We NEVER had "Wonder Bread" in our house, my mom figured that any bread that could be rolled up into a little ball the size of a large marble probably had little in the way of nutritional value despite the claims that it "helped build strong bodies 8 (later12) ways" In the early days, our bread was delivered to the door twice a week by the "bread man" from MaryAnn Bakery. We rarely had white bread, it was usually some sort of multi grain. When they stopped home delivery, I believe it was the Pollyanna Bakery" located on the W side of Division between Nora and Indiana (IIRC) that took up the slack. They soon gave up on the delivery and we had to go to their store. They also made pizza crusts and supplied "Augusts" with them. There were other bread co.s that delivered, I think "Boge's" (in the blue gingham wrapper" was one.

We also had milk delivered to the door twice a week. We were a "Carnation" house, and he also supplied us with eggs,OJ, butter, cream, and half and half.
Our delivery was made via the alley, and as kids we took great delight in waiting for the milkman to take his product up to the back door and and while he was there we would sneak into the back of his truck and "steal" some ice.
"Early Dawn",Arden, and "Darigold", also delivered, but they always used the street in our neighborhood. When door to door was discontinued, we switched over to Benewah, the ones with the "Milk Bottle" store, one was downtown on or near W 1st, the other was on Garland. They had other non "milk bottle" stores (one was on Division in the vicinity of "Low Cost") but those were the only ones I remember as "Milk Bottles". http://images.google.com/imgres?imgu...%3Den%26sa%3DG

When the milk delivery ceased it meant no more fresh eggs, so my mom found a Mr Johnson of Johnson's Egg Farm and arranged for him to come by about every 2 weeks with 12 dozen eggs (his minimum). Mom would then redistribute the eggs to friends and family (with no up charge). That went on for years.

Dad would also buy a side or quarter of beef from time to time, and since this predated the widespread availability of a home freezer, the beef and the occasional deer or elk was stored up on Sinto and Division, at the Penguin Lockers. This was a business that for a fee supplied you with a cubicle in their huge freezer room. I think maybe they also were a butcher shop. Once a week we would go up there and get whatever we needed. As College students living in a house in 68/69 we also did this, one of the last lockers in town was located just on top of the N hill between Hamilton and Division, near Bridgeport and Addison.

Most of the moms, were stay at home back then. You could rest assured that there was always a set of eyes on the kids as they played in the alley or near the street. We all walked or rode bicycles to school. Even as a kindergartener, I walked to Logan School (there was no kindergarten at St Al's) from Sinto and Hamilton. We walked up the W side of Hamilton. I would wait at Nora and Hamilton for some other kids that lived up on Augusta and Nora and we would continue on to Logan gaining a kid or two every few blocks, until there were about 10 of us. We would then cross the street at the light on the N side of Illinois, to deviate from this route would have resulted in big punishment from all the parents. We were in the AM session, and when walking back home, we would always stop at one of the various places that sold penny candy, There was one on Hamilton just N of Illinois ( it might have been the white frame building on the corner of Montgomery and Hamilton with the big Ghirardelli mural on the side), the Cottage further down, and the Locust Food Store near Augusta. It's hard to believe in this day and age that 5 and 6 year olds were allowed to walk the 8, 9, or 10 blocks to school and do so in relative safety. Everybody kept an eye out for us. The people that ran the Cottage were esp observant as I recall. I remember once in awhile I had permission to stop at another kid's and they were the first people to have a TV that I knew of. When we arrived at his house, it was always right at the start of "The Guiding Light" and the music and intro was always on.

Birddog

[Dogtownkid]

Ah, yes, Willie Wiley...

We lived in Coplen Park during the 40's. (Okay, so that doesn't qualify as "Dogtown," but probably no one on this board remembers Coplen Park, whereas Dogtown is still in existence. Actually, we always figured Coplen Park was a cut above Dogtown, and it was nice to have people to whom we could feel superior.)

We used to explore the foothills, and one day we met Willie Wiley. I was busy starting a fire in the underbrush or something, and my brothers were off talking to Willie. Later they told us that Willie had informed them that he believed in free love. We weren't entirely clear about the exact nature of free love, but we knew that it was a pretty advanced idea.

[WhitemoonG]

As for memorable things Spokane, no longer in business, I didn't see the one easily highest of all in the firmament, namely

NAT PARK!

Remember the cute little wooden train ride?


Good old Smilin' Sylvan, West 227 Riverside!


Anybody remember good old Saturday AM cartoon host, Captain CY? Any idea what happened to him?

Remember Herb Hunter, voice of the Spokane Indians, later turned Dick Wright?


Oh, that Starlit Stairway phone number, PERMANENTLY embedded in the cerebral memory banks of any kid growing up in Spokane in the 50's thru early 70's,

is FAIRFAX 8 1521



NOT 5 1521.



If somehow in some future high stakes cloak and dagger spy scenario, it was vital to discern if someone was really an Inland Empire/Spokane/CDA native, or at least lived here in that era, if asked what the number for the Boyle fuel company was, and they say "Fairfax 8 1521" you KNOW they're for real. If they don't know that, they might still be legit, but it is immediately a stronger possibility that they may be an imposter!




Another question: What did "Boge Brothers" make?



Answer: Boge Brothers Bake Better Bread!



Dr. Ross Dog Food is Doggone Good!