Hair-Raising Prices

 The following appeared in The Raymond News - 8/28/1975:

Country Kids

Since we're currently in Colorado for Kayla Lanter's wedding(!), I'm posting an encore of a TBT post from February, 2015 that is about one of my favorite families from Raymond.

(Originally posted on 2/5/15)

Earlier in the week, I saw this recent picture of Carl and Martha Beeler's kids on Facebook (from left -- Rosemary, Moe, Resa, Phillip, Margy, Tom, and Joanie). I swear those Beelers never change and they are all just as cute as ever. Even though they were “country” kids, I've known them for as long as I can remember -- at least 45 years now. Tommy Beeler sat at my table in Kindergarten. Seeing their photo reminded me of a couple of funny stories from when we were growing up. 

It was sometime during grade school that I was invited to a boy/girl party at the Beeler farm in honor of Tom’s birthday. I remember that Martha, and I believe Rosemary and Joanie, were trying to corral all of us. It was mid-March and the spring thaw was underway so there was mud everywhere. After we had cake, they sent us outside (I’m sure Martha was relieved to get us out of the house). All the girls at the party immediately proceeded to pile up together on the porch swing and the chains gave away, tumping us all on the ground. After that, all hell broke loose with girls chasing boys, boys chasing girls, people having cooties, and everyone running amok all over the farm. Being the “city” girl that I was, I didn’t realize that when I fell into the pig pen that the brown stuff in there wasn’t just mud. I proceeded to run through it. Many times. They had to call Mom to come and get me and I was lucky that she let me ride in the car on the way back to town.

In 1977 when I was in 8th grade I volunteered, along with my friends, Pam and Sherri, to be a school cafeteria helper. This meant that every day we got to go over to the high school side of the cafeteria and help serve lunch. That's when we met high school senior, Maurice “Moe” Beeler.  Moe would come through the line and flirt with us. I thought he liked us but he really just wanted extra mashed potatoes and dessert (obviously he was cute AND smart). Pam and I had a major crush on Moe as did probably most of the girls in the school. After all, he was a mysterious older man and he was tall, dark, and handsome.

One day there was quite a commotion in the lunch line and it turned out that Moe was giving away wallet-sized senior pictures. By the time he made his way through the line and got up to the counter, he only had one picture left. He flashed his last senior picture in front of us, and held it there just long enough for us to admire his adorable sideburns and blue leisure suit. Pam and I both asked for the picture, begged for it, while he tantalizingly waved it back and forth in front of us. And then… he… gave it to…PAM! I was crushed. I begged her to give it to me, but she said there was no way she would ever part with that picture.

Moe Beeler's Senior Picture

Later that day, Pam and I walked Sherri home and then the two us continued on to the other side of town. We stopped at Mizera’s Market. Pam didn’t have any money on her and I selfishly bought a Hostess Apple Pie for .30 cents. It was fresh off the truck and the Hostess delivery man had just put it on the shelf. It turns out that Pam was really hungry. As we were walking down Main Street toward home, I told Pam I would trade the Hostess Apple Pie for Moe’s picture. She thought about it. Nope, no way would she do that. I crinkled the package, um-ummm, look at this nice fresh apple pie. No, she would not part with that picture. I opened the corner of the package and waved it under her nose hoping that the aroma of all that wholesome apple pie goodness would influence her. And boom, it did. It got to her. She caved. By the time we got to Convery’s corner, I was holding Moe Beeler in my hand.

And that’s the story of how I got Moe Beeler’s last senior picture. To this day, almost forty years later, when Moe sees Pam and me together, he always tells us that he can’t believe that he’s worth less than a Hostess Apple Pie.

I kept the picture on my bulletin board in my room for a few years. In fact, I still have it somewhere, but in the interest of full disclosure, I must admit that I could not locate the original for this week’s blog. A special thanks goes to Terri Lanter Olack for working some magic and sending me a yearbook copy.

Remembering 9/11

For this week’s TBT Blog, I decided to share a unique perspective of the events that occurred on 911 from several people with connections to the Raymond area. Please note that the italicized text is taken directly from Shelley Lebeck’s personal notes that were written on the evening of 9/11/01.

On Tuesday, September 11, 2001 at 8:45 a.m., I was stuck in traffic in Paterson, New Jersey. About 15 minutes earlier, WCBS 880 traffic reporter, Tom Kaminski, had warned of a crash in the northbound lanes of the Garden State Parkway, so I opted to take Exit 53 (eggzit 53 as they say here in Jersey), and cut through the city of Paterson to get to my job at William Paterson University. Traffic was heavy and had come to a complete stop when I was still at least two miles from the WP campus, located in the city of Wayne. At 8:48 a.m. when Tom Kaminski came back on with his “Traffic on the 8’s” report, it was business as usual. He was in the CBS helicopter hovering over the George Washington Bridge, discussing the typical delays that plague that area, when suddenly he said, “Something has happened here at the World Trade Center, and there’s an awful lot of smoke coming from one of the towers.” While I was used to hearing him report on accidents and other problems, I detected an unusual tone in his voice that I had never heard before; whatever this was, it seemed really serious. 

I immediately thought about Shelley Lebeck who worked on the 44^th floor of WTC 1.  Shelley is my brother-in-law, Tim’s sister (my sister’s sister-in-law), and she grew up in Harvel and graduated from Lincolnwood High school in 1972. I had known her since the mid-70’s when Tim and Susan started dating, and I had been to her office and to the Windows On The World when I visited NYC for the first time in the 90’s. I hoped she was okay. I called Paul and was relieved to hear that he had heard from his friend, Wayne, who worked in lower Manhattan. Wayne said that he heard a Cessna hit the north tower by accident, about ten stories from the top, but that things were under control and they were not even evacuating the buildings. Based on that information, I figured that while Shelley would likely have an interesting story to tell, it didn’t appear that she was in any danger. I continued on my slow journey to work. By the time I was pulling into the parking lot at the university (a few minutes after 9:00), Tom was back on the air again, and this time the serious tone in his voice was unmistakable. A second plane had hit, and WTC 2 was now burning as well.  

Lower Manhattan (Shelley’s Story)
The day started as any other ordinary workday with clear blue skies. I took the bus to work, went inside the WTC concourse to get the paper, and picked up my coffee from the same place and from the same guy where I’ve gone for six years. The guy said, “See you tomorrow.” 

I had already been at work for almost an hour, and was on the phone with my friend and colleague Barbara, just a few minutes before 9:00 a.m., when the building shook violently.  It was as if some big thing pushed the building in [which of course it did] and then it bounced back. It’s hard to say how long it shook, just seconds most likely, but it was unbelievably scary. Our thoughts ran from explosion to earthquake, to a small plane hitting the building, but we didn’t know the truth. I thought the building was going to collapse then, but amazingly, it did not.

My assistant, Maria, and I were stunned. We knew something bad had happened and that we should get out of there. We grabbed our purses, and she left right away, but I wanted to see what was going on.  I walked down the hallway and noticed that debris was flying past the windows from the floors above. A couple of pictures had fallen, smashing the glass, and the water in the toilet had spilled out onto the floor, but everything else seemed okay. I went back to my office, and in my practical nature, I grabbed a bottle of water and some Hershey’s kisses (in case we felt faint after going down the stairs).  Also, since I didn’t know how long we’d be gone, I turned off the computers and the lights, and closed the door. I had a computer backup tape in my purse, which I carried out of the building and back to work every day. Legend has it that I thought to grab the backup tape, or even better went back to get it, but it was in the most practical place it could be -- in my purse. And, for all those who know me, or even those who don’t, yes, I went to the bathroom before I left, knowing it could be quite a while before I had a chance to go again.  I also called my sister, Elissa, who lives in midtown Manhattan, to tell her I was fine and we were leaving. I had also spoken to my fiancé, Tom, after the building stopped shaking.  He told me the building was burning, but it just didn’t register.

Meanwhile, back in New Jersey
News did not travel as quickly back then, before the days of Twitter and widespread social media use. As I entered the building where my office was located, I realized that most of the people on campus remained unaware that a national emergency was occurring a few miles away. I turned on the radio in my office and discovered that the Emergency Broadcast System had been activated. Looking back, I think that for me, hearing the Emergency Broadcast System was one of the most traumatic things about that day. I had gone my entire life hearing that tone on television and radio stations followed by the statement, “this has been a TEST of the emergency broadcast system,” but this time, the tone kept sounding repeatedly, and it was not a test. I was so overwhelmed by the fact that this was an actual emergency requiring the use of this system, that I couldn’t even focus on the announcements that followed. I just remember thinking holy shit, this is real and it must be bad. And then, suddenly, I was very concerned about Shelley. Where was she? 

Back Inside 1 World Trade Center
Then we headed down the fire stairs, Mary, Wayne, and I, and hundreds of other people.  It was quite orderly and calm, no panicked running, but we kept up a good clip. We had heard on the radio that a plane had crashed into the building, but it wasn’t until we were halfway down that we heard the news that TWO planes had been hijacked by terrorists and had crashed into both World Trade Center Towers.  I thought I had felt a rumble while we were walking down, but was not aware until much later that the second plane hit while we were in the stairwell. Still, none of this really registered though, it was too surreal and we were just concentrating on getting out of the building.

The walk down the stairs took about 45 minutes, and there was water rushing through the stairwell on the last couple of floors. There were dozens of police officers, firemen, and other official personnel directing everyone out of the building, and it seemed they had the situation under control.  It is distressing to think of what happened to all the people who were trying to help us. They were urging us on, telling us they knew we were tired but had to keep going and to please move as quickly as we could. My memory has them in a big long line kind of handing us off from one to the next to keep us moving and encourage us.  We came out onto the mezzanine level of 1 World Trade Center, and that’s when we were first really hit with the enormity of the situation. The plaza was covered with rubble, windows were broken and there were bodies within the rubble.

Shelley Lebeck at her office on the 44th floor of 1 WTC

The officials sent us down to the main floor, also covered in water, with water dripping from all kinds of places. We went through the revolving doors into the concourse, which had water raining down from above us for several feet, plus water on the floor. My shoes were soaked at this point, which made it more difficult to move quickly. After getting through the concourse, they headed us out past the PATH train escalators, around a corner, up another escalator, and out to the street. They were urging us to move faster now, and I thought that was plenty scary. Up until then, just concentrating on getting down the stairs and being inside kept us ‘in the dark’ so to speak (there were lights in the stairwell, fortunately), but this urgency was another dose of reality, after the rubble and bodies.

We walked over a couple of blocks, and met up with another one of our colleagues,  Rosalie, but we lost Wayne in the stream of people. It turned out that everyone in my office and the NYSSA offices got out okay. They kept urging people to keep moving, and Mary, Rosalie, and I kept walking north. We could only stop and look briefly to see the two fires, one in the middle of 2 WTC and one higher up in 1 WTC.  At that point, we still didn’t really know what had happened, and were speculating on how long it would be before we got back in the building.

In Midtown Manhattan
Shelley’s sister, Elissa Lebeck, who also grew up in Harvel, moved to NYC around 1960. She lives on the east side of Manhattan one block off 42^nd street, near the United Nations building. On that morning, Elissa happened to be outside on her terrace when she noticed a silver, low-flying plane heading south over Manhattan. She went back inside, and a few minutes later heard the news that a plane had hit the World Trade Center. She was relieved to hear from Shelley right away and continued watching the news in disbelief. When the second plane hit, she went out on her terrace and could see the smoke in lower Manhattan, about four miles away from her apartment. For the next several hours, she stayed in her apartment with Shelley’s fiancé, Tom, near the phone, hoping for an update from Shelley. After both towers had fallen and hours had passed with no word from Shelley, they feared the worst. Did she make it out of the building? And even if she did make it out, would she have had enough time to leave the area before the buildings collapsed? Elissa tried to keep busy by fielding phone calls from concerned relatives and friends, and ironing linen tablecloths and napkins that she had washed after a dinner party the week before.

Harvel, Illinois
Back at home on the Lebeck farm near Harvel, my sister, Susan, was busy helping the kids get ready for school, and Tim was outside working on the combine in preparation for the upcoming harvest season. They had no idea about the attacks in New York until Shelley’s fiancé, Tom, called. They watched the news for a while, and then Tim went back to work, checking in periodically for updates. They were both watching when the south tower collapsed, and that’s when Tim told Susan he thought he just lost his sister. He went back outside and tried to keep busy while Susan waited by the phone for news about Shelley. 

Back in New Jersey
I finally got through to Mom and Sue. There were still no updates on Shelley. We kept the conversation brief so we didn’t tie up the phone lines. At that time, Paul and I were living 15 miles from Ground Zero and we had an eleven-month-old baby at home who was staying with his sister. I left work and found myself in traffic that was even worse than earlier that morning. It seemed everyone was driving slowly and gawking at the black smoke billowing into the sky from lower Manhattan.I realized that I was low on gas and didn’t have any cash. After becoming accustomed to living in a city with 24 gas stations on almost every corner and ATMs/banks everywhere in sight, I was never concerned about running out of gas or not having access to money. On that morning, many gas stations closed due to the news, and the ones that remained open were unable to process ATM and credit card transactions due to the failure of the communication systems. I immediately thought of my dad who rarely let the gas gauge go below the halfway mark, and always kept a folded $50 bill in a special compartment of his wallet. I could just picture him shaking his head at my predicament. I was on fumes when I finally arrived at home, but I made it. Baby Jonathan was happy and blissfully unaware of the tragedy that was unfolding across the river, and I picked him up and hugged him tight. I think I carried him around on my hip for the rest of that day. 

Downtown Manhattan
Not too long after we were safely over by City Hall (this is normally about a 5 minute walk but was at least 10-15 minutes with the crowds), we looked back to see the top third of  2 WTC topple off. A huge cloud of dust and debris started working its way up the street so we moved even faster to get away from it. We kept walking, stopping a few blocks later to rest and get a soda at a deli. We had no idea that the whole building came down, and while we were in the deli, WTC 1 must have collapsed as well. We could see nothing but smoke, and were far enough away that other buildings blocked our view, so we wouldn’t have been able to see the WTC buildings even if they were still standing.

It was so frustrating not to be able to let Elissa and Tom know that I was okay.  All the pay phones had big lines and cell phones were not working; besides I didn’t even have a cell phone at that time. My thought was just to get the heck home, and fortunately, I lived right in the city and had that option. All the subways and trains were completely shut down. There were ambulances and police cars all over the place heading downtown to the scene, but no other vehicles. At one point, Mary, Rosalie, and I separated when Rosalie decided to try to catch a bus to Queens, and Mary was going to wait at the train station until the trains started running to New Jersey again. There were people in line for every pay phone so I kept trudging home. It was a few miles, and being a bit out of shape for a long walk, I was really struggling at the end. I was also getting more anxious as time went by, knowing that people were so very worried about what had happened. Near the corner of my apartment building, I tried one last time to call Tom, but the call didn’t go through. I got upstairs to the apartment and Tom wasn’t there. He was supposed to go to a meeting in Connecticut, so I thought he had left before he knew what had happened. I tried to call my sister but the phones were dead. It was unbelievable to me that I made it home safe and sound, yet I couldn’t let anyone know!

I went next door to see if the neighbor’s phone was working, but it wasn’t.  She had the news on and I sat there for a while and drank a glass of water while she filled me in on what had actually happened. At that point, it was almost noon and I had been out of the building since just after 9:00 a.m. and was just finding out what really happened. When she told me that both buildings had collapsed, I could not even begin to believe the possibility of that. Later, I found out that the first plane hit 1 WTC at 8:48 a.m., and another plane hit 2 WTC about 20 minutes later.  2 WTC collapsed at 10:00 a.m. and 1 WTC collapsed around 10:30 a.m. During that time, the Pentagon was also hit and Flight 93 went down near Shanksville PA.
I went back to my apartment to lie down and relish in the safety of my own little snug, quiet, safe place. Just as I was trying to decide what to do and how to let my sister know I was okay, which would have involved walking another couple of miles, amazingly, the phone rang.  That is one of the many mysteries of the day -- I was not able to call out but Tom got through and let me know he was waiting with Elissa at her apartment. The two of them were extremely glad to hear my voice (understatement of the year). Tom started home, and Elissa said she would call everyone and tell them the news. Luckily, I was able to receive calls, because soon my brother, Alan, called from New Mexico, and my brother, Tim, called from Illinois.  Then, being the practical person that I am, I went out to buy milk and cat food. I had so many calls from people who said they were hoping I was okay, and I have very warm feelings knowing there are so many people who cared. Only as I watched the continuous news coverage did I slowly start to realize how very, very lucky I am to be alive. 

Midtown Manhattan
Elissa and Tom were elated to find out that Shelley was safely at home. Tom left to go home immediately and Elissa called relatives and friends while baking cookies to take over to the nearby fire department, Engine 21, on 41^st Street. She didn’t know it at the time, but the Engine 21 Captain, William “Billy” Burke, whom she knew from the neighborhood, had been killed that morning when he arrived on the scene in lower Manhattan. Elissa said that other than worrying about Shelley's fate, one of the most memorable things about that day was hearing the sirens of all the firetrucks that crossed into Manhattan via the 59^th Street Bridge and the Midtown Tunnel. She remembers hearing the sirens throughout the entire day as truck after truck arrived from cities and towns all across the tristate area. Everyone wanted to help.   

Final Thoughts from New Jersey
In the days following the attack on the WTC, it was shocking to learn that the 911 terrorists were walking among us in plain sight. A group of them had rented a car for their drive to the airport from a car dealership that was located within a 5-minute walk from my office on the WP campus. They also used computers in our university library, which were later confiscated by the FBI, and they lived together in an apartment a few blocks away from where I currently reside.

The first time we went to Manhattan following the attacks was the weekend of 9/22-23 for dinner at Elissa’s to celebrate Shelley and Tom’s birthdays. It was both scary and comforting to see the police in full riot gear armed with assault rifles at the entrances to the Lincoln Tunnel and on the corners of the busy intersections. The smell of burning rubble still filled the city. I had a feeling that things would never be the same again, and I was right. 

A special thanks to Shelley Lebeck for allowing me access to her notes and for being willing to share her experience of being a World Trade Center Survivor. She is currently happily retired and living with her husband, Tom, in Columbus, Ohio.  Elissa still resides in New York in the Tudor City neighborhood, near the United Nations building. 

Small Town Life

Several versions of You Know You're in a Small Town have circulated over the years, and I have always found them to be accurate Following is an example of one:

You know you're in a small town...

• When Third Street is on the edge of town.
• When you write a check on the wrong bank and it covers for you.
• When the undertaker supplements his income with a furniture store (or another job).
• When you miss a Sunday at church and receive a get well card.
• When a 55 year old farmer is referred to as "young Johnson." 
  
• When someone asks you how you feel and listens to what you have to say.
• When the nicest house in town has a beauty salon in the back porch.
• When you drive into the ditch five miles from town and word gets back before you do.
• When you dial a wrong number and talk for fifteen minutes anyway.
• When you speak to each dog you pass by name, and he wags at you.
• When everyone's cap has a seed emblem on it.
• When you don't use your turn signals because everyone knows where you're going.
• When a crowd gathers on Main Street and looks toward the fire house when the siren blows.
• When the banker will figure your taxes if you help him sort through the shoe box...

                                                     -- Author Unknown

Here's a Raymond version: 

You must have grown up in Raymond if you remember:   

• When you only locked the house if you were going away on vacation, and then it took a while to find the key because you hadn't used it for a year or two.
• When Bob Hough, the funeral director, provided the ambulance service and dispatched the police. When someone called the ambulance, Bob responded himself; when someone called the police, Bob flipped a switch that turned on a red light uptown to signal to the cop that he had a call. As soon as the town cop happened to drive on Main Street and see the light, he would go directly to the funeral home to find out where he was needed. 
• When someone had a death in the family, Walch Electric delivered an extra refrigerator to the home to store all the extra food donated by friends and neighbors. 
• When most of the vehicles parked on Main Street during Thursday night men's bowling league were pick-up trucks, and most had the family name painted on the side. 
• When it was easy to  remember all your childhood friends' home phone numbers because they were only four digits.
• When you could make a U-turn on Main Street at the corner of Mizera's Market (it probably wasn't "legal" but everyone did it and no one got in trouble for it).  
• When no one really knew the names of the streets in town because everyone relied on landmarks. 
• When the town cop walked up and down Main Street at night and "jiggled" all the doors of the businesses to make sure they were locked.
• When it was the last day of school, and all the kids (even the "country" kids), rode their bikes to school. 
• When the LHS Band marched all over town on summer evenings, practicing for upcoming parades.
• When kids rode their bikes behind the town bug sprayer. 
• When the White Cottage was packed after basketball games. 
• When the 4th of July fireworks were set off one at a time with a couple of minutes between each one.
• When your dad tied your sled to the back of his pick-up with a rope and pulled you through town on a snow day.
• When it was a treat to go to the Lancer Den for a vanilla soft-serve ice cream cone. 
• When kids were allowed to ride in the back of pick-up trucks. 
• When movies were projected outside on a big screen behind the Legion Hall on summer nights.

A Raymond Landmark

I usually drive to Raymond at least once a 

year, by way of Interstate 70 to Vandalia and then
wind my way up to Hillsboro on Rt. 185. The entire trip is 940 miles, but each mile seems to get longer and longer between Hillsboro and Raymond. After passing by the cemetery, I could easily veer off on the Black Diamond short cut into town, but I prefer to take the long way around, following the curves of Rt. 127 that lead under the viaduct and to the stop sign at the intersection of Rt. 48. From there, it’s only a few blocks to Main Street and then suddenly, there it is, the Cottonwood Tree, towering majestically over the village of Raymond. Finally, I am home.

Even as a kid, I was fascinated by the tree. Depending on the season, it might be flourishing with bright green triangular shaped leaves, or it is stark and gray, its bare crooked limbs reaching, almost painfully, toward the sky. I'm sure it got its start just like any other ordinary cottonwood tree back on the prairie: a small seed floating on a cottony fiber in the breeze, swirling around oak trees and mulberry bushes, escaping all those beady-eyed Blue Jays that snapped at it and missed. It was probably hanging by a thread as it skipped from rock to rock along the banks of the pond that was once located where Sorrells’ Elevator is today. Luckily, the tiny seed came to rest on the dark rich soil that Montgomery County has always been known for, a perfect spot for strong roots to take hold.

To me, the tree has always had a personality; after all, it has been there all those years, overseeing the comings and goings of everyone in town. It has withstood thunderstorms, snowstorms, and debilitating ice storms, and stood by during joyous town celebrations, as well as tragic accidents that occurred on the railroad tracks, just outside its reach. For those who served in the war, the Cottonwood Tree was likely the last thing they saw in Raymond as their train crossed the trestle and rounded the bend south out of town, and the first thing they saw when they returned home as heroes years later.

Experts will tell you that few cottonwood trees live over 100 years. Raymond's Cottonwood Tree is estimated to be over 150 years old. I find it both sad and comforting to know that generations of my family have come and gone, yet the tree still stands. I hope it will be there to greet me for many years to come.

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Following is some of the history of the Cottonwood Tree that was printed in Raymond's 125th Anniversary Book in 1996: 

 Raymond's one and only claim to a landmark is the famed Cottonwood Tree located next to the Wabash tracks on main street. This Cottonwood tree was a small sapling when the City of Raymond was founded, prior to the arrival of the Wabash Railroad in 1871, which resulted in the establishment of Raymond as a town. Joe Henry farmed around the tree, which was at that time on the bank of a pond. About the turn of the century, the trunk of the tree became hollow but remained alive and was used as a storage shelter by the grainman, L.C. McClurg .  He would store his scoop and end gate in the hollow area of the tree. The hollowed area was said to be big enough to enable a man to stand upright in the trunk .

At any rate, the tree was always the center of activity during the community's annual July 4th festivities. The city's cannon was brought out of moth balls on Independence Day and shot off underneath the tree. Wabash railway officials threatened to cut the tree down two or three times, but refrained after receiving protests from the townspeople who have come to prize the old landmark. As late as 1958, the Raymond community exercised their right of petition and presented their formal protest to the railroad officials when the tree was again threatened with removal. With the support of the community and the request of the Town Board, the tree was saved. The tree is on Wabash property, beside the tracks, near the old depot, now a village parking lot. Old timers remember when the sake of the tree was a popular spot to meet and discuss community developments. The tree was a popular vending spot for local fish and watermelon "drummers" (salesman).

One report has it that the tree became hollow as a result of being burned by a bonfire during a Fourth of July celebration . H.H. Weatherford , in an article on April  15, 1897, says that John Bruscoe was killed by the explosion of powder on July 29, 1876, under the cottonwood tree on Main Street. Bruscoe was the proprietor of the local hotel. As one searches through reams of paper, conflicting stories are found , as to what actually happened.