Today, October 14, 2021, would have been Charlie Bandy's, 100th Birthday! In honor of the occasion, I'm sharing this blog post about my dad, that was originallly published in April, 2014:
While on a recent shoe shopping trip with my thirteen year old son, I had a sudden realization: the kid has Bandy feet. As we walked out of the store with his brand new sneakers, size 11.5, I thought back to a minor crisis in our family in 1971 when my dad had trouble finding dress shoes to wear with his tuxedo for my brother's wedding. He wore size thirteen or fourteen and back then, it was uncommon for men to wear that large of a size. In fact, none of the stores in Hillsboro, Litchfield, or even Springfield carried sizes that big in dress shoes, and the shoes for the wedding had to be special-ordered from St. Louis. Traveling down there was a big deal, and I remember riding in the back seat of our red Chevy Impala from Bandy's Chevrolet (It's a dandy if it's from Bandy), and pestering dad to turn up the KXOK a little louder, so I could hear Heart of Gold by Neil Young through the static.
While growing up, I had heard a lot of stories that involved dad's feet. Like the time when a tornado touched down in Raymond right at the intersection of Route 48 and 127. It happened on April 24, 1937 when Dad and grandma were living in a second floor apartment in a brick building on Main Street (located where the current fire department and ambulance building is today). Grandma owned and operated Bandy's Cafe, the restaurant directly below the apartment. As the storm grew worse, Grandma became concerned that the strong winds might blow in one of the plate glass windows in the front of the restaurant. She woke up dad (a sophomore in high school) at 1:30 a.m., not to send him to safety in the cellar, but to have him lie down in front of the plate glass window and use his feet to push against the glass and hold it in place. The window stayed in and there was no damage to the restaurant, but a large section of Raymond sustained considerable damage as the tornado swept North through town. Fifteen homes were damaged and the power and phone services were cut off. Traffic on Route 48 was halted for eight hours. The worst damage occurred a few doors down from Bandy's Cafe at the intersection of Broad Street and the highway, where Haarstick Implement Company, the pool room, the tavern, and Guthrie's Jewelry Store were located.
Dad was fitted for Army boots on November 20, 1942 and began his journey "across the pond" on the Queen Mary on May 27, 1943. Not long after arriving in Europe, he got separated from his unit, and unknowingly walked across a live mine field. Apparently his drill sergeant was both upset and impressed that Bandy had made it across that $%^#* field with those big #$%*^# feet of his (needless to say, dad was not fond of his drill sergeant). Luckily, he managed to stay out of harm's way and two and half years later, those feet were planted firmly on the the deck of the S.S. Exchange as it sailed back into New York Harbor. Most of the men in his unit were from the Northeastern part of the country and planned to stay in New York City to celebrate their discharge. My dad and his big feet went straight home to Raymond.
A few years after the war, my brother Joe and Rex Pitchford were born within a day or so of each other at Hillsboro Hospital. Joe was born first, and the next day, Cecil Pitchford brought Frances to the hospital. Dad was there visiting, and the privacy curtain was pulled around mom's bed, exposing only dad's feet. As Frances was being wheeled down the hall to the delivery room, she glanced at the feet under the curtain and said, "Well, Charlie Bandy, what are you doing here?" She told him that she was sure it was him behind that curtain because she would know those feet anywhere.
I've heard other stories too, like how the Raymond Bowling Alley had only one pair of bowling shoes that would fit both dad and Rise' Johnson's dad, who also wore a large size. Apparently it was a weekly race to see whose family could get uptown first on Sunday night to get that pair of shoes first. Eventually, Dad bought his own bowling shoes, and kept them in a locker at the bowling alley. The size of his feet was always a running joke at the firehouse, and he had his very own pair of fire boots because no one else could wear them.
I can't say for sure if my son will make it all the way up to a size thirteen or fourteen, but it looks promising. I think it would be great to have another pair of those feet in the family.
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