Eric Rucker For District Attorney

The crushing heat during the dog days of a Kansas summer is brutal but it’s nothing compared to the heat coming out of the District Attorney’s race. I’m talking primarily about the fight between Eric Rucker and current District Attorney, Robert Hecht.
I’ll tell you straight up I’m backing Eric Rucker in this fight and I’ll tell you why. Before I do though, I want to make it perfectly clear that I believe both of them are good and honorable men who believe in what they are doing. I just think they have different priorities.
Robert Hecht has been in the business for about as long as I’ve been alive, so as far as experience goes, he takes a back seat to no one. He’s taken on and has brought down several corrupt politicians and dirty cops. And like he says, he operates without favor or fear.
But has all that made Topeka a safer place to live? Not really. Hardly a day goes by that we don’t read about another murder, another shooting, another beating, another rape, or another robbery. The list goes on and on. How about property crimes? How many times does someone have to get caught breaking into someone’s car or house before they face any kind of consequences? The owners of local gas stations and convenience stores have more or less been left to fend for themselves because the DA’s office says that gasoline drive offs aren’t worth prosecuting. Maybe they’re not, I don’t know. It just seems weird to me that someone can be caught red handed stealing gas and the cops won’t do anything about it because they know the DA won’t prosecute the case. No, I don’t believe it’s all Robert Hecht’s fault and I’m not saying it is. Maybe that’s just the way the system works, who knows?
The deal breaker for me though was the Harold Spencer case. Harold Spencer is the 75 year old pedophile who plead guilty to raping two little 6 and 7 year old girls. According to the sentencing guidelines this man should have faced two life sentences. Instead, judge Mathew Dowd gave him three years of low level probation. How is that justice? How does it keep him from doing it again? It doesn’t.
No, I don’t blame Robert Hecht for the actions of a miserable judge like Mathew Dowd. I do blame him for agreeing to stand silent for the sentencing in this judge’s courtroom though. Defending his decision to stand silent, Mr. Hecht said he had never seen nor was he aware of any case, anywhere, where the proscribed sentence was two life terms in prison and the court grants probation instead. That’s probably a true enough statement. But Mr. Hecht has to know that this judge has an extensive history of being lenient on child rapists. Mr. Hecht rolled the dice and bet that judge Dowd would finally do the right thing, and once again a child rapist goes free.
It’s no secret the cops don’t like Robert Hecht. The way they see it, the DA has become more of an adversary than a partner in fighting crime. That’s why they’ve decided to back Eric Rucker in this race. Mr. Rucker has a long history of creating working relationships with the K.B.I., the Kansas Highway Patrol, several county sheriffs and city police departments all across Kansas. Isn’t that the way it should be?
One more thing before I wrap this up. I know that political campaigns get ugly. But for Robert Hecht to claim that Phil Kline would have an influence in the Shawnee County District Attorney’s office and that Eric Rucker and Phil Kline would make a dangerous team would be more credible if we had at least one abortion clinic in Shawnee county. Nice try though.
I’m well aware that some of you aren’t going to like what I’ve written here today. So be it. Just keep in mind, this is my opinion and it has nothing to do with the views of the Topeka Metro News. If you’ve got something to say you need to take it up with me, not them. And you can do just that by going to my online blog at www.rm235.blogspot.com or you can e-mail me at kevinmcginty@sbcglobal.net.

A Kansas Ghost Town: Hitschmann, Part Four

About a quarter mile east of Hitschmann is an old, abandoned farm house. It’s where Vernon and Jo Ann Krier lived raised their four kids, Jay, Mike, and Darrell. They also had a daughter, but once again I can’t remember her name. You couldn’t tell it by looking at the place today, but it was once full of life. I remember trying to ride the calves and sneaking into the chicken house to scare the crap out of the chickens. We thought it was fun, but Jay’s dad didn’t exactly see it that way and put a halt to it. They had a huge barn out back we used to play in and I remember when they’d put up hay. Starting at the top we used to dig out the bales and built this huge network of secret tunnels complete with secret rooms, secret passwords, and unless you knew what they were there was no way you were getting in. But once again, Jay’s dad just had to get involved. When he saw how many of the bales we had destroyed in the process of building our secret hideout he had a fit. He didn’t much care about the adventures we were having or the fact that in order to enter our hideout he needed the secret password. Now Vernon wasn’t exactly the kind of guy to beat around the bush. He told us that if we didn’t get out of there right now he was going to beat both of us till we couldn’t walk. He meant it and we knew it. So much for that bright idea. I remember Jay’s mom sending us out to pick mulberries so she could make a pie with them. Now I don’t remember if we ever actually got back with enough berries to make a pie with because we usually ate them about as fast as we picked them. Looking back, I think his mom was probably doing what she could to keep us out of trouble with Jay’s dad.
I backed out of the driveway and headed back the way I came. I still wanted to see the old house we lived in. It was about five miles north of town, nothing special, just a small, two bedroom house out in the middle of nowhere. We called it the lease house because my dad worked as a pumper in the oilfields and the old house sat on one of the oil leases he took care of. I wish I’d taken this trip earlier. I can’t tell you how disappointed I was to find out it had been torn down years ago. But I did pull into the driveway and walked around for a while. I stood in the spot where the bedroom I shared with my three brothers used to be. Yeah, those were good times. I was the oldest and my brothers pretty much had to do whatever I told them because back then I could easily beat them up and they knew it. The old garage that caught on fire was gone. The spot where my dad used to put in his garden is overgrown with weeds and the old building he used to put up the potatoes he grew is long gone too. I stood in the spot where our living room had once been. As soon as I got home from school I’d sit on the couch and watch “Major Asrto,” it was an afternoon children’s show. Most of you reading this today have probably never heard of him. But back in the day, Major Astro was about the coolest friend a kid could have. I hated it when the news came on. We were in this living room as Walter Cronkite told us the news of the day. I remember my dad getting quiet and telling us kids to either shut up or go outside when was talking. I remember seeing my mom cry one day after he had been on the air for what seemed like all day. I didn’t find out until years later that Walter Cronkite was keeping us informed as the “Cuban Missile Crisis” unfolded and that my mom had been crying because she had been watching the coverage of President Kennedy’s funeral. Like most Americans in those days they were scared and worried about the future of the country. I had no idea.
I picked up a copy of a book written by Daniel Fitzgerald titled “Faded Dreams” the other day. It was the same book the guy from the elevator in Hitschmann showed me. It’s full of stories about Kansas ghost towns and on pages 161-162 is his story about Hitschmann. He did a good job of gathering the facts about the town and talking about it’s history. But now, if I can borrow a phrase from Paul Harvey, you know the rest of the story.
Well guys, that’s about it. If there’s anyone out there with a similar story and would be interested in sharing it, I’d love to talk to you. Oh, one more thing, Misty, it’s 6:00 and almost time to rock! You ready?
You can contact Kevin McGinty by e-mail at: kevinmcginty@sbcglobal.net or you can see more pictures of this trip and join in on the conversation by visiting his online blog at: www.rm235.blogspot.com

Vernon And Jo Ann Krier's Old House

This is where my friend Jay lived. It's funny, our stories were about the same. Our dads drank a lot. And I'm not talking about just having a few beers. I remember many 90 m.p.h. trips home from this old house. About four years after we moved away my parents ended up getting divorced and his followed the same path a few years later.

The Old Lease House

This is where we used to live. I realize there's not much to show you here but it was a good place to call home. I have so many memories about this old place I'm not even sure where to start.

One thing that's always stuck with me is the sound of a Meadow Lark singing it's song. Even today, if I hear one it takes me back to what used to our front porch.

One Of My Dads Old Wells

This well is about a quarter mile north of the lease house and I remember when they drilled it.

Another One Of His Wells

This one is probably about 100 yards south of the one I just told you about and yes, I remember it like it was yesterday. You see, my dad started taking me to work with him from almost the time I could walk and we continued that way until I was about 10 years old I guess.

Dubuque Kansas

About 3 or 4 miles north of our old house was the thriving town of Dubuque. The only thing there today is St. Catherine's Catholic Church, the Priest's house, and a community center.

Now that I think about it, that's all there ever was.

St. Catherine's Catholic Church

You can see this old church for miles around.

I never told this part of the story but I showed these pictures to my aunt a coule of weeks ago and she told me about the time when her and my mom went to school there.

Dubuque Community Center

This is the third of three buildings that make up the town of Dubuque Kansas.

Another Oil Well

No, I don't have a story about this well. I just thought it was cool.

Still Drilling

I left Dubuque and took dirt roads most of the way back to Great Bend and was so glad to come across this rig. As far back as I can remember my dad worked 2 jobs. He worked as a pumper during the day and worked "evening tower" as a roughneck. And yes, I went to work with him on the rigs too.
Tell me, do you remember seeing your first sunrise? I do and it was from from one of these rigs. I was asleep in the dog house and my dad woke me up to show it to me. It was the most amazing thing I had ever seen. We sat there as the sky started turning blue then the reds and pinks started coming through. I wish I would have thanked him for it while I there was still time.

Dead Tree

The old dirt road I was eventually took me through what's called Cheyenne Bottoms. And that road led back to Great Bend.

Cheyenne Bottoms

If you drive through Cheyenne Bottoms without seeing a bunh of birds, you're not paying attention.

Road To Great Bend, At Least I Was Really Hoping So Anyway

Well guys, that's about it. There were a lot of things I didn't get to. Maybe one day I'll get to the rest of it.

Hitschmann: A Kansas Ghost Town, Part Three

Before we get started today, I’d like to take a couple minutes to respond to the letter published in the Metro last week written by Richard L Sallman. Richard you asked me if our sovereignty extends out 60 miles into International Waters. Okay, you got me there. Truth is, I don‘t know. Maybe I need to be a little more careful the next time I start running my mouth. Now about the coal. Richard, it’s not that I’m blasé about coal as a source of energy. It’s more like I understand that as a Nation, we depend on it just as we depend on a reliable, uninterrupted supply of natural gas and oil just to survive. And the truth is, no one has really come up with a workable replacement. You asked me to check a out cover story in Time Magazine about the 40 pounds of mercury coming from each coal-fired power plant. Sorry Richard, I’d read it but I doubt it would change my mind. I’ve watched Time Magazine preach the gloom and doom, end of the world stuff for the last 40 years and I‘d be more than happy to provide a few examples of what I mean by that, but that‘s another story for another time. Richard, I doubt you and I will ever agree on such matters but I do thank you for taking the time to respond, it was a good letter.
Okay, now where were we? Oh yeah, the old school in Hitschmann. After finally getting the pictures inside the school I was after I wandered around outside for a while. I walked around the old playground and stood in the middle of what used to be the soft-ball diamond. Other than the old back-stop there’s not much left to suggest it was ever anything other than a hay field. Oh there are so many memories to talk about but we need to get going.
I walked across town and found myself standing in front of what used to be Artie Beck’s house. You wouldn’t know it by looking at the place today, but we used to have some great adventures at that old house. Artie lived there with his mom and dad, Art and Lucielle, two brothers Freddie and Jerry, and a sister, Becky or was it Bonnie? I don’t remember, you gotta understand, we were like 5 or 6-years old at the time and didn’t exactly hang with the girls. They just didn’t like to do the things we did. Things like pouring water into holes we’d find in the ground to see what we could flush out. We always had a jar ready to catch whatever it was. I’m not sure but I think we probably had the biggest spider collection in town and were pretty proud them too. We used to pin playing cards to the spokes of our bicycles wheels for the sound effects. I remember draping towels around our necks and becoming one of the super-heroes of the time. Artie was always Bat-Man and I liked Super-Man. Both were cool though.
I walked around the back yard for a while and noticed the old clothes line posts were still standing. Brush, vines, and trees have all but covered them up over the years but that old clothes line provided us with so many good times. I remember swinging on the lines. The posts served as base for our hide and seek games. We used to tie our imaginary horses to them as we played cowboys and Indians. But my favorite memory was spending the night in the tents we used to make using clothes pins and old Army blankets. We’d fix peanut butter sandwiches and a jug of Kool-Aid or whatever other survival foods we could find. We always had a good supply of army men, toy trucks, and comic books or whatever else we could think of and off into the night we’d go. You know, now that I think of it, I don’t think we ever actually made it through a single night. You see, night time was when the monsters came out and luckily we knew it.
Friday’s were always my favorite day at Artie‘s house. It was the day his dad gave them their allowance. They each got a dollar and every once in a while I‘d get one too. Now a dollar might not impress a kid today, but in 1964, for a little while we felt pretty rich. We’d head straight to Frank and Bertha’s place. I remember the old pop machine in the back room. It was a little different than the one’s we have today. It was an old chest type. You opened the top and the pop sat in cooled water. Anybody remember those? There was a big table in the back where people played cards or dominoes or whatever. They cussed and discussed everything under the sun. There was an old wood burning stove they used in the winter. In the basement there was an old pool table where the men would gather while they drank their beer. Yeah, it was a cool place. Shopping was even different in those days. You told them what you wanted and they’d hand it to you. By the time we left the store our dollars were pretty much all gone. But we each had a pop, sunflower seeds, maybe a candy bar or whatever else we could think of. Yeah, life was good back then.
You can join in on the conversation by visiting my blog online at www.rm235.blogspot.com

The Back Stop

Here's the old back stop I was telling you about. I remember it too. Not so much because we played that much ball. Mostly we climbed on it.

Inside the front door of Frank and Bertha's store

This is the inside of the store. They had counters on both sides and all the merchandise was kept on the shelves behind them. You just told them what you wanted and Frank would get it for you. If you notice the beam in the middle, that was where the wood burning stove was and just to the left of it was a big table so people could come together and play cards, drink their coffee, or maybe spread a little gossip. In a town of 25 or 30 people news spread pretty fast.

Art and Lucielle Beck's house

This is where my friend Artie Beck lived. It was a two bedroom house. Artie and his two brothers, Freddie and Jerry all slept on the enclosed front porch. They had one set of bunk beds and one regular bed. Freddie was just a year older so we all ran around together. But with Jerry, it was a different story. He was in the "big kids" room at school and he knew how to put model cars together. Yeah, I thought he was cool. I remember going into the house through the little side porch, it went straight into the kitchen. And for some reason, I remember them having a barrel full of tad poles.

The Clothes Line Post

You couldn't tell it now but this old, forgotten clothes line post was once a pretty important place to a bunch of little kids. It served as base in our hide and seek games. It was a good place to lean your bike on when we had to go inside. It's where we used to build tents using old Army blankets and clothes pins. That was always a good time. We had everything we needed. Yeah, it was always going to be a great adventure. But then it got dark. And as any 6 year old kid back then knew, that's when the monsters come out. Nah, we never did make it till morning.

The Water Tower

I suppose I remember this water tower. But to tell you the truth, I don't have a single story to tell about it. Still pretty cool though.

Jerry Ney's House

This is where my friend, Jerry Ney lived. It was just behind Artie's house. I don't know much about him or how he turned out. I do remember though, his little sister died and they moved to Claflin. And that's the last I knew of him.

Modern Facilities

This was taken from the back side of Frank and Bertha's store. In the background is their house and in between is their out-house. Gross...

Last House Standing

This is where Vernon Krier, Jay's dad lived after he left the farm. I don't know but I assume he probably lived there till he died.

I showed these pictures to my aunt a few days ago. What's cool about that is my mom and aunt lived here when they were kids too. She told me this was where the Arbuckles used to live. Whoever they were.

I didn't go up to it but I could tell no one had been around for a while now. The grass was in the process of taking over the sidewalk and driveway. Bet a guy could get a pretty good deal on it.

Hitschmann: A Kansas Ghost Town, Part Two

It’s funny, the guy from the elevator wasn’t from Hitschmann and once I told him I used to go to school there, he started asking me what I knew about the place. I named off a few people. One of them was a kid named Jay Krier. He told me Jay lived just north of town and offered up directions to his house. I declined the offer though. I’ve always been a little worried that Jay might still be mad at me for tearing up his dad’s alfalfa field. I’ll get to that later though, like always, I’m getting ahead of myself.
I probably should have started off today by saying that if you missed last week’s column, I’m telling a story about a Kansas ghost town named Hitschman and some of the people who lived there. This week is the second part of what will probably end up being a four part story about the place.
Alright then, where was I? Oh yeah, after the guy from the elevator and I talked for a while I told him I’d noticed the side door of the school was open and was wondering if he thought anyone would freak out if I went inside to get a few pictures. He told me to go ahead, just be careful. There had been a bunch of thugs living in it and were tearing the hell out of the place a few years back until the cops finally busted up their meth lab. He said there used to be signs warning about the chemicals but they’d been gone for a long time too.
I was thinking about that story as I walked back to the school and thinking about how sad it was but I wasn’t all that surprised either, not in today’s world anyway. Oh well, what do you do?
Just inside the front doors of the school is a big stairway that leads up to the classrooms. I stood there for a couple minutes thinking back to the last time I came down those stairs, I had no idea it would be 43 years before I’d be back.
As I climbed the stairs I noticed the water fountain and remember thinking it used to be a lot taller. Then I stepped into my old classroom. I stood in the same spot my desk used to be. I could almost hear Mrs. Seimpson taking roll call, leading us in the Pledge of Allegiance, and following that up by leading us as we recited the “Lord’s Prayer.” Now that’s something you’re not likely to hear nowadays. I noticed the closets we used to hang our coats in and thought to myself how upset she’d be if she saw how messed up they were today.
As I stood there I wondered what ever became of my old classmates. I went to school there for three years and each year there were five of us in our class. Besides myself there was Jay Krier, Artie Beck, Jerry Ney, and a girl but I can’t remember her name.
I walked out of my classroom out into the hallway. I went into the boy’s bathroom and yes, I know this is going to be gross but the urinal cracked me up. It used to be taller than I was. I went into the girl’s bathroom and realized this was the first time I’d ever been in there. I don’t know what the penalty for going into the girl’s bathroom would have been but I’m sure it would have severe in those days. I went into the “big kids” room. About the only thing I can remember about this room is it was where they kept the old Xerox machine. I always loved it when I got to help make copies of whatever we were copying. How many of you remember those old machines? Do you remember the smell of the ink? I just loved that.
I went down that stairway to the basement and the first thing I noticed was the stage. That old stage provided me with one of the most embarrassing moments of my young life. It was during one of our Christmas programs. We were singing that old Christmas Carroll that went “down through the chimney with ol’ St. Nick. You know the one. When we got to the part that went “up on the house top, “click, click, click.” Well, my job was to step forward and hit two sticks together with the beat. It was going so well too. I don’t know, maybe I got a little carried away but when I smacked my sticks together for the third and final time one of them broke in two. That by itself wouldn’t have so bad I guess. But I don’t know why that one piece just had to fly out into the crowd and hit a lady sitting in the front row on the leg. All I knew was that I wanted to die. But, the show must go on. And go on we did. At the other end of the basement was the kitchen and I could almost smell the home made dinner rolls they used to make.
Guys, I’m sorry but I’m going to have wrap it up. Next week we’re going to go over to Artie Beck’s house, then walk over to Frank and Bertha’s store for a pop. Remember, if you’re interested, you can join in on the conversation by going to my blog at http://www.rm235.blogspot.com/. I’ve already heard from a man named Al who lived in Odin and is very familiar with the places I’m talking about. It doesn’t get any better than that. Hope all is well with you and yours.

Stairway to Knowledge

My class was the one on the right. I remember getting in trouble for running up and down these stairs.

My Old Classroom

This is where it all started. We had K-6th graders in this room. If I remember right, all combined, there were 12 or 13 of us. The frame of the old black board is still there. In what looks like a boarder along the top of the black board is where Mrs. Seimpson had the Alphabet, you know. Man, that was a long time ago.

The Boy's Room

Yes, I do remember peeing in this urinal. It's funny though, it used be taller.

The Girl's Room

Okay, I know the last two shots have been gross. But hey, it's all part of the deal.

The "Big Kid's Room"

This is the "big kid's room," the 7th, 8th, and 9th graders. As you can see it eventually became home to a bunch of meth heads in later years. I'd be willing to bet that the furniture scattered around is from some of the houses around town.

The Stage

This is where is was standing when I hurled that broken stick at the lady sitting in the front row.

The Kitchen

The cooks would have a fit if they saw how much of a mess their kitchen is today.

Al, I thought you might enjoy these pictures.

Hitschmann: A Kansas Ghost Town, Part One

I’ve got a story to tell you today. It’s a good one too. But in order to do it right I’m going to have to spread it out over the next three or four weeks, hope you hang with me. It’s a story about a town that sits about 25 or 30 miles north-east of Great Bend called Hitschmann. It’s a story about a two room school house I went to Kindergarten through the second grade in. It’s about some of my old classmates, I don’t know, guys like Artie Beck and Jay Krier come to mind. I’ll probably talk about their parents too, especially Jay’s dad, Vernon. I’m going to tell you about the old general store/post office/pool hall and the couple that owned the place. I’m going to talk about my dad and his friends, my mom always referred to them as his worthless drinking buddies. Yeah, looking back, she was probably right. But I couldn’t talk about any of that without talking about growing up in the oil fields. We’re going to talk about the good times as well as the bad.
So how about it? Why don’t you grab yourself something to drink and kick off your shoes for a while. This ought to be a good trip and we might as well get going.
It all started last Wednesday when I was talking to Denise Hall (the boss) on the phone from Great Bend and told her about my plans to get a few pictures of an old school I used to go to that wasn‘t very far away. I thought it would make a good story. Yeah, I got the pictures I wanted alright. I got lots of pictures that day. So I’m going to something that so far, I’ve been reluctant to do. I’m going to invite you to visit my blog at http://www.rm235.blogspot.com/ I post my column on it every week. And as we go through this story, I’ll be posting more pictures of the things and places I’m talking about. If you’re interested, come on in and look around. And if you’re so inclined, feel free to post a comment or two. Just do me a favor though, keep it clean. I know I can’t control what people say. But I do control what gets posted. I’d love to hear from you.
I left Great Bend that morning and headed north through Hoisington then east through Redwing toward Claflin. About three miles west of Claflin there’s a county road that takes you north through Odin and about another three or four miles further up the road I came to an intersection I hadn’t seen in over 40 years.
I made that right hand turn just like I’d watched my dad do so long ago. And as soon as I’d made the turn I could see Hitschmann’s grain elevator. It’s funny too. The minute I saw it, and it’s kind of hard to explain, but everything just felt right. It felt kind of like I’d never left. Wow.
Then there it was. Coming into town from the west the first thing I noticed was Frank and Bertha’s old house. And right next door was where Art and Luceille Beck used to live. I turned into town on the second and last street and there it was. My old school. You know, I really hadn’t expected this to be an emotional trip and it’s not like sat around crying. It was more like all the sudden I remembered everything. The old school was abandoned 30 plus years ago and it showed. It was weird but as I got out of the truck, I realized I’d parked in the same spot my mom used when she picked me up after school. Pretty cool. I looked across the street and saw Frank and Bertha’s old store. It’s probably sat empty as long as the school. I was walking around taking a few pictures when I noticed it. The side door was open. Uh, oh, decision time. Man I really wanted to get in there but it didn’t feel right. It’s not that I worried about being arrested for trespassing. I was more worried about getting shot. I walked back out to the street and I realized there wasn’t another living soul anywhere around. The entire town was deserted.
Well almost, because harvest was in full swing there was a man working at the elevator. I went inside his office and told him who I was and that I was from Topeka. I could tell right away he wasn’t impressed. That’s when I told him I’d gone to school there in the early 60’s and really wanted to get a few pictures of the place. We had a good talk and found out we knew a lot of the same people. He showed me a book written by a guy named Daniel Fitzgearld. It was a book about Kansas ghost towns and Hitschmann was in it. Bam!
Yeah, that’s what this story’s about. It’s about more than a Kansas ghost town. It’s a story about the ghosts themselves. Hope you come along for the ride.
Remember, you can visit Kevin McGinty’s blog at: http://www.rm235.blogspot.com/

The Hitschmann Intersection

I remember seeing a Pepsi guy take this curve too fast. Way back in the day, Pop trucks had those open bays. Remember that? Everything was in wooden cases and glass bottles. Anyway, I guess the ol' Pepsi guy decided not to shut his bay doors probably to save a little time on the route. Bad idea! He had wooden cases and broken pop bottles strung everywhere.
Hitschmann is just around this curve and straight ahead about three miles.

There It Is

There it is, the Hitschmann elevator just like
it's supposed to be.

Alomst There

Coming into town from the west. The first house on the right
belonged to Frank and Bertha and the one to the left is where
Art and Lucielle used to live.

Main Street

This is a shot of Main Street. The building on the left is
Frank and Bertha's. And as you can see, parking wasn't
a problem.

Hitschmann School

I was standing in what used to be the playground when I
took this picture. The classrooms were both on the upper
floor. My room was on the right. We had K-6th and the big
kids (7th, 8th, and 9th graders) room was the one on the left.

Frank and Bertha's Store

Unless you've lived in a small town it'd be hard to understand
what I mean when I say this little store was the heart of
the town. But hey, I'll get into more of that next week.