collection of Bunkie memories
1940 to 1950
The night Jitney Jungle
grocery store burned down and my volunteer firemen
father was up all night, sitting on the roof with a
hose, being a hero.
The gunfight at the New
York café where Curry Kojis, police chief, got his
little finger shot off.
The New York café had a
delicious ham sandwich for 25 cents that we saved up
our money for
Working as a soda jerk
at the drug store and giving my friends free sodas
Lash LaRue coming to
town and me getting a picture with him.
Little Beaver (Robert
Blake, who was later on trial for murdering his wife
in Hollywood) coming to town and running around with
the town hoods who all eventually ended up in jail
for stealing bicycles.
Digging behind the sofa
cushions trying to find 9 cents to go to the movie,
then spending all day Saturday there seeing double
feature cowboy movies and a serial plus a cartoon.
18 mile trips to
grandmothers in Plaucheville. My mother would fry a
chicken for the trip I would bring a stack of comic
books and a blanket. We would eat chicken and throw
bones out of the window. My father wouldn't stop
for restroom breaks, we had to use a paper bag,
which I always threw at passing cars, but we would
stop at every bar on the way for a beer for my dad.
We always had a flat or two. My mother said the
rosary the whole was so we wouldn't have more flats
than spare tires. The trip usually took about 4
The Hot Tamale man with
his little cart on Main Street. We were convinced
he made them out of cats.
Hiking to Prosser’s
diary and hanging around all day. They didn’t mind.
I was fascinated with the stainless steel equipment
and pasteurizer. Maybe that’s why I became a
Hiking to the overpass
by the Blue Moon and sliding down the Johnson grass
on the side on pieces of cardboard.
Our Post Office box was
Box 1. I thought we were special.
Dad buying a used house
from Amarada Oil field and bringing it home on a
truck. He added a couple of rooms himself and it
served as a house.
The “maid” that lived
with us when we had the feed store/flower shop.
When I was bad my father made her spank me because
he didn’t have the heart to.
Living next to Dr.
Melancon who let me read his encyclopedias and
encouraged me to go to college.
Endless summers when we
ran around shoeless and shirtless, climbing trees
and constantly playing war.
Sneaking into Avoyelles
Bank when they got the first air conditioning in
town and hiding under the counter till they saw us
and chased us out.
Playing war under the
Camping with the Boy
scouts where all we did was chop down trees and
exchange misinformation about sex.
Initiation into the
"Bailey Theatre Club”. We had to sneak in on a
Tuesday night (dish raffle night) during he War when
there was a full house, and go to the first row and
crawl under the seats, startling the patrons until
we emerged at the back, completely black with filth.
Going to the depot to
watch the train come in, for entertainment.
Mother teaching Lee
Bailey how to cook.
Going to St. Anthony’s.
The hurricane blew down the old church that had been
converted into a cafeteria. We had no school that
day because of a religious holiday, which the nuns
said was further proof that there was a God.
First Communion when we
were lined up in the street at 6 AM in our white
shirts and short pants, with our striped boxer
shorts showing thorough, and Paul Plasiance being
sent home because he told Sister that he had eaten a
hamburger after midnight.
Getting out of class to
go to altar boy practice and just goofing off, not
learning anything. Then when I had to serve the
first time I realized I didn't know anything and I
just froze. Jerome Kojis who was in the congregation
leaped over the rail pushed me aside and took over,
saving the mass. My parents were mortified. I was
kicked out of the altar boys. So my father brought
the nuns a fruitcake and poured a pint of 4 roses
whiskey in it. I was reinstated. The next day and
the nuns asked for the recipe.
1950 to 1954
The big mystery of who
painted obscene algebra equations on Mrs. Hatley’s
The midnight paintings
of the Ag building, even polka dot.
Running the drive in
Running the concession
Running the projector,
and skipping reels so we could go home early (no one
complained-no cars moved after we closed down).
Working at Kelly’s
studio for 8 cents an hour and getting paid not in
cash but with overpriced broken cameras. The girl
that worked there was married and her husband was in
Korea and everyone was in love with her.
Summers working in the
cornfields making hybrid corn for 50 cents an hour
with my friends.
My father closing down
the Oak Tavern every night then going to the Blue
Moon till it closed. He then would bring me a bacon
and biscuit sandwich at 2 am and wake me up and make
me eat it in my bed.
Eating Pool Doo (My
father hated meatless Fridays). He was convinced
that since Pool Doos could swim under water we could
eat them on Friday and not go to hell. They tasted
like oily mud.
The two deaf linotype
workers that lived in our garage apartment that
worked for the Bunkie Record teaching me sign
Bamboo Drive in where
we made at least one stop every day and it was the
last stop before we finally went home.
Working at Dairy Queen.
All they had was ice milk at that time. Cleaning the
machine every morning was nasty from the lactic acid
Working at the Bailey
and Fox Theater for 35 cents and hour.
Some memorable teachers
Coach Evans, who said I
should forget about sports and just hit the books.
Mr. St. Romain,
responsible for me becoming a Chemical Engineer.
Mrs. St. Romain
Mr. Courtney who taught
us some things not in the curriculum.
The whole town turned
out the day Buddy Garcia's body arrived from Korea
on the train. He has served in WWII and had
re-enlisted for Korea. From the back of the crowd I
could see my father in a white shirt and khaki pants
go into the boxcar and emerge with several young men
like him carrying out an oak casket. I saw Buddy's
father, Mayor Garcia, suddenly looking very old,
then collapsing, a broken man.
Getting a hamburger at
Kent court, which had little individual one-room
cottages, an original tourist court.
A perfect day:
Hiking to Prosser’s
dairy and hanging out with 3 or 4 of my friends
Then walking to Shirley
On to the red barn
where we played in the enormous hay piles, Swimming
in Bayou Huffpair, any month of the year.
Crossing the railroad
bridge and once having to jump off when we almost
got run over by a train. We landed in the mud and
sank up to our hips.
Walking to the overpass
and sliding down the Johnson grass on the side on
pieces of cardboard
Getting home in time
it is always a pleasure to work a project with you.
Remember the CornFest in 1999... Yes, it's
been that long ago. Keep'em coming John...