"FAT" AUSTIN HATED LEROY EVANS!

When I started at Newnan PD sometime in 1971, there was a local character known as LeRoy Evans. Ole LeRoy was Black and a Transvestite. Being from tiny Hogansville, I personally had never knowingly met such a person. Leroy's alter persona was LeRhonda(not a lot of thought went into the name). LeRoy/LeRhonda was routinely being caught shoplifting women's underwear. It did not help that he was born and raised in Newnan and everybody knew him/her by both names. Most ladies wear shop owners just went ahead and called the Police Dept. as soon has she/he walked in, because he/she/whichever was going to try to steal something. The officer on call would always find something on him/her and cart him/her off to jail where upon he would plead guilty and be put on "run around" status. A "run around" is what a "trustee" is called at Newnan PD. That meant he would get credit of two days for every one he served. Their jobs consisted of helping the on duty officer go get meals, washing police vehicles, cleaning the office, cut grass, and LOCK UP THE CEMETERY AT NIGHT!

Now let's tie Leroy/LeRhonda, Asst. Chief Theo "Fat" Austin, and the Cemetery together.

Chief Austin had been with Newnan PD or years. He was the Asst. Chief and was in charge of the day to day operation of officers. He was from the Old South and definitely did not have a good relationship with blacks. When it came to LeRoy, I had heard him on several occasions that if he could get away with it, he would should shoot him on the spot! LeRoy/LeRhonda believed him and was afraid of him until the day Chief Austin died and beyond!

When it came time to lock the cemetery, there was a crossroads where you would take 2 chains and lock them to a third post. Right next to that post was the tombstone and final resting place of Chief Theo "FAT" Austin. Many officers would take the opportunity to tell LeRoy when he was next to Fat's grave to be on the lookout, Fat may get him. LeRoy always stepped lively!

Around 1975, the Sheriff's office and Jail moved from East Broad Street, abandoning a very spooky building. An old jail makes a very good haunted house. I bring this up to introduce costumes that are important to the story. I was in charge of the Jaycees Haunted Jail that was upcoming and had just gone to Atlanta and picked up a truck load of scary, scary costumes.

Those costumes were in my truck as I was patrolling with another officer, also named Cook. Officer Winford Cook(nicknamed Wimpy) was always up for a prank. We came up with a plan to have some fun with LeRoy. Just before time to lock the cemetery, Wimpy dropped me off at Fat's grave with the costume I had picked up earlier. The plan was that he would signal me on my walkie-talkie just before he came into sight with the run arounds. 

Everything was going as planned. Wimpy was letting the two guys lock chains in order as usual. When I got the signal, I crouched down behind the tombstone of our beloved Chief Theo "Fat" Austin, in full custom, waiting to scare the hell out of LeRoy/LeRhonda Evans!

The moment of truth! Leroy had one chain and Lamar Haynes, the other run around, approached the post with the second chain. Just as I heard them attempting to lock both chains together(probably less than 10 feet away from me), I vaulted over the tombstone and sticking my landing in the middle of the narrow drive like Mary Lou Retton(hard to imagine at my advanced age today)!

 In my best "straight from hell" voice I yelled, "L-E-R-O-Y! This is FAT and I have come for you!"  


Wimpy had quietly moved the patrol car down several feet and locked the doors. Well, I don't know who screamed the loudest, LeRoy or Lamar. LeRoy dropped his chain, ran to the car and tried every door to get in. When Wimpy would not open the doors, LeRoy jumped on the hood and tried to pull the windshield wipers off to defend himself from the Ghost of Fat. Lamar, scared out of his wits, took off running for the car as well. The only problem was, Lamar forgot to let go of the chain.  It looked like slapstick comedy, until we found out that it dislocated poor old Lamar's shoulder.

Laughing so hard that I could barely see, I went to the car. When LeRoy saw me coming, he screamed again and took off running down the drive. Wimpy and I were laughing uncontrollably until Lamar brought us back to reality. "That damned fool is going to run across 4 lanes of traffic--if he makes it!"


Lamar and I got in the car as quickly as we could and Wimpy "laid rubber" in an attempt to overtake LeRoy. By ordinary rights, LeRoy would have indeed run into 4 busy, busy lanes of traffic, almost assuredly going on to be with Fat.

Would have EXCEPT for: The CONFEDERATE CEMETERY!


LeRoy had run full-bore until he reached the edge of the part of the city cemetery that honored the Confederate dead. It was if ole LeRoy had hit an invisible wall. He was jogging in play, crying, and cussing Wimpy and me for all we were worth! After a huge amount of pleading from Lamar, LeRoy finally got in and we took him back to the station. As we drove off to attend Lamar's injury, LeRoy/LeRhonda was telling us what he thought of us.


Luckily for me, the emergency room nurse was the wife of one of the Lt.'s, hated LeRoy, loved me, and loved a good prank. We slipped Lamar in one of the exam rooms and the doctor on duty put his shoulder back in place. Nell, the nurse, shuffled the paperwork, and we back to the station with Lamar pumped full of pain-killers and happy as a clam. Back at the station, we gave both guys a cartoon of cigarettes each, which amazingly, satisfied them both.

A short time later Wimpy and I were coming out of the locker room on the way back to the patrol car when we past the CHIEF! "Hey, the Cook Brothers, step into my office NOW!-' My heart was in my throat! "If I hear about this from the Mayor or City Manager, or Lamar's family files charges, your butts are gone! But DAMN! I wish I could have seen it! Now get the Hell out of my office."

MAC HOPSON HATED THE GREYHOUND BUS!

As I begin this post, I am once again saddened that I do not have pictures to go with the memories. Maybe someone reading this will have a photograph or two.
In my defense, before the digital age, picture taking was quite an expensive undertaking.  You did not just go around taking pictures of ordinary buildings and such, after all, you could see them anytime you wanted: the ignorance of youth!

Those of you with deep roots in Hogansville will remember that my Dad, Gordon Cook, owned a service station on the corner of Hwy. 29 and Ware St. He was also the ticket agent for the Greyhound Bus Line. In those days people rode the bus a lot (Coon and I had many experiences on the GREY DOG, but that's another blog).

The south-bound buses would routinely pull along side the two gas pumps that was our entire "fuel island" in those days. I was uncommon the have more than two cars wanting gas at the same time. Such was life in the '60's! The north-bound buses were another matter altogether. If there was a car at the roadside of the gas pumps, the north bus had trouble finding enough room to pull far enough onto the lot so that exiting passengers would not step into the roadway.

Enter Mr. Mac Hopson into the story. Directly across the street from my dad's service station was the ghost of an old "filling station", a place where you could only buy gasoline. It still had the "visible" gasoline pumps, the kind with the glass containers on the top so that you could see the gas that was being delivered to you car. I remember seeing Mr. Hopson operating one of those pumps a few times. Those pumps and the building are all gone now. The pumps ended up who knows where. After all they are priceless. Still it would be great to have one restored and stilling in the corner of City Hall as a reminder of simpler, saner  times. More wishful thinking! Mr. Mac was also reportedly a "loan shark", a term that brings a smile to the face of those that knew that old gentleman. About 5'5", thin as a rail, stooped shouldered, shuffling about, did not fit my imagine of a knee breaker if you did not pay up. Not the Tony Soprano type of money man, Mr. Mac would loan money to every day folks who needed a few bucks until payday.

I'm sorry, I wondered off track as usual, back to the bus stop. There was plenty of room for a north bound bus to pull off the road with stopping in front of Mr. Hopson's store. However, for some reason the wind always seemed to blow from the bus towards his front door, which was always open in most cases. He, like most other folks, used a fan to keep cool. If you have ever seen a big diesel bus on dirt, then you have seen the dust storm they can kick up. All of this raining down on an old man that did not get one nickel out of bus fares. 

THE HOPSON SOLUTION!

Now I am convinced that Mr. Mac knew the bus schedule as well as we did. There would be many times that my Mother (she was our cashier/ticket agent) would call out to nobody in particular, "The north-bound bus is coming!" What she meant by that was she was watching as Mr. Mac dragged, with great effort, a RAIN-BIRD lawn sprinkler, attached to a small stand and accompanying  hose, into position. The position being the approximate place of the door when the bus would pull onto "HIS" side of the road. Not wanting to waste water and run up his water bill, Mr. Mac would stand by his front door, where is water faucet was also located, and wait for "THE NORTH-BOUND!" Usually he could see it coming up the road, turn on the sprinkler, and discourage the driver from stopping on that side of the road.

The event that sticks out in my mind is the time he soaked the bus driver. On that particular day the sprinkler was in place, but for some reason, Mr. Mac did not turn the water on in time. Usually the driver does not get off the bus, unless he has a package in the baggage area. Greyhound to this day ships lots of packages by bus freight.

This particular driver did not know about the "sprinkler guard", especially since it was not on when he pulled to a stop that day. Well about the time the driver raised the cargo door to retrieve the package, the sprinkler came on, and it came on full blast. We could hear the shout across the road, albeit mixed with much profanity, as that water was cold. As that driver came running around the rear of the bus to get away from the deluge, all of us could not help but laugh! He was a mad as the proverbial wet hen. Still cussing and dragging a very large box, he dropped the box, grabbed a towel that my Mother mercifully offered. He wiped his soaked head, said, "Excuse my language, Ma'am, but I am going to kill that son-of-a-bitch!"  My Mother then pointed out Mr. Mac and told the driver that it would not be a good idea, as he was old, frail, small, AND carried a pistol in his pocket. Mother then stepped into Mr. Mac's view and waved her hands over her head as some sort of signal and the old man cut the water off.

The driver was still snorting like a bull and glaring at Mr. Mac, when Mother interjected, "now would be a good time to get back on the bus before he turns to water on again." Needless to say that driver never stopped on that side of the road again. Over time, word spread among the drivers and few, if any, of the drivers every stopped on Mr. Mac's side of the road again.

The amusing side of the story is that it was highway right-of-way and did not belong to Mr. Mac. Even so, I never heard that point raised. Mr. Mac showed me that if a problem arises, solve it and don't worry about the details.

It was a simpler time, a better time!

larrycook351@yahoo.co

706-302-8902 

THE CRAP-MOBILE---JUST THE THING FOR MY READERS?!

This is my latest invention for the people who read my blog! The CRAPPER-MOBILE are for folks who are as full of it as I am. Now you don't have to rush to the facilities after reading my column, just sit there and, well, you know.........

I am looking for investors and inventors to help me launch this. It also needs wi-fi and some way to keep the coffee hot. Send your suggestions today.

No, wait a minute, that won't work. It would mean that you would have to admit that you actually read this crap (no pun intended).

NEVER MIND!

larrycook351@yahoo.com

706-302-8902

NEVER LOOK A GIFT HORSE IN THE MOUTH!

I will be the first to admit that I do not know the meaning to the above title of this blog, but it does tie in nicely to the following tail, read slow and laugh hard!

To hillbillies were in a local restaurant when a young lady at the next table began to flail her arms wildly and clutch at her throat.
One of the country boys got up and approached her, "Can yer talk?", he asked her. She shook her head. "Can yer swaller?" Again she shook her head.
The man then turn her around, lifted her skirt, pulled down her panties, and began to lick her butt-cheek.
The woman was so surprised that she had a violent spasm, whereupon she spit out the object lodged in her throat.
The country boy politely pulled up her panties, lowered her skirt, and took his seat with his friend.
The second hillbilly had been watching and taking it all in and spoke up as his life saving friend sat down, "You know, Claude, I always heared about that there HIND-LICK maneuver, but that's the first time I seed it done."  

Being a retired EMT, I could not pass that one up.

larrycook351@yahoo.com
706-302-8902

STOP TAXING MY ASS!

This is the last column of retiring columnist CHARLEY REESE of the ORLANDO SENTINEL. he has 49 years experience and this is the most NEUTRAL column to come along in many years. This is about as clear and easy to understand as it can be. Neither anti-republican or anti-democrat, this has hit the nail square on the head, defining clearly who it is that in the final analysis must assume responsibility for the judgments made that impact each one of us every day. 

545 vs. 300,000,000 people

By Charlie Reese

Politicians are the only people in the world who create problems and then campaign against them.

Have you ever wondered, if both the Democrats and the Republicans are against deficits, WHY do we have deficits?

Have you ever wondered, if all the politicians are against inflation and high taxes, WHY do we have inflation and high taxes?

You and I don't propose a federal budget.  The President does.

You and I don't have the Constitutional authority to vote on appropriations.  The House of Representatives does.

You and I don't write the tax code, Congress does.

You and I don't set fiscal policy, Congress does.

You and I don't control monetary policy, the Federal Reserve Bank does.

One hundred senators, 435 congressmen, one President, and nine Supreme Court justices equates to 545 human beings out of the 300 million are directly, legally, morally, and individually responsible for the domestic problems that plague this country.

I excluded the members of the Federal Reserve Board because that problem was created by the Congress.  In 1913, Congress delegated its Constitutional duty to provide a sound currency to a federally chartered, but private, central bank.

I excluded all the special interests and lobbyists for a sound reason.  They have no legal authority.  They have no ability to coerce a senator, a congressman, or a President to do one cotton-picking thing.  I don't care if they offer a politician $1 million dollars in cash.  The politician has the power to accept or reject it.  No matter what the lobbyist promises, it is the legislator's responsibility to determine how he votes.

Those 545 human beings spend much of their energy convincing you that what they did is not their fault.  They cooperate in this common con regardless of party.

What separates a politician from a normal human being is an excessive amount of gall.  No normal human being would have the gall of a Speaker, who stood up and criticized the President for creating deficits.  The President can only propose a budget.  He cannot force the Congress to accept it.

The Constitution, which is the supreme law of the land, gives sole responsibility to the House of Representatives for originating and approving appropriations and taxes.  Who is the speaker of the House now?  He is the leader of the majority party.  He and fellow House members, not the President, can approve any budget they want.  If the President vetoes it, they can pass it over his veto if they agree to.

It seems inconceivable to me that a nation of 300 million cannot replace 545 people who stand convicted -- by present facts -- of incompetence and irresponsibility.  I can't think of a single domestic problem that is not traceable directly to those 545 people.  When you fully grasp the plain truth that 545 people exercise the power of the federal government, then it must follow that what exists is what they want to exist.

If the tax code is unfair, it's because they want it unfair.

If the budget is in the red, it's because they want it in the red.

If the Army and Marines are in Iraq and Afghanistan, it's because they want them in Iraq and Afghanistan ...

If they do not receive social security but are on an elite retirement plan not available to the people, it's because they want it that way.

There are no insoluble government problems.

Do not let these 545 people shift the blame to bureaucrats, whom they hire and whose jobs they can abolish; to lobbyists, whose gifts and advice they can reject; to regulators, to whom they give the power to regulate and from whom they can take this power.  Above all, do not let them con you into the belief that there exists disembodied mystical forces like "the economy", "inflation", or "politics" that prevent them from doing what they take an oath to do.

Those 545 people, and they alone, are responsible.

They, and they alone, have the power.

They, and they alone, should be held accountable by the people who are their bosses.  Provided the voters have the gumption to manage their own employees ...

We should vote all of them out of office and clean up their mess!

What you do with this article now that you have read it...is up to you.
This might be funny if it weren't so true.
Be sure to read all the way to the end:

Accounts Receivable Tax
Building Permit Tax
CDL License Tax
Cigarette Tax
Corporate Income Tax
Dog License Tax
Excise Tax
Federal Income Tax
Federal Unemployment Tax (FUTA)
Fishing License Tax
Food License Tax
Fuel Permit Tax
Gasoline Tax (currently 44.75 cents per gallon)
Gross Receipts Tax
Hunting License Tax
Inheritance Tax
Inventory Tax
IRS Interest Charges, IRS Penalties (tax on top of tax)
Liquor Tax
Luxury Taxes
Marriage License Tax
Medicare Tax
Personal Property Tax
Property Tax
Real Estate Tax
Service Charge Tax
Social Security Tax
Road Usage Tax
Recreational Vehicle Tax
Sales Tax
School Tax
State Income Tax
State Unemployment Tax (SUTA)
Telephone Federal Excise Tax
Telephone Federal Universal Service Fee Tax
Telephone Federal, State and Local Surcharge Taxes
Telephone Minimum Usage Surcharge Tax
Telephone Recurring and Nonrecurring Charges Tax
Telephone State and Local Tax

Utility Tax
Vehicle License Registration Tax
Vehicle Sales Tax
Watercraft Registration Tax
Well Permit Tax
Workers Compensation Tax

STILL THINK THIS IS FUNNY?
Not one of these taxes existed 100 years ago, and our nation was the most prosperous in the world.
We had absolutely no national debt, had the largest middle class in the world, and Mom, if agreed, stayed home to raise the kids.

What in the heck happened?  Can you spell 'politicians'?

I hope this goes around THE USA at least 545 times!!! YOU can help it get there!!!

GO AHEAD . . . BE AN AMERICAN!!!

SOMETIMES A THING CAN BE TOO BIG!

                               

                    

Yes, dear readers in a man's world it's about size. His motorcycle, the caliber of his gun, his dog, and countless other things.

Sometimes size is not a good thing. Take Saturday, September 4th, 2010. I was doing a sale on Hwy. 34 in conjunction the with Labor Day Weekend Powers Crossroads Arts and Crafts Festival. Things were going well. People were feeling good, buying their little hearts out, a sunny sky, not too hot.

Yeah, nice weather, except for that one damn little down-draft, a rouge breeze, called a funnel-gunnel by air traffic controllers. It took Li'l Rufus(the 8ft. rooster) completely by surprise! Before he could crow a warning, a strong, concentrated gust came up on his left side/wing and ever so slightly lifted him up and pushed him to the right. As he toppled to the ground, his over sized and pronounced pecker/beak caught the right quarter panel of a brand new car. A very deep scratch on a brand new car.

A fellow vendor and close personal friend of mine, who also happens to be an appraiser for auto damage, estimated that the damage would in the $1000 range. That particular day Nationwide was indeed 'on my side'. I found it odd that my homeowners insurance would pay off when I was 20 miles from home, but they know what they are doing(?).

As luck would have it, the car belonged to the wife of one of Janice's cousins. He knew me, but she did not. She came running up mad as a wet hen. That Dodge was less than two weeks old and she was as proud of it as a new puppy!

She: YOU JUST PUT A DEEP SCRATCH IN MY NEW CAR!

Me: No ma'am, I didn't do it the Rooster did.

She: (Getting louder and trying to catch her breath) WELL, IT'S YOUR ROOSTER! WHAT DO YOU PLAN TO DO ABOUT IT?

Me: If you would be kind enough to turn your car around the other way, I'll push the Rooster over again and you will have matching scratches, no one will notice, besides you live in Heard County, it's kinda the law to beat up a new car to break it in.

At this point she was to the point of passing out from lack of oxygen, when Ronnie, her husband stepped up,holding back the tears as best he could and said, "Larry I don't think she can take much more."

She:(To Ronnie) You know this guy?
Ronnie: Yeah, you know, it's Janice, our cousin's husband, the woman that passed away after Christmas, we went to the funeral.
Her tone changed, but before she could continue, I gave her all the information she needed and told her to have it fixed and I would send her a check. 

We parted as friends and several weeks later settled the matter.

Owning Ol' Rufus added another chapter to my life. During our travels, a thousand people must have posed to have their picture taken with this big bird. I eventually traded him for 2 cigar store Indians, but I still miss him.

CROW ON AMERICA!   

MAN OVERBOARD!

S

Somehow, being told, "this is good", on my second foray into painting, by someone that is paid, is not the strongest encouragement I could have received. Cheryl, my art instructor, is a nice lady, and maybe she was looking more at my potential than my canvas. At any rate, I took the shot and painted this masterpiece. I wonder where the unlucky recipient is going to hang it. That will teach my facebook fans not to shower me with false praise. 


Although I found this painting to be very taxing (I felt like I had run a marathon afterwards), I still enjoyed the class. There is nothing better for you than going outside your comfort zone. I was way out on this one. The fact that I don't like night scenes in artwork has a great deal to do with it. Sunny, light, airy, all are words that I like to associate with my view of art.

The whole point of this posting is to tell my readers that if you have ever, even once, wanted to paint something, then take the plunge. That brings up the question of how to get started. My situation is that Cheryl teaches art in public school and has a studio on the side. I have listed some options to try so that you can find some affordable instructions yourself.

1. Chamber of Commerce or city clerks office will know who has a business license for a studio.
2. Public libraries usually have a room for instruction of various art forms.
3. Local art and craft store will know who may be offering classes.
4. Community colleges have adult education classes that usually have art classes from time to time.
5. Your local school system art instructor may be offering courses or know someone who is.
6. Senior Centers, if you qualify, are a good source reference. The director probably knows someone even if they are not offering at the center.
7. Local newspapers, shoppers, free press, etc. are worth looking into.
8. Look on line. "Googling" is a great way to find almost anything.

I hope this information is helpful and I hope you will at least try one class. You have to try once before you can honestly say whether or not  it was worth the effort. If you are fortunate enough to find a good instructor like I have, you will get the bug and look forward to each class you attend. I am not interested in some of the subject matter that is offered at time, but it is the different skills you learn that is important.

So go find a class, pick up a brush and attack a canvas! Best of luck! 

Update: since I first posted this, I have married and moved in with my wife in Sugar Hill, Ga. One of the things that she fell in love with at my old house was this picture. Her master bath had/has a nautical theme and so she seized this canvas to go in that bathroom. I now see it everyday and smile, it brings back good memories.