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'YES,
I REMEMBER BUNKIE'
On
a cold December day in 1934, my mother with the help of Dr. H.M.
Faust, brought me into the world, at Gold Dust, a little
community a few miles South of Bunkie. I certainly didn't know
then, and had to become much older, to understand how deep a
person's roots can be in the culture and the community into
which they are born.
My early years,
before 1944, were spent in Eola and Gold Dust, living at Oak
Hall Plantation, where my Dad was the overseer for Haas
Investment Company. It seemed to me, that I had aunts, uncles
and cousins everywhere, from Gold Dust to Bunkie, and I could
always count on that warm feeling of 'family' where ever I went.
Today, I have no relatives whatsoever in the area. Some of my
best days were spent with my Aunt Fannie Harper at her little
country store at Morrison's Station, where you turn to go to St.
Landry. Later, like about 1945, she bought Babcock's Grocery
near Eola and thrived there for many years selling groceries to
the families in the Sid Richardson and Amarada Oil Camps, and
the Eola area. Nearby, was the Four Way Cafe, owned by a cousin,
Gladys Stafford, at the Eola Crossroads. She must have dished
out some good food at the Four Way Cafe during these boom years
in the early 1940s. Going from Oak Hall Plantation to Bunkie at
night was an unbelievable sight, with all the oil well derricks
lit up like giant Christmas trees on the dark and flat horizon.
Every direction, gave evidence of the magnitude for the need for
oil, that fueled our country during the frightful and desperate
years of World War 11. Bunkie and the surrounding area played a
very big and important role in satisfying that need for oil,
gas, cotton and sugar. I was much too young to truly feel the
fear and desperation of families whose sons and daughters were
pulled from this secure and beautiful setting to go off to war
in a strange and dangerous place. Bunkie, Eola and all it's
people served well and provided it's share for our nation at
war. Growing up in a rural area like Gold Dust and Eola, made
Bunkie an exciting and delightful place to go on Saturdays to
shop and buy groceries, and to ride the school bus to during the
week.
School....I never liked it, had little choice but to accept the fact
that school was going to be a part of my childhood and beyond.
In the first grade, my teacher was Miss Mary Haas, a small
little lady with gray hair, stem and fearless, but I knew I
would love her one day. This year of 1940 was fearful because of
the war talk everywhere, and difficult at best - I didn't like
school and I had difficulty being a happy little first grader.
Bonnie Knapp, who rode Mr. Cerami's bus with me from the Amarada
Oil Camp in Eola, kissed me and then told Miss Haas that I
kissed her. Miss Haas got on to me about it, so I didn't like
Bonnie anymore. A few days later, Bonnie hit me in the head with
her lunch money, all of 10 or 15 cents, tide in the comer of her
handkerchief . It hurt badly, but I knew that Bonnie would leave
me alone from then on.
I
recall how first, second and third grades were in the high
school building, and what fearful days we had from Mr. C. G.
Snoddy, the principle. I thought he could "consume" a
kid like me, so I stayed away from the area as best I could, and
played near the bayou Haufpower that ran in back of the school.
Mr. Snoddy was so tall, so erect and displayed the stature of a
fearless warrior who towered over his victims. He was a grand
disciplinarian, as were most of the teachers, to whom you could
count for excellent and proper guidance for all those growing
years from grades one thru eleven. (There was no 12th grade
then.) Everyone was as afraid of Mr. Snoddy as I was.
Saturday
nights in Bunkie - what a great time my family had on Saturday
night. We all got cleaned up, my 2 older sisters and brother,
then me and my younger brother - late on Saturday
afternoon. Dad would drive all of us to Bunkie in our green 1940
Ford, and we would all go the picture show at the Bailey
Theater. Not too long after the war started, we soon had two
more shows; the FOX across the street from the Bailey and the
RIO, right around the comer on Main Street. These picture shows
filled to capacity on Saturday nights, in fact, the population
of Bunkie seemed to increase by two or three thousand people on
Saturdays and Saturday nights. The soldiers from the many
military camps in the area, could come to the Blue Moon and
the Chick-In clubs. The Blue Moon was the older and more
elaborate club and was located just South of the via duct
and the Chick-In was on the north side of the via duct.
Very soon after the was over, the military training camps closed
down, the soldiers went home and the Chick-In burned down. The
Blue Moon, such an enchanting name, continued and that's where
we all learned how to jitter-bug when we reached high school.
The Eola oil fields
were only 4 or 5 miles South of Bunkie, and many families worked
in the oil fields and lived in the Amarada Oil Camp and the Sid
Richardson Oil Camp. At this time, Bunkie was a thriving little
town and bustled every Saturday. When the movies were over on
Saturday night, we most often parked on Main Street near the New
York Cafe and the Palace Bar. Dad would every now and then go to
the Palace Bar for a beer or two while Mom and the kids waited
in the car. This was great fun, to watch the crowds and
continually meet friends, walking up and down the Main Street.
Today, we call it "cruising", but then whole families
did it. Before going to the movie, we often visited a little
hamburger stand called the HAMBURGER KING, on the North end of
Main Street near the entrance of the old Avoyelles Wholesale and
the Bunkie Record office, where the burgers were five cents
each. Sometimes we waited till 7 or 8 o'clock for the hot tamale
man who rolled out his little cart and sold tamales on Main
Street right at the comer where the city policeman parked his
car every day and evening, keeping careful watch over the crowds
and guarding Main Street from speeders. One of my favorite
places was the NEW YORK CAFE. The Piazza family owned the New
York Caf6, a classy place I thought, with black and white tile
floor, about 20 counter stools with red leather seats on the
left side, and 6 or 8 booths, with 8 or 10 tables toward the
right. On a cold day the glass front would steam-up, and
the inside always was deliciously warm. The Piazza kids quite
often roamed behind the counter. I didn't know them then but
later when they came to the public school from St. Anthony's
Elementary, I got to know Cecelia. The New York Cafe is a fond
memory for me. I loved their hamburgers and I loved the cafe itself. To this day, I wonder how it got its name. Right South
of the New York Cafe was the Palace Bar, Morgan and Lindsey and
then Walgreens. I never knew the name of the older little black
hair lady who jerked sodas and could make a great but unusual
soda called a "cherry nectar". Anytime I came up to
the soda fountain she would call out "cherry nectar",
knowing full well what my order was going to be. I grew up
thinking for years that a cherry nectar could be gotten at any
old soda fountain in the world, but believe me, it was exclusive
to Walgreens in Bunkie. All the kids hung-out at Walgreens
- the soda fountain, the aroma of perfumes and cosmetics
was such a fantastic implant into my memory.
Elementary school
days and years seemed to past quickly, at least in retrospect.
My favorite years seem to lie near the Oh grade and above. Miss
Bouie taught me in the sixth grade. She was a stem but fair,
excellent teacher. I only had one "hand whipping" with
that long ruler and from then on I seemed to manage well with
her. In our class was Bobby and Frank, two older boys who should
have been in the 8d' or 9th grade. They played havoc with the
rest of us kids and gave Miss Bouie a real bad time.
In January of 1944,
the Haas Investment Company moved my Dad to Shirley Plantation,
just 2 miles out of Bunkie. This was to me and my family, a
magnificent place to grow up and to live. Shirley Plantation
will always be in my mind and heart, even though today, there
are few remnants of a working plantation of the 1940s and barely
any recognizable pieces of what was there during those wonderful
growing up years. About this time, I was learning to drive, and
living on a farm provided advanced opportunity to learn. I was
driving tractors and trucks within the confines of Shirley
Plantation by the time I was in the 6th grade, or about 12 years
old. This surprised most town people. I remember well, the
"Sweetheart Banquet" at the First Baptist Church on
Valentine's Day in February of 1947. My sweetheart that night
was Murel Elise. I drove my mother's 1947 Chevrolet to town from
Shirley, all of 2 miles, and went to pick up Murel at her home.
Her mother greeted me and like any caring good mother,
discreetly inquired about things that might affect her
daughter's well being. Bragging, I told her that I was driving
"alone" and I quickly realized that was not in the
best interest of the two participants on this date. I think a
discussion may have ensued in another room somewhere and I was
finally awarded temporary custody of the daughter Murel. It
turned out to be a great first date, and Murel and I still laugh
about it now.
High school days in
the early 1950s were a real delight for me, and hold a fondness
that only belongs to a time of happiness and joy. Lifelong
friendships were developed, however sadly, I have lost touch
with many of my close friends and classmates. After high school
graduation in 1953, we all seemed to scatter to the four winds,
some going off to college and in other cases, to find a means of
making a living. I look back now at Bunkie High and I feel very
good about what it gave to me during my youth. Great people and
teachers who boldly cared, such as Mrs. Guillory in the 7th
grade, Miss Bouie, Miss Kate Earnest who taught my mother
and 3 of my siblings, all greatly influenced my youth with a
tremendous impact that has served me well for all my life. One
of my very favorites was Mr. Conrad Guettie, in high school; I
still remember about half of the first 100 lines of "The
Lady of the Lake," by Sir Walter Scott, which we were
compelled to memorize in his literature class; also the day he
sat on a thumb tack for the entire period before calling for the
guilty party to meet him after class. Then Mrs. Finley, whom we
all suspected of bringing something other than coffee in her
thermos, but always made sure that English was well taught in
her class. No one graduated during the 40s or 50s without
encountering Mrs. Hatly, who ruled the West end of the 3rd floor
with iron will and fist, but made sure you didn't get pass
Algebra without a real fight. Miss Beddingfield taught me early
music appreciation, and seemed to never to have been appreciated
herself. I don't think I have ever told these good and noble
people how much they gave to me and many like me, who owe much
to their character and success, as it may be, to the teachers in
Bunkie. Sometime during my school years, these teachers and many
others like them, produced two Federal judges, several doctors
and lawyers, and many successful business people and other
professionals. In the graduating class of 1953, there were 46
young people. As best as I can count, 32 went on to college and
farther. This is a very enviable record for that time, and by
any of today's standards.
BUNKIE, the little
country town with a funny little name, but known by so many who
in some way can connect to BUNKIE. In August of 1994, my wife
and I were checking out of a hotel in Paris, France and a family
standing nearby was talking and laughing. An accent deeply
rooted in my mine, told me they had to be from Avoyelles Parish.
I looked at the father, about my age, and asked, "from the
U.S.?" He said "yes". "I bet from
Louisiana", I said. He smiled and nodded yes. I said
"Well, I'm from Bunkie", and before I could say more,
he said in that very distinct and unforgettable accent,
"Oh, my, we're from Mansura".
My roots are deep
within that sandy, loamy soil of Bunkie and Avoyelles Parish,
and deep within somewhere, there is a call to "fly away
home". Those wonderful memories of my youth in Bunkie will
always be with me and are mine to cherish and look at anytime.
Bunkie, home, they are the words that
strike a melody in my heart, and music to my soul. My grand
and newer memories are all with me too, spanning over 40 years
from Bunkie, four children and eight grandchildren, in another
little country town, but in a distant place and another time.
"YES, I REMEMBER
BUNKIE'
BILL
HUNT, 122 N. Marion St.,
Athens, Alabama 35611
bunkyboy@mail.pclnet.net
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