Just in the nick of time

The old Arkansas Power and Light Company generating plant in my home town is not for long. The yellow Caterpillar will win. These are the last shots of this structure.

The old building was hatched-up, built, equipped, occupied and put into use for a very specific purpose: to generate electricity for the good folks in Pine Bluff, Arkansas in the first quarter of the 20th century. Evidence supports the theory that it did just that and did it well for a long time, but at some time, it stopped.

Click the pic to see more of the old power plant.

I’m not certain when the last person left the building and turned off the lights, but I do know why. Someone found a better and more efficient way to send electricity to the folks in Pine Bluff — and it was lights out for the old plant operationally. Now it is lights out for good.

And after all, if your lights come on and your fan blows, knowing the source of the juice that does the trick really does not pique one’s curiosity.

Speaking of curiosity, you can learn more about the how and why of this shoot and see three more pictures on the Photo of the Week Page at Corndancer dot-com. We’ll wait here while you look.

During the shoot, a train came through and who among us does not like to take pictures of trains. Certainly not me.

I had procrastinated on getting these images for decades, after all, where are two giant smoke stacks and an old power plant going to go? As I pointed out on our Corndancer story this week, some mysterious urge sent me to the old power plant in April where I got the first shots in morning light. When I came back for my afternoon shots just over a month later, the Caterpillar had started its grisly task.

I shot this in the crappy light available on April 13. As you can see, the building is unscathed. But not for long.

The west end of the building was formerly here. Now twisted structural members are all that is left.

The old structure is full of the old architectural details (temporarily), admired by many, including yours truly.

From the looks of things, in the custom of the time, the structural steel elements were riveted together. Now that the walls have come tumblin’ down, we see evidence of some field expedient engineering when something was added later.  Look at the old square nuts.

And last but certainly not least, for those of you who have always wondered what it looks like inside a big ol’ smoke stack, through the magic of digital presentation, we are making the revelation here and know. You saw it here first!

Looking inside the west smoke stack. It appears to be three end-to-end bricks thick encapsulated in a thick application of concrete. In “Southern engineering” terminology, that sucka’ is some kinda’ stout.

Not questioning providential prodding, I am grateful to the Higher Power that sent me to the old building before it was too late. To tell the truth, there was some previous prodding, but in my human frailness, I resisted. Have I learned my lesson? We’ll see.

Thanks,
Joe Dempsey

Weekly Grist for the Eyes and Mind.

http://www.joedempseyphoto.com/
http://www.joedempseycommunications.com/
http://www.corndancer.com/joephoto/photohome.html

A slice of the Blues

Mud Morganfield, son of blues icon Muddy Waters, shares center stage at the Blues Music Awards with legendary blues guitarist Bob Margolin who played in the band led by Mud’s famous father.

Click on the pic to see Devon Allman, son of Greg Allman, playing at the Blues Music Awards.

Unlike most performing arts, the Blues is not rife with prima donna performers. There is little if any ring kissing — and talking to most of the luminaries of the genre is about like talking to someone you meet in a checkout line. Perhaps the prevailing attitude is a lingering imprint of the Blues’ humble beginnings. Blues crisscrosses ethnic and age lines like a steel sphere in a pinball machine on steroids. Other than the music, in my humble opinion, that set of conditions sets the Blues apart from other performing venues.

Nowhere is this set of conditions more pronounced than at the Blues Music Awards held annually in Memphis, Tennessee. The event is a giant southern sit-down supper that lasts for seven hours or so during which you hear blues performed by those considered to be at the top of the form — and see a number of them receive awards which confirms their greatness.

Before we go much further, we suggest that you digress to the Photo of the Week page at Corndancer dot-com where this story started. You’ll see pictures of some folks named “Allman” and “Neville.” We’ll wait here while you look.

All this goes on as you discover that at your neighboring table sit these artists who light up the room with their performances and in some cases win one or more of the several awards. Award winners are universally humble and grateful for the recognition they receive,

Double award winner Janiva Magness turns in a lively performance of her award-winning song, “I won’t cry.” As she accepted her awards, her emphasis was on her family.

Rick Estrin, winner of the “Instrumentalist of the year, harmonica award,” seems to be in a Shakespearean mode, as in: “Alas, poor harmonica, I knew ye well.” Actually he is singing. His vocal talents are on par with his “harp” skills.

Annie Raines (vocals and harp), and Paul Rishell perform on the “acoustic” corner of the stage. The duo’s past awards include the W. C. Handy Award and the Acoustic Album of the Year in 2004.

As Harrison Kennedy picked his mandolin and sang the blues, I imagined myself sitting on the steps of a country store on a gravel road, breaking a sweat, and slapping skeeters. That’s southern.

I wish I had been the first to say “Not black, not white, just the blues,” but some wise soul beat me to it. The words say that Blues is the music of the people and no one is exempt from enjoying good blues performances. Perhaps that is because no one is exempt from an occasional case of “the blues.”

See more of the Blues Music Awards in these galleries:

2013 Blues Music Awards Gallery 1 (23 pictures)

2013 Blues Music Awards Gallery 2 (25 pictures)

2013 Blues Music Awards Gallery 3 (19 pictures)

Thanks,
Joe Dempsey

Weekly Grist for the Eyes and Mind.

http://www.joedempseyphoto.com/
http://www.joedempseycommunications.com/
http://www.corndancer.com/joephoto/photohome.html

From Moffett to Texas Corner

In four easy steps

The place of my birth, Fort Smith, Arkansas, is rife with legendary facts, rumors, innuendos, and suspicions. It sits on the Arkansas-Oklahoma borders. The Arkansas River separates the two states at the west end of Garrison Avenue. Similar thoroughfares in most other communities are called Main Street.

Moffett

The trip starts in the Moffett “business district,” at the Moffett City Hall. The hall is not unlike thousands of other small town seats of government. The business district is about three blocks long. Or so.

Just across the river is tiny Moffett, Oklahoma. Claims to fame are limited there. It has a very popular stockyard and enjoyed infamy as an “entertainment center” for troops stationed at Camp Chaffee during World War II and the Korean War. So many soldiers were maimed and killed in the town that the entire municipality of Moffett was placed off-limits to military personnel. (Camp Chaffee was later changed to Fort Chaffee and was later de-commissioned as a U.S. Army installation).

Click on the train for the full story and picture

While I was in Fort Smith, I recalled a time when my father ordered baby chicks which were delivered to the Frisco Railroad Depot in Fort Smith. I wrote a story which touched on that. See it on the Photo of the Week page at Corndancer dot-com. You will also find a picture there of the Union Pacific restored engine 3985 under full head of steam.

Next door to the Moffett city hall is the small town version of a large-scale variety store. Some of the merchandise would probably require a winch-truck for delivery. It was a rainy Saturday afternoon and the proprietor was on the scene ready for business. No tellin’ what’s in the inventory.

Garrison Avenue

When you leave Moffett and pull on to US 64, you will eventually top the Arkansas River bridge and look straight down Garrison Avenue, one of the widest “Main” streets you will see anywhere. It is second only to Canal Street in New Orleans by a few feet as the widest “Main Street” in the Nation. Asphalt covers the original bricks which covered the original dirt.

Texas Corner

Texas Corner is the junction of Garrison and Towson Avenues (Towson is pronounced “ow,” (as in a sharp pain), not “oh” (as in a surprise). It is said that enterprising businessmen during the 1800s put a sign up at the corner with the word “Texas” and an arrow pointing south. Literacy was more of a challenge then than it is now (if that is possible) and many settlers passing through to Texas, though challenged as readers, were savvy enough to recognize the word “Texas.” Legend has it that when these settlers asked locals if they had arrived in Texas, the answer was yes. Thus the legend of “Texas Corner.”

Immacuiate Conception Catholic Church stands guard over Garrison Avenue as it has since the late 1800s. The highway signs to the right mark Texas Corner. The hospital sign points to the institution where I first drew breath.

Fact vs: fiction

Probably more factual is Texas Corner’s connection to “Texas Road,” which started in Fort Smith and led through Indian Territory (now known as Oklahoma), eventually to Texas. My friend John Paul Buie’s father operated a barber shop at Texas Corner and John Paul tells me the “Texas Road” connection is what his dad told him, so I am accepting that version. I am relegating the sign version to the rumors and innuendos categories, perpetuated for entertainment purpose. The video below supports the “Texas Road” theory.

Larger pictures

I have posted larger versions these pictures in a gallery along with this story. If you care so see ‘em, click here: From Moffett to Texas Corner gallery.

Thanks,
Joe Dempsey

Weekly Grist for the Eyes and Mind.

http://www.joedempseyphoto.com/
http://www.joedempseycommunications.com/
http://www.corndancer.com/joephoto/photohome.html

A Case of steam

Somehow you just don’t expect to see a well restored Case steam tractor in a parking lot, but there it was in all its glory. I saw a similar tractor on the web that could be had for a paltry $29,500. No home is complete without one.

Getting a closer look at the cylinder, connecting rod and crankshaft.

Click on the musicians to see the full size picture and read the story that goes with it.

On the way to my mother-in-law’s birthday celebration a few days back, what to my wondering eyes should appear but a well restored Case steam powered tractor in a business parking lot in Benton, Arkansas. Since one does not encounter such a beast often, I did a walk-around to record the beast. I found no owners to regale me with facts, but a little web research leads me to believe it is a 75 horsepower tractor which the J. I. Case Company manufactured in the neighborhood of 1912. But don’t bet the farm on that conjecture.

This will be the second Weekly Grist in a row which makes no attempt to foist clever observations or considered opinions on you. This is just for fun and just for looking. And speaking of looking, take a look at some energetic New Orleans street musicians on the Photo of the Week page at Corndancer dot-com shot in the Crescent City in 2007.

Here’s the tractor walk-around:

Here’s a good look at the control room. The originals did not have a seat, but had a more ornate arrangement than what you see here.

Leaning to the left the driver has to look over a steam cylinder, Looking to the right, one must peer around the flywheel. Maybe a periscope would be handy?

The conglomeration behind the smoke stake is the steam cylinder, the part that makes it go and sound like a choo-choo.

A closer look at the cylinder and the engine goodies.

A parting frontal view. I wish the utility pole in the background was not there, but then this shot is not destined for museum showing so I guess it is OK.

Parting shot

The are thousands of acres of winter wheat here in LA that is near harvest ripeness. Late in the afternoon last week this patch caught my eye, the sun was just about to dip below the treeline nearby, so this is a good as it was going to get. “And now as the sun sinks slowly in the west, I bid you adieu.”

The sun is nearly gone. As its swansong for the day, the golden orb back-lights this winter wheat on Grider Field – Ladd Road near Pine Bluff AR.

Thanks,
Joe Dempsey

Weekly Grist for the Eyes and Mind.

http://www.joedempseyphoto.com/
http://www.joedempseycommunications.com/
http://www.corndancer.com/joephoto/photohome.html

Star Daze 2013

As opposed to Moloch, this monster accepts children for mild-mannered fun. After all, it’s not every day you can take a ride in the belly of a dragon.

During the warmer months, a lot of cities and towns in LA conduct festivals, I surmise, because they are convinced it is the right thing to do. “Star Daze,” in Star City, Arkansas is the first one, held normally in one of the last weeks of April. The Star City folks are rolling the dice with cold and/or rainy weather, but so far, they have won the roll for the most part. This year a bad storm came through the Thursday before the Festival started Friday. If anything, it whetted the appetite of festival goers, because they turned out in droves.

Click on the church for pix and story.

Before we go too much further, see what we came across earlier in the day about forty miles or so to the northwest: a well preserved, 127-year-old-house-of-worship, Old Cypress Methodist Church. According to the sign on the church, it dates back to 1886.

We are a bit mystified by the name, since it sits in the Piney Hills, not the cypress lands of the Delta. The grounds include a well-tended cemetery and a I got a half-way decent shot of the interior through the window. See the Photo of the Week Page at Corndancer dot-com for the pictures and story.

The dragon’s brother, sister, and/or cousin provides smiles for more children.

Shooting at festivals is fun because that’s the whole idea and most of the attendees buy into that concept.  With many of these articles, I attempt to include a deeper meaning or some redeeming values, but this one has only one purpose: to show people having fun.

A band, the name of which escapes me, is loudly spewing rock-a-billy with a soul flair to a large crowd. The lead singer’s tune at this point assured the crowd that he was “country,” in the lyrics.

The Crazy Plane flies a closed loop and is not affected by the current FAA cutbacks. Is it crazy because the wings look backward?

The “Scrambler” attracts a teen age audience who appreciate a cheap thrill.

More Scrambler riders one of which is either camera shy or can’t stand the site of whirling real estate.

The guy in the center is hollering “take my picture.” He got his way.

Rubber Ducks swim in a circle offering prizes and awaiting selection. The takes were few and far between.

The midway was lively late Saturday afternoon and more people were arriving than leaving. A measure of success, one presumes.

Occasionally, it is balm for the being to do something just for fun. If that is true, a lot of souls were slathered with good at Star Daze, including yours truly.

Thanks,
Joe Dempsey

Weekly Grist for the Eyes and Mind.

http://www.joedempseyphoto.com/
http://www.joedempseycommunications.com/
http://www.corndancer.com/joephoto/photohome.html

Compress no more

This building and water tower are all that’s left of the former Federal Compress and Cotton Warehouse on West 6th Avenue in Pine Bluff, Arkansas. The original facility stretched for two or three city blocks and was a beehive of activity during cotton harvesting season. Advancing agricultural technology put compresses in the same category as high-button shoes, buggy-whips, and the Edsel.

Back in the day when cotton was King, most LA cities and towns of any size had a cotton compress (or two). The compresses received baled cotton from local gins and then compressed  the bales to a smaller size, around 60% of their original size, which made storing and shipping more efficient. Most of the compresses operated on steam as did this one, the Federal Compress in Pine Bluff, Arkansas.

Click on the sign to see more.

While we are on the subject of “back in the day,” let me direct you to see an old Coca-Cola wall sign, painted I’m thinking sometime around 1907. The sign is on Main Street here in Pine Bluff, so locals can go ogle it, if so disposed. Go to the Photo of the Week page at Corndancer dot-com to see the sign and graze through some commentary.

When gin operators discovered high-capacity hydraulic presses, they eliminated the need for the trip to the compress, sounding the death knell for these businesses. There was one other compress  in Pine Bluff, the Pine Bluff Compress and Warehouse Company. It is now leveled. The only evidence remaining of its former presence are a few concrete piers.

Here is a toads-eye view of the tower. The wide angle lens gives a, shall we say, “towering” appearance.

The old building and water tower now share real estate with a modern ice plant. Steam to ice in one generation, quite a transition. Shot across the street from the old compress premises.

A straight-on shot from the edge of the premises gives you a more accurate view of the proportions of the building and tower.

Though the economic value of compresses has long since met its demise, there is still historic value to that part of our background. Investors made commitments and provided a needed service. They created jobs that put food on family tables. Even the compress steam whistles were a dependable time check for neighbors. Compresses were a mainstay made obsolete. There’s a lesson there somewhere.

Three generations of signs speak to the history of this corner in my hometown of Pine Bluff, Arkansas. We see a venerable financial institution well over 100 years in business, a beloved local merchant no longer in business and the new occupant of the premises, a church with a neon slogan. Time and life goes on.

Sometimes a swing back in time is good for the soul. I trust this one was to you.

Thanks,
Joe Dempsey

Weekly Grist for the Eyes and Mind.

http://www.joedempseyphoto.com/
http://www.joedempseycommunications.com/
http://www.corndancer.com/joephoto/photohome.html

A break in the soaking and a compendum of critters

This “free-range” rooster gave me a wary look reserved for interlopers who threaten his hens. I stayed in the truck and grabbed him with a long lens. Back in the day, we would have called him a “yard-bird,” in lieu of the yuppified “free range chicken” designation.

Click the soaked camellia for  more pix and comments.

The drought conditions we groused about several months ago are now reversed here in LA (lower Arkansas). My friend Michael Stubblefield, a transmogrified Arky residing in Seattle would feel right at home. That is, once he made the adjustment to the fact that here one sees a plethora of service stations peddling fried chicken versus the plethora of Starbucks one observes in Seattle.

All that said, this last Saturday was generally a Seattle soaker. Even so, I found some lurking visual opportunities here on the Dempsey premises between cloud bursts. You can see these and peruse the attendant commentary on the Photo of The Week page at Corndancer dot-com.

A break in the soaker came in the afternoon, so bitten with a bad case of cabin fever, I ventured out to see what I could see. Turns out, a few critters had the same idea. One round trip down a short stretch of country road at the outskirts of my fair city yielded unexpected and welcome results manifested as chickens, cows, and horses.

This rooster was in the same location as the rooster above. He gave me the same suspicious look. I stayed in the truck.

Just across the road from the chickens, cattle were chowing down on a convenient hay smorgasbord in the middle of their pasture. The diners included a Texas longhorn, but unfortunately he was on the far side of the feeding station so we only got a glimpse of his impressive horns.

Across the road from the chickens, cattle munch out on hay. The calf probably probably still visits his mother’s milk supply. Notice the horn on the Texas longhorn on the far side of the feeding station.

Not long after I left the cattle, I was beginning to think I was going to run out of critters when I noticed a some horses grazing in a pasture a couple of hundred yards off the road. I kept going and noticed that the batteries in one camera were running low so I stopped to make the change. While I was fiddle-faddling with the batteries, unbeknown to me, the horses began to demonstrate a tendency shared by most pampered horses. They came to a stopped pickup. As a result, I would up with a close shot of a friendly pony.

I think this horse would have stuck his or her head in the truck had not the gate been closed between us. The horse came a long way to make the visit while I was changing batteries in one of my cameras.

Some days, you just get lucky. The idea is to let those days outnumber the others. I’m still working on that. I suspect you are doing the same.

Thanks,
Joe Dempsey

Weekly Grist for the Eyes and Mind.

http://www.joedempseyphoto.com/
http://www.joedempseycommunications.com/
http://www.corndancer.com/joephoto/photohome.html