Carl's Scrapbook: The 1950's

Third Birthday

In 1950, Auburndale was still a rural community with a population of less than 4000. The main industry was citrus. There were orange groves everywhere. If a parcel of land didn't have a house, a business or a lake on it, it probably had an orange grove. With the end of World War II the population was on the up-swing but, although the town was growing, it was still little more than a wide space in the road between Lakeland and Lake Alfred. There was no Interstate-4, no Havendale Boulevard (until 1955) and Highway 92 was a narrow two-lane concrete road with stretches of cracked pavement filled with potholes. There was no Wal-Mart, no Publix, no malls, no McDonalds nor any other fast food restaurants. There were no liquor stores because Polk was a "dry" county and selling liquor was against the law. Gas was about 25 cents a gallon and when you pulled into a "service station" (that's what they called places that sold gasoline) a bell would ring and someone would come to your car, pump your gas, clean your windshield, and check the oil and water in your engine and the air pressure in your tires. If you were low on water or air - they would provide either or both for FREE . A loaf of Merita bread would cost you about 14 cents. I mention Merita bread specifically because it has a special place in my heart (plus the fact that it was the ONLY brand that was ever in the house).

Merita - The Lone Ranger In 1947, Daddy had managed to get a job with American Bakeries Company as a Merita bread salesman. He drove that Merita bread truck for almost the entire time that I knew him (over 30 years). He only had a 3rd grade education but took to that math intensive paperwork like a duck to water. And, as an added perk, my Daddy was the Lone Ranger. Of course not literally, but Merita Bread was so identified with that radio and then television program that many a youngster would see that logo on the truck and assume the driver must be (or at least know) the Lone Ranger. And what was even cooler - occasionally he would let me ride along in the truck for part of his route.

I had turned 3 years old about 2 weeks before the 50's decade began. My parents were renting an upstairs apartment on Bartow Avenue (now Main Street) right next and to the left of the old ice house that used to sit roughly where the City of Auburndale Utilities office is now located. I can very vaguely remember the lamb shaped cake that mother made for me on that 3rd birthday. That I would remember living at any particular location is a wonder, because in the first six years of my life we moved 5 or 6 times. My parents were married in 1938, and managed to move 16 times in their first 15 years. To this day the word "moving" drapes a dark shadow of despair over my psyche.

I have very spotty memories of living on (in no particular order) Bartow Avenue, Orange Street (directly in front of the Auburndale church of Christ), Walnut Street (just north of 92), McKean Street (just north of Pilaklakaha Avenue, locals call it PK Avenue), and on the very south end of Orange Street about 2 houses from Derby Avenue. We lived at this south Orange Street location in 1952, when I started school - I was only 5, because my birthday was so late in the year.

It was also in 1952 when Daddy's brother, Sears, and his wife, Elsie, along with their six children (Billy, Patricia, James, Gerald, and twins: Melvin and Stanley) moved from North Alabama to Auburndale. Uncle Sears was a highly skilled block mason and this area was growing fast making it a field ripe unto harvest for someone with building and contracting skills. In 1953, Daddy bought two adjoining lots in a new housing development on the east side of Auburndale called Prestown Subdivision. He bartered one of the lots to Uncle Sears in exchange for his building skills and they proceeded to build a house on the remaining lot. In 1954, we moved for the last time into our brand new house at 209 Rose Street. Uncle Sears then built his own house next door on the other lot (207) and this is where I spent the rest of my primary and then elementary and high school years.

We didn't get a television until 1955 and - until Uncle Sears got a set a couple of months before we did - my only exposure to the "tube" had been that snowy moving picture on that magic screen in the window of the Dale Electric appliance store that would always be turned on when we would make our weekly round of downtown on Saturday night. Until that time, we had always been very happy with our classic ol' wooden, floor-model, Philco radio (that's AM radio kids) that sat in the living room and was almost always on. I can still remember hearing local personality Zeke Hollins and his band playin' and singin' them old country songs, "live", Saturday afternoons, on WLAK in Lakeland. In the early 1950s, we didn't have a "country" radio station - but most all the stations had country music shows. In a day's time you could usually hear a good cross section of pop, country and classical music as well as the news and those great old radio shows like "The Lone Ranger" and the "The Shadow". Daddy had the radio modified with a quarter-inch phone plug on the side so that a 45 rpm record changer (pictured right) could be plugged into and played through the radio's amplifier and speaker and transformed it into a sort of ancient entertainment center. My earliest musical memories include tunes by Patti Page, Dinah Shore, Perry Como, Nat King Cole, The Andrews Sisters, etc., but especially, Hank Williams, Gene Autry, Carl Smith, Little Jimmy Dickens, Tennessee Ernie Ford, etc., etc., etc.. When the weather was good, we could pick-up WSM in Nashville on Saturday nights and listen to the Grand Ol' Opry. Radio was great - because it gave you a chance to exercise your imagination in ways that television has never been able to do.

The first "live" lead guitar player I remember seeing and hearing as a young child was a local picker by the name of James Moran. In the early fifties he was an area legend and appeared often, around Polk County, doing grand openings and such. I can vaguely remember watching him play on Saturday afternoons in the parking lot of I. J. Davis' grocery store, down on the corner of Highway 92 and Walnut Street about half-a-block from where were living that year. He played country and rock-a-billy and, as best I remember, was really good. He and my cousin Billy were friends and he would come over and they would pick and sing in Uncle Sears' living room (it seems we never lived more than a house or two away from Uncle Sears and his family). I have no idea what ever became of him.

When I was in the fifth grade (1956-'57) at Auburndale Primary School (now known as Central Elementary School), I started in the beginning school band. We spent several months on "song flutes" learning to read music and then we each moved on to the instruments that we would eventually play for the remainder of our years in school. I was relegated to woodwinds because my teeth were uneven in the front and not suitable for brass instruments. Daddy and Mama probably chose the clarinet because it was somewhat cheaper than a saxophone. I didn't really care -- I just wanted to play. I was familiar with music having been reared attending the Auburndale (Orange Street) church of Christ, where the congregation sang from shape note hymnals, so I was a quick study.

When we graduated to the seventh grade, three of us from the intermediate band were privileged to skip Jr. High Band and were moved directly to the High School Band. The Auburndale High School Band was only about 45 strong in those days and needed the numbers. William C. "Bill" Miller was the band director and music instructor. Mr. Miller had a seething passion for the music and would settle for no less than 110% of what he thought you should be able to deliver. He demanded respect and loyalty and those who would not comply were usually asked to leave. I, to this day, have a deep and abiding respect for the man who taught me what little bit of music theory I have managed to retain. He could be (and often was) a slave driver - but the end result was always worth the labor. Miller expected only the highest marks from the regional and state contests we attended and we never received (that I recall) less than an over-all "Superior" rating at any of them. We rocked! The only Central Florida High School band that was any competition at all, in those days, was the Lake Wales High School Highlander Band (complete with bagpipe and drum corps) who were a class act from the word go.

My First Guitar
About 1959

It was also during this same time frame (about 1958-59) that Daddy bought us an old "F" hole, arch top, acoustic guitar. It had been refinished in a blond finish with hand painted roses and vines trimming the front of the body and was actually a handsome guitar. There was no name on it so I don't know what brand it was, but it was the first in a long line of "I sure wish I had hung on to that one" guitars that I had as a teenager. I would sit in the corner (usually about three chord changes behind) trying to keep up with Daddy and Uncle Boots playin' those old fiddle breakdowns. My cousin Billy Joe lived next door and had an old "Harmony" guitar that he was teaching his brother Gerald (who was two months older than me) to play. The camaraderie and love for music that Gerald (or Jesse as he became known) and I developed in those early years would remain intact for many years to come.

During 1959 or 1960, after Billy Joe had married my half-sister Annie (No! they were not related), they had some people over to their house one night to do some pickin'. No one can remember the reason or circumstances that led to that evening but it would change our lives forever. Two of the guys that came over were Ronnie Mills and Chuck Brown who had been playing together in a band called the Blazers. Another person who was there that night was Ronald Whitney, who I don't believe had yet learned to play guitar nor had he ever sang with a band. None of us knew each other at the time. This was the first time I had ever sat and watched anyone play rock and roll on an electric guitar. Ronnie Mills was a pretty good player with some "hot" licks, but all I remember of that evening was Charlie Brown, playin' that old two bass string, slightly muted, Chuck Berry style rhythm on his "Fender Duosonic" that set something inside me on fire. I wanted to do that -- real bad.

Not long after that, Daddy bought me my first electric guitar, a cherry red sunburst, Gibson Les Paul "Standard" guitar (Daddy was familiar with Gibson guitars and had never heard of Fender) and a Gibson "Explorer" amplifier. Wish I had hung on to both of those. I didn't keep the "Standard" very long before we traded for a used Les Paul "Black Beauty" (sometimes called the "fretless wonder") that I have always believed was the same guitar that Ronnie Mills was playing that night at Billy Joe and Annie's house. Daddy also upgraded me to a new amp that Fender had come out with, called a piggy-back "Showman" with a single 12" Altec Lansing speaker.

By this time, (around 1960) Jesse and I had started to get together with some other players at school and had formed a band, the Dynamics. Ah - but then - that's another decade........

 

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