It's World series time..... let's talks Baseball!

First, a disclaimer.  These cheery guys aren't from Dawes County.  Well, some of them may have lived in Dawes County around the turn of the 20th century, but these fellows played baseball for the team from Beaver Valley east of Chadron.  Yep, in Sheridan County.  But the Chadron team just had to be a favorite opponent!

We're told that this team routinely whopped the Chadron dudes.  Suppose we could do some fact-checking on that, but we like the idea that they beat the city slickers.  You'd think that Chadron would have consistently triumphed over these fellows.   But I'll bet they didn't beat Whitney!

If you're curious to know who this group of ballplayers from yesteryear were, check 'em out in our Baseball Gallery.  A larger resolution photo and name key can be found there, along with a few other old baseball photos.  Thanks to Lawrence Denton for sharing this bit of history.

Blue Rock Cave - Perhaps it's still hidden in the hills…

Click on the photo to see a larger
 version of Blue Rock Cave and 
explorers Denton & Miller 

If you can't grow up on a farm or ranch, perhaps the next best thing is seeing the world through the eyes of a small town kid.

One of the many benefits of communities like Crawford, Chadron, Rushville, and other similarly-sized towns is that you're never very far from the great outdoors.

Today, of course, the thought of traipsing through the hills south of Chadron to places like  "Paradise Valley," "King's Chair," "Blue Rock Cave," and "Sacrifice Cave" has lost a bit of its luster.  First, I'm not sure my old feet could hold up -- and even if they did, what would I do about snakes or poison ivy?

Such thoughts found no place in my mind back in the 1940s and '50s.  Playing soldier or hide-n-seek was the highlight of a summer day -- maybe even a step above going swimming. (Of course, we "city" kids had to swim under the scrutiny of lifeguards -- unlike our country brethren who could find a bit of solitude from adults at a country swimming hole.)

These thoughts came racing back today as I foraged through a box of pictures that my sister sent to me…….and I stumbled upon the one shown here.

Blue Rock Cave (I have no idea if that was its real name or just one that we embraced) was one of those special locations.  I remember the cave vividly, but just who took the photo has joined the clutter of other pleasant youthful memories that are unencumbered by details -- things like specific names and dates.  Nonetheless, the photo  reminded me of the wonderful times of a different era.  That's Lawrence Denton atop the cave, and wannabe National Geographic explorer Larry Miller at the entrance to the cavern.

They say you can't go home again, but in the 1980's, my teenaged son and I trekked all the way from Oklahoma for a visit to Chadron.  It included a hike to the hills of my youth -- and I was giddy at the thought of sharing some of my special places with him.  King's Chair was still sitting regally in its proper place -- as was Paradise Valley.  But after what seemed an eternity of hiking and looking, we gave up trying to find Blue Rock Cave.

Maybe you can't go home again -- at least not without a good map…..or GPS.

Take me back to the ball game

In the early 1950’s around Chadron – and lots of other communities, I suspect – town kids spent lots of time every summer on baseball diamonds.

That baseball was the American pastime there was no doubt. When we weren’t on the field playing Ward, Midget, or Junior Legion ball, we were gathering for afternoon scrimmages on any lot big enough to accommodate the game. One of our favorite spots was an empty field immediately east of what is now the Miller Building on the Chadron State College campus. These days, that field is occupied by the Reta King Library.

Occasionally, we’d retreat to backyards and improvise a bit with practice golf balls and makeshift bats. We called it “cotton ball,” although it was known by other names, too. Big city kids called it “stick ball.” I remember two types of balls used: one was a foam rubber sphere; the other was a hardened, perforated plastic ball. I preferred the foam rubber ball, which could be more easily manipulated for a wide range of strange pitches from exaggerated curves to drastic dropballs!

Summer evenings were especially fun when there was a Chadron Elks baseball game. The young men and old-timers who comprised this team in the 1950s was a diverse group of guys who shared one common love: baseball. That team deserves a separate story at a later time! From pre-game music over the speaker system to the public address announcing by Walter Hampton – summer fun was in the air, rich with the smell of freshly-popped popcorn - and baseball!

Perched on outfield fenceposts, we kids bided our time, waiting to retrieve the frequent foul balls or homeruns. This was not only a way to see the game – but we were also providing something of a service to team. After all, baseballs didn’t grow on trees, and the 10 cents reward for returned balls could net an industrious kid a buck or two! Few kids who were as adept at chasing and finding foul balls as Kenny Connors, a Prepster whose achievements in the realm of foul-ball chasing were almost legendary. As he confided to me some decades later, it was also a way to occasionally replenish one’s own supply of baseballs. After all, we had to have something to play with when we gathered for our afternoon games.

Another baseball-related cottage industry that kept us off the streets and out of trouble, usually, was collecting and trading baseball cards. Of course, this was a hobby in which anyone could participate, and it was great fun. These were chewing gum cards -- popular long after the tobacco card collectibles of the early 1900s.

I was fortunate enough to team up with Lawrence (Larry) Denton, an older friend, who was a savvy collector and shrewd enough to effectively negotiate the swapping of two Bob Keegan cards for a more valuable Jim Hegan card.

Our big year in the baseball card game was 1953. I was 10 years old. Lawrence and I had bought lots of Topps chewing gum at the Newsy Nook that summer, parlaying a formidable inventory of cards. For each 5 cent-package, the purchaser got five cards – and some really bad gum. Those were the days before parents and merchandisers got into the game, selling and buying entire collections in one fell swoop – snatching from kids the joy we found in collecting and trading cards.

Like so many other things in life, new generation parents want their kids to have everything now, rather than working for it over time. Is it any wonder we’ve seen a whole generation of kids grow up who want and expect to buy a new home while still in their 20s!

With the promise that I would never sell or give away the fruits of our 1953 labors, I kept our card collection neatly tucked away in a cigar box (probably belonging to an old Denton family boarder named Jim York) for decades. In recent years, I’ve moved the cards to a binder that allows me to occasionally revel in the collection, remembering the many happy hours we spent buying, selling, and swapping cards. But our collection is still not complete.

Anybody have a #46 Johnny Klippstein?

A walk in the woods

During a late night Skype conversation with brother John in San Diego this week (5/23/09), he shared the news that a 4.7 earthquake had shaken central California east of Fresno earlier in the day.

This bit of natural disaster news got me to wondering: whatever happened to King’s Chair, the huge boulder that once sat atop one of the pine hills just south of Chadron State College? Did tremors from an earthquake cause it to roll down the hill and crumble into pieces? Was it viewed as a safety hazard and demolished to keep some wanton waif from falling off and cracking his head open? Or, perhaps time simply weathered it down bit-by-bit, and my aging eyes just can’t discern it anymore?!

These are some of the grave questions I occasionally ponder whenever I’m thinking about Chadron or heading back there for a visit. Since I wasn’t able to see the landmark when last I visited Chadron, the above questions started percolating in my mind. I simply refuse to believe that my wits have teamed up with my vision and have taken leave of my body……but that’s probably more plausible than the other possibilities.

Lots of Chadron kids used to trek around in those hills – and perhaps still do, although many homes, including those in “Hidden Valley,” have encroached upon much of the terrain.

John and I enjoyed reminiscing about a few noteworthy places scattered through those hills. There was Koske Dam, Sacrifice Cave, Blue Rock Cave, and another some of us used to call Paradise Valley.

One of my buddies – I don’t know who – snapped this photo more than 50 years ago at the entrance to Blue Rock Cave. Lawrence Denton is atop the cave, and I’m next to the entry. Alas, that might’ve been my final encounter with Blue Rock Cave, since my attempted pilgrimage back to the cave some years later was a real bust. In the late 1970s or early 1980s, I was going to show my son one of “my special places” where I played as a kid. Kind of a “rite of passage” thing. So we put on our hiking shoes and headed for the hills. Two hours later, we had traipsed over C Hill, scaled King’s Chair, hiked to the “new” water tank, and visited what I remembered as Paradise Valley. Sacrifice Cave was beyond my endurance, so we didn’t even try that.

But the centerpiece of the hike was to be Blue Rock Cave. We covered a lot of ground that day, but we (I) never found the cave. I suspect my now 41-year-old son wonders if there really is such a place – or ever was.

Let the above photo serve as evidence that there really was such a place – and I was there! Unfortunately, my stint in the Junior Forest Rangers Club was brief, and my navigational skills slipped away over the years, and Blue Rock Cave was never again found – by me, anyway.

Perhaps I’ll take a GPS unit next time. At least I’ll know where I am when I don’t find the cave.