Adventures on William King Hill

(1945 - 1959)

Jimmy Henley

I was born at 4 Starr Street in Edgewood, Maryland, on August 1, 1944. My dad worked at the Edgewood Arsenal making bullets for the war. I was always teased and told by my dad that the breadman was actually my father. That was because in those days the breadman would come in the back door and place the bread on the kitchen table. Seems my dad came home early for lunch one day and there was the breadman sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee. But I can tell from snapshots who my father was. My dad really enjoyed living in Edgewood. He talked the rest of his life about getting fresh seafood from the Chesapeake Bay and eating lunch at The Edgewood Diner. I also remember a story that he walked all the way to Aberdeen once to get a loaf of bread. That is all I know about living in Edgewood.

After the war, the arsenal didn't need so many workers anymore, so my dad lost his job along with most of the others and my folks moved back to Abingdon. I've heard stories that the train was loaded with military personnel and that the soldiers took turns holding me because my mom was busy with my three older brothers. I don't remember because I was only a few months old.

My dad went to work at Abingdon Wholesale and Produce in 1945. Seems he had been working there for only a couple of months when someone from the school board came by searching for a custodian for William King High School. My dad took the position and we moved into the old brick house next door to the school which came with the job. My mom has told me that back in the 1920's, my dad had a candy stand at the foot of William King Hill just behind the Esso service station. It is no wonder thay married because my dad gave my mom a candy bar every morning on her way up the hill to the school. And was this ever the right job for my dad. He was a jack-of-all trades. I believe he could do about anything that came his way. I still admire him because even though he had to quit school after the third grade to help his father run a dairy farm on Walden Road in Abingdon, he was one of the smartest guys I ever knew when it came to getting things done. For the next twenty-one years I think he did a great job of keeping the school clean and warm. And not only that, he did anything at all that needed to be done. I don't believe the school ever had to call a plumber, electrician, carpenter, painter or any of the professional trades for repairs or maintenance. He was constantly doing things to make the school look majestic on the top of that hill. I can remember in the summer he would give those four huge columns a fresh coat of white paint. He was also the night watchman and groundskeeper. I can remember that he always unlocked the school doors every school day whenever the first kid arrived for class so they wouldn't have to stand out in the cold. I think he was underpaid. He was only the janitor, but he really loved his job. He also served as friend and advisor to a bunch of the kids. I've heard that most of the psychology sessions took place in the furnace room. Early on, someone gave him the nickname of "Tack" but I don't know why. To this day, folks still ask me if I am Tack Henley's boy. But I do wish he would have smoked something besides those darn Camels with no filters. That was one strong cigarette.

The first thing that I can remember about William King Hill was the view of Abingdon. I guess I must have been about two years old. I could stand on my front porch and see practically the whole Town of Abingdon, White Top Mountain, Mount Rogers, the Blue Ridge Mountains and Walker Mountain. What a view! I had the whole hill for my playground. I had my own monkey cage (jungle gym), handle bars (parallel bars), playgrounds, ski slope, thick pines and lots of woods. Not to mention Latture Field at the bottom of the hill on one side and later on the Little League Field on the other.

I didn't know it then, but growing up next to a high school has it's advantages for a small boy. Back then most of the kids came to school early for lots of activities and then there was recess. Up until the the mid 1950's, on every warm school day it was almost like going to the fair for me. The guys were always shooting marbles, playing leap frog, turning flips and working out on the handle bars or playing Knights where each guy would have another guy on his back and you tried to pull or push him off. And these great guys would let me play too. What fantastic guys they were. They were my heroes. Guys like Gary Neal, Bobby Greer, Eddie Gray, Larry Roberts and many more. I thought I was really big stuff. I felt like they were all my big brothers. And it was like going on a treasure hunt looking for loose change under the handle bars after the bell rang and they went to class. I feel guilty now because that was probably their lunch money.

Gary Neal Bobby Greer Eddie Gray Larry Roberts

Another way of getting spending money was when the elementary school addition was built in about 1952. I can remember taking my gallon jug full of ice water and a glass up to the construction workers and getting a dime per serving. I must have been the richest kid in Abingdon that summer. When I was older I mowed lawns for several folks in Abingdon. I could pick up two or three dollars per lawn and I didn't even mind pushing my mower all over Abingdon to get a few quick bucks. But man would it buy a lot of candy and sodas. When I was older I had a Roanoke Times paper route, Bristol Herald-Courier paper route and sold the Grit weekly newspaper. Before the war (1930's), my dad had delivered The Roanoke Times on a bicycle to the whole town of Abingdon. In 1968, when I moved from Washington to Roanoke, I applied at The Roanoke Times for a job. I filled out the application and was told to have a seat in the waiting room. I heard the personnel officer tell the receptionist on the intercom to ask me if I was related to Henry Henley. He hired me on the spot. Saturdays were always the best day of the week because that was collection day for the papers that I delivered. I really enjoyed stopping by The Abingdon Sweet Shop and getting one of those great hot dogs. Who ever heard of toasting a hot dog bun until it was brown and flat? Sometimes a grilled donut would do the trick. And Louie's Tin Roof Sundae (Ice cream topped with chocolate syrup and peanuts.) was really fantastic. Sometimes, if I had a good collection day, I would stop and buy ice cream, syrup and peanuts on my way home and my whole family would have an ice cream feast after supper! The City Cafe was a great place to stop by too. They had pinball machines, ceiling fans, a lunch counter and squeaky floors. I can remember that everything was served on Fire King Jadite Restaurant Dinnerware. And now just a cup and saucer of Jadite fetches $25.00 in our shop. I liked to stop at George's Grill too but that was mainly to play the jukebox. I can still remember dropping a quarter in and playing "Party Doll" and "You Butterfly".

We lived right in the middle of town, but we had chickens, hogs, a cow, a pear tree, an apple tree, cherry trees, blackberries, a row of rhubarb and a garden. My mom would can every year and it seems the cellar and the pantry were always full of blackberries, raspberries, cherries, pears, peaches, apples, green beans, corn, tomatoes, pickles and chow-chow. My dad cured his own hams in the cellar of that old brick house. But I don't remember ever eating ham. I think he gave them all away to the needy and the preacher. I can remember going with him occasionally to take a bag of groceries to some of the poor folks over on Taylor's Hill. He also sold Zanol products out of a suitcase over there, so he knew which families were in dire need. We didn't have much but some of those folks had even less. Even though we were poor, I don't remember ever going hungry. We were pretty much vegetarians before it was considered healthy. We figured the seven basic food groups was for the rich. No wonder I didn't have to worry about my weight back then. I was usually too busy playing to eat supper anyway. But I have good memories of going to the pantry for a bowl full of fruit with sugar and milk and a piece of toast for a snack. I guess that is why now for breakfast every morning I have to have my blueberries, raspberries, blackberries or strawberries with Splenda and skim milk topped with whole grain cereal. But my dad did keep the sausage. I think my mom made sausage, gravy, eggs and biscuits for breakfast every morning. I can remember finding hitchhikers on the side of the hill in their sleeping bags once in a while. They were usually from up North. My Dad would invite them in to have breakfast before they were on their way. It was the first time most of them had ever had sausage gravy over a homemade buiscuit. No wonder I get this urge to go to McDonalds now and then for a biscuit with sausage gravy. I can also remember that my mom made a pot of Pinto beans and a skillet of corn bread on every week day. Sometimes she would also make scalded lettuce and onions to go with it. What a meal! Many times the kids would come down at lunch time and ask for a bowl of beans for lunch because the smell just drove them crazy. I have learned since then that some of them simply didn't have any lunch money and they were hungry. Now we have Pinto beans and corn bread every week day and I even offer it to customers for free in our shop. I tell them if it weren't for Pinto beans, I wouldn't be here.

A lot of the girls would come down and hang around in our kitchen before school started just to chat with my mom, have a bite to eat or just sit and listen to WCYB in Bristol which was always tuned in on the General Electric radio sitting on top of the General Electric refrigerator. I still love to listen to those old songs from the early 1950's by stars like Eddy Arnold, The Louvin Brothers, Pee Wee King, Hank Williams and Little Jimmy Dickens and on and on. (This was before Rock 'n Roll.) I suppose it's no wonder that I constantly have music playing in the shop and right after Mozart you may hear songs like I'm Movin' On by Hank Snow and then you'll see Bonnie give me that stern look!

Another advantage in living beside the school came at Christmas time. On the last day of school before the break, most of the teachers who had Christmas trees in the classrooms, threw them out. Some would still have decorations on them. And guess where we got our Christmas tree. We always had a fine big Christmas tree for Santa to leave presents under.

My very favorite place of all was Latture Field which was practically my front yard. If I wasn't at home I was down at the ballfield. I can still hear my mom standing on the front porch and calling me to come home. (Which I ignored most of the time.) But I always knew when my dad whistled, I had better get my butt in gear. Many of our relatives and friends liked to visit us at night. Seems I had cousins to play with all the time. Something was always going on down at the ballfield. And we could sit on the side of the hill and take it all in. We also had our very own Abingdon Blues semi-pro baseball team. These guys were also my heros and my idols. They would let me sit on the bench, be the bat boy, snag fly balls in the outfield during batting practice, retrieve foul balls, help lime the field before a game and Ralph Kloyd taught me how to throw a curve ball when I was eight years old. Some of my best memories ever are at the Blues baseball games. I can still hear the truck with the loudspeakers driving up and down the streets in Abingdon and blasting: "Baseball tonight at Latture Field. The Abingdon Blues versus The Bristol Twins. Come one, come all to the baseball game!" All through elementary school my dream was to some day play for the Blues. But after I graduated from high school they no longer existed. I still don't understand why Abingdon could not support a semi-pro baseball team. I think television had a lot to do with it. But I did play a few games for the Saint Paul Saints before the Marines sent me out of the country. The William King High School Mighty Midgets played their football and baseball games at Latture Field too and sometimes there were the donkey ball games, the tobacco festival, raffles, the Life Saving Crew's Bingo Party and I can't remember what all. And when there was nothing organized going on, many of us neighborhood kids would get together for our own baseball games. I played baseball with "Ears" Bowman, Luther Shelton, Raymond Crosswhite, Tony Hughes, Jack Lell, Hyler Williams and many others. The field was used almost constantly. And when there wasn't anything going on, I managed to have fun by myself. On the front of the hill where the road once was (I guess about 1913 til the 1930's.), there were many, many small pebbles (See the photograph above and below.). With those rocks and a broom stick, I played many baseball games alone. What fun it was to hit a zinger. You could hear it whistle all the way to the bottom of the hill. (Most games went extra innings.) Did I say that I was also my own announcer and play caller? There ain't no rocks there now, just grass. Also, on the side of that old brick house there was a brick missing about four feet up from the ground. I would sneak and get my dad's old work glove to use as a fielders glove and I would go down to the tennis courts at Latture field and find tennis balls. I pitched hundreds of baseball games trying to hit that hole in the side of the house. If I hit the hole it was a strike, if I missed it was a ball. I had to announce these games too. I imagine if anyone was sitting in the living room during one of my games, they must have gone insane with my tennis balls thumping on the wall every day! But nobody every complained.

I can still recall that same year when I was eight, my friend Russell Fricke and his B & PW Little League team was practicing at Latture Field. And of course I was just hanging around and watching. After practice, Russell told Coach Armentrout that I could throw a curve ball. He didn't believe him so he latched onto me and wanted me to throw a few pitches so he could see for himself. He got all excited and asked me if I would like to play for his team. I told him I would love to but my mom wouldn't sign the papers. He asked for my home phone number (236J). Still don't know how or why, but about a week later my mom told me I could play baseball. And what a blast I had. I think that was when this boy's life really began. It was like Coach Armentrout had found a diamond in the rough and he wanted to polish it into a shiny gem. I can still hear him yelling "You better than he are!" or "Work on his pork chops!".

Sometimes we even had horses grazing on William King Hill because Albert Morgan lived at the foot of the hill on the Russell Road side. His place was always fun because he also had pigeons, a parrot, goats and rabbits. He went up and down the alleys and streets in Abingdon with his string of four horses giving kids a ride for a dime. My brother and I would hang around at his house quite a bit and go with him during the summer. I don't remember if it was to help out or just to have fun and ride the horses. I can remember stopping by the Abingdon Ice House for a Moon Pie and RC and resting the horses. I have never met anyone else as kind, thoughtful, generous and gentle as Albert Morgan. He was like my second dad.

Before we got our first television (1952?), my brother Cecil and I would go down to Harold Reynold's house on Saturday nights to watch shows like Texas Wrestling and Badge 714. He was the groundskeeper of the Sinking Springs Cemetary next to Latture Field. It was at Harold's house where I had my first Lucky Strike (Yuk!) and my first kiss ever with Harold's daughter (Shhhhh!). We used to play Army between the cemetary and Latture Field. (Next to the tennis courts.) I had no idea my Great Grandpa Neal who fought in the Civil War and was a prisoner of war at Point Lookout, Maryland, was buried right there on our battlefield. I remember one summer an ex-Marine trained us to play War. I don't think that had anything to do with me joining the Marines.

Another favorite place to visit was Count's Grocery which was next to the main gate of Latture Field. My mom sent me there almost daily for a loaf of bread or some other staple. If the store was closed I only had to knock on their back door and they would come and open the store. I was probably their most frequent customer. I believe we ran up a pretty good tab every month and Mr. Counts was always concerned that we might go to the Kroger store for something. I didn't mind going to Count's Grocery because I could always get me a soda and a candy bar, cake, pie or cookie and just say "Put it on our bill". Of course mom never saw the receipt. Some of my favorites were Zero, Big Time and Hollywood candy bars, Kits and Mary Janes, Sugar Daddys and sometimes two oatmeal cookies with a slice of hoop cheese sandwich. I can remember one time getting a half dozen donuts and a quart of milk and consuming it all before I got back to the house. Mistake. I only did that one time. In the summer, occasionally my dad would send me down to Count's to get everyone in the family a pint of Pet butter pecan ice cream. And what do you suppose is my favorite flavor of ice cream now?

Then there was Benny Kendrick's store across from the Esso station and Chevrolet's OK Used Car lot. My dad would send me there for a watermelon when they were in season. He would always tell me to make sure I got it plugged before I payed. They would cut out a cube about one inch square and three inches deep so you could be sure it was ripe and then plug it back. Benny always had the coldest melons and sodas because they were kept in a Coke cooler with water and huge blocks of ice. That was also our favorite place to call on the phone to see if they had Prince Albert in a can too.

Another jaunt up and down the hill was to the Kroger store. But not by way of Count's Grocery. When my dad decided he wanted some seafood (That Chesapeake Bay Calling!) he would send me to Kroger's to get a dollar's worth of Winter Trout. Seems I would walk back up the hill with a whole lot of fish. I still haven't figured out if it was because Winter Trout was just really cheap, if the butcher was a friend of my dad or if he just knew we were hungry poor folks. For whatever reason, my mom really knew how to fix it and we would have our seafood feast.

I'll also never forget walking up and down the hill to, of all places, the Pure service station just down the street from the Esso station (Across from Branson's) to get a dollars worth of bologna. A dollar bill would buy a lot of bologna. There was nothing better than a bologna sandwich on Sunbeam bread with lots of mayonaise and one of mom's sour pickles on the side. It was much better than a mustard and onion sandwich or a tomatoe sandwich which I had many times. Peanut butter and banana on Sunbeam bread was pretty good too. But come to think of it, a slice of homegrown tomatoe on two pieces of Sunbeam bread toasted nice and brown with lots of mayonaise wasn't all that bad either. That is because sometimes during the summer, I would spend the weekend on South Holston Lake where my brother W. C. and his friend Ralph Larimer had a house. I don't think they ever had anything in the kitchen but tomatoes, mayonaise, bread and cold milk.

I guess it's no wonder that even today I have to go with my coupons to all the different grocery stores constantly to buy the food I want at the best price. I really get a thrill when I can buy something for almost nothing or get it free. I think my mom would be proud of me.

I also paid my dues at Ed Gray's Esso Service Station at the bottom of the hill on Main Street. They would let me help out with things like pumping gas and cleaning windshields, helping wash cars and cleaning the front lot. They would even let me man the cash register. They even let me drive a 1952 Dodge across the parking lot once all by myself for the first time. What excitement! Now I realize why I just had to buy that old black '52 Dodge back in 1968. I took my pay in sodas, candy bars and Nabs. Once a customer was talking about the new giant Baby Ruth candy bars. He told me if I could eat three of them that he would pick up the tab (25 cents each). What an opportunity! Well I did eat two of them and had to stop. He paid for them anyway and was still laughing when he left the station. Then there was another fellow who came in who could throw his voice. We were all just sitting around doing not much of anything and I kept hearing someone call "Jimmy". I looked everywhere inside and outside trying to see who was calling my name. After about thirty minutes he told me he was the one calling my name, but I didn't believe him. He was still laughing when he left too. One of the first real shockers of my life was when a customer came in and whispered something to the owner behind the counter. I was curious so I went back to see what it was all about. The owner pulled out a bottom drawer under the cash register and got a box full of condoms in cute little tins. I had no idea they were there. Seems this was one of the main reasons the service station was able to stay in business. Then there was the time I decided I would put gasoline in a cigarette lighter instead of lighter fluid. Another mistake. Not one of my smartest moves. I was getting a little gas from the bucket where we cleaned the tools. Decided I would fire it up to be sure it would work but I was too close to the bucket. Caught the bucket of gasoline on fire. That really caused a commotion being in a service station and all. Next thing I know here comes Higgenbothem with a broom handle to carry the bucket away from the service station. And then the fire trucks! I felt like Ralphie in "A Christmas Story" and the tongue stuck to the flagpole. After all this, they still didn't fire me.

This also reminds me of when I got my drivers license. Must have been in 1959. I remember my Uncle Kerry took me in his '49 Chevy (?) up to the jail house. Don't know why it was in the jail house, but it was. Seems it was the sheriff that was the examiner. I remember I had to drive around the block and come back down Court Street to the jail. I belive that was probably the steepest hill in Abingdon. Thank goodness Mr. Denton taught me in driver training how to stay in a lower gear when going down a steep grade. Otherwise, I probably would have gone sailing over to A Street.

During the summer when I was nine, my Mom told me that there was a wild bear roaming Abingdon and I had better keep a look out. Of course she only told me this so I would come home before dark. I would be so scared after dark that I would run up the hill. One Saturday night I let the time get away from me because I was at the Zephyr Theater watching the same movie probably for the third time and it was really dark. So I simply walked down to Steve's Cab and took a taxi home. I let my Mom pick up the tab. Guess I showed her!

I suppose she also got paid back when I was thirteen. About a week after I had tried out for the Babe Ruth League my Mom got a phone call when I wasn't at home. (I was never at home.) It was Coach John Clark all excited calling to tell her that "The Moose Got Jimmy.". It scared her half to death. She screamed "THE WHAT GOT JIMMY?". She told this story the rest of her life.

I also remember that sometimes on Sundays we would walk to my Grandma and Grandpa Neal's house on White's Mill Road to visit. But instead of going the way I would go if I were walking or riding my bike which was up Valley Street and out White's Mill Road, my dad would take us across Taylor's Hill and through the fields and to my amazement we would wind up at Grandma's house. "Over the river and through the woods". What a smart guy. I remember that on the way, we would always stop at a Sassafrass tree where my dad would take out his pocket knife and cut everyone a small piece which we would chew on until we got to Grandma's house. I guess it was so that everyone would have fresh clean breath when we arrived.

When I was growing up, I along with most of the other kids could hardly wait to get away from Abingdon. I have been to many places in the world and in this country but I haven't found a better place than Abingdon. What a wonderful, bustling , clean and pleasant place it was back in those days. And what great and decent people, relatives, teachers, preachers and friends. If there was a more ideal place to grow up and be a kid, I don't know where it is. I have lots of pleasant memories of Abingdon and how I yearn for those days again.

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