The Money Man, the Music Man & a Standing Order from Captain Bill Bailey, USMC

 

Grand Times on Grand Lake with Rusty Fleming as we track the history of the Duck Creek Fireworks Show 

Over the past few weeks, we’ve wandered down the historic trail to the 2025 Duck Creek Fireworks Show scheduled for Friday night, July 4th. Our time machine has taken us back to the forties when a few feisty members of the Cherokee Yacht Club set off fireworks on the club’s lakeside lawn to celebrate our nation’s grandest of national holidays. We’ve also reviewed how a tragic fire and subsequent bankruptcy of that very club, while disastrous at the time, lead this Grand Lake tradition to the spectacular show of patriotism it has become today.

The original "Money-Man," Skip Teel 

 As Joe Harwood says annually at the Sparkplug Dinner, which this year hosted a full house at the Cherokee Yacht Club,  to raise funds for the show, “It’s not about the money, but it’s about the money.”

 He adds, “Without a doubt this is the largest publicly funded show in the entire country!”

 In the early years, Captain Bill Bailey, who practiced law in nearby Vinita, Oklahoma, would canvass area businesses to contribute to the show to celebrate our country’s freedom with the hope that $5000 could be raised for the event. In recent years, over $150,000.00 has been raised for the celebration from both private and corporate donations. The most significant event transitioning this Grand Lake spectacle from that meager beginning to what we enjoy today occurred in the early eighties.

 It had become obvious that unless someone stepped up to the plate, the show would not go on. Bill Bailey had decided young Joe Harwood was up to the task and made a house call on the usually stoic Mr. Harwood, but Joe wasn’t sure he wanted to take the project on. But the old South Pacific Marine Corps vet had prevailed and Harwood was off and running.

 Harwood fondly recalls, That was one great old man and he did live long enough to thank me for what we have turned the show into. If he would have been less humble and a little more self-serving, it would have gotten there a lot sooner. Bill just needed someone to tell the story he couldn’t.”

 But there’s a lot more to this story of how the show was jettisoned from its simple beginning to what it has become today and that more can be equated to money. Shortly after Harwood took command of the show, he made his first donor pitch to long-time Grand Laker Skip Teel. Skip’s first recollection of Grand Lake was that of weekend visits to his uncle’s place in Drowning Creek in the late forties, prior to his dad building a place in 1951.

 Skip calls Tulsa home and is a U.S. Airforce vet, who has been extremely active in the Tulsa community for years, is a board member of several Tulsa based community organizations, a graduate of T.U., active alum and supports the prevention of child abuse among other things.

 Skip recalls, “Joe approached me about helping preserve and elevate a show I had been enjoying since I was a child and continued to look forward to as a young adult and later on in life. I was the first $1000 donor to the show and I did that for multiple reasons, but mainly because I wanted to preserve and continue that celebration of our freedom for future generations. I wanted them to have the same experience which had meant so much to me.”

 Even though some health issues have limited his time at his safe haven, as he calls Grand Lake, he leaves little doubt about where he would like to be come Friday night when he says, “I’ll be on my boat in front of Arrowhead, between the gas dock and courtesy slips, like so many times before, if my health permits,  and it never gets old.”

 For an event like this extravaganza over Duck Creek celebrating our country’s independence, there is no static; either it’s getting better or it’s in decline. The addition of the flyover by the Oklahoma Air National Guard, the participation of the vintage warbirds, an occasional World War II B-17 bomber and even a cardiologist, Dr. John Swartz and his son Corey, flying Korean era T-5 trainer jets over Duck Creek has made the show better each and every year and there’s more on the way.

We don’t want to steal any thunder, but a special ending is in store and worthy of paying close attention to, but we can tell you about the new and improved plans for the music incorporated in to the show…enter the Music Man, Dunn Faires, who professes his love for music, but retired from Northeastern State University as the Associate Dean of the College of Business & Technology.

The plans for improving the show’s music, strangely enough, got its start during a road trip to the Cobalt Boat Factory in Neodesha, Kansas. Faires had taken along a friend, who was a vet. According to Faires, he introduced his friend to Joe Harwood during the bus trip and the conversation quickly turned from Cobalt Boats to the fireworks and its associated music. Faires pointed out that not all of the branches of the military were represented in the music used.

Faires recalls, “I offered to send a sound file to Joe containing an arrangement which included all five. I also pointed out that some of the largest and most successful shows in the country, like New York and Washington DC, used more patriotic and march themes.”

Joe liked what he heard and an ongoing dialogue was established to develop a custom sound track specifically dedicated to the Duck Creek Show. Over 700 numbers were reviewed and a final plan was developed.

Faires did this sizable volunteer undertaking because he’s been hanging around Grand Lake for nearly 20 years and loves the show. And his seat for the event isn’t bad either as he has owned a Spinnaker Point condo with a northerly exposure for the past many years. And as he points out, “That way I control those in attendance by invitation.”

There you have it….A Money Man, a Music Man and a Standing Order from a Real Patriot and Member in Good Standing of Our Country’s Greatest Generation! Now let’s celebrate the birth of our nation 249 years ago come Friday night, July 4^th.

See Ya’ Around the Pond!

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A Look Back at the Duck Creek Fireworks Show

 

Chapter One…W.W. Bill Bailey

 From Grand Times on Grand Lake with Rusty Fleming 

Note: Our blog will feature the colorful history of the Duck Creek Fireworks Show as we approach theFourth

Nobody celebrated the Fourth
like "King Cracker" and
yours truly

 The Duck Creek Fireworks Show is the absolute King of Traditions when it comes to the annual Grand Lake celebration of our country’s independence. At the conclusion of World War II, some of the best recognized names in this part of the state had recognized the potential of Grand Lake and purchased lakefront property. Names Like McMahon, Siegfried, Bendel, Welch and LaFortune to name a few.

They didn’t just show up and find a grand and glorious fireworks show in Duck Creek every Fourth of July. What started as a one family fireworks show to celebrate our country’s freedom quickly expanded into a multiple family event. Then the Cherokee Yacht Club was constructed in Duck Creek and many of these same families gravitated to and continued with their family fireworks celebration.

 One of the earliest accounts of the meager beginning to what has become one of the largest fireworks displays in the nation comes courtesy of former Cherokee Yacht Club owner Terry Frost. According to Frost, his friend Orville Cole was the Commodore of the yacht club in 1948 and shared his memories with Frost of those early days. Cole described the 1948 celebration as a few families shooting off fireworks in front of the club and recalls a water skier making a couple of passes up Duck Creek; on the first pass he had sparklers and on the second pass he was celebrating by shooting off a Roman Candle.

 Soon the club itself was spearheading the annual tradition and had assumed the lead role. But a catastrophic fire in the early eighties, followed by bankruptcy after the club’s reconstruction, put the tradition’s future in jeopardy. Since the late forties, the show had been a summertime staple on Grand Lake. It was literally on the pirate ship’s plank, awaiting execution or for Captain Morgan to appear and save the day.

 Can’t say that I recall how many years Joe Harwood has been the driving force behind raising funds for the Duck Creek Fireworks Show, perhaps he’s the real Captain Morgan, but I can damn sure remember the first show I took in. The year was 1976 and I was on Everett Williams’ pontoon boat captained by his son-in-law, Rue Morgan. Morgan was never the shy type, and he had positioned himself right in front of the old Cherokee Yacht Club’s docks…. I think there may have been ten or twelve slips at most.

 When the show started, the site was spectacular and so up close and personal that debris from the exploding shells were finding their way onto the deck of the old boat. The presentation above Duck Creek was far beyond anything this Oklahoma City boy had ever seen at Spring Lake or Wedgewood Amusement Parks. And the grand finale of the show was so close, I could almost touch it……The outline of the American flag in sparklers of red, white and blue….and there was some guy, who seemed to be in charge, shouting out orders to his crew on how to get it done.

 I learned later, the guy I had seen was W.W. Bill Bailey and it seems he knew a thing or two about being in charge. Bill was an officer in the United States Marine Corps, World War II vintage, and a bona fide member of Tom Brokaw’s proclaimed “Greatest Generation.” He had survived six first wave landings in the South Pacific as a captain commanding an infantry unit, fondly called grunts by Marines, former and present. He was shot up, decorated and following the war, returned to Vinita, Oklahoma and started his successful law practice.

 Bill was one of the ring leaders at The Cherokee Yacht Club, who incidentally instigated a fireworks show to commemorate the celebration of our independence come each Fourth of July. He was “The Duck Creek Fireworks Show.” He lit the fuses; he canvassed area businesses and Lakers for funds to purchase the ordinance and probably even cleaned up the mess on the club’s lawn the next morning, after recovering from a very special celebration the previous night. For Bill Bailey, it was just plain more than a fun time at the lake…. I suspect it was about the men he lost and his personal realization of what the price of freedom was all about.

 When The Cherokee Yacht Club burned down in, I think ’82, rebuilt and eventually ended up in bankruptcy, Captain Bailey wasn’t concerned about where he would get his fried chicken on Thursday nights while the club remained closed. Bailey was most concerned about preserving a Grand Lake tradition he had personally helped build.

 Having been a full-time resident of Grand Lake since 1981, I always knew Joe Harwood had stepped forward to salvage the show. Like you perhaps, at the time, I might have been grateful the show was going to go on, but deep down probably thought it was at least partially about putting butts in those yacht club seats come the Fourth of July.

 On special and significant occasions, Harwood has reached back into those memory cells from circa 1982 and shared just how persuasive councilor Bailey could be. It had become obvious that unless someone stepped up to the plate, the show would not go on. Bill Bailey had decided young Joe was up to the task and made a house call on the usually stoic Mr. Harwood, but Joe wasn’t sure he wanted to take the project on.

 He recalls thinking, “This is like free kittens at the grocery store” and asking Bailey, “Why would I want to do that?”

 Joe recalls how Bailey explained to him just how important an emblem of our Independence the Duck Creek celebration had become. He recounted his memories of those six first wave landings and shared with Joe the number of casualties his unit had suffered. He shared with him how he had spent six years away from home, fighting for his country, and he’d be damned if the show to celebrate what he had fought for wasn’t going to continue.

 Harwood recounts the event like it was yesterday when he says, “That conversation took place right here on the Arrowhead deck. And by the time Bill was done, I was ready to do anything he asked with respect to the show. And as they say the rest is history and we’ve gone from $5,000 and $10,000 shows to what we have today.

Harwood adds, “Bill remained very involved in the show and I recall asking him for advice on more than one occasion. One year, the forecast looked terrible and there was a threat of rain. I called Bill and asked him what I should do if it rains, to which he replied, ‘Hell boy, it isn’t going to rain…it’s the Fourth of July.’ And you know what? It didn’t.”

 In an e-mail exchange with Harwood a few years ago, he was a little more revealing about that conversation and recruiting visit from the Marine Captain Bill Bailey from so long ago and wrote, “In his very measured dressing down of my pompous, spoiled ass, he let me know he had left half of his original platoon in the south pacific. He never raised his voice or touched me. But it was the worst ass kicking I’ve ever received! I never forgot it and it did put a fire in me that has not gone out.”

 He went on to write, “That was one great old man, and he did live long enough to thank me for what we have turned the show into. If he had been less humble and a little more self-serving, it would have gotten there a lot sooner. Bill just needed someone to tell the story he couldn’t.”

 In the end, it has become obvious Bill Bailey’s Fireworks Show is about a lot more than putting butts in yacht club seats. There is a lot of raw emotion for a lot of different personal reasons and none bigger than the celebration of our country’s independence.

 If you don’t want a house call from Captain W.W. Bill Bailey ghost, I suggest dusting off that checkbook and doing your part to preserve Bill’s party. The sound of freedom, baby…. Let’s all chip in and celebrate the freedom we enjoy in the greatest country on earth.

 Next week: Chapter II – When the Sound of Freedom entered the creek it was a game changer!

 See Ya’Around the Pond!

 

 

Rusty Fleming

 

Mother's Day, Simple, Yet Complex for Yours Truly

The modern holiday of Mother's Day was first celebrated in 1908, when Anna Jarvis held a memorial for her mother at St Andrew's Methodist Church in Grafton, West Virginia. St Andrew's Methodist Church now holds the International Mother's Day Shrine. Her campaign to make Mother's Day a recognized holiday in the United States began in 1905, the year her mother, Ann Reeves Jarvis, died.

Ann Jarvis had been a peace activist who cared for wounded soldiers on both sides of the American Civil War, and created Mother's Day Work Clubs to address public hralth issues. Anna Jarvis wanted to honor her mother by continuing the work she started and to set aside a day to honor all mothers because she believed a mother is "the person who has done more for you than anyone in the world".

As Paul Harvey would have proclaimed, “Now for the rest of the story!” I always knew I was an adopted child, along with my two siblings, but never thought much about having the privilege of two Mothers and boy do I owe them big time. My adopted Mother was a mother for the ages and raised me and nurtured me to the max, while serving as my defense attorney in matters of importance with my dad. But, without the sacrifices of my birth mother, there would have been no life to celebrate or life-long Grand Style party.

My adopted Mother passed away in 1999, but by 1996 she had been converted to a Grand Laker and resided on Chigger Street in Langley, Oklahoma. We shared a lot of great conversations in those last three years and no doubt when she was promoted to the here-after she knew I loved her to the moon and back. She never stopped encouraging me to seek out my birth mother.

It was never held back from those Fleming kids that all three were adopted. In my adolescent years it wasn’t something I wanted to be known. It kind of fell right up there with those homemade shirts my Mom would make. She sewed labels in those shirts so none of my teammates at Northwest Classen High School would discover I was wearing homemade clothing as we dressed and undressed in the locker room. In retrospect, I should have been wearing those garments like a badge and asking those very teammates if their mothers could do the same.

 For several years before her death, my mom offered to share my adoption records so if I wanted to I could seek out my birth parents. In those days, my attitude was fairly jaded as I thought to myself, “The Hell with em’. They didn’t want me so why should I care about them?”

 But as the years passed by, I have to admit my curiosity started to grow. My older sister had tracked down her birth family and discovered she had a family history and siblings she had never known existed. She was all over my backside to get with the program.

As my curiosity grew, I convinced myself I needed to explore my background to discover any hereditary health issues. After conducting brief online research, I delegated the project to my sister's daughter, who has a keen interest in genealogy. She identified my birth mother, complete with address and phone number, in less than a couple of days….and that was in her spare time away from her teaching job…….but what was I going to do with the information.

After much prodding from my family, the tough guy finally wrote a letter of introduction. It was primarily asking for confirmation that she was the mother of a child born at Deaconess Hospital on March 21, 1944 in Oklahoma City. I also told her I was interested in the family health history, wasn’t looking for a mother, because I already had one, and that if she wanted no contact I fully understood and would respect her wishes. When a week passed by after mailing that fateful letter, I concluded she had no interest in hearing from a child out of the distant past or wasn’t the mother. But I was dead wrong.

I heard from her on an Easter Sunday evening and all of a sudden the tough guy wasn’t so tough. She apologized for taking so long to respond to my letter by saying, “I had some business to attend to, I have four other living children, who have never known of your existence, and I had to tell them first.” She then added, “My birthday is March the 18^th and not a year goes by that I didn’t think about you on yours because it’s so close to mine.”

The rest is history as they say. We went to McAlester for that first meeting not really knowing what to expect, but a more genuine person I’ve never met. My siblings were receptive and made me wonder how I might have felt in similar circumstances. And our relationship continued to grow year after year.

As we prepared to leave after that first visit, we embraced and she said, “It’s like a ton of weight has been lifted off my shoulders. All these years, people would ask how many children I had and I always knew there was one more than the number I answered with.”

The mystery had finally been unraveled. She passed away at 93, but had enjoyed a happy life in McAlester, Oklahoma. I was just really grateful for the prodding and divine intervention which finally enabled me to make the connection. If I was honest, I would admit it was always all about me. What kind of dark secrets would be revealed, and did I really want to know them….The secrets were revealed and they turned out to be really good ones.

It's kind of like the old cliché about if they return it was meant to be…if not, it never was. My birth mother turned me loose for a better life….my parents certainly provided that and much, much more. I returned full circle from where I started, to find out the world, indeed, is a special place and just as I always thought, I am special, but so are many others. A salute to all you Mothers out there and have a Grand Day as it was earned in oh so many ways.

See Ya Around the Pond

A Christmas Celebration for one & All

35th Anniversary Christmas Boat Parade Set 
for Saturday night, December 14th

The boats will once again be spectacular

The thirty-fifth Annual CYC Christmas Light Boat Parade is set for Saturday night with current information indicating some 35 boats will be participating. Boat captains and their crews have been working for weeks to decorate their boats. Things will get underway at 3:00PM with participating boats on display for viewing by the public with a poolside and dock party taking center stage. The festivities will include a bonfire, free hot chocolate and cider, 2$ hot dogs will be available, and everyone is invited to the party.

The decorated boats will be on display from 3 pm -5:30 PM with the various crews providing entertainment of sorts with Santa’s arrival scheduled for approximately 5:30 PM. The boats are scheduled to leave shortly after that with a fireworks show being the exclamation mark as the last boat leaves the marina. Following the parade a Captain’s Party is scheduled for 7 PM with the awards ceremony to follow at 7:30. More information is available on the Cherokee or Arrowhead web sites or Facebook pages. Sunday brunch, scheduled from 10 AM – 2 PM on Sunday, will also be offered with reservations required. Enjoy the party!

What makes this Grand Lake tradition so successful is the participating Captains and wouldn’t be possible without the generosity of its sponsors. Those stepping forward to sponsor this year’s event includes Prosperity Bank, Morrison Construction, Arrowhead Boat Sales & Marina, GRDA, Notable Outdoor Living, Safe Harbor/Harbors View, Cedar Port Marina, Cherokee Yacht Club, Hammerhead Marina, Grand Lake Cabins, and the Grand Lake Association

The very first Christmas Boat Parade was organized 35 years ago and has become a staple of the Christmas season on Grand Lake. That very first event, which had serious doubters when announced by the Cherokee Yacht Club, was a resounding success in 1989. The atmosphere at the pre-party could be compared to the electricity usually reserved for a championship sporting event.

I was on hand for that first event and can testify to the evening being a game-changing promotion which contributed significantly to expanding Grand Lake’s season. The atmosphere that night was extraordinary, and the excitement could have been carved up and served as dessert. There couldn’t have been a Santa suit within 250 miles that hadn’t been rented by a Grand Laker for the evening. Those of us taking part that evening were witnessing a change in the Grand Lake business as usual approach to the off-season, which would benefit our economy for years to come. But that was thirty-five years ago and thanks to Joe Harwood pumping life into the event year-after-year, it’s an established tradition that just keeps getting bigger and better.

Over the years there have been peaks and valleys with the numbers of participating boats and crews being as high as 30 and as low as seven, but the 34^th anniversary event last year may have been the best one ever, but this year’s event may exceed all expectations.

And as Joe Harwood said, “I would like to thank the participants, sponsors, and crowd for making  this event possible.  Without your participation and sponsorship, this wonderful event would not be possible.  Thanks You!

See Ya’ Around the Pond!!

A Grand Thanksgiving to One and All!

As the Thanksgiving holiday approaches, I’m reminded of all those blessings our family has reason to give thanks for. I’m also reminded of days gone by and how drastically things have changed in my short life time. This particular holiday is no exception.

 As a youngster growing up in Oklahoma City area, I can remember many Thanksgivings which were similar from year-to-year. The women and girls were occupied preparing a feast by any standard, while the men and boys spent the morning Quail hunting some 20 miles south of the city. There were aunts, uncles, cousins and every other form of family one can imagine. It was a traditional and family affair. But those were much simpler times and a lot has changed since those days.

 To me, Thanksgiving 1963 represented the beginning of a change in our entire society. It started with the shocking news of President John Kennedy’s assignation in Dallas. I don’t suppose anyone old enough to remember can’t recall where they were when they heard the news. I was returning from Central State College, located in Edmond and now known as the University of Central Oklahoma, where I had attended classes that morning.

 WKY Radio interrupted their programming at approximately 12:30 p.m. to announce the president had been shot and to join the ongoing national coverage. Not knowing what else to do, I headed for the same place I had always gone before when I perceived something was wrong. I headed for 1219 North Portland where my parents had resided for as long as I could remember. Together, we huddled closely to their old Philco TV set as the news from Dallas got steadily worse. Our worst fears confirmed…President Kennedy was dead.

 As I look back on that dark day, I realize it probably represented the death of my innocence. I had never dreamed such an event could take place in this country. This kind of thing was something Huntley & Brinkley would chronicle during their evening telecast from some far away place in another part of the world, not in the United States of America. But this was just the tip of the iceberg. The assassinations of Bobby Kennedy and Martin Luther King, Jr., along with the whole Vietnam experience would change our society forever. Shocking events were becoming less shocking and there was a division in our nation not witnessed since the civil war. Yet there was more to come.

 In recent years, we magnified our lists of tragic experiences with the Columbine mass shootings, the bombing of the Murrah Building in my home town and the horrific events of 9/11and unexplained shootings no longer even make the front pagee. Not to mention the many combat related events around the world we’ve engaged in as the self appointed sheriff for all of man kind..

 Coors was the drug of choice in my Oklahoma City high school and violence was defined by students squaring off at nearby Reed Park to settle their differences. There was some talk of brass knuckles, pipes instead of pipe bombs, and other weapons of mass destruction, but none did I ever personally used or have used on me. No guns, crack, marijuana and the list goes on, and indeed, the times have changed.

 Yet, we’ve solved so many problems during this same period of time. Great depressions can now be avoided and the means utilized can be seen debated in the form of bumper stickers. Many forms of Cancer can now be cured and I’m living proof of that. We have the technology to put men on the moon and space travel is no longer a big deal. Computers which used to fill a room can now be balanced in your lap; and your wife can track you down wherever you are via a cell phone or worse yet a smart phone….Thank God for caller ID.

 Yet our politicians and leaders resemble kids fighting over toys in a sand box. The rural areas of our country, just like this one, are growing by leaps and bounds due to the exodus from the metro areas fueled by its crime rate and more. More energy is expended in covering one’s backside than in addressing a specific problem. Perhaps it’s a sign of the times but I hope not.

 But regardless of all the issues we can find to complain about, we still reside in the greatest nation on earth. This same huge pot, which brought together so many different nationalities to form our nation, still has a lot of work to do. There are problems to be addressed and solutions to be found.

 This Thanksgiving might we all give thanks to the courage and sacrifices made by those who came before us to insure our way of life. Let’s just hope that future generations will have reason to give a similar salute to the current caretakers of the greatest nation ever formed. As we gather round that table to give thanks, enjoy our family and friends and enjoy the feast, let’s all pray for the custodians of our nation regardless of their political or religious persuasion.

 See Ya’ Around the Pond!!  

The Grand “Fall Ball” is Underway!

It just gets better in spite f the lack of rain late in the season

All right Grand Lakers…let’s step back from the ledge for a moment, realize it is fall on the pond and ponder the beauty of this lake we have called home for the past forty-three years. As I sat on my perch overlooking Grays Hollow a few evenings ago, the waters were nearly calm, with a slight north breeze cooling the air hovering just above our lake of choice. The shad were schooling, which meant the Sand Bass couldn’t be far away. Tranquility to Grand Lake base, come in!

It’s times like these which truly make Grand Lake a very special place. And it’s never more pronounced than in the first few weekends immediately following the Labor Day holiday. It’s almost as though you were awakened to find your favorite weekend lake retreat had been magically relocated. Summer’s night-time sounds of fun and frolic have been replaced by the calls of owls, and soon the honking of geese will be heard from overhead as they wing their way to their winter homes……at least we hope so. And in the not too distant future, we’ll find ourselves before an open fire, longing for those warm summer days and a golf course accented by green, growing grass.

Personally, I can never decide if my favorite time is the “Spring-Fling” or the “Fall Ball.” The renewal taking center stage in March and April always proves to be miraculous, but the fall display of color in these Ozark foot hills is also truly spectacular. With the associated calm waters and pleasant temperatures, it’s hard to imagine a better time to be alive. A time to gaze out and truly ponder what’s important in this life we have chosen to lead. A time to reflect on where it is we have been and what we might have left to do. The changing of the seasons, at least for me, sends a strong signal with regards to our own mortality.

But reality is usually just an e-mail or phone call away. As I look back at this time on the calendar from years gone by, I’m reminded of the less than thirty days of Hell till the upcoming election. Of how tired I’ve become of the “You’re wrong, I’m right” mentality, or is that vice versa? How we will assail one another over political philosophies as though we were from different countries. Where snarls have replaced reason, and where bridges will be burned, which will be difficult to rebuild. But it’s the American way, right?

I’m often told how fortunate I am to live on this great lake. I’ve even had a friend repeatedly say over the years, “When I grow up, I want to be just like Rusty.”  But no matter where you live, or your chosen career path, reality is never too far away.

I can’t help but recall the run-up to the fall elections of ’96. My Dad, a life-long Democrat, who had plucked me from Deaconess Hospital in Oklahoma City to adopt me as his own, was seriously ill and would pass on before the election. He had raised me, taught me the difference between right and wrong, delivered a powerful message on how being lazy was not an option, been there every time I needed him and provided me some simple explanations that have never failed me throughout this life. To him, the son of a poor dirt farmer from Faxon, Oklahoma, politics was a simple choice and he explained it to me like this. “Son, it’s really simple. You can either give ‘em a hand, or you can give ‘em the back of your hand.”

In ’96, I was still the owner and publisher of The Chronicle of Grand Lake Newspaper. Our publication had long passed the stage of fearing the consequences of expressing our thoughts and opinions on the state-of-the-lake and other issues. A letter I received during that political run-up still resides in my memory bank today. The letter urged me to put my bias aside. It went on to council me on paying close attention to the author’s thoughts, since most of our readers were conservative. And if I elected to print the author’s letter of political advice and personal attack for my previously stated beliefs, “Please, no editorial comments to detract from my letter if you print it.”

I remember thinking at the time, I used to be naïve enough to think I determined the content of the publication. The reality and shortcomings of the political season is never far away….then or now.

Thank God for the “Fall Ball,” the geese, the ducks, the fish, golf and all the other things making sense out of this world we live in. Not much has changed over the past twenty-eight years.

See Ya’ Around the Pond!    

Labor Day Weekend will always be Special!

Labor Day Weekend will always be Special!

Every Grand Laker has a story

Just livin the dream!

All holiday weekends on Grand Lake are special in many different ways to many different people, but the 1976 Labor Day weekend was a life-changer in every possible way for yours truly. As I’ve written on many occasions, Grand Lake serves as a backdrop for making memories to be recalled for years to come, and though I had spent many weekends here previously, Labor Day weekend ’76 was mile-marker number one for me on a long winding road with my beloved pond being the star of the show. You see, it was Labor Day ’76 when I became a full-fledged Grand Laker with the purchase of a little piece of heaven located in Grays Hollow.

I had spent most of the summer bumming off my good friends Rue and Kathy Morgan in Duck Creek, or occasionally actually paying for a place to stay in one of the upscale cabins, which actually looked more like storage sheds, at the historic Duck Creek Landing. If it gives you a clue, those cabins were among the first structures dozed by John Mullen when he bought the property from Dale and Grace Fowler and founded Thunder Bay Marina. By August, I had contracted a severe dose of Grand Lake fever and was feverishly looking for a place to purchase on a data sales manager’s meager salary at Southwestern Bell.

I had stumbled onto a local realtor, Karol Gregory, who was affiliated with the legendary and historic Pigeon Riley Real Estate Company. Pigeon was a GRDA systems operator by day and real estate magnate in his off hours. I was impressed that Karol elected to transport me by boat from property-to-property, telling me how we could cover a lot more ground in a shorter period of time. But in reality, the location of property in my price range didn’t include much more than goat paths in the way of roads, Actually, I would suggest to you the four wheelers below the dam enjoy better roadways than those off the beaten path east of Disney in 1976.

One of the places Karol seemed to think would be a perfect fit for a single guy like me was located in Grays Hollow…or as I would later find out was referred to by most as Dripping Springs. The showing occurred during the week…not a boat in sight, three slip dock, all be it about to sink, a mobile home with a huge deck out front constructed from rough cut cedar produced at the local mill on Topsy Road…alias the Topsy Turnpike. The current owners, the Solemans, even left plans for an “A” frame addition for a larger living space. The deal was made, financing secured, and a closing date was set for the Friday of Labor Day weekend 1976 at Pigeon Riley’s office.

After a trip across-the-street following the closing to the historic Cove Club to celebrate the deal, where three years later I would propose marriage to the lovely Lynda Fleming, it was off to my new lake place with its 107’of waterfront and it was all mine. I remember sipping my drink of choice, looking down at my three-slip cruiser dilapidated dock and thinking, “How could it get much better than this?”

The next morning, following an early trip to Frosty & Edna’s for breakfast, I headed out to my spacious deck to enjoy my little piece of paradise. I had just started on my second cup of coffee when two boats came idling into my new secluded cove….and they were followed by four more and they were followed by eight more and by now I was discovering there might have been some information about Grays Hollow I wasn’t aware of. Back then jet boats we’re the rage of the lake and when they weren’t capsizing, they were racing. On this particular day, they were racing from the Dripping Springs bluff, out to mouth of my secluded cove, circling the “No Wake” buoys and heading back to the drip. I was 32, single and up for a good time, so it really just didn’t seem like much of a problem at the time…..and to this day it still doesn’t.

Many times, over the years, I have been asked why I don’t sell this place, move out of this shantytown and move to the rich side of my beloved lake, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. In reality, there’s only about six weekends a year where the traffic is that much of a factor and for the other 46 weeks, our cove pretty much belongs to us.

We once had a rich broker who ended up buying a place in our cove and when asked why, he would proudly explain, “I like being with the little people.” But if diversity is a measure of a cove’s worth, we’ve got it all. Our little people’s cove, where all the rich kids come to park, is made up of lawyers, doctors, hospital administrators, commercial sand company magnates, tool pushers, commercial real estate developers, car wash owners, retired cops, bar owners, salesman, an aircraft after-market dude, another broker, not to be identified with the first, an office furniture factory rep, an aeronautics guy, a has been publisher, a drug rep of the legal variety and most recently an Okies in reverse deal with some folks from California taking up residence next door.

Yours truly may not have the net worth of one of the little people in certain ways, but with immeasurable wealth in other ways. To have dumped the corporate lifestyle for the Grand Lifestyle was, indeed, a life changing decision motivated by quality over quantity. We celebrate the passing of the snowy season and the nesting of the wood ducks in February, the return of the Purple Martins around the first of March, the Crappie spawn in April, warmer water temperatures in May, the return of thousands of our closest friends come Memorial Day weekend and most importantly, we wake up here every day to beauty not found on any metro-plex cul-de-sac.

The biggest body of water I frequented as a kid was my dad’s farm pond located South of Oklahoma City between Blanchard and Newcastle. My friends would join me on fishing outings, shooting bull frogs with our air rifles and drag our kill or catch home for my mom to deal with. Grand Lake or any other body of water will always be a pond to me, but with more surface acres of water and the toys of choice have changed. Celebrating 48 years as a Grand Laker and I still believe, the best is yet to come, but how could your glass be less than half full living the Grand Lifestyle?

See Ya’ Around the Pond!!