Do you have a story you would like to share with your classmates?  We would love to hear from you.  

"Granny Goldie" by Jerry Williams and BillBrittenham
"The Hit Parade" - Haskell Stories.... by Mike Martin
Black and White TV  submitted by Bill Brittenham
"The Palace"- Haskell Stories.... by Mike Martin
"Rockaway Beach, Jim and the Duck"- Haskell Stories.... by Mike Martin
"Edna Sims" - Haskell Stories.... by Mike Martin
"The Driver's Test" -Haskell Stories.... by Mike Martin

Bunny's Girl, Jorja Jane Williams __to China and Back.... by Bunny Brown Williams
Snake Dance at Mitchell Springs.... by Bill Brittenham
Jim Howerton and his father's Censsna.... by Bill Brittenham

ALittle Town You Could Never Have Heard Of .... by Bill Brittenham
Knockout: The History of Haskell Haymaker Football
One Wise Fellow .... by Mike Nessar
For All Those Born Before 1948_ We Are Survivors! .... submitted by Scarlett Barnes Sellmeyer


Granny Goldie & Jerry
Granny Goldie & Jerry


Granny Goldie

by Jerry Williams

Granny Goldie was 100 years old in the picture with the rose. We had a party for her in Haskell, OK in 2001. She wanted me to know how great it smelled. That same day she told me the names of all her grandchildren and great-grandchildren and the birthdays for every one of them.  - Jerry Williams
I asked my cousin Gayla (Allen) Bailey to help me with the information on Granny’s childhood. The following is from Gayla:
Goldie Leora (Stage) McGlothlin was the fourth child of Alexander Wiley Stage and Mary Elsie (King) Stage. She was born April 17, 1901 in Eldora, Hardin County, Iowa. Goldie’s ancestors were of Pennsylvania Dutch descent. **
            Goldie lived in Eldora, Iowa for some time (between her birth and the age of four or five.) Then her dad sold his share of their old-home place and moved his family to Fillmore, MO.  They moved from Iowa to Missouri in a covered wagon eating “hard-tack” and biscuits.
Her dad purchased eight acres of land in Fillmore, MO. There he built the family their own “board” (frame) house. They had lived in a sod house before that. It wasn’t long before her dad packed the family up again and moved to Arkansas. There she lived on an 80 acre farm with her parents and siblings. She and her family would walk to get groceries and carry them back home. They would all pull off their shoes and carry them until they got to town, slip them on to wear while in town. Goldie said they did this so their shoes would last for a year.
Goldie told the story of how they “had it made” while they lived in Arkansas. She said they had a fruit orchard, chickens, cows and a vegetable garden. She would like to have remained there.
During this time her father was fishing for a living about 50 miles from their home on the White River. Goldie’s oldest brother was with her dad but after several days of fishing he left his dad to go back home to check on the family. He was not home but a few days when they received the news that their dad had died on the banks of the White River. Goldie was eight at this time. The family stayed on the farm for four more years.
Some members of the family heard wages were much better in Oklahoma for farm workers. They moved to Oklahoma then, leaving all their possessions behind except for the clothes on their back. The family did find work in the cotton fields making good wages.
They lived near the “Choska Bottoms” and eventually moved to the Stone Bluff area.  Goldie told the story of knowing the man she married for a long time (Claude McGlothlin.) They married on December 10, 1923. They settled in the Stone Bluff area where they raised five children.
Goldie lived in and around the Haskell area most of her life. She lived to be 100 years old and passed away in Broken Arrow, OK on September 30, 2001. - Gayla (Allen) Bailey
** The Pennsylvania Dutch are NOT Dutch descent at all. They came to America from Switzerland, Germany, and the eastern parts of France or wherever the German language was spoken before 1800. German areas before 1800 included areas that are now part of Poland, the Czech Republic, Switzerland, Russia, France and other areas as well as Germany.
The following are some of Jerry Williams’ favorite Granny Goldie memories:
Grandma Goldie worked at the Haskell Cannery when we first moved to Haskell. We always had plenty of juices and canned groceries. There was always a lot of food around, mostly pastries. That was a kid’s dream.
I remember her walking down the street after work with a lot of other women. There were always a lot of kids running to meet their parents and grandparents. I think there was a loud whistle at quitting time. 
            Looking back, I remember how the women would hang around the intersections, talk, joke and gossip. I guess that was the only time they had to socialize before going home. I would like to know what happened to the workers after the cannery closed.
Granny also worked at the laundry downtown across the street from the post office in Haskell. Women did their laundry by hand back in those days. I just remember how hot it was when I would go in to see Granny.
People in Haskell would be so nice to me when they found out I was Granny Goldie’s grandson. It made it so much fun to hang out with her friends.
Granny had a 7.5 inch black bass mounted in her living room at her house in Haskell. She caught the fish in a pond at Welch, OK on a farm owned by her daughter and son-in-law, Edith and Ralph Williams. She refused to let anyone help her land the fish. She walked the pastures and fished the ponds until she was near 90 years old.
My wife Emma and I were talking to a store owner in Adair, OK one day. I found out her name was Goldie. I told her my grandma was also named Goldie. She told me she was named after a lady named Goldie. She asked what my grandma’s last name was. I told her McGlothlin. She said that was who she was named after. Her mother had Granny as a mid-wife at her tent on a vegetable farm where they were pickers. Her mother told Granny she didn’t have any money to pay her. So Granny told her to just name her daughter after her.
Granny loved the people of Haskell. She always bragged of how good the stores, cafes, and schools were and seemed to always brag about something going on in town. She wouldn’t ever say anything bad about anyone.
She lived in the same little house on the south end of town for her last 30 years and wouldn’t talk of moving or living anywhere else.
She loved her church, sitting in the same place with her friends at every service. On Mother’s Day it was such a joy to her to have most of her children and grandchildren present. I guess that was a dream of most grandmothers.
I miss her a lot and all the family reunions honoring her. Hope to see her again someday. - Jerry Williams
NOTE: Jerry’s grandmother Goldie McGlothlin was possibly the sweetest old lady I have ever known. As my first grade Sunday School teacher, her example and teaching left enduring impressions. When my wife Angie’s mom died, her dad Bill Ferguson remarried. Angie’s new stepmom Pat was Goldie’s daughter. Bill once noted how Goldie waited to be the last of the senior folks to board the church bus. She commented with a smile, “I just want to let the old folks get on first.” In her mid-80’s, Goldie was probably the oldest one present. She was definitely only as old as she felt.  When Goldie was a hundred years old, not long before she passed away, she purportedly told some of her family members, “I just want to go home.”  When they pointed out that she was home, Goldie replied, “No, I mean my Heavenly home.”
- Bill Brittenham


The "Hit Parade"

In these days of the many newspaper articles and TV News bits concerning changes in education, we hear about the controversies such as "Prayer in School", "Corporal Punishment", and "Outcome Based Education".  While parents and educators debate these subjects and try to arrive at correct and legal decisions in 1993, I submit that many of us who once studied in dear old Haskell High dealt with these ideas on a regular basis in one of our classes. 

I'm talking about Mr. Shockley's history class in the 1960's.  He had a technique for preparing us for chapter tests that was truly ahead of its time.  He called this idea, "The Hit Parade."  Not to be confused with the 1950's TV music show starring Snooky Lansen, the Hit Parade assured that each student would study for the coming test.

The methodology was simple.  Each week we took a test covering all or a portion of a chapter in the text book.  Since 70 was the minimum passing grade, you needed to always score ABOVE that point.  For example, if you took the test for Chapter 3 and made a 65, your name would be placed on the "Hit Parade:,  The next week, if you made above 70 on Chapter 4 your name would be removed.  BUT__If you had the misfortune of failing to study because the dog ate your book, and you made a 68, you would receive a "swat" (from Mr. Shockley's paddle) for every point UNDER the magic 70.  Hence "Outcome Based Education", you make below 70 two straight weeks, and you know what the "outcome" would be.  

This form of "Corporal Punishment" encouraged most of us to study a little harder, and not a Judge in the land nor the ACLU could have kept us from "Praying in School".

As a further lesson the concept of Honor, we were required to add a simple statement at the bottom of this test.  "Whoa be to the person who was caught in a lie concerning that statement.  It was one thing to cheat  (if you dared) and he not know where or how you cheated.  But if you lied!  A Grade Change was in order!!!

On test day we graded the papers immediately by the old technique of  "Pass your paper to the person behind you."  We graded each other's paper and the results were made public as the role was called.

It was mostly a game, and no serious student ever had much concern.  But we all had had days.  I can still see that mischievous smile of Shockley when a name appeared on the "Hit Parade" that was obviously a slip-up.  He had fun with it and so did we.  The swats or "licks" (as we called them) were usually lighter on the Girls, and sometimes students would "trade licks."

A check of the records would probably prove that not many people failed his History classes.  Not a bad "Outcome".

Occasionally though a student would test the system and make light of it.  I remember the day when one of my classmates failed the test and walked to the front to take his licks, joking all the way.  Once there he joked that he needed something to  "brace the pain"  and bit down on a ball-point pen (Mocking the Westerns where the man facing a leg amputation would bite on a bullet).  Just a tad "cocky" to fit in Mr. Shockley's theory of learning.

As he bent over the teacher's desk with pen in mouth that muffled a nervous laugh, Mr. Shockley applied one swat that brought a look of total disbelief to that young lad's face as well as a stream of blue ink out of his mouth.  He had bitten the ball-point pen in half!

Yes, the "Hit Parade" is gone.  Today the student's parents would sue, or the student would try to shoot the teacher or something.  But today more students probably flunk History too!

Black and White TV
Black and White   (Under age 40? You won't understand)


It felt so good. It felt so right.
Life looked better in black and white.

I Love Lucy, The Real McCoys,
Dennis the Menace, the Cleaver boys,

Rawhide, Gunsmoke, Wagon Train,

Superman, Jimmy and Lois Lane.


Father Knows Best, Patty Duke,
Rin Tin Tin and Lassie too,

Donna Reed on Thursday night! --
Life looked better in black and white.




I wanna go back to black and white.
Everything always turned out right.

Simple people, simple lives...

Good guys always won the fights.



Now nothing is the way it seems,

In living color on the TV screen.

Too many murders, too many fights,
I wanna go back to black and white.




In God they trusted, alone in bed they slept,
A promise made was a promise kept.



They never cussed or broke their vows.

They'd never make the network now.

But if I could, I'd rather be
In a TV town in '53.

It felt so good. It felt so right.
Life looked better in black and white.



I'd trade all the channels on the satellite,
If I could just turn back the clock tonight

To when everybody knew wrong from right.

Life was better in black and white!

Pass this to someone (over age 40, of course), and brighten their day by helping them to remember that life's most simple pleasures are very often the best!

Haskell Stories
by Mike Martin


I am a movie fan, not the video rental kind of fan, but the sit in the dark, watching the big screen, with my feet sticking to the floor, kind of fan.  The other night at the movies as I paid my six dollars for a ticket, $2.50 for a drink, and $3.25 for a tub of popcorn, I thought how different this was from the first movie theater I ever attended - The Palace Theater.

The Palace was located where Don LaFerry's Coast to Coast store is now.  I don't know its history other than Sy Pack owned it while I was a customer.  The price of admision in 1957 was 10 cents for children under 12 and 35 cents for adults.  The concession stand consisted of a popcorn machine in the foyer.  The popcorn was 10 cents a bag, and no drinks available other than the drinking fountain.  Legend had it that they used to sell drinks and snow cones and someone threw a ball of ice through the screen.  The theater had two aisles with a center secton of seats with about 14 seats per row and across the aisle were pairs of seats along the wall.  My seat of choice was along the wall on the aisle at the second wall light from the back. 

Many a Saturday I would go donwtown with $1.25.  One dollar was for a haircut, a Burr from Mr. Watts a few doors past the theater, and once completed I would race across the street to Walker's Drug and buy a Three Musketeers candy bar for a nickel to sneak into the theater.  The remaining 20 cents purchased ticket and popcorn at the Matinee usually a western or war movie complete with two cartoons and Flash Gordon Serial.

About once a year Hawks Milk would hold an auction at the palace.  We would save the tops from the milk and ice cream cartons and bring sacks full to use as auction money to bid on baseball bats, toys and other things before the movie.  It was a very smart marketing idea, really!

The Palace wasn't a first run theater.  It was more like the "dollar movies" in Muskogee and Tulsa, but it was a great place to see "Gone With The Wind", Elvis in "Love Me Tender", and Audie Murphy in "To Hell and Back".

It burned to the ground when I was about ten years old, (one of the"Three Big Fires" of that era).  We then had to go to Muskogee to the Ritz or Roxy after that, but the Palace was certainly missed.  Like Coweta's theater, it could not have made it today because of today's choices, but in its "heyday" the Palace served well as not only our color TV and VCR, but our video store too?

A movie and popcorn for 20 cents is pretty hard to beat, but 20 cents was considerably harder to get in 1957!


Haskell Stories
by Mike Martin

"Rockaway Beach, Jim and The Duck"

We have just passed through that time of year when the Senior Class in each school winds down the school year with special events like the "Senior Prom" and trips.  From what I hear from friends, the proms can get pretty expensive when you consider dresses, flowers, and in some instances "rented limousines".  In a recent issue of USA Today it said that in some parts of the country the prom costs the boy or girl over $700 EACH!

When I was in school, School-sponsored dances and Proms weren't permitted.  The town wisdom was that dances were bad for our morals and led to drinking or worse!  So instead we were permitted to have fund-raising projects during the year to raise money to get as far away from home as possible for a few days so we could - well- do things we couldn't in Haskell, like dance!

My class, the class of 65, raised a lot of money.  We took our  "Senior Trip" to Rockaway Beach, Missouri and had enough left over to go to Lake Tenkiller's Fin and Feather for dinner on the the last day of school, and for a school gift.

Rockaway Beach was the "Happening" place to go in the 60's.  It was on the banks of Lake Tanneycomo, right next door to a sleepy town called Branson.  There was nothing to do in Branson, but Rockaway Beach really "rocked."

We spent three days in Rockaway, and stayed in one of the many cabin/motel complexes.  With Boys on one side of the road, Girls on the other, and chaperones in between, we settled in cabins complete with kitchen and screened porches.  It was three days of swimming, boat rides, paddleboats, and waterskiing in some of the coldest water on the face of the earth.  After all it was the end of April on this spring fed Missouri lake, but hey, we were eighteen and invincible.

We were not the only senior class at Rockaway, either.  There were schools represented from all over Mid Ameridca.  It made a great place to further the "educational experience" and each night one of the halls had live bands.  This was sort of a land-locked Padre Island or Daytona Beach, but instead of blue water, the people in the water were blue.

And water reminds me of Jim and the Duck.

We were there for two days when we had a few idle moments and went down to the shore to watch the wild ducks fly in and swim over near us which they did without fear.  These ducks just didn't know that in the midst of these funloving kids was a serious duck hunter.  And wild ducks just were not going to safely swim near Jim Howerton.

He said that we ought to catch one of those ducks for dinner, and we all laughed.  He was serious though and directed us to go back to the cabin and get a loaf of bread from our kitchenette.  We then began dropping pieces of bread near the bank and led a duck right out of the water onto the shore.  After he was about ten feet from the bank, about six of us encircled this poor confused duck.  I was still confused myself, when the duck took wing and tried to fly off.

Jim was not only a good hunter but also an All Conference end on the football team.  He leaped up and made a clutch catch.  Jim's last big reception as a Haymaker was a duck.

That night, while the rest of the class was eating hamburgers, our cabin dined on duck.  Jim Howerton's special recipe, Fried Duck!


               Haskell Stories
                                         by Mike Martin

                                           "Edna Sims"

I dare say that Edna Sims was probably one of the most misunderstood inhabitants of Haskell.  She was infamous as the High School English teacher and was known by many as being "high strung", hard, too serious, and even crazy.  I was scared of her long before I had her for a class, and I did not understand her or appreciate her until much later in life.

She taught 10th through 12th grade English with great emphasis on poetry, literature, and creative writing.  Every week each of her students would have to present a poem, give its meaning, tell the author's life and diagram the poem's first line to determine if it were "iambic pentamenter", or such.  We wondered when we would ever need this "stuff".  We also had to turn in a "theme" each week, and eight times a year do a book report from her approved list of books.  All the while we daily read and studied "Great Expectations" or "Julius Caesar."  This was certainly not an easy ride.  A good student had to work hard and a bad student had to hold on for dear life.  She demanded everyone's best and let you know in no uncertain terms if she was not getting it.  Those times are memorable to all who had her!  Occasionally someone would challenge her motives and stand for their poem and say, "My poem is "Fleas".  Author Unknown, Adam and um!  It is self-explanatory, and set down.  Needless to say their grade was also self-explanatory!

I honestly didn't know if she was a good teacher until after I went off to college.  On my first day at Northeastern State my Freshman English instuctor asked each student to stand and give our name and our hometown.  When time came for Jim and I to take our turn, we no sooner said, "Haskell", than she asked.  "Did you have Mrs. Sims?"

"Yes,"  We said.

"Well, you have already had this course!" she said almost frowning. 

And we had.  She had so prepared us for college that all other English courses were a breeze.

I know that is no consolation for those who did not choose college, but she knew what we needed for the future.  My desire to write or to create was first practiced back in those early days in her classroom  Her class wasn't just about nouns, or recitals or Shakespeare, it was about the communication of ideas and the sharing of thoughts, essential ingredients of life.  Whether I am designing a building or trying to share a thought with you.  I owe a lot to that Lady who cared a lot more about me in those school days than I did about her.

She gave Haskell much more, than someone to recite, "In Flanders Field" on Memorial Day, and all she ever asked us for was our best efforts.

Mike Martin

              Haskell Stories
by Mike Martin


                               "The Driver's Test"

     My son turned sixteen last week which naturally means "The Driver's License".  We followed all of the time-worn traditions that go with this hallowed occasion including:
  1.  The Birthday Cake
  2.  Birthday Cards
  3.  Birthday Presents
  4.  The Birthday Questions
(When do I get my own car?  Dow we have to tell our insurance agent now, or can we surprise him after the first wreck?)
     The Driver's Test never changes.  It is the one time in a driver's life that we care to prove that we actually know or care about the rules.  Nate, of course, had taken Driver's Training, which as tradition also goes, taught him how to do everything - but parallel park.

Since last week, many friends have kidded me about having a sixteen year old driver in the family.  They would say,  “Get ready, he’ll have his first accident in about a month!”

I would respond, “Not necessarily, he is a good and safe driver.” Their response has been, “Yeah, Right! That’s what they all say.”

          Thirty years ago I took Driver’s Training also, and I learned how to do everything – but parallel park.  My instructor was Mr. Shockley.  On my day to drive we would first go to a near-by gas station, buy gas, and each would get a bottle of pop.  When Mr. Shockley finished his Coke, he would sit the empty bottle on the “hump” in the floor of the school’s Chevy between him and me.  He would grin and say, “Well Mike, let’s head over to the edge of Muskogee and back.  Remember though, if that Coke bottle falls over, you get an F for the day!”

          It made for a smooth and careful ride.

          Thirty years ago, on February 4th, a Haskell kid named Mike took his driver’s test and passed with flying colors.  Self-assured that he was a good and safe driver, he drove back to school from City Hall eager to spread the news of his good fortune to all. His safe driving record lasted two blocks.  He ran a stop sign and hit another car in the side!

          Not just any car either.  He hit the police car driven by Officer Anspaw thus proving the theory of Sixteen Year Old Drivers. 

          So – If any of you happen to see Mike Nesser around, wish him a Happy Birthday!



Bunny, Jorja and Bunny
Bunny, Jorja and Bunny

  Thought I'd give you a little info on our girl. 

submitted by Bunny Williams (Brown)
We (my step-son, daughter-in-law [who's name happens to be Bunny], & myself) traveled 19 flying hours to Beijing on May 27, 2005.  While here we saw a portion of the Great Wall of China -- absolutely awesome; and the Summer Palace -- breath taking!.  May 29, we flew to Guiyang in south-central China for "gotcha day".  That afternoon the children were delivered to the waiting families.  There were four families in our group, and we received four beautiful little girls, 3 - 16 mo olds & 1 - 20 mo old.
Those first couple of days were heartbreaking to watch the babies.  These girls had been ripped from the only families they had ever known and tossed into a group of folks who not only looked strange, they talked pretty funny - being from Oklahoma & Arkansas.
After several days of paperwork & sightseeing, we moved on to Guangzhou (across the bay from Hong Kong).  The girls were beginning to accept us [children are so residual].  Three of the girls were sort of clingy to their new parents, but the other one (ours), it took all three of us to keep up with her.  She definetly had her own mind.
It was a very eye-opening experience.  The smallest town we visited hosted 9,000,000 people.......most of those lived in extreme proverty.  I am certainly glad I went, but I don't think it's someplace I want to visit again.
We were gone for two weeks, the trip was long & tiring; but well worth it, when I look at that beautiful face.  She has adjusted very well, she has her PaPa and Granny pretty well trained, and of course, she isn't spoiled.  By the way; her name was Shi Yu Wei, now it is Jorja Jane Williams -- yep, she was named after my mom and Mike's mom.  We got to visit with the other three girls & families a couple of weeks ago.  Everyone is doing fine.
Jorja Jane Williams
Jorja Jane Williams

Snake Dance at Mitchell Springs


Following my older brother’s funeral in the summer of 2005, my cousin Charles took me on a tour of my father’s old bus route west of Haskell.  I had not been down that route for decades.  When we passed Mitchell Springs, I could not help but wonder if Eddie’s and his friends’ equipment might still be there in the little cave in the bend of the creek.  It had probably washed away many years ago.  One thing I was fairly confident of, though, was that they had never gone back to get it. 


Forty-five years earlier, four of us boys had been squirrel hunting in this area all morning with a couple of black and tan hounds and one single shot .410.  I always got to carry the shotgun.  Perhaps it was because I needed the experience.  Maybe the older boys understood that alcohol and guns don’t mix-- Eddie had a canteen filled with moonshine.  So, I could have been their defacto designated arms bearer, just like folks today have a designated driver at parties.  What the other boys had in their canteens, I don’t know – however, Eddie had enough for everyone. 


More than likely I got to carry the gun because no one else wanted to.  I was by far the youngest and at the bottom of the pecking order.  This last theory was reinforced by the fact that the older boys always wanted possession of the gun when it came time to shoot the squirrel.


Somewhere around noon, we stopped for lunch, not too far from my sixth grade teacher’s, Mrs. Nelson’s house.  There at a bend in the creek, water had under-cut the shale.  The rock had eventually collapsed, forming a short, triangularly shaped tunnel.  When the rock had broken off, it left a two-inch crack at the top.  This served as a natural chimney for our campfire. 


Shortly after the older boys had started cooking lunch, I stepped outside.  Looking up, I noticed one of the most spectacular and disgusting sights I have ever seen.  A huge ball of snakes was lodged in a crevice high in the creek bank above where the rock had broken off.  I had heard of such things but never seen one. 


In those days, I wasn’t very discriminating about snakes.  The only good snake was a dead one (except maybe for the little green ones.) In retrospect, these were probably red-sided garter snakes, and quite harmless. Today, kids flock to Narcisse Wildlife Management Area, 60 miles north of Winnipeg to observe thousands of these snakes perform their mating ritual.  A “mating ball” usually includes one female at the center and ten to 100 males. The males squeeze the female until she mates with one of them.  See http://www.findarticles.com/p/articles/mi_m0FRO/is_n6_v130/ai_20088422


I decided to approach the snakes discreetly until it was too late for the older boys to take away the gun and do the shooting themselves.  So I quietly retrieved the .410 and went up as close as I dared to the snakes.  When I fired, they did not all just drop dead.  Immediately, the ball unraveled in every which direction.  When the gun went off, first there was a stern demand, “What was that?”  Then there were multiple screams as numerous snakes tumbled down the cliff, through the crack in the rock, into the fire and onto the boys in the cave.  Their curses echoed loudly though the little canyon as three nearly grown boys dashed out of the cave, leaped across the rocks, and disappeared into the woods.  This was as strange a site as the snake ball – and a whole lot funnier (at least to me.)  This scene closely resembled Theodore Roosevelt’s description of the closing act of a Hopi Snake Dance.  See http://www.worldspirituality.org/hopi-snake-dance.html


Eventually, the older boys straggled back.  There seemed to be a period of discussion of tying me up and throwing me into the cave with the snakes.  But thankfully, the moonshine had made it out of the cave, and before long the older boys had become much calmer about the whole ordeal.  Hopefully, they eventually saw the humor in it themselves. 


I only wished at the time that Jerrold Jones had been with us.  He would have definitely gotten a kick out of it.  But maybe I would have left him on the inside with the older boys when I shot the snakes.  After all, Jerrold had almost let me drown in this huge mud hole where we were seining for crawdads.   That had been a most humiliating experience, and Jerrold had been laughing too hard to help.  I guess it all depends on your perspective.  But that’s another story of growing up in Haskell.

Bill Brittenham
Jim Howerton pictured with father's Cessna
Jim Howerton pictured with father's Cessna
The picture above is of Jimmy Doyle Howerton at the Haskell Airport with a very special plane -- one that Jimmy Doyle's dad and uncle had owned in the 40's and 50's.  As you may remember Jim's father was killed in a crop dusting plane crash when we were in the second grade.  Someone bought this plane and eventually crashed it.  Jim Doyle and Alvin Howerton located, salvaged it, and flew it back to Haskell. 

See other pictures of Jim and his Cessna in the Photo Album. 

A Little Town You Could Never Have Heard Of.


While Angie and I were living in San Francisco, I often caught a bus to the airport.  One day, being very early in the morning, there were only three passengers, including myself.  One was a National Guardsman in uniform.  I was still on active duty with HQ, Sixth US Army at the Presidio of San Francisco, and highly involved with training of Army Guardsmen and reserves.  So I readily struck up a conservation with the soldier.  Soon it was revealed that both of us were originally from Oklahoma.  After listening for a while, the third passenger, a black lady about the same age as myself chimed in.  “So both of you are Okies?  What a coincidence, so am I.”  “What part of Oklahoma are you from?”  I inquired.  “Oh, a little town you could never have heard of,” she answered, “Haskell.”  Her response was almost staggering.  In San Francisco, there are many stranger things happen than all three passengers on a bus turning out to be from Oklahoma.  But for two strangers from Haskell to meet that way was more than a little ironic.  Turns out, her first husband, LeRoy Harris, had played football with our class, as had her current husband, though he was two or three years ahead of us.  I cannot remember his given name, but it seems like we had called him “Toes.”  We made plans to get together in the near future, but that was not to be.  Soon afterwards, I was unexpectedly reassigned and departed San Francisco on short notice.  But that’s another story.


Bill Brittenham

1949 Haskell Haymaker Team
1949 Haskell Haymaker Team

Knockout: The History of Haskell Haymaker Football
Haskell starts its first football team just 6 years after the first school was built, two years after the town gets electricity, and one year after the river bridge to the Choska bottoms was finished. 

There were no lights,no bleachers, no helmets and no pads.  Players could range in age from 14 - 21.

If you would like to read the rest of this story about Haskell football and the Chesbro Brothers, click here.


For All Those Born Before 1948

We are Survivors!

Consider the changes we have witnessed:


We were born before color television, panty-hose, polio shots, frozen food, contact lenses and “the pill.” 


We were born before radar, credit cards, word processors and laser beams; before air conditioners, permanent press, dishwashers and before man walked on the moon. 


We had never heard of the Internet, computer dating, artificial hearts and guys wearing earrings.  For us a chip meant a piece of wood; hardware was something you bought at Adleman’s Hardware, and software wasn’t even a word. 


In the 40’s and 50’s Made in Japan meant junk.  Pizza Hut and McDonald’s didn’t even exist.  Our favorite store was Odom’s Five & Dime where you actually bought things for 5 and 10 cents.  With a nickel you could make a phone call, buy a Coke or enough stamps to mail a letter and 2 post cards.  You could buy a new 1955 Ford Crown Victoria for $2,400, but who could afford one; a pity, too, because gas was 11 cents a gallon! 

Does this car look familiar?
Does this car look familiar?

In our day, cigarette smoking was fashionable, grass was mowed, coke was a drink and pot was something you cooked in. 


We survived!   What better reason to celebrate!

Modified by Scarlett Sellmeyer

Author Unknown

Source:  Ohio Career Education Program


I remember when one wise fellow wrote in a yearbook.

"School is Out and Summer is Startin.  If You're Having a Party, Call Mike Martin."

submitted by:  Mike Nesser

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