Earning a dime to see a Joan Crawford movie

Last week, we shared the story of the Webb City Red Caps, a memory of Bertie Hensley Walstrom. I have a few more memories that Bertie had written about Webb City.

We lived down in the north end of town. We liked to go to the ice plant and beg them to let us go into the ice rooms. The first room was very cold, but the second was pure ice. We would come out of there with our bare feet blue from the cold. But we would brag about being so brave.

My oldest friend, Marvie Lassiter, and I would take some buckets out northeast of town in the spring. We would cut the new shoots of poke greens and take them home, tie them in little bundles. We sold them to all the housewives for a penny each so we could get a nickel or dime to go to the Blake Theatre to see a Joan Crawford movie, where she would dance the Charleston.

We went to Webster School. Across the street from Webster was the Gooding Grocery Store, and a block away was the Crutcher’s Grocery Store. I rarely had a nickel, but I would buy a penny dumbbell, which was a stick with a sucker on each end. I thought it was a bargain, two suckers for a penny!

We played under the new street lights, throwing rocks into the air so the bats would follow them back down. When the nine o’clock curfew rang down at city hall, we all scooted home.

Our high school sports consisted only of football for the boys. We girls had to make do with a gym equipped with a ball and bat, a volleyball and some dumbbells (not us, the wooden ones). Of course my favorite memories were those of the Webb City Redcaps, Webb City’s first girl’s softball team.

My first job as a teenager was at Elder’s Shirt Factory at First and Webb streets. I was a shirt presser. I weighed about 100 pounds and swung that iron for 8 to 10 hours a day. We were paid 14 cents a dozen for print shirts and a magnificent 20 cents a dozen for size-16 men’s white broadcloth shirts. I made about $9 a week. No wash-and-wear then… we had to wet them down and iron them till dry. We buttoned them up, ironed them, put in a cardboard, folded them, put in 10 pins and a couple of paper labels. Our boss’ first name was Ferd; he had bad breath that could wilt a daisy at 20 paces!

Here are a few memories from Dorothy J. Roberts.

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I remember when the Hatten Field Stadium was built at Madison and Crow streets. A tall rock fence enclosed the field. A new music director organized a high school band. Red and white uniforms were ordered. A representative from the factory came to town to take measurements. Somewhat embarrassing (the measuring), but they were a good fit. None of us could play very well. The director’s French horn was very difficult to learn to play. He found me rather difficult, as I polished his French horn with Bon Ami. The slogan for Bon Ami which stated “It hasn’t scratched yet,” did not apply in this case! One practice day at Hatten Field left memories, as the director forgot his keys. The entire band had to climb that tall rock-wall fence and jump off on the inside… instruments and all!

People’s Oil Station in Webb City had a big bear chained in the parking lot around the 1920s. People would drive by to see Mr. Bear eat a whole loaf of bread. Quite a tourist attraction!

My father and brothers were employed by the Southwest Missouri Railway Co. I was much younger and would sit at the big dining room table and listen to talk of politics and town happenings. Such as: the miners getting paid, putting a dime in their pocket to get home and then spending their entire paycheck on alcohol. Not all the miners, some were good family men who went straight home. While sitting at that table, I heard the story of an Al Capone henchman coming to Webb City in the late ’20s, bringing bootleg whiskey.

The mining-related economy collapse influenced many graduates to Go West. The war scattered a lot of loyal Webb City young people, but they always had their memories of Webb City.

Fun memories shared by these ladies. Memories that can live if printed.