SundayAfternoonComingDown:

Sunday afternoons during the late 50’s, during midsummer, Dunseith Main Street was usually very quiet.The street was mostly empty of vehicles.The Crystal CaféandSy’s Pool Hall located across the street from each other, were the only two business’s open except for a couple of gas stations located on the ends of Main Street.Very Quiet.

There wasn’t much to do for a group of young boys that would often gather together and hang out in either the pool hall or the restaurant.The pool Hall was a great place to hang out if everyone had money to play pool.It cost each person a nickel a game back in them days, but most of us didn’t have two nickels to rub together, and ole Syd Kadry wouldn’t allow you to hang around in there to long if you didn’t have any money to spend.

The Crystal Café became the hang out.We could all sit in a booth of our choice as there were usually only a few customers sitting around enjoying an afternoon of quiet, with coffee and a sweet of some kind. We would usually take the booth up front next to the juke box.I remember one Sunday afternoon when we discovered a new 45 record had been installed in the juke box.The song was about a purple one eyed character that played music through the horn on his head.We pooled our money, and played that song over and over again.Even with the one guy, who would jump up at the end of the song, and tap the juke box in the upper right hand corner, that most of the time, would cause the player arm of the juke box to bounce back and play the record again.We eventually ran out of money and the juke box would quit playing.Mr. Maxbass, a fellow sitting at the counter, even donated a quarter to our cause, and told us to go ahead and play the songs of our choice.That meant playing that same song six more times, plus the tap in songs.Mr. Maxbass and the other people in the restaurant did not seem to mind that we did this, and apparently liked the song too.The Casavant twins (not Joe and Gerald, their older sisters) who were the waitresses at the time continued cleaning and arranging tables and scrubbing floors.The other people in the restaurant also seemed to enjoy the quiet afternoon listening to Sheb Wooley singing the Purple People Eater.I have the song playing right now; it is still one of my favorites.

Dan McCoy, a man who had already seen many years, and the owner of the restaurant, would always be sitting on the far stool, at the end of the counter, toward the rear of the restaurant drinking a cup of coffee and smoking a cigar staring directly ahead andappearing to be enjoying the moment.

There was another older fellow that usually sat on a stool at the center of the counter directly in front of the milk machine.He usually enjoyed the Sunday afternoon special if there was any left from the noon rush.I called him Mr. Maxbass, “I think he was a Hagen,” I never could remember the gentleman’s name but I remembered that he was from Maxbass.He drove a bluish gray, three quarter ton ford pickup that he parked on the street, in the shade, in front of the restaurant.

Pauline Jones usually occupied a booth with her Chihuahua.The Chihuahua was always decked out in a bright red knit sweater and well behaved.She would have coffee and pie or some other sweet.The Chihuahua would be sitting right next to her, with both paws on the table, enjoying Pauline’s food, with her.

Yes, Sunday Afternoons in Dunseith in the middle of summer were very quiet and warm with not much going on.One Sunday afternoon while sitting in the Crystal Café showing each other card tricks.You know, “there was one young fellow who could rig that deck to deal himself a royal flush every time, without dealing off the bottom”.I wish I could remember how he did that.Anyway, after becoming bored from sitting in the Crystal Café teaching each other card tricks we walked out the front door.Main Street was purity much empty accept for a 54 Ford parked on the west side of the street, in the shade, created by the façade of the Gamble Store.Around the car were gathered some of the older teens, well, older then us anyway.Some of them had packs of cigarettes rolled up in the sleeves of their white t-shirts, and were smoking.Winston was the cigarette of choice in them days.Remember the commercial that Winston tastes good, “finger snap, snap,” like a cigarette should. They wouldn’t smoke the Marlboro brand, as the word was out at that time period, that they could make you go sterile.And no self respecting teen ager, would take a chance on that.The word was probably put out, by the Winston Cigarette Co.?Who Knows?

Anyway, as we left the restaurant, I happened to glance down into the gutter and saw something that was wadded up, and looking a lot like the color of money.I picked it up and straightened it out, and discovered it was a twenty dollar bill. I was about to throw it back down, believing it not to be real, when Julian Kalk said that it was real.I couldn’t believe my good fortune.I ran home and showed my parents.They said, I had better take it up and show the cop.I took it up to Clarence Michaels, who was the Chief of Police in Dunseith at the time.He told me to hang onto it for a week, and if he didn’t come get it from me, that it was mine.He never did come get it.Now, I don’t remember, what I did with it.Probably spent it on comic books and hamburgers, what else would a 10 year old kid do with a twenty dollar bill? Didn’t those buns from the Dunseith Bakery make the best hamburgers in the world, and all for 25 cents?I still think that Mrs. Earl Myer who worked at the bowling Alley Lunch counter at the south end of town made the best hamburgers in the world.Only 30 cents each.White Castle burgers were nothing compared to Bertha’s burgers.

Dunseith residents weren’t above playing practical jokes on one another.I remember when a group of us young fellows discovered this large motorcycle sitting in front of the new Bowling Alley.Did you know that when they built the new Bowling Alley and the Garden Tap Bar, that the buildings were, suppose to have a black glass front instead of painted block?I remember that the workers had installed one row of glass and then they just left it that way.Eventually the 3’ by 3’ squares of black glass that were installed were removed.I never knew why, but I think, with the black glass fronts, the buildings would have been a greater addition, to Main Street? Maybe Duane Peterson knows.I remember him and his brother Bill, as being two of the carpenters that worked on the structures.Anyway, we young lads discovered this motor cycle sitting in front of the Bowling Alley with a lot of extra paraphernalia hanging on it.A couple of the objects were the legs of a female mannequin, and for some reason someone had pulled male sexual protective devices over the ends of the handle bars, that acted like a steering wheel cover, I suppose.Maybe they were expecting rain or maybe that was just the fad back in them days?I wonder if anyone ever installed or used a steering knob on a motor cycle.I know, back in the 50’s steering knobs were quite the rage in automobiles.Some were really fancy.I remember us young fellows; all had quite a time checking out all the objects that were attached to this cycle, for some reason.No, I won’t say at this time, who the cycle belonged to.What’s a story, if some parts don’t leave you wondering?In fact, I am still wondering what Uncle Gus meant, when he told Gary Metcalf, that he put that mean bull in a poke?

Another time a bunch of us young fellows were gathered in front of the bowling alley when this other young fellow came barreling (I don’t think we used the word barreling in them days) up to us on his bicycle all excited.He had discovered a brown paper sack behind the Garden Tap and there was beer in it.We all immediately jumped on our bikes and sped around the end of the block , around the drug store and up the alley past the back of the bowling alley and up behind the Garden Tap.There stood a paper sack in the small space between the bar and the storage building behind the bar.We opened the sack and inside there was a six pack of beer.We could not believe our good fortune.We loaded that baby up and headed for the park.At the City Park, “there was a bridge across the creek to the park in them days,” we jumped off our bikes and pulled ourselves up a picnic table in the shade.We were big time, we were just like grown-ups, sitting around drinking beer and telling stories.

Anyway, the six pack didn’t last too long amongst the five of us, so we headed back up to Main Street.We were back in our favorite spot, in the shade, in front of the Bowling Alley.We must have been goofing off a little more than normal or something.Maybe, it was because of the beer.Because, all of a sudden the entrance door to the Garden Tap Bar opened, and Glen Johnson growled at us, “that if you fellows ever do anything like that again, he was going to kick our donkeys (he didn’t say donkeys, he used the other word), from one end of Main Street, all the way to the other end of Main Street”.We just couldn’t figure out what he was talking about, but we never found another six pack, at the back of the bar, and we checked often, almost every Sunday afternoon.I was just thinking that Main Street started at Dale’s Truck Stop, and ended at Kreig’s Texaco.Why, that would have been a whole mile of butt kicking.That might have started to hurt after awhile? Yes, most of the time, Sunday afternoons were very quiet, with not much going on.

Now that we are older, doesn’t it seem like Sunday afternoons are the longest day of the week? I guess they were the same way, way back in the day, also.

Remember to laugh, and I hope this story helped remind you, to do just that.

Dick, I’m just an old chunk of coal, but I’ll be a diamond some day?

Larry