Verhovayak Lapja, 1944 (27. évfolyam, 1-52. szám)
1944 / Verhovay Journal
Page 8 Verhovay Journal VACATION IN BUNYAN’S LAND August 31, 1944 CHICAGO BRANCH 503 SOLDIER CHICAGO BRANCH 503 SOLDIER PVT. STEPHEN LÁSZLÓ (4733 West End Avenue) is serving with the Military Police. The last time we heard was that he was stationed somewhere in England, on duty escorting prisoners from England to the U. S. PVT. JOSEPH HODITS, who was hospitalized for many months, is now back on active duty and is assigned to the 22nd Cavalry outfit in Camp Gruber, Oklahoma. Cleveland Branches Unite in Fraternal Action CHAPTER III. After all those exciting days, the rest of the trip will seem less invigorating, we thought! But you can’t beat that northern hospitality, and man-sized meals, and exhilarating July days, and new scenes, and history being re-born in our hearts—and the Bunyan Tales wherever we went! Drove due east out of Hillman to Alpena, center of the Wintersports in Michigan. In Alpena we started our homeward trip south along the shores of beautiful -.ake Huron ... second-growth imber, high waves off the lake, white-white sand like grains of salt... saw deer stalk with dignity across the highway; saw wild-cats and dog-size jackrabbits ... saw miles and miles and miles of pines and spruce ... few cars and still less people, but the folks wé met had plenty of tall tales to tell about their own immediate country-side. * Once made a comment to a grizzled, old character, whose cheeks were seamed with wrinkles at least a half-inch deep, about the large jack-rabbits. Told us about one winter when here was a rumor about a large >ck-rabbit right around there, and Paul and his dog Elmer started out one day. They hunted all the way down to Detroit one lay, and up around Flint and north again. About the middle of the day, they found a neighborhood kid in one of them there jack-rabbit’s hoof-prints, so Paul being a kind-hearted sort of cuss, couldn’t leave the kid there -o drown and so he took time out from his huntin’ to fish him out. He finally tracked down the ack-rabl)it with one shot, when be heard his faithful Elmer aakin’ queer noises. His tongue was stickin’ out about two feet, but the poor dog was gone; he’d died of heart-trouble, and the long trip. Paul didn’t know what to do with all that there meat—now he had two carcasses instead of one, but he soon doped that out too. Just about this time Mr. Armour from Chicago came along and Paul sold him the two carcasses—and that was the beginnin’ of the Armour meat packin’ ousiness. But if you-think THAT was * d°g story—let me tell you the one they told me further south. “Here was Paul and his little errier, Zip, which he used to take on huntin’ trips. They was ' followin’ a he-bear one afternoon, just for sport. The bear was steppin’ it up pretty fast and Zip was agoin’ lickety-split, when all of a sudden that there bear hid behind a tree, and Zip, went right into an ax that Paul had left standin’ against that there tree. The dog just naturally split himself in two from end to end. Paul picked up the pieces right quick, before they got cold, or could bleed to death, slapped ’em together and set the dog on the ground again. But he’d been in such a hurry that he put ’em together wrong, and two of the dog’s legs was stickin’ up and two down, but that dog could run faster on two legs than most dogs could on four. When he got tired, he just turned himself over and run on the other two legs. Paul sure had a dog then who never got tired.” Near Oscoda we bumped into By THE FERRET an historical monument which was created by true Bunyan worshipers. It was a replica of Babe, the Blue Ox, and stood on a hill over-looking a vast patch of second growth timber, which at one time was the scene of an immense forest fire which burned for days on end. The forest is on the shore of Lake Huron, and the concrete Babe keeps constant watch for his master. Golly, a fella felt if he listened hard enuf he could hear Paul calling for Babe to get in out of the rain. As the story of Babe goes, “He measured three ax-handles and seven Prince Albert cans between the eyes; and between the horns he measured forty-two ax-handles and a plug of chewing tobacco, although you could easy fit in a Star tobacco box. When the tobacco box was lost, the measurements could never again be taken, but them was the original figgers. His color was blue, although originally he was white; that’s because he was eatin’ all that Blue Snow that first winter.” Stopped in to see the Lumberman’s Monument near Oscoda, and all the Bunyan Tales we ever heard were certainly nothing compared to the ones we heard from old-timers here. Still driving south; Tawas City and then Point Lookout. The Point is a narrow stretch of land sticking out in the lake like a sore thumb. At the tip end is a summer .residence built by some imaginative creature with an eye for the nautical. Looks like a large steamer had run aground and buried one end in the mountainous sand-dunes and left there, for someone to renovate into one of the most original summer-homes it has been my pleasure to witness! Has port-holes, a sun-deck, smoke-funnels, life-rafts and the works! Wish the guy would sell it (wish still more we had the dough to buy it). Never saw so much beautiful white sand, like salt, but on again as night is drawing near and very few tourist camps around here. We hit Au Gres, where Luke used to live as a kid—found the old farm-house, and since he knew the folks who now own it, we were invited to stay over-itite. After a hearty meal, went out to help do a few chores. Luke took me across the road, and there was Lake Huron—he showed me where he and the kids used to play pirates. Took me back in the woods and never in my life have I seen a tree as big as that one which was still standing there! It’s one of the largest in that area, although second-growth timber has grown nearly as tall; one-hundred eighty feet high and eight feet in diameter. Slept in feather beds that night, and talk about cold ... After some more fishing, bedded down in Standish—the “jumping-off”. place to the far reaches of the north. Here we had running hot water, soft beds, lots of cold beer, people again; the beginning of civilization, it seemed. Pinconning next and the Paul Bunyan exhibit—the large oxcarts of the old lumbering days, and - Paul’s rocking chair, eight feet high. More historical displays as we drove south. Decided on a day at Bay City —Luke found a kindred soul to go fishing with, and me and my thoughts draped ourselves on the widest, whitest, cleanest beach! Got a beaut of a protective tan by now so a whole day in the sun was just what I needed to top off a glorious vacation. From here on, things were routine; stopped off again at Frankenmuth for a huge meal and more cold ale—our spirits felt as though they might lag after the vivid scenes of the past two weeks. But no, such experiences are not forgotten so hurriedly. Even after all these years, well, really ,it’s only four this July, we can sit down and conjure up the beauty and perfection of those wonderful days. Hit Flint and from there to Detroit, a mere seventy miles or so, time flew on wings. Our thoughts again took up where they left off—wondered how the kids were; was the Skipper careful and did he listen to the camp director? Was Larry well, or did he give Grandma trouble; wondered if we had remembered to tell the milkman to stop delivering the milk; likewise the newsboy and the daily paper. We were just a couple of kids suddenly awake to the problems again facing us. Arrived home at dusk, seems like all our destinations were reached at this peaceful time of day. Larry was OK, just a touch of three-day measles, nothing to worry about. Ate supper,—nothing like up north, we thought; but food is food when one is hungry. Next day, a Sunday, drove to the camp and picked the Skipper up. A little surprise greeted us here—the kid had made the newspapers! When we dropped I him off at Northwestern High School Field, where the busses were going to pick the kids up to take them to camp, an enterprising newspaper photographer was captivated by the Skipper’s huge enjoyment of his coming adventure, and snapped him, got his name and other particulars, and there he was, in the Detroit Times! Of course, since we hadn’t seen a newspaper for darn near two weeks, we were pleasantly surprised—that was all we needed to top off the joy of knowing and experiencing an unusual vacation—never to be forgotten, but to be re-lived every year about this time. Figgered you folks who might be grouchy and over-tired, and who are having a case of “warnerves” might like to forget about things for a while and come along with us for a short spell. — FINIS — The Crile Hospital in Cleveland, O., has been erected to serve our wounded soldiers. The branches in Cleveland have decided that they want to have their share in this hospital and voted to furnish a VERHOVAY ROOM in Crile Hospital. The Crile Hospital Room Committee of the Cleveland Verhovayans voted to hold a big dance on September 17th, 1944, Sunday evening. A fine program will precede the dance. Proceeds will be applied towards the Crile Hospital Fund. Laslo Vészi, president and B. Szilagyi secretary of the committee request all Verhovayans and their friends to purchase their tickets in advance thereby insuring the success of .this undertaking. But they also appeal to all Verhovayans to come to the aid of the Committee with their free will offerings. The first donation towards this purpose same forth from the Ladies Branch, 361, of Cleveland, O., which donated $100. Next came the Ladies’ Social ! Club of Branch 14, Cleveland, O., with the donation of $35.00. It is significant that the ladies contributed first to this fund for it is their husbands and sons who are fighting in this war and they want to make sure that they receive the best medical care if they should get wounded in the war. We are sure that the example of the good ladies of the Verhovay will soon be followed by all. Indeed, we shall be proud to have a Verhovay Room in the Crile Hospital for our wounded heroes. It will mark another victory on the Home Front... it will represent the Verhovay spirit, the true fraternalism which never tires extending a helping hand towards suffering mankind. Donations are to be sent to the following address: Verhovay Day, Crile Hospital Fund, 8637 Buckeye Road, Cleveland 4, O. All donations will be acknowledged in our Journal. We know of no higher task than that in which the Cleveland branches are engaged. To write the name of Verhovay charity up on the door of a room in the Hall of Suffering is a real fraternal undertaking which is bound to succeed because the appeal is made in behalf of our fighting boys. More than Verhovayans are fighting today and of them 72 already have laid down their lives for their country. Hundreds of them have received wounds in action and it is to them and their brave comrades that the Verhovayans of Cleveland have decided to prove their gratitude. We wholeheartedly endorse the project and appeal to all Verhovayans to help make the Verhovay Room in Crile Hospital a beautiful room, representative of the love and care that lives in the heart of every true fraternalist.---------------V--------------SMILES GOOD FRIEND “Whatsamatter Joe, wliy do you cut such a sour puss?’’ “Oh, I have a horrible toothache.” "Well, listen Joe, if I had a tooth bothering me that much, I would have had it pulled long ago.” “So would I, if it would have been your tooth.’’ MARRIED BUSS Bride; Had I known that you are as dumb as that I would nevej have married you. Husband: You could have found that out easily! Didn’t I show you how dumb I was when I asked you to marry me? THE GHOST “My, Mary, I just heard that your late husband is haunting your house. Is it true that ha comes home every night?” “Baloney, he never came home, while he was alive, why would ha do that now?” SYMPATHY Visitor: Mrs. Jones, I knew your husband personally. What a pity he died so early. Mrs. Jones: Yes, that is what my second husband keeps on telling me all the time. POOR SHOT BILL: Will your wife hit the ceiling when you come home late? JOE: Possibly. She is a rotten shot. SCOTCHMAN A Scotchman is the fellow who saves all his toys for hia childhood. 5,000 second
