ABOUT | May 2021

PRAY FOR RAIN

May 2021 • aboutrvmag.com

Reflecting the Character of the Arkansas River Valley

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THE OLD BANK

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SHRIMP TACOS

May 2021

TABLE OF CONTENTS

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Pray for Rain Part philosopher, part mechanic, part positive mentalist, part design engineer, full-time thinker, subtle salesman, Johnny Sain remains one of the greatest tactical minds to ever don a major-league uniform..

Every day life Cornerstones - The Old Bank Located on the corner of Main Street and Commerce, the Bank of Russellville building is one of 60 structures in this district that retains much of the architectural characteristics from the largest period of growth in Russellville —1885-1936.

Shrimp tacos sublime That the River Valley is blessed with Hispanic restaurants and food trucks serving up delectable food is both boon and bane to area food fanatics. Boon: When it comes to good food, there is no such thing as too much. Bane: How in the world will we ever sample it all?

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Countertop Creations A row of beans can help The Mountains are Calling 10 Things ABOUT: Kechia Bentley

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ABOUT THIS MONTH’S COVER Harkey Valley artist Bryan Moats provides us with a fresh take on the imagery of mid-century baseball to accompany our story about John Franklin Sain — my distant relative and a legendary Major League Baseball pitcher and coach.

Don't wait to have your annual mammogram.

According to the American Cancer Society, women should have the choice to start screening with yearly mammograms as early as age 40. This simple screening test lets physicians find breast cancer at its earliest, most curable stage.

#YourHealthOurHeroes To schedule your mammogram, call 479.964.5999 Learn about our safety procedures at saintmarysregional.com Making Communities Healthier.®

REGIONAL HEALTH SYSTEM 1808 West Main St. I Russellville, AR I 479.968.2841 I SaintMarysRegional.com I facebook.com/SaintMarysRegional MAY 2021

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EDITOR’S LETTER

Play ball There is, perhaps, no better place to sample a juicy slice of small-town summer than the baseball and softball fields found in those small towns You get a snapshot of the people in the community: dirty, sweaty kids at play, learning a game and lessons that will extend beyond the game; engaged and excited parents supporting those kids on their journey of growth; selfless volunteers running the show, ensuring everyone of the opportunity and ensuring that everyone has fun.

There’s also the smells — the green scent of freshly trimmed grass, the intoxicating bouquet of Saddle Soap and worn leather, the faintly (and weirdly) tropical fragrance of sunscreen.

And what about the tastes? Where else can you enjoy the sweet fizzy carbonation of soft drinks, the buttery goodness of popcorn, a steaming hot dog served (if you want) with all the trimmings, corn chips slathered in nacho cheese and spicy jalapeños, a medley of candies ranging from Nerds to giant Snickers bars, and maybe even (gasp) ice-cream sandwiches.

That’s a heaping, overflowing bowlful of Americana, the richness of which simply cannot be found at any other type of event in the nation. Of course, the range of pleasures offered often depends on the means of the community. The fields themselves

span a spectrum of amenities and design.

They run from the more extravagant trappings of the larger towns, some rivaling the facilities of a small college complete with actual dug out dugouts, to humble examples that appear to be a just a relatively flat section of pasture fenced off from the cows.

Not every field has the greenest of grass and finest of dirt. Not every concession stand is so well-stocked. Sometimes shade is hard to find on a bright afternoon, and the last thing you want to do is park your rear in those hot and unforgiving stands for another game. But, somewhat surprisingly, even in those less than ideal conditions, the experience still offers the same simple joys that remind you of your own childhood.

As a kid that never cared for baseball (though, ironically, you’ll find out in this issue that I’m related to a World Series winner), the pull to the fields on a sultry afternoon was still too strong to resist. There was something to be found there, something bigger than the game. I think it’s because despite what the calendar said, we all knew that summer truly started when the umpire pulled their mask down and demanded that we all play ball.

Reflecting the Character of the Arkansas River Valley since 2006 A Publication of One14 Productions, Inc Vol. XVI, Issue 4 – May 2021

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Pray for Rain Story by Johnny Carrol Sain | Illustrated by Bryan Moates

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First we'll use Spahn then we'll use Sain Then an off day followed by rain Back will come Spahn followed by Sain And followed we hope by two days of rain.

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oston Post sports editor Gerald V. Hern whipped up that poem for his September 14, 1948 column. The Boston Braves had just swept a doubleheader with incredible performances from their pair of aces. Warren Spahn had pitched a complete 14-inning game for a win in the opener. Then John Franklin Sain slung a shutout for the second game. And then, guess what? After two days, it did rain. Then Spahn won again and Sain won the day after that. After an off day, it was another doubleheader win by the duo. Eight wins and zero losses in 12 days by two pitchers.

Though Hern’s poetic and nearly prophetic efforts were appreciated, a newer, blunted version better suited to the brute dominance on display those 12 days soon came about: Spahn and Sain; then pray for rain.

It was during one of my Little League years, 1981, that I first heard that newer phrase.

It was a sultry summer evening, and I had just gulped down a candy bar and capped it of with a mix of all the concession stand fountain drink options (we called the combo a suicide). I don’t remember who it was that asked if I was related to Johnny Sain. I do remember thinking it was a stupid question. How did anyone in my hometown of 3,002 souls not know that my dad was Johnny Carrol Sain, Sr.?

“Yeah, that’s my dad. I’m Johnny Junior,” I said with that

tone of early pubescent condescension fueled by intermittent squirts of testosterone. My answer resulted in a puzzled look from the asker.

“No, I mean Johnny Sain the baseball player … Spahn and Sain and pray for rain?” was the reply.

I pried a chunk of Butterfinger out of my molars with a dirty finger and shot a smirky grin at the asker.

“Pray for rain? Doesn’t ring a bell. I don’t think Dad played much baseball. He went to school at Deer, and they didn’t have any sports except basketball and squirrel huntin’. He played a little softball later on I think.”

Clearly, I wasn’t the most intuitive kid in Atkins. But after another round or two of earnest questions and smart-ass answers, it finally dawned on me that our family might have a bonafide celebrity in the fold. I told the asker I didn’t know if I was related to this professional athlete, but I aimed to find out. I wished the famous family member had been involved in something other than baseball, though.

UnAmerican as it might sound, I’m indifferent to baseball.

Always have been, even during those Little League years. As a kid, I halfway kept up with the St Louis Cardinals only because my dad made a big deal out of Ozzy Smith’s backflips and the Cards had an Arkansas connection with the Travelers as their farm team. But watching or playing the game fell far down the list on how I wanted to spend leisure time. I wanted to catch fish and catch lizards. But Mom and Dad made me play Little League for reasons still unknown to me.

Also, I was not an athlete. So though I played, I was usually relegated to outfield duties. Outfield wasn’t so bad for a smallish kid who preferred solitude. It was usually a quiet place with cool green grass. Crickets and toads helped fight the boredom.

From right field, I had an excellent view of the girls, who were becoming more interesting by the day, playing softball on the next diamond over. I recall that in the middle of one contest I became so enchanted with the bats (the flying mammal variety) and nighthawks as they buzzed around phosphorescent lights, gulping nocturnal insects, that it took a grounder rolling into my cleated foot to bring me back into the game.

But the baseball fan who asked about a Johnny Sain I did not know opened my curiosity just a bit. I had some questions for Dad on the ride home, and he did the best he could. Yes, there was a professional baseball player named Johnny Sain who was, just a few years ago, still an MLB pitching coach (Johnny coached the Braves in 1977, and then again from ’85-’86). His middle name was Franklin, Dad wasn’t named after him. That bunch of Sains was from Yell County. Dad was sure we were related—“Sain” is, after all, an uncommon last name—but he wasn’t sure about how. Our side of the family went back generations in Newton County, back to Appalachian Tennessee and North Carolina, and that’s all the history he knew. >> MAY 2021

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In matters of specific family lineage outside the hills, Dad was mostly worthless. If Johnny Sain had been a professional bass angler I’d have badgered Dad until we found some answers. But baseball? Meh… And so how I was related to Johnny Sain the baseball player settled into the backwaters of my mind as a question that might be answered someday.

But I kept hearing that question again. And again. And again.

And again.

Through my teen years, I personally took a few dozen phone calls asking about a Johnny Sain that wasn’t me or my dad. No telling how many my dad, mom, and sister took. I heard the question when I took my driving test. I heard it at the doctor’s office.

I heard it at college registration. My cousins told me about the times they were asked if they were related to Johnny Sain. They always answered “well yeah, he’s my cousin” and would joke about starting a business of autographed baseballs and bats with me as the penman. “And it would be totally legit” they said. The confusion reached its pinnacle when I awoke after knee surgery in St Mary’s Regional Medical Center in Russellville on my 18th birthday to a roomful of old people I did not know. “We’re lookin’ fer Johnny Sain,” a woman with tight silver curls said as I rubbed bleary eyes.

“You’re lookin’ right at him,” I said.

She blinked hard three times.

“No, we’re lookin’ fer Johnny Sain,” she replied.

The last time someone asked if I was related to the Johnny Sain happened only a few months ago. It was the most pitiful. After I said yes, the gentleman’s eager eyes lit up like stadium bulbs. He’d found a pitching Picasso’s scion and followed my confirmation with a giddy rendition of “Spahn and Sain and pray for rain” before rattling off some of Johnny’s stats along with an argument for his Hall of Fame credentials.

I felt weirdly embarrassed that I didn’t know this stuff, as if my name was in some way an obligation to be a walking Johnny Sain baseball encyclopedia. I said I didn’t really know much about Johnny’s baseball career or Johnny for that matter. Wide-eyed silence was the response. I offered an awkward nod and shuffled past, careful not to make eye contact. Three decades of not knowing suddenly weighed heavier for reasons I can’t even explain.

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he glowing screen of my laptop offers the only view of anything baseball on my desk besides an actual baseball. Seventeen tabs with a reference to Johnny Sain are open, each digital search leading to another. The numbers and accomplishments are piling up for Long John Sain with each click: Four 20-win seasons with 57 percent of the games he started completed, and he pitched nine complete games in 29 days. He led MLB one year in sacrifice bunts and had a lifetime batting average of .245 (he was struck out only 20 times during his entire career). In the 1947 season Johnny won 21 games and hit .346. He was a pitching coach for 14 years tutoring 16 20-game winners. He was a threetime All-Star and the 1948 National League wins leader with nine World Series credits (four as a player, five as a coach) and six World Series championships.

All of this after he was cut from the minor leagues four times.

One Class D coach told him to go sell neckties.

Johnny was the last pitcher to face Babe Ruth. (“I wasn’t nervous, but I did want to get him out because this was kind of a big audition for me,” Johnny said about the experience.) He was also the first to face Jackie Robinson. And according to Robinson’s book Grand Slams and Fumbles, Johnny didn’t care about anything except pitching. “It wasn’t that big of a deal at the time,” Johnny said. “People ask me if I was worried about letting a pitch get away, hitting him, and I say no. I wasn’t even thinking about that kind of stuff.”

But you never really know how deep the water is until you wade out in it. And it turns out that Johnny Sain was more than just a pitching whiz. He also trained fighter pilots in World War II, had hair plugs and a face lift (something unheard of for athletes back in the ’50s and ’60s), owned a Chevrolet dealership in Walnut Ridge, Arkansas, made his own underwear, was a phenomenal contact hitter (and not just for a pitcher). And a lot of what has been written or said about him has included the word “genius” as a descriptor.

The more I learned, the more I wanted to know him, to find some connection besides 10 letters. Regret bore down harder with each glimpse of who he was. The stark and weird truth was that I wanted to build a relationship with a man, likely a relative, I never knew and who now had been gone for more than a decade. Johnny had passed away in 2006.

Luckily, there are living connections to Johnny. They reside in Yell County, just across the Arkansas River from my home

“He was lazy,” says Cora county. Johnny’s nieces—Rose Murphy-Grace and Cora Murphy, “That ain’t no joke,” says Jim. “His pitchers never ran. I asked along with his nephew Jim Murphy—happily agreed to visit with him one time, do you not make your pitchers run just because you me about their uncle. didn’t like to run? No, he would say, that’s not it. You don’t run One rap on the door of Rose’s cozy home and I’m welcomed the ball over the plate, you throw it over the plate.” in from the brisk December air and greeted with warm country But a young pitcher with honest self-awareness of his shorthospitality. Maybe it’s just me, but it also feels like there’s somecomings doesn’t make it to Major League Baseball by being thing else. Rose, Cora and Jim are, after all, my kinfolk… I think. lazy. He was simply far outside conventional ideas about the The kitchen table is stacked with Johnny Sain baseball stuff, but game and had a profound but simple understanding of what my first question doesn’t have a thing to do with any of that. It’s pitching was all about. Johnny’s methodical and efficient mana question that’s been smoldering since I was 10, the coals kept ner was engrained in everything he did—speaking, training, aglow by the probing questions of various baseball fans and local and just thinking. >> historians for going on 37 years. Now, being in the same room with people I’m fairly certain can give me clarification acts as a bellow on the embers. Before I even get my jacket off, it flares out.

“Do y’all know if we’re related?”

After 10 minutes of flipping through old census records, we know for a fact we’re related, Casper “How I was related Sain is our shared patriarch in the New World. Just exactly where the lines diverge is fuzzy, but we’re to Johnny Sain the blood and beyond that it doesn’t matter. Best we baseball player settled can tell it happened far enough back that it’s a into the backwaters minor coincidence their Sains and my Sains both ended up in Arkansas. of my mind as a Satisfied with a better understanding of my question that might place in the world, my attention turns toward the mountain of memorabilia. Most of it doesn’t inter- be answered someday. est me. It’s a bunch of numbers, and I’m a word But I kept hearing guy, a big picture guy concerned with overarching that question again. themes and freeform thinking, all of which might have as much to do with my feelings about base- And again. And again. ball as anything else. Baseball is a structured statAnd again.” isticians game of percentages and minutiae where one tenth is the difference between good and bad.

I’m not wired that way. Finding the numbers on Johnny Sain is easy as a few keystrokes anyway. I’m here to learn about the man.

So my second question is broad by design: What can you tell me about Johnny? The first two answers, like the question, come from a place of no boundaries.

“He loved to duck hunt,” says Jim. “He’d bring us Wheaties every time we saw him,” says Rose.

“We got so tired of them.”

Finally, we settle down into discussion about what made Johnny tick. He was was drawn to one other pursuit that involved one-on-one strategy similar to the pitcher/batter dynamic. “Uncle Johnny, in high school, also played tennis,” says Jim. It seems odd to me that Johnny wasn’t drawn to basketball or football. He was a big man standing 6’2”, but by his own account he wasn’t particularly athletic, so we’ve at least got that in common. In Dom Forker’s book The Men of Autumn Johnny says as much: “I wasn’t blessed with power. But I learned motion, delivery, and how to make the ball sink and slide.” He wasn’t fond of running either.

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was cheap. But frugal is a better word.”

Eccentricity was part of the John Franklin Sain package as well.

Peculiarities aside, what I’m learning about Johnny through As I try to simultaneously engage in two separate conversations all these articles, book excerpts and his family’s anecdotes is bouncing between the four of us around the table, my ears filter that he was an earnest thinker. It was his defining quality. “Jim out the word “facelift.” Wait… what?

Bowden (former MLB pitcher and analyst) said that Johnny Sain Cora is already thumbing through 61, the book that spawned was so smart he taught me five different ways to tie my shoes,” a movie produced by Billy Crystal about the Maris and Mantle says Jim. “And he never told me one time that this was the way Home Run battle in 1961. She finds this idiosyncratic nugget: to tie my shoes.” That analogy to Johnny’s coaching sounds “Not only is Johnny Sain the only man in the majors with a downright Zen-like. facelift, but I don’t know anyone else that has a hair transJim O’Donnell writes in the Oct. 10, 1993 issue plant.” Johnny had an explanation. “My wife is of the Chicago Tribune about running into Johnny 18 years younger than I am. She said one day at an Oak Brook, Illinois, book store. Johnny was she might want a face lift but was afraid it might “Peculiarities aside, toting a copy of Niccola Machiavelli’s The Prince. be too painful.” So Johnny got a facelift “Guess what I’m learning Wrote O’Donnell: “It’s for a friend,” said what?” he said about the experience. “It didn’t about Johnny through Sain, almost apologetically. “I was trying to exhurt at all.” plain some of Machiavelli’s concepts, especially The hair plugs are tougher to decipher. Was he all these articles, the parts on cunning, to him, but I just figured it vain? “Well, he was dang near a cueball,” said book excerpts and his might be easier to get him one of the books and Jim. But the claim of vanity doesn’t really jibe family’s anecdotes let him read it for himself.” Part philosopher, part with Johnny’s humble resourcefulness. mechanic, part positive mentalist, part design en“He bought his own sewing machine and sewed is that he was an gineer, full-time thinker, subtle salesman, Sain reup his own clothes,” says Rose. earnest thinker. It was mains one of the greatest tactical minds to ever “Yes he did,” says Jim. “He tore a pair of trouhis defining quality.” don a major-league uniform. sers and went to buy some new ones. He saw As O’Donnell writes, within the realm of basehow much they cost so he went a bought a needle ball there was no doubt about his near genius. He and thread and sewed them up. Then, later on, he was labeled as a full-blown genius a few times. bought a sewing machine. Hell, he made his own underwear.”

Jim Kaat, former CBS Sports Major League Baseball analyst Rose digs through the pile of papers covered front and back and MLB pitcher, one of Johnny’s pupils: “Personally, I think he’s with copied newspaper articles and finds the appropriate stoa genius when it comes to pitching theory and that his thinking ry to drive home this point. When Johnny was the pitching has always been about 30 years ahead of its time.” coach for Richmond he lived in a Winnebago. A sportswriter Jan Finkel writing about Johnny for the Society for American described meeting Johnny for an interview in the Winnebago: Baseball Research: “… pitcher, one of the great pitching coaches, “From under the bed he pulled a sewing machine. ‘See those and holder of a little-known but remarkable record attesting to his curtains? I made them myself.’ He also said he’d taken the genius as a contact hitter. cuffs off his pants.”

Leo Mazzone, former MLB pitcher and Atlanta Braves pitch“I don’t really think Uncle Johnny was ever as broke as he thought ing coach responsible for what I’ve heard was a fierce Braves he was,” says Jim. “But he was extremely frugal. Probably, he 12

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pitching rotation in the 90s: “I think’s he’s not only one of the greatest baseball minds, but the greatest pitching mind in the history of the game.”

Okay, Leo doesn’t say “genius,” but isn’t “greatest mind” synonymous?

But Johnny’s brains and strong will also produced friction. “Uncle Johnny’s ability, his talent as a pitching coach is what got him fired everywhere,” says Jim. Success followed Johnny at nearly every stop, but that independent thinking rubbed management the wrong way. The first rule of coaching is to not outshine the manager. Jan Finkel, writing for the Society for American Baseball Research, says that was a problem for Johnny. “Often it seems to have been insecurity and jealousy on the manager’s part, knowing that the pitchers listened to and respected Sain more than they did him. Sometimes a manager simply thought he knew more or better than Sain, and didn’t want to be challenged.”

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n an interview for The Men of Autumn, Johnny says that he always had a baseball and glove handy as he hung around his father’s garage. “Kids would come in from the country and we’d play catch,” said Johnny. And then one day at at the age of 10 he asked his dad how to throw a curve. Johnny’s father, Frank, was a talented lefty in semi-pro leagues around the state. “I remember it like it was yesterday,” said Johnny. “ He showed me how to throw it with the thumb sticking out. It was an old schoolhouse curve.

But I learned to spin the ball. On my own, I learned to throw it through trial and error.”

Based on everything I’ve learned, that last sentence, his own words, tells you more about Johnny than a million sports reporters ever could.

My desk now is littered with Johnny Sain articles and snippets.

I’ve read everything I could find about him online, all the accolades from players and coaches. I’ve spoken with family members and folks that knew him personally, searching for something that can

tell me who he was outside the numbers, trying to know him or at least the essence of who he was. I’ve watched video of Johnny being interviewed, his Arkansas baritone flowing smooth and slow as January molasses. He’s not the most eloquent of interview subjects.

He gets to his point with zero fanfare or intricate phrasing. But it’s this style of wording that best encapsulates the ethic and determination Johnny took to the mound. It reminds me of an engineer’s mentality, the search for maximum effectiveness and maximum efficiency. His words in 61 paint the simple picture of who he was throughout his life—just a boy from dusty rural Arkansas rotating the red laces, searching for that perfect unhittable break. Figuring it out through experimentation. Thinking it through.

The tag end of O’Donnell’s interview in the Chicago Tribune with Johnny looking back on 47 years as an improbable success in MLB cements my feelings: ”I think the biggest thing anyone should realize is that if you’re afraid to fail, you’ll never truly succeed,” Sain concluded.

I wish I’d met him.

I’m watching a video interview with Johnny about a training device he designed, named with his trademark austerity: the baseball spinner. He’s talking about it’s conception: “There was an apple there, and I took a wire and ran it through that apple, and started spinning that apple. And that evolved into this. So I took a baseball and drilled it through the center of it, ran a screw through it and into this handle.”

In the video, Johnny goes through the different grips and spins, a potent mind focused on explaining the aerodynamics of a rotating sphere. I pick up the baseball on my desk. The soft leather and ridged stitching are foreign in my grip as Johnny explains the difference between a slider and a curve. But I feel a swell of confidence surging as his drawl speaks to me from more than 40 years ago. Hell, I could do that. I feel the strange and unfamiliar urge to get outside with a glove and try out the technique against the bricks of my house, to rotate the red laces searching for that perfect break through trial and error.

I want to figure it out. l MAY 2021

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EVE RY DAY L I F E

The deep poo sea MY FRIEND SUMMER* AND HER BOYFRIEND SAM* (*names were changed for reasons you’ll soon discover) were among my friends that put off their spring break trip last year. So this spring break they were ecstatic when they found out they would finally be able to go on their beach vacation.

Unfortunately, about two weeks before she was about to leave for their trip, Summer had a terrible gallbladder attack and needed emergency surgery. When I visited her in the hospital, I was shocked to hear that she was still planning to go on her trip.

She assured me that her doctor had said that she would be good as new within 5-7 days. However, I seriously doubted that her doctor felt that she would be good to travel out of the country within two weeks.

I was pleasantly surprised to find that I was wrong when I picked up Summer to take her to the airport a fortnight later.

She looked great and was very convincing when she told me she felt great too. We picked up Sam on the way, and not longer after I had wished them safe travels and sent them on their way.

Over the next few days, I saw a myriad of photos pop up on Facebook of their trip. It looked like they were having a great time! They had taken pictures with lots of 14

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Story by SARAH CLOWER | Illustration by CLIFF THOMAS

other couples, and I recalled that Summer had mentioned they were going with several of Sam’s work friends.

But the next morning, which would have been day four of their trip, I got a Facebook message from Summer: “I’m coming home early, the most awful thing has happened.

Can you pick me up tonight at the airport?”

Oh no! My mind raced with all the awful things that can happen on a beach trip: A shark attack? They got robbed by the cartel and Sam is being held hostage? Someone stole their credit cards and passports and they are being deported by the Mexican government?

“Of course I can, just let me know what time and I’ll be there. Are y’all ok?” I wrote back.

I never got a response. Later that evening, Summer sent me a text: “My plane just landed.”

When I got to the airport, Summer was outside with her luggage. I pulled up and helped her load her suitcase.

I waited until we were both in the car, then turned to her with curious eyes.

“Now, what in the world happened?

Why did you come home early?” I asked.

“Can we go to a bar? I need a stiff drink,” Summer said.

Twenty minutes later, we were com-

fortably seated at a large picnic table with twinkling outdoor garden lights making the setting feel quite serene, and I once again prodded.

Summer rested her elbows on the table and covered her eyes with her hands.

“Well, you were right. I had no business going on a long trip like that right after having my gallbladder out,” she said with a sigh.

My inner self was clamoring to say “I told you so!” But I managed to keep my mouth closed.

“No one told me that everything I eat will just go right through me. Sam thinks I got sick from drinking the water, but I didn’t drink any of the water so I just let him think that,” she wailed.

“So you just came home because you were making frequent stops in the bathroom?” I asked, not exactly sure what had made her so upset.

“No, I came home because I nearly died of humiliation and I don’t think I can ever face those people again,” she sobbed. I reached over and put my arm around her.

“Sam and his friends wanted to go deep sea fishing, so they rented a big boat and me and the other girls were just planning on sunbathing on the boat while they fished.

Well, his friend Mike’s wife, Jenn, packed

us a lunch. And knowing that I can’t eat anything without immediately needing to use the bathroom, I didn’t want to eat it,” she explained.

“There wasn’t a bathroom on the boat?”

I asked.

“Well of course, but I couldn’t USE THE BATHROOM in there!” Summer basically yelled at me. I looked at her incredulously.

“As far as Sam knows, I don’t produce any excrement at all, and I certainly can’t be blowing up the bathroom on a boat trip with his friends!” she argued.

I felt my eyes roll and motioned with my hand for her to continue the story.

“Well, everyone kept asking me why I wasn’t eating, and it made me feel awkward, and I was actually really hungry, so I went ahead and ate. And, of course, within about 10 minutes I had to go. Like had to go emergency #2.”

I snorted with laughter but tried to compose myself.

“But I couldn’t use the boat bathroom, so I pretended that I was really hot and I just dove into the water and swam out a ways from the boat so I could handle my business,” she said.

“You mean your emergency #2?” I asked.

If looks could kill the one she shot me with would have done me in.

“Yes. My emergency #2. But then the guys start yelling at me to hurry up and get

Welcome!

back on the boat because they see a large shadow in the water moving quickly towards me.”

My heart leapt in my chest. It was a shark after all!

“So I start frantically trying to get back on the boat, but I wasn’t done with my business!”

“So you would rather be eaten by a shark than let your boyfriend know that your stomach is upset because you just had a major surgery where they removed an organ from your body?” I asked her.

“Yes!” She cried. “And then there they all are, screaming and yelling, and his friend tries to throw me the life preserver to get me back on the boat faster, when all of the sudden, I can see the shadow too, and it’s too late —“ I immediately look under the table to make sure she has all of her limbs intact. “ — and I realize that it’s a school of fish and they are having a feeding frenzy with my emergency #2!”

I proceeded to laugh so hard I nearly fell off the bench of the picnic table.

“It’s not funny!” she yelled at me.

My raucous laughter obviously proved otherwise.

“Then, as I was swimming back to the boat, the fish start trying to get into my bathing suit bottoms and starting biting my butt. When I finally got back on board, I realized there was one still in there, and it

began to thrash around and I just panicked and yanked down my bikini bottoms really fast, and I might as well have taken off a dirty diaper right there on the boat deck.”

I gasped in horror…. oh no…

“Yes, it was awful. Everyone was just silent, Sam handed me my swimsuit cover up, and I just asked to go back to our room.

We rode in silence back to the beach. I got off the boat and told Sam to go back and have a good time. I packed my things and got an Uber to the airport and took a redeye flight back home.”

“So Sam has no idea where you are?” I asked.

“Yes, I left him a note. Just saying I got horribly sick and needed to come home early. He sent me a message back.”

“And? What did it say?” I probed.

“He just said that he understood and he reminded me that he had told me not to drink the water and told me some harrowing tale about how one of his friends ended up with a parasite from drinking bad water.” She sighed exasperatedly. “I just went with it. I don’t know how I’m ever going to live this down,” she said with a groan.

“Well…” I said, taking another drink of my cocktail, “think about how amazing you’ll look in your bikini come this summer, and look on the bright side, you made it out of there alive because the shadow didn’t end up being a shark, just an unfortunately timed shart.” l

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MAY 2021

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ABOUT the RIVER VALLEY

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The Old Bank R U S S E L L V I L L E , A R - R E - B U I LT 1 9 0 6

Story by CATHY GRAVES | Forward by JOHNNY CARROL SAIN | Photos by LIZ CHRISMAN

I

t’s long been cliche to say that downtown is the heart of a city. But it’s an easy and accurate analogy. Downtown areas were at one time the financial epicenters of their towns. The core of businesses in downtown districts powered local economies as streams of money flowing from the city limits and beyond often wound up back at the place they likely originated from, recirculating through other hands and shifting into other commercial forms. A city’s prosperity was dictated by the vibrancy of its downtown, its future foretold through storefront windows full of merchandise and bustling sidewalks.

As cities and economies evolved, the use of downtown structures evolved as well. Some remained cornerstones of commerce as others served as

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headquarters for local government, and some took on even more divergent roles. But regardless of their mission today, those old buildings lining the streets of River Valley downtown districts offer a strong visual reminder of our past and an inspiration for our future.

This is ABOUT’s second installment of quarterly features to the tell the stories of a few iconic downtown buildings found in the River Valley — what they once were, what they are today, and how they’ve influenced their communities. We invite you to read the history that led to the present and think on your own memories of downtown’s yesterdays.

But we also hope that these pages can help you to envision downtown’s tomorrow.

LOCATED ON THE CORNER OF MAIN STREET AND COMMERCE, the Bank of Russellville building is one of 60 structures in this district that retains much of the architectural characteristics from the largest period of growth in Russellville —1885-1936.

The Bank of Russellville building was registered as part of the Russellville Downtown Historic District in 1996.

The period immediately after the Little Rock and Fort Smith Railroad construction was a progressive time for Russellville The town grew quickly and established a business center. Early stores were wooden-framed buildings, but by the 1880s there were five brick buildings with one of these owned by the Harkey brothers. After the Civil War, the brothers opened a drug store on the corner where the Bank of Russellville would eventually get its start.

W. G. Weimer bought the property.

In 1887 he operated a drug store, and in a section of this store, he established his bank — the Weimer Savings Bank. T.M Neal took over the bank in 1897, and he and Weimer organized the Bank of Russellville.

For nine years the Bank of Russellville became a central player amid the progress and organization of the town. The wealth of coal mines, cotton farms, and timber enabled Russellville to build

wells with hand pumps, an electric light plant, some paved streets, an ice house, a livery stable, and other businesses as the town became the center of trade, When the Russellville Ice Storage Plant caught fire, the townspeople used water from a cistern, and a bucket brigade was formed to put out the fire. Immediately afterward, the community began organizing a fire company. At the following town meeting, fire-fighting methods and equipment needed were discussed, and equipment was ordered. But on January 16, 1906, before the new equipment arrived, most of the business district of Russellville was lost to a historic fire. Twenty-three buildings were in ashes at an estimated cost of $250,000. Among the losses was the Bank of Russellville. The vault was the only thing that remained.

The Bank of Russellville was one of the businesses that quickly rebuilt after the fire. And the first customers in the new bank must have felt like royalty as they walked along the polished marble floor and under the silver patterned ceiling on their way to the teller. Their money was secure in the very vault that had survived the fire, and they themselves felt safe because above the tellers on the second floor, guards peered through the metal railings, overseeing their transactions. >> MAY 2021

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The two-story brick building has rustic stone above the second-floor transom windows and the rounded arched first-floor entrance, and it features a slight Romanesque Revival style influence with parapet detail variations common to early 20th century commercial architecture. The bank remained in the building until 1960 when it moved to Second and Denver.

Taft Mathis bought the building and established Lawton Shoes after the Bank of Russellville moved, and that business remained there until the mid-1960s. Hoyt Dale, a certified public accountant, then bought it from the Taft Estate and established his CPA firm. It remained his until the mid-1970s when Cheryl Brown purchased the building and established Lemley Art Studio. Billy Newton bought the property in 2015.

Right next door, and also built in the early 1900s, the Smith Shoe Store was located in what was previously an alley. This two-story brick building had an irregular trapezoidal plan. The building is wider in the front and narrows at the rear. The sides of the building square up with the adjoining buildings. The roof was flat with a parapet. It originally had an awning across the front of the building. It was built in the 20th-century commercial style.

East of the bank building, in the early 1900s, was Wiggs and Jenkins Drug store, owned by R. L. Jenkins. It was a one-story frame construction with brick wall material and a flat roof. It had a 18

ABOUT the RIVER VALLEY ~

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central entry point on the sidewalk and a cast concrete sign on the top of the building “19 Jenkins 24.” This building was originally constructed in 1906, immediately after the 1906 fire. In 1924, the building was extensively remodeled. S. A. Walker bought this property and it became Walker’s Drug Store until the mid-1960s.

Ivan Rose and Larry Sparks, both pharmacists, bought and ran a pharmacy. Then, in 1970, Billy Newton, a recent pharmacy school graduate at the time, bought 50 percent of the pharmacy and changed the name to Newton’s Pharmacy. Newton eventually bought the rest of the pharmacy and remained there until he moved to his new location in 1986. Newton rented the pharmacy for several years, but it became vacant in 2014.

Not long after Newton learned of the historical renovation federal and state tax credit programs and help offered by the Federal Government to renovate historic properties. He thought the in-

centives were good for a renovation. Newton owned three properties: the Bank of Russellville building, located at 218 and 220 West Main, the Jenkins Building (Annex) located at 216 West Main, and The Smith Shoe Store (barbershop), located at 106 N. Commerce.

The buildings were to be combined into one project. However, each of the building’s renovation had to be approved for historical accuracy as they were all part of the Russellville Downtown Historic District.

Newton worked with architect Bob Hiegel, Don Stout of Keener Construction Company, and under the guidance of the National Parks Service Historical Renovation Department, the Historic Preservation Tax Credit and Façade Easement Consultant, Main Street Russellville, and Main Street Arkansas to remodel and renovate the buildings to become The Old Bank Sports Bar. The renovation began by gutting all of the buildings and the extensive changes included: All electrical and plumbing systems were replaced. The roofing was completely removed and replaced with new material. A new forced-air heating and air conditioning system was installed. The marble floor area, a large skylight, and the original metal stair railing on the second floor were all repaired and restored. The front entrance was repaired and rebuilt to the originally existing storefront in 1906.

The original patterned tin ceiling tiles were repaired and matched for new installation in adjoining areas. New aluminum-clad wooden transom windows were installed. Soundproof insulation

was installed in the walls, ceilings, and skylight. An etched glass feature was added to the entrance door. A handicap entrance was added and an elevator for wheelchair access to the second floor. A fire exit was added. Steel support archways were added on the second level to allow a view through the dining areas to the stage. Two stairways were restored with new railing and a stairway was added in the kitchen for access to the second floor.

Arched cased openings were cut through the existing walls of the adjoining businesses to the bar. Original exposed brick walls were repaired. Existing bathrooms were removed and nine new bathrooms were installed. Laminate flooring was installed over the concrete floors. The original bank vault was restored by Sam Hindsman and is featured upon entrance to the bar.

“One of the ‘wow’ factors were the windows,” Newton says.

“There were arched ones that had been bricked over.” These were restored in the renovation. Another interesting holdover from the old days was the floor. “We kept the original marble floor from the bank and restored it,” Newton says. >>

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Bob Hiegel, the project’s Architect recalled that the electrical work was heavily modernized. “We used nearly two miles of low-voltage wiring to accommodate the televisions, phones, fans, and lights,” Hiegel says. The new system allowed all of the elements to be controlled remotely by phone.

The multimillion-dollar renovation took two years and the Old Bank Sports Bar opened its doors on October 24, 2016. At the Municipal League 2018 Winter Conference, the Old Bank Sports Bar won the Best Historic Rehabilitation Tax Credit Project award.

The Old Bank Sports Bar (not the Old Bank building) is cur-

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rently operated by co-owners Chris Delre and Doug Burnett. The two have decades of experience as owners in the foodservice industry. The renovated bar features three levels of dining, three full bars, and two performance stages. There are 60 televisions and a projection screen to allow diners to watch sports and the bands without obstruction. There is also a members-only private club with luxury accommodations. The club room has a mural named The Timeline of Russellville painted by artist Sherry Trusty.

For more information about the Bank of Russellville go to russellvillearkansas.org and search for Russellville Historic District. l

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COMMUNITY

Tyrone Williamson June10, 1955 — April 6 2021

Courtesy of Veasley Funeral Home and Cremations, Inc. — Tyrone Williamson was born on June 10, 1955 in Russellville, Arkansas to the late Elizabeth and Lewis ‘L.V.’ Williamson.

He gained his wings on Tuesday, April 6, 2021, at his home, surrounded by family. He was preceded in death by his parents; his sisters, Noreen Lee and Charlotte Williamson; his brothers, William Williamson and Michael Williamson.

Tyrone graduated from Russellville High School – Class of ’73 and attended Arkansas Tech University. An avid athlete, Tyrone played basketball, football, softball and ran track while in school.

He loved coaching youth and adults in basketball and softball.

He confessed to Christ at an early age and has been a life-long member of New Prospect Missionary Baptist Church. He served as member of the choir and trustee. In October 1998, he received his certificate of license to preach and became an Associate Minister. Tyrone was a hard-working man and a leader in his community. He owned his own cleaning business while working for AP&L/Entergy. He served as president of the Russellville chapter of the Jaycees and was a member of the River Valley Progressive Men’s Club. Tyrone was the first African American elected as Alderman and then Mayor of the city of Russellville.

Tyrone leaves to cherish his loving memory, his wife of 32 years, Crystal Williamson of Russellville, Arkansas, his children, Karisa McAlister of Conway, Arkansas, Jared Williamson of Los Angeles, California; his brothers, Robert Perry of Reno, Nevada, Larry Perry of Little Rock, Arkansas, Jerry Williamson of Little Rock, Arkansas, Virgil (Shirley) Williamson of Conway, Arkansas; his sisters, Virginia Ann Perry, Betty Mitchell-Williamson

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From all of us at Sorrells.

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and Trish (Geno) Moore all of Little Rock, Arkansas, as well as his many nieces, nephews, cousins and friends.

University of the Ozarks Men’s Soccer Team Captures ASC Title Courtesy of uofoathletics.com —The University of the Ozarks Eagles captured the 2021 American Southwest Conference Championship after defeating Concordia University Texas 3-1 on April 10 in Abilene, Texas.

Under Head Coach Aaron Brueckner, the Eagles finished the

from Dixon MedSpa; and Edith Stobseason 7-4-1 and won their first conferaugh won the autographed Days of Our ence title since the 2003 season. The EaLives book courtesy of Century League gles got a goal from Charleus Emmanumember April Talbott. The grand prize el Ritch in the 16th minute to put Ozarks Go Kart from Hayne’s Home Center, in front 1-0. Concordia scored the equalco-sponsored by Hawkins Insurance and izer in the 34th minute to end the half Edward Jones Investments, went to Na1-1. But the Eagles were determined to talie Dixon. Century League sustaining win the title and it showed. The Eagles member Kara Jones took home the door played outstanding in the second half, prize of a beverage growler from Point with Alain Claude netting a beautiful Remove Brewery. Community memgoal in the 57th minute. Lorfils Milord bers can still view the Facebook Live put the game out of reach with a goal in event on the Century League of Morrilthe 87th minute. ton’s Facebook page.

“I have to thank God first,” said Brueckner. “The guys put in the work.

The Century League raised nearThe camaraderie and team unity are unly $16,000 from raffle ticket sales and believable. This championship is a result sponsorships and will use the funds to Winner of the Autographed of the daily grind in practice and believcontinue to support community projects Days of our Lives book, Edith Stobaugh like the Free Little Panty, scholarships ing in the process. They believed in each to UACCM, and Christmas presents and other with great confidence. It was so Thanksgiving meals for local families in need. Club president fun to watch. They deserve this and I am just glad to be part of it.”

Lyndsey Daniel said, “As most charity groups this past year, Cen“We had the most difficult road through the bracket,” said Tourtury League had to change the way we raised funds due to the nament MVP Drew Mott. “I am just proud of all the guys and so pandemic, and we were uncertain if we would be able to meet our happy to come out on top.” yearly commitments. Local businesses and individual communiCentury League of Morrilton ty members went above and beyond in their generosity. We are Super Raffle winners truly overwhelmed by the success of this event and grateful to be The Century League of Morrilton is excited to announce the part of such a generous community.” winners of the super raffle drawings held on April 12 at Point The ladies of Century League would like to thank every comRemove Brewery and presented via Facebook Live: Billie Millimunity member who purchased a raffle ticket and our event spongan won the gun courtesy of LK Construction and Church Street sors: Diamond Sponsors - Koontz Electric and Health-Care PharGrocery; Christie Proctor won the game camera and solar panmacy; Emerald Sponsors - Centennial Bank, UACCM, Diamond el courtesy of Roberson Tire; Carol Zimmerman won the Hobo State Sanitation, Wayne Smith Trucking, Hagans Dodge, and purse from Merle Norman; McKenzie Beyer won the charcuterie Hawkins Insurance; Ruby Sponsors - Petit Jean Bank, Colton’s board courtesy of Voss and Sons, Petit Jean Meats, Point Remove Steakhouse, Mobley Contractors, Morrilton Family Dental, Petit Brewery, and Movie House Winery; Holly Beck won the package Jean Meats, CHI St. Vincent, and McGee Monument. >>

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MAY 2021

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ABOUT the RIVER VALLEY

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Amethyst Sponsors - Magie Ford, Conway County Farm Bureau Insurance, Southside Barbell, Allen and Phyllis Gordon, Crow Group, Harts and Flowers, and Koch’s Body Shop.

ATU Greek organizations come to the aid of food insecure children 35,425. That’s the number of non-perishable food items Arkansas Tech University fraternities and sororities donated to River Valley Food 4 Kids in Russellville

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through a drive that culminated on Friday, April 9, with a drop-off event at the organization’s North El Paso Avenue location.

“I’m very overwhelmed right now,” said Josh Dunbar, executive director of River Valley Food 4 Kids, during a break between delivery waves. “This is a lot more food than even I was anticipating. It’s a testament to how impactful it is. Students don’t have to be invested. They don’t have to do this, so the fact they are willing to go out and donate this amount of food really is awesome.”

Dunbar said in the short term the dona-

tion from ATU students will allow River Valley Food 4 Kids to “double, if not triple” the amount of food the organization is able to distribute to food insecure children in the region.

“Our program can go further and serve more children as a direct result of this donation,” said Dunbar. “I don’t think it can be emphasized enough how much everyone doing a little bit can go a long way. I am blown away by these students.”

Payton Youngblood, a graduate assistant in the ATU Division of Student Affairs, oversaw the food drive by ATU fraternities and sororities as part of her mentorship for College Panhellenic Council and Order of Omega.

“It makes my heart very happy,” said Youngblood when asked about the outcome of the food drive. “This shows what Greek life is all about. It’s about service and serving the Russellville and ATU communities. From August to now, I’ve noticed an increase among our students to want to get out there and do service projects. They want to give back to the community that has given so much to them.”

A native of Green Forest, Youngblood is pursuing the Master of Education degree in K-12 literacy at Arkansas Tech.

“I’m going into education as a teacher, so this hits my heart a lot,” said Youngblood.

“I know a ton of kids don’t have access to food, so it makes me super happy that they’ll be able to get through the summer, go back to school in the fall and continue to benefit from this food.”

Maddi Holloway of Alma is among the ATU students who made the project possible. A junior English major with a minor in pre-law, Holloway assisted in the organization of the food drive and helped deliver carload after carload of nourishment from the ATU campus to the River Valley Food 4 Kids warehouse.

“As members of a Greek organization, we are always looking to give back to the community because Russellville has done so much for us and given us so many opportunities,” said Holloway. “To see all of the organizations show up and provide this much food is an awesome feeling. This took just a week of our time, but it will continue to positively affect others months down the road.” l

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LA CASA DEL SOL 1967 OLD HWY 7 S DARDANELLE, AR

Shrimp tacos sublime Photos by LIZ CHRISMAN Story by JOHNNY CARROL SAIN

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THAT THE RIVER VALLEY IS BLESSED WITH SO MANY HISPANIC RESTAURANTS AND FOOD TRUCKS serving up delectable food is both boon and bane to area food fanatics.

Boon: When it comes to good food, there is no such thing as too much.

Bane: How in the world will we ever sample it all? And, make no mistake, we want to eat all of the Hispanic food.

Really, there is no bane. A seemingly endless array of zesty and scrumptious Hispanic dishes, so many choices that we could eat a new menu item each week for the foreseeable future, could never be considered a bad thing.

Maybe the best things to come out of this abundancia of options are the seafood choices. And tops among those is the shrimp taco.

I mean, it’s shrimp in a taco — a combo of two of the tastiest foods the world has ever

known. As a lifelong fan of both shrimp and tacos, I’ve never ate a shrimp taco that I did not enjoy. But there’s something especially scrumptious about the shrimp tacos at La Casa del Sol in Dardanelle.

Actually, and I don’t say this lightly, they’re the best to be found in the River Valley.

I’m not sure about what it is that sets La Casa del Sol’s shrimp tacos apart. It could be a secret and special ingredient or step in their preparation of the grilled shrimp.

It might be the fresh-chopped pico and fat slice of avocado. Most likely it’s the care given to all of the ingredients in this light and simple meal that is so lip-smacking delicious it makes me not want to try anything else.

That’s my loss, though, it certainly doesn’t have to be. But it’s definitely our collective gain. l

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CO U N T E RTO P C R E AT I O N S

The Inevitable Story by LYDIA ZIMMERMAN, Food Editor Photos by LIZ CHRISMAN

W

e all have them from time to time or, sometimes, on a regular basis. What I am referring to is leftovers — those Rubbermaid containers or old butter containers in the fridge we use to store our meal leftovers that may or may not ever be consumed.

This month I had some left over graham cracker crumbs and Key lime juice from making Key lime pie to create my margarita pudding cups. I also had some extra baker’s chocolate unused from a turtle cheesecake.

And then I gathered some of the “leftover” recipes from issues past that we did not have room to include.

As always, enjoy, and May the 4th be with you!

Easy Margarita Pudding Cups

EASY MARGARITA PUDDING CUPS (NON ALCOHOLIC) ABOUT Magazine Featured Recipe ~ MAY 2021

2 c graham crackers crumbled (I used 1 1/2 pkgs from box) 1/4 c butter, melted and cooled 2 T granulated sugar 1 T ground cinnamon 1 envelope of Dream Whip whipped topping (prepare per pkgs directions) 1 can sweetened condensed milk 1/4 c Nellie and Joe’s Key Lime Juice 2 T lemon juice 2 sticks of Margaritaville Margarita Drink Mix to go (purchased at 10Box) 1 8oz tub of Whipped Topping zest of 3 small limes, for garnish (optional)

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Set aside 9-10 clean small clear plastic of glass cups Place graham crackers into a gallon side zip lock bag and seal. Using a rolling pin, rush the graham crackers into fine crumbles. Add sugar and cinnamon to the bag and then melted butter. Reseal bag and mix the crumb mixture together well. Leave in the bag until ready to assemble.

In a large bowl prepare the dream whip per package directions. After the topping is beat enough to create stiff peaks when you remove the beater, slowly add the sweetened condensed milk and beat

again on high. Reduce mixer speed to medium and slowly add the lime juice, lemon juice and margarita drink mix continue to beat on high until well mixed and fluffy again.

Refrigerate pudding for 1 hour.

Place and press down 2 T graham cracker mixture into each of the clear cups.

Spoon the pudding into each cup over the graham cracker mixture to approx 3/4 full. Then top with cool whip and lime zest.

Place back into the refrigerator to chill for 3 hours until serving.

DEATH BY DARTH CUPCAKES Cupcakes 8 oz Baker’s German Chocolate, finely chopped 1 c boiling water 1/2 c salted butter, softened 1 1/4 c granulated sugar 1/4 c cooking oil 1 tsp vanilla extract 2 eggs, room temperature 1 1/2 c AP flour, sifted 1 tsp baking powder 1 envelop of Dream Whip (unprepared) Chocolate filling 8 oz Baker’s Semi-sweet chocolate, finely chopped 1 c Heavy Whipping Cream Frosting 1 c unsalted butter, softened 1 c milk chocolate chips, melted 1/4 c unsweetened cocoa powder 2-3 T heavy whipping cream 1 tsp vanilla extract 1/8 tsp salt Darth Vader Helmets 1 bag Dark Chocolate Chips Darth Vader Helmet Mold (purchase on Amazon) Prepare Chocolate filling (ganache) prior to cupcakes as it needs to set for 2 hrs before filling cupcakes.

For Ganache~ In a medium mixing bowl, place finely chopped Baker’s SemiSweet Chocolate.

In a small saucepan, heat one cup of Heavy Whipping Cream until it begins to simmer. DO NOT LET IT BOIL. Remove from heat and pour over Semi-Sweet

chopped chocolate in mixing bowl. Let it set 2-3 minutes and then beat with a wooden spoon until smooth. Set aside for later use, For Cupcakes~ Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Line your muffin tin with paper cupcake liners.

In a large mixing bowl, place chopped chocolate and softened butter. Heat one cup of water to boiling and then pour over chocolate and butter in the mixing bowl. Let set 2-3 minutes, then beat together until smooth. Add sugar, cooking oil, vanilla and eggs and beat again until smooth. Set aside.

In a medium mixing bowl sift flour and baking flour together. Add Dream Whip.

Slowly add flour mixture to chocolate mixture, beating with mixer on medium speed 3-4 minutes.

Immediately fill baking cups 3/4 way full and place in preheated oven on center rack to bake for 12-15 minutes or until when you touch the middle of the cake it springs back. Remove to oven and set aside to cool.

After the cupcakes have cooled, remove the core using a cupcake corer or small knife. Fill each cupcake center with chocolate filling (ganache) using a teaspoon (approx 1-2 tsp each cake).

For Darth Vader Helmets~ Place dark chocolate chips into a medium size microwaveable bowl. Place in microwave in 30 second increments, stirring after each increment until smooth. DO NOT OVERCOOK. After it has melted, spoon chocolate into silicone molds and place in freezer for ap-

Death by Darth Cupcakes

prox 30 minutes until set. Then “pop out” onto wax paper and set into the fridge for later use.

For Frosting~ In a small microwaveable bowl place milk chocolate chips. Place in microwave for 30 second increments, stirring after each increment until chocolate is melted.

DO NOT OVERCOOK. Place 1 c softened butter in a large mixing bowl. Beat on medium/high speed until smooth. Add melted chocolate and continue to beat on low. Slowly add unsweetened cocoa, salt, 1 tsp vanilla extract and powdered sugar to the butter mixture. Add heavy whipping cream, 1 T at a time to achieve desired consistency for piping on cupcakes.

Pipe frosting onto cupcakes after each has been filled with chocolate filling.

Place your Chocolate Darth Helemt onto your finished cupcake and “Come to the Dark Side, We Have Chocolate”!, Lol.

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GARDEN FRESH TOMATO AND BACON PIE 1 deep dish pie shell 1 1/2 to 2 c cheese, shredded I used parmesan, cheddar and swiss (a little more than 1/2 c each) reserve 1/2 c for topping 1/2 c green onion,sliced (or you can used chopped onion of your choice) 3-4 fresh tomatoes, chopped or sliced 1-2 pinches of dried oregano, more if desired 1-2 pinches of dried basil, more if desired salt & pepper 6-8 slices of bacon, cooked crisp and crumbled 3-4 T mayonnaise Preheat oven to 400 degrees.

With a fork, spear the bottom of the crust and bake crust for about 10 minutes in the preheated oven.

Remove crust from oven. Reduce heat to 350 degrees.

Now add a layer of cheese, onion, and tomatoes to pie crust.

Sprinkle with salt, pepper, oregano and basil. Continue layering until ingredients are gone except for 1/2 c of cheese. I had 2 layers.

NOTE: Chop tomatoes and drain in a colander for at least 30 minutes before adding to pie. You can slice the tomatoes if desired. Use firm ripe tomatoes. You don’t want the pie to be juicy.

Combine the crumbled bacon, mayonnaise, and cheese: spread on top of the pie.

NOTE: Add’l mayo may be needed but don’t go overboard. Sprinkle with extra cheese if desired.

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ABOUT the RIVER VALLEY ~

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Bake for 35 to 40 minutes. Let stand for at least 15 minutes before cutting. Enjoy!

Recipe courtesy of justapinch.com GRILLED BANANA SPLITS 4 bananas 8 tsp unsalted butter 4 T brown sugar 4 tsp rum extract, optional 1 pint vanilla frozen yogurt (or your favorite flavor) 1⁄4 c chocolate syrup 4 T whipped cream, optional 1⁄4 c chopped pecans or walnuts, optional maraschino cherries, optional Heat the grill to low, about 300 degrees.

Make an incision lengthwise on the side of each banana, leaving 1 inch uncut at both ends and the peel intact. Place on a piece of foil folded around each banana but not covering it.

Spread each cut banana open and place 2 teaspoons of butter, 1 tablespoon of brown sugar, and 1 teaspoon of rum extract inside (if using). Grill, covered, until the butter mixture has melted and bananas are heated through, about 5 to 10 minutes.

Move the bananas to 4 separate sundae dishes. Carefully flip the bananas over and pour the sauce into the bottom of each dish. Peel off the skins, and add a scoop of frozen yogurt and drizzle with chocolate sauce. Top with whipped cream, nuts and cherries. Serve immediately.

Recipe courtesy of farmflavor.com CROCK POT HONEY TERIYAKI CHICKEN MEATBALLS Chicken Meatballs 1 lb ground chicken

3/4 c bread crumbs 1 egg 1/2 T garlic powder Sauce 1 c chicken broth 1/2 c teriyaki sauce 1/4 c honey 2 cloves garlic, minced 1 T sesame seeds 2 T corn starch Preheat the oven to 400 degrees.

In a medium sized bowl, combine the ground chicken, bread crumbs, egg, and garlic powder. Use a spoon or your hands to make sure all the ingredients are combined.

Roll into 1 inch to 1 1/2 inch meatballs.

This makes about 24 meatballs. Place the meatballs on a cookie sheet.

Bake for 4 minutes, then take out to flip the meatballs. Then bake for another 4 minutes. The meatballs will be browned but not completely done. They will finish cooking in the crock pot.

Meanwhile, in a small bowl combine the chicken broth, teriyaki sauce, honey, minced garlic, and sesame seeds.

Once the meatballs are ready place them in the crock pot. Then pour the honey teriyaki sauce over them and stir to make sure the meatballs are mostly covered.

Cook for 1-2 hours on high or 2-3 hours on low. About 15 minutes before you are ready to serve add the corn starch to the sauce to thicken and stir to combine. Continue to cook until the sauce thickens. Garnish the meatballs with the additional sesame seeds.

Recipe courtesy of whatscookinglove. com

CRANBERRY QUINOA SALAD WITH CANDIED WALNUTS 1 1/4 c vegetable broth 1/2 c fresh cranberries or 1 c dried cranberries 1/2-1 c fresh broccoli florets 2 T chopped green onion salt and pepper to taste 5 Minute candied walnuts: 1 c unsalted walnuts 1 T unsalted butter 2 tsp brown sugar 2 T honey or sugar if vegan the teeniest pinch of salt For the dressing: 2 T light olive oil or grape seed oil 1 clove garlic smashed and minced (1/4 tsp) 1 T fresh lime juice 1 T orange juice 1/8 tsp salt 1/8 tsp black pepper First rinse + drain your quinoa using a mesh strainer/sieve Bring a medium saucepan to medium heat and lightly toast the quinoa to remove any excess water. Stir as it toasts for just a few minutes. This step is optional but really adds to the fluff factor of the quinoa!

Next add your broth and bring pot to a boil. Once it’s boiling, reduce heat to low and simmer, covered with the lid slightly ajar, for 12-13 minutes.

If you’re using frozen cranberries, add them to the pot after 6-8 minutes; if you’re

using dried or fresh cranberries add them in around the 9-10 minute mark and recover.

Test the cranberries before pulling from heat to make sure they’ve had enough time to cook, then remove from heat.

Once your quinoa and cranberries are done, season with a teeny bit of salt and pepper, fluff gently with a fork, and set aside.

While your quinoa cools, add a little water to that same pot and bring to a boil.

Gently blanch your broccoli florets until bright green and al-dente (you want it to still be a bit firm yet tender, not mushy) which should only take a few minutes.

Drain, chop into bite-sized bits, and add to the quinoa along with chopped green onion. Place quinoa in the fridge while you prep your dressing and walnuts.

DRESSING: Smash and mince garlic into a paste and combine with all remaining dressing ingredients. Whisk well and set aside.

CANDIED WALNUTS: Heat a skillet or saucepan to medium heat and butter to melt. Next add in your chopped walnuts, honey, salt, and sugar. Saute for 5-6 minutes and pour over parchment paper, using a spatula to separate the nuts. Otherwise you’ll have yummy walnut brittle that you’ll want to break apart over your salad, which is no big deal either! Yum! Allow to cool for several minutes until the coating hardens and your walnuts have officially been candied! Woot! Try not to eat them all before they hit the salad.

Grab your bowl-o-quinoa and top with

the walnuts. Drizzle with dressing just before digging in! Serve this up as a salad for lunch [I ate the entire thing myself, ha! It can easily serve 2 if needed] or serve it up as a colorful side dish to stretch it to 4 servings. Serve it chilled or at room temperature, it’s great both ways! Enjoy!

Recipe courtesy of peasandcrayons.com MEXICAN STREET CORN DROP BISCUITS 2 1/2 c all-purpose flour 4 tsp baking powder 1/2 tsp kosher salt 1 stick plus 2 T cold unsalted butter, cubed 2 c grated Cotija or Queso cheese (8 oz) 2 c corn kernels 1/2 c chopped cilantro 1 tsp finely grated lime zest 1 1/4 c heavy cream Preheat the oven to 350°. Line 2 baking sheets with parchment paper. In a large bowl, whisk the flour with the bak- ing powder and salt. Using your finger- tips, blend in the cubed butter until pea- size pieces form. Stir in the cheese, corn, cilantro, lime zest and heavy cream just until a soft dough forms. Spoon heaping 2 T mounds of dough onto the prepared sheets about 1 inch apart. Refrigerate for 30 minutes.

Bake the biscuits for 30 minutes, until golden. Transfer to a rack to cool slightly before serving.

Recipe courtesy of foodandwine.com

MAY 2021

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COMMUNITY COMMERCE

Greenway Equipment WITH THE MISSION STATEMENT: “To earn the trust and respect of customers and employees alike,” Greenway is off to a good start at fulfilling that goal at its most recently acquired dealership in Russellville.

From one acre to seven, Russellville Greenway has been busy moving and expanding. Now located at 2911 South

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Arkansas Avenue, just up the road from its former location, Greenway’s new location is open from 8a.m. to 6p.m. MonGreenway Equipment 2911 S. Arkansas Ave., Russellville www.gogreenway.com/ (479) 968-2220

Story & photo by BENITA DREW

day through Saturday.

According to President Bill Midkiff, Greenway’s owners recognized that the former location wasn’t large enough for the needs of their growing customer base. After acquiring the current location in the summer of 2020, they have spent the months since renovating and expanding to include six bays with an overhead

crane to accommodate combines and other large equipment for repair. The new facility also has better visibility and a safer traffic flow with a traffic signal being installed in front to aid accessibility for large equipment. “Safety is our number-one priority, so the necessary traffic light was not a difficult decision.”

Touting 30,000 square feet of building including service bays, parts storage, a showroom and offices, Greenway is proud to announce that what hasn’t changed is the employees. Greenway purchased Maus Implement in late 2019 and all 23 employees remained with the company, including Location Manager Ryan Maloch.

Greenway is looking to increase Russellville location employees to 30, Midkiff says. “We are always looking to hire good people.”

While Greenway is known for carrying all things John Deere, they also carry Stihl, Frontier and Honda, as well as parts. “We pride ourselves in providing the customers with a good experience at a sustainable business,” Midkiff added. “We work when you work,

with everything from lawn mower blades to combines, and both new and used equipment.”

The Russellville Greenway location carries equipment for more than just farmers. With lawn tractors, line trimmers, pressure washers and more for homeowners; and excavators, track loaders and more for contractors, Greenway has something for everyone from lawn and garden and compact construction to farmers and ranchers.

Greenway has been a family CC owned and operated company since its founding in 1988, in Newport, Arkansas. With 31 operating locations including five in Southeast Missouri, Greenway services 65 counties with more than 700 employees.

The newest location is scheduled to open this Fall in Sherwood.

“We’d like to thank the people of Russellville for their support. We want to continue to support them as well,” Midkiff said.

Greenway’s Russellville grand opening was celebrated on April 22. They can also be reached by calling 479-968-2220. l

Providing free quality instruction and support to literacy-seeking adults.

River Valley Adult Learning Alliance (479) 477-3910

rivervalleyliteracycouncil@gmail.com

MAY 2021

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THE SEED & THE STORY

A row of beans can help

I

’ve been volunteering with the McElroy House organization for years now.

It’s an organization I helped to found, but it’s very much a collectively led effort.

We strive to carve out spaces, to bring people together across differences. And we come together to share skills and ideas, and, lately, even language.

Thanks to the wisdom of Dr. Alejandra Carballo, associate professor of Spanish at ATU, we’ve recently started hosting bilingual garden nights/noche di jardineria

every Friday from 4:30 until dusk. These gatherings are pretty much exactly what they sound like — we get together to work in the garden and we speak in both English and Spanish while we work. With the exception of Dr. Carballo, most of us are beginners or intermediate speakers (at best) in our second language. But what we lack in fluency we make up for in an eagerness to learn. So we listen to one another, swap new words, pull some weeds, laugh, stumble through a language we are

Story by MEREDITH MARTIN-MOATS

learning as adults, and plant seeds.

Thanks to the ladies I’ve met at garden night, I’ve learned lots of useful, new vocabulary I can’t imagine picking up anywhere else: hormigas (ants), grillos (crickets), cebolla (onion), frambuesa (raspberry) and araña (spider), just to name a few. I’ve become better at conjugating verbs, figuring out when to use “ser” and when to use “estar”, and I’ve had conversations about the different varieties of squash (calabasa) and natural

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ABOUT the RIVER VALLEY ~

MAY 2021

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fertilizers (conejo/rabbit poop is always a winner). I’m nowhere near fluent, but few things make me happier than being able to communicate about squash and rabbit poop in another language.

I’ve done community work for more than a decade now, and I’ve learned that even when everyone in a room already speaks the same language, our fears and cultural divides can make it hard for us to let down our walls and work together.

Sometimes that’s smart, of course. Not everyone is a trustworthy person. But sometimes what’s really getting in the way of a new connection isn’t our own Spidey sense of trust or a well-developed intuition. It’s just our own insecurities. What if we are misunderstood, we wonder.

What if we say something stupid? What if we just aren’t liked? What if I get hurt?

But a lot of those same insecurities lose their edge in a garden. There is something about getting your hands in the dirt and watching the butterflies (mariposa), dragonflies (libélulas) and bees (abejas) fly around with such purpose and abandon that has a way of allowing us to drop a lot of our pretensions and just show up as our full selves. Or at least it’s an invitation to do so. Learning a new language can be especially scary and overwhelming. A row of beans can help.

The garden nights haven’t been going on that long, but I’ve learned so much already. I’ve heard stories about a cousin in Mexico who has the best dirt (tierra) around. It’s his compost recipe, and he teaches all the kids in the community

how to make it. I’ve heard about intergenerational gardens in Dover that feed families. I’ve watched my kids quickly make new friends over dirt and vines.

And I’ve shared my own stories about my grandfather and the irises that still grow at the McElroy House. If you know where to look, there is evidence in this spring garden of the work we did last fall. The tulip bulbs we planted are bright with red and pink. And the elderberry bush (baya del saúco),donated last year and planted in the backyard during the height of COVID, is now growing tall and sprawling outward. In a year or so we’ll have elderberries for syrup.

None of us set out to turn these garden nights into story circles. I really do wish we had been that smart. But instead, the idea for these gatherings happened organically (overused pun, sorry). The garden needed to be worked. And some of us needed English practice and some of us wanted to learn Spanish. Thankfully there are brilliant and giving people like Dr. Carballo who can speak both languages fluently and help make the gathering possible. Someday, those of us in attendance will be fluent, too. And so here we are now, tending to two birds with one stone.

These events are open to everyone, even if you aren’t a language learner. Just come join us and dig in the dirt! You can find us every Friday from 4:30 until dusk at 420 S. 2nd Street in Dardanelle. Look for the rainbow chicken mural. You can’t miss it.

If you want more information, email mcelroyorganizers@gmail.com. l

Proudly serving our customers since 1903 Three convenient Russellville locations to serve you:

800 N. Arkansas Ave. 306 West O St.

(ATM on Tech Campus)

3079 East Main

1-866-246-2400 MAY 2021

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Story & photo by JOHNNY CARROL SAIN

A JOURNAL of our RURAL & NATURAL HERITAGE

The Mountains are Calling I ALWAYS HAVE TO CONVINCE MYSELF that the first gobbler I hear in the spring was really a gobbler. It wasn’t a woodpecker hammering on a hickory, or a distant barking dog. It was a turkey. The mystique -- much bigger than the turkey -- engulfs the real-world science going on in the woods, and the mystique is in the gobble. It’s magic. That thundering warble doesn’t seem real. And it can’t come from the throat of a bird, can it?

But it does. It’s just a bird performing an ancient ritual triggered by a daily increase of sunlight in order to pass on his

genes. Yet, somehow, it is something so much more.

Calling to the gobbler is a way for me to try my hand, or mouth, at some magic. Can I really sound like a turkey by scraping a couple pieces of chalked wood

together? Or manipulating latex rubber stretched across a horseshoe shaped frame with my tongue? Or scratching a piece of slate with a maple stick?

I can. And the mystique engulfs the science going on here as well. I’m speaking

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ABOUT the RIVER VALLEY ~

MAY 2021

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in a language of which I have only the faintest of understanding. It is most definitely magic.

Physics can explain the sounds; friction and vibration are the reasons for the sound waves. The gobbler’s response to my calls is just organic chemistry. Something about the rhythm and frequency of various clucks, yelps and cackles works like a key and unlocks what sometimes seems an involuntary reaction from the gobbler. It’s like he can’t control himself. The gland ducts open wide. The testosterone flows, the crimson caruncles shake and that throaty “gobble-obble-obble-obble” booms out. Avian lust and male aggression all wrapped up in a sound triggered by reactions on a molecular level.

Gobblers will gobble at many things you think they wouldn’t. Owls, crows and pileated woodpeckers top the list here in Arkansas. But I’ve also heard them gobble at coyotes, blue jays, hawks, blue herons, barking dogs, slamming truck doors, train

“I’m speaking in a language of which I have only the faintest of understanding. It is most definitely magic.” horns, bellowing cows, squealing pigs and braying donkeys. Think about that the next time a smug grin creases your face after you get a turkey to answer. Yesterday, that turkey may have gobbled his head off at the logging trucks.

You would think that a gobbler’s cosmopolitan attitude about gobble-worthy sounds would dilute the magic. I suppose this is what happened to the barnyard gobbler. His incessant babbling at everything eventually turned into an annoyance, and that is what probably led to the negative connotations associated with labeling someone or something a “turkey.” But the wild birds are something different.

Maybe it’s the way those gobbles echo off the hollows. It might be the filtering effects of a hardwood forest on a dewy spring morning. Whatever the reasons, I have my own involuntary re-

action when I hear a gobble. I must go to it. And there is no hollow too deep nor hill too steep. It’s a pull that is as inexplicable to me as the gobble is inexplicable to the gobbler. There is surely some chemical reaction going on in the folds of my gray matter. But there is also something much, much more.

I think that it’s because I want a piece of that wild magic. It’s not about possession, and though there is nothing better on the plate than wild turkey, it’s not about sustenance either. It’s something so complex yet so simple that I can’t find words for it. So I’ll lean on the words of wilderness savior and master writer, John Muir, for reasoning behind my spring treks through the hills with shotgun in hand. It’s really very simple: “The mountains are calling, and I must go.” l

MAY 2021

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COMMUNITY LEADERS

...

KECHIA

WILSON BENTLEY AGE: 57 HOMETOWN: Leachville, Arkansas and

Largo, Florida YEARS IN THE RIVER VALLEY 31 OCCUPATION: Operator of ACT Answers,

ACT test prep FAMILY: Husband Donald Bentley, married 36 years. Children Adrin, Austin, Dillon, and Payton Bentley

1. What is your favorite book?

Bible and Gone with the Wind. The Bible is my go to book. It is life to me. I know that may sound really weird to some people, but those who know me know it is true. I cannot imagine my life without all that God’s Holy Word has taught me about Him, about me, about others, and about how to live this life. The Bible has cradled me with God’s presence and power through the darkest of nights and has given me the greatest words of rejoicing and praise.

When I tell you that I would be undone without it, I am not exaggerating.

Gone with the Wind is the first novel I ever read.

I was in 6th grade. I don’t even remember where I got my copy, but I remember sitting in the tree in our front yard and reading it for hours. One of my fondest memories was going to see the movie with my parents in 1974. They had many discussions about whether they should take me, since I was only 11. I walked out of that theater knowing the book is always better than the movie.

2. Dog or Cat?

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ABOUT the RIVER VALLEY ~

MAY 2021

I grew up with a dog and a cat in our home. If you nailed me down and made me choose only one, I would go with dog. Our last dogs were border collies, and you could not ask for more loving or loyal dogs. They absolutely had my heart. I would sit up all night and hold one of them because she was so terribly frightened by thunderstorms.

3. What do you think is the most positive aspect of living in the River Valley?

It has to be the people. I have been privileged to be involved with several civic and volunteer organizations here in the River Valley. I am a life time member of Junior Auxiliary. I currently serve on the board of Russ Buss, and I serve on a national board and a local committee associated with St. Mary’s Regional Medical Center. I have met some of the most amazing, generous, selfless people in this area. It is truly astounding how giving and caring our community is to those in need.

4. What is something no one would ever guess about you?

I was engaged to be married three times by the age of 20. I broke off the first two and returned the rings. The third proposal was from Donald, and I always say the third time was definitely the charm.

5. What is your favorite music genre and artist?

Christian music is what I listen to everyday. My favorite artists are Micheal

Card and Fernando Ortega. Both of these artist use scripture or a biblical story as the basis for their lyrics. They remind me of the truths on which I base my life.

6. What do you nerd out on?

I love to draw house plans. It will consume my whole day. I have been known to stay up till dawn working on a plan.

The house we live in now was built from a house plan I drew.

Also, if we are taking a trip, I will research everything about the area before we go — it is an obsession.

7. If you could change one thing about the River Valley, what would it be?

I would undo the possibility of a casino coming to our area.

8. Where is the one location in the River Valley you would tell a first-time visitor that they must go?

9. Pizza, tacos, cheeseburger, or fried chicken?

Fried Chicken! Besides the fact that it is awesome, it holds all the memories: holidays, summers, picnics, funerals, my mother, and my grandmothers. Fried chicken just encompasses a life well lived in the South.

10. What is your favorite quote? Could be from an inspiration person, could be an original.

“There is so much bad in the best of us, and so much good in the worst of us.

It hardly behooves any of us, to speak ill of the rest of us.”

This is the Motto of The Order of the Owls. It was on a plaque that hung in my grandparents’ home. The plaque belonged to my great-grandfather Henry Bohannon. It always reminds me that we are all “those people” whom we often like to pretend we are not.

I would send them to any of our state parks. We love to camp and be outdoors. The natural beauty in our area is abundant.

MAY 2021

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ABOUT the RIVER VALLEY

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