Quad-City Times from Davenport, Iowa on December 2, 1970 · 53
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Quad-City Times from Davenport, Iowa · 53

Davenport, Iowa
Issue Date:
Wednesday, December 2, 1970
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Jjmrpy The old river men were a rough, brawling bunch and one of their favorite pas-times.was the "butting" contest in which the contestants assumed positions like charging bulls and clashed head to head. The thicker the bones on a man's head, the better chance he had to win. Some contestants died of skull fractures and concussions at such "skull sessions." Acknowledged king of the butters was George H. DeVol. famed MississiDDi river- boat gambler. He claimed that at 60, he 1 could still batter down an ordinary door, or .-.AI..U I ! . . Btibuuuauquor uarreiwunnisneaa. ' Carnivals in those days used to feature champion butters, and whenever DeVol was around he would, challenge the sideshow : head smasher. William Carroll was an attraction of the , John Robinson Circus playing in New Or- leans in the 1860s. Some of DeVol's friends ! quickly persuaded him to match blows with the circus man. I The two men measured off, and ran . together with a sickening thud. When Car- rou picKea nimseii up from the sawdust, he walked over and placed his hand reverently ; on DeVol's head. "Gentlemen," he said, "I have found inypapaatlast" cA JOE WHAT'S-his-name was dead. "Jeez, just like that and only about 40, too. It scares you," said a fiftiesh man in the bar off the hotel lobby. "Coroner's up In his room now. Why does it take so long?" ; Ambulance attendants arrived to claim the body. "Look, there goes the cart ; They've come for him. Poor old Joe," one customer said. "What was his last name? I just can't think of it He was in here all the time and I can't think of his last name," the bartender said. "All I know is he's from Texas or - South Carolina, somewhere like that Don't know his name. He was a good guy," one ; man said, "but could he drink! I couldn't keep up with that guy. Had a bad heart too, but you wouldn't have known it the way be - drank. Poor old Joe." . ' "Look, look, they're takhv him on the ' cart," the fiftiesh man said. "Well, goodby, Joe. Hey, gimme a drink. I need it. This. IMU IUBUV UIW UU I VlUt "Yeah, well somebody called not more than an hour ago and said they hadn't heard v from Joe and wondered if he'd checked . out Well, he sore has. For good," the bar-. tendersald, , Somebody bought a drink. Somebody told a joke. Somebody put a quarter in the juke box. The ambulance drove slowly away with Joe What's-his-name. cA A DAVENPORTER saw this sign on a car: "I Am Not A Loafer Who Spends Half His Time Hanging Around Taverns; (in ; smaller letters) I Am A Loafer Who Spends ALLHisTimeHanguigAroundTaverns." ) RECORDS SHOW there were at least four women steamboat captains operating ; cn the Mississippi River. They included Capt. Mary Miller, believed to have been the first lady awarded the coveted gold seal scroll in 1884; Capt. ; Mary Becker Greene, Capt Callie French and Capt. Blanche Douglass Leathers. , Each said she became a licensed captain - for one and the same reason economy. '. Each got the license to save money so that a captain wouldn't have to be hired each " time her husband stayed ashore. Mary (Ma) urecne goi ner capiam s license in 1897. She was married to Gordon C. Greene who became a pilot and captain and also started the Greene Line, until re-' cently owner of the overnight passenger boat Delta Queen, familiar to Quad-Citians. -mm 4U i . . i t ' i pilliPlB tJiltei'W US-r t w i I - jr - , r - ' " - f i The simplicity of a drawing by Picas- so or Paul Kite cannot match that of a child, as Eddie Neesc, age 9, carefully shows. Melted crayon is the art form, as Davenport youngsters School to learn the gather around a table at Davenport J.B. Young Junior High Competition For Sports Ait After Barl By MEG O'CONNOR A daring stroke of paint a furious scribble of crayon, a careful imprint in clay Davenport youths have discovered art makes a delightful after-school pastime. Youngsters ages 9 through 17 furrow their brows and bite their tongues as they concentrate during art sessions weekday 7 Curtis Newman, 10, brightens with delight as his strokes of melted crayon assume the figure of a fish, just what it was supposed to be! (Photos By Brent Hanson) Gaiy Lee, . 13, proudly displays a peace banner which he created during the atlrr-srhoo! recreation program at F.L. Smart Junior High School. i 4 - i The glue has started to coagulate at the edge of the spout, butSteve Suess, 14, is not to be deterred. One more blob and his collage shall be complete. 7rT ?IV7 v VA evenings at eight Davenport schools. To some it is the first opportunity to put their impressions on a piece of paper or to mold them from a slab of clay. "We have some talented young people in this town. We will hold an exhibit of the art work produced during the after-school program Dec. 5 through 12th at Davenport Public Library," said Lcbert McDowell, 0 1" V - '7M- - - The serenity of a Renoir and mystery of a Modigliani show in the face of KelU Newman, age 8, as her mind wanders within a beautiful world, that of art. I IpSil ;". - h illlfllfl I, i J t ; t I J ' i i l I ? ' a; new technique during night classes, inner city park director. The Davenport Park Board and Davenport Community School System took a look at the plight of youngsters who have little to do when classes are dismissed. So, city schools were opened on alternate evenings from 6:30 to 8:30 p.m. to provide students with recreation. Basketball, volleyball and football highlighted plans for the program, but the art sessions are in strong competition for favorite activity. Fish and football players, frogs and -dogs, soft Utile girls and angry little boys as the evenings grow dark, Davenport, school children have put these into creative, personal expression. "In school we have art. But that's school, this is fun," said Ted, 8, as he held a melting crayon above a splattered page of which Jackson Pollock might be proud. Curtis, 10, was much too busy to comment. His small fingers gripped the chalk as he focused his attention on a creation only he could identify. Art instructors are on hand each evening, along with volunteers from the Friends of Art at the Davenport Art Gallery. Tbcy remain in the background, providing praise, art material and suggestions. The after-school program is funded by the school system and Scott County Crime Commission. The program ends Dec. 17, when a decision must be made to drop it or extend it into 1971. The after-school' schedule is: Jefferson, Mondays; J.B. Young, F.L. Smart and Lincoln, Tuesdays and Thursdays; Sudlow and Fillmore, Mondays and Wednesdays; Buffalo and Hayes, Wednesdays. The art instructors include Lionel Khaton, Joyce Mussard, Barbara Freeze, James IIcbrankandMcrwin Hart. '11- W:''S' -v-W, ? m : ) 1 Between DEADLINES A column of observations, comments ohd sidelights by Times-Democrat staff members.. A Quiet Night In Tlw City . . ROGER MUNNS, reporter: The radio crackled, gurgled and then, loud and clear, it blurted, "A complainant advises a man is trying to break into a black Mustang at 10th and Perry." " Without hesitation, Lt. Louis Ilocke lead-footed the super-powered Plymouth toward the scene. We Ilocke, patrolman Jack Ackerman and myself were about a mile-and-a-half east of the action and coming up fast. Unlike most situations, it seemed everyone was responding to this calL For one thing, it was likely the culprit was after a car tape player, a common target in the last few months. While scores have been, taken, not one thief has been caught in the act. For another, this night, had been extremely slow as Davenport police had not been flooded by the usual barrage of accidents, drunk problems, etc. In fact, the night was almost, well, almost peaceful, something police are not accustomed to. . THUS, FIVE of the seven squads on duty converged, all ready to play a part. . Only speculation remains as to why the suspect wasn't nabbed. Before police had a chance to organize surround the area and get a few men ' on foot the young thief spotted one of the cars. "He's running north in the alley," one of the squads yelled. "He's in the yards over here. I lost sight of him." It was fruitless. The youth knew the area and had either ducked in a house or had been picked up. The cars criss-crossed the area for another 20 minutes. Nothing. As Hocke steered back to the station, he grumbled "It's a shame. Just a plain shame." Other patrolmen were also mumbling. It was a discouraging way to end a day that hadn't been discouraging at all. I met the lieutenant behind the station: and after the 3 p.m. roll call, we were off. His mission: "Keep the car on the move. "It's pure luck if you catch somebody in the wrong, say, breaking in a house. But you won't even have that luck if you don't keep on the move." MY MISSION: Go beyond the usual contacts and impressions people have con ceraing police, beyond the "Where's the fire, buddy," he might say as he slaps you with a speeding ticket . .beyond the smile he gives your kid as he helps the tot cross the street, . .beyond the impression some Uiinkheisa,,pig.' When there are no specific xalls, the 21-ycar-vcteran's duty is to cruise eastern Davenport that's everything east of Brady Street from the river to 53rd St When there are calls, he lends a band wherever he feels he's needed. But there weren't many that night "I try to hit the off-beat places, dead end streets, alleys, you know," he said. "The more we get around, the less people complain 'I rrcver see a squad car in MY neighborhood.' " IU2 ALSO LIKES to check proven trouble spots a secluded house which has been the target of vandals, an alley peeping Tom used to spy from, a racially mixed neighborhood where children some times fight after schooL All sorts of people with all sorts of alii . tudes took note of our presence; kids who waved, drivers who instantly jumped to acute alertness, youths who carefully eyed us, distrustfully. On the young, lie emphasized, "You gotta talk to these kids. They know tlio score. It isn't like it was 20 years ago. Why, the kids today know just as much as adults. "When a kid expresses himself today, lie isn't just a punk. Maybe he was to the old time policeman, but not anymore." But Lt. Ilocke, as well as others on the force, have bones to 'pick with some youths. The police are hired to keep the peace or to maintain the "establishment," if you will, and its ways. It wasn't unusual that he should blast Uie groups wishing to change the society forcefully. . ON THE NEW Students for a Democratic Society (SDS) faction in infant stages at Central High School, he charged, if the troublemakers arc going to be the top people, you know doggone well what's going to happen. They're going to agitate and start something. All for the sole purpose of getting people to raise cain, nothing constructive." He had similar feelings toward the Civil Rights movement: "Sure, they (black people) have had a grijH!. But they want to change things too fast. They're pushing whites around ju.st like they were pushed. It's too bad. You talk to the old colored; they don't want violence." In this connection, the lieutenant seemed somewhat on edge when we re-FH)iiiled to a complaint that school children had gathered at a department store. We saw a racially mixed group waiting or a bus. A black youth, who scanned our car Intently, crossed the street apparently to join the group. THE POLICEMAN said, "See that kid, just walking back and forth, causing trouble." But nothing happened, and we drove on. At about 5:30 we got a call to report to the captain for a conference. A tipster had phoned a warning about a planned gang fight near the Sudlow School between 6.30 and 8:30. The Coik Hill gang was supposed to grapple with the Christ ie Street gang. The iiifcii mat ion was censored from the radios, Hocke explained, because people with police band sets mtht become alarmed or curious. "Sometimes they hear what's going on I S V::'- ".. Roger Munns and come right to the area and just get in the way." In order not to be alone if trouble occurred, we picked up Patrolman Acker-man and I became a back seat cop for the rest of the night. Nothing came of the Sudlow Up, however, and while we checked the area sever al times, we went on writing tickets. THREE "NO PARKING zone" violi ters were hit and about eight "wrong-way" parkers were nabbed. Underpar for Hocke, a very conscientious ticketer, who bagged 18 the night before and 21 on Monday. . , " Hocke reminisced about livelier moments and took pot shots at the courts on the side. "One night, I was chasing this guy all over. We finally got him and I don't know how many charges there were on him, but there were a lot of cm, I'll tell you. And do you know what he got? A 30 day sentence for each one of 'em." : , "Concurrently?" Ackerman guessed. , "Concurrently," Ilocke frowned. Another ticket or two, another story, ' and then... "A complainant advises a man is 1 trying to break into a black Mustang..." ' . t imes-ucmocrar rea Features Amusements Television Comics ; WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 2,1970 Classic Music Goes To Jail- OSASCO, Brazil (AP) Surrounded by pipes, valves, switches and convcyof belts, the maestro, wearing a red sports shirt, raised his baton. Hundreds of husky electrical workers ir grimy overalls -stared curiously, especially at the bass player who was standing on the platform of,s! mammoth lathe. , ' , In the middle of the huge factory, a String orchestra softly began playing Vivaldi's "Four Seasons." - This was a part of a campaign in Sao "Paulo, Brazil, to demystify classical music. Julio Medaglia, director of the 14 member Sao Paulo String Orchestra, and Fernando Pacheco Jordao, a producer fop Sao Paulo's slate-run education tv station, decided recently to start the program to, bring good music directly to the people. A FEW WEEKS ago they organized concert in a classroom of university architecture students. Then they played in. the Brown-Bovcrl heavy electrical equipment factoiy in the industrial suburb of Osasco; They have scheduled future performances in a circus, a slum and a jail. : : "Classical music must stop being this business of fancy theaters and expensive evening clothes "Jordao said. i In the current series of out-of-the-way concerts, Medaglia and the orchestra play for free. The tv station videotapes the per formanccs for later broadcast. I- THE OSASCO workers, applauded enthusiastically during the factory concert Their faces lit up even more when Medaglia told them that Jose Dias Carrasqucria, the orchestra's flautist, had been a railroad mechanic for 31 years.

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