https://maryfrancismcninch.com/2020/10/23/murdo-girl-seeya-in-the-city-2/

Part 1, The Star Cafe, by Valerie Halla

Lots of memories, feelings, happy thoughts and good stories come to me and my SANDERSON family when anyone mentions the Star Cafe on old Highway 16 in Murdo. I recently got to go there with a guy named Ralph after the School Reunion had wound down and we were all losing the ebb and flow of a high tide of emotions after people left the reunion festivities to go back to their homes around the country. The Star brought back the past.

In the 1960’s I went with my Mom, Aunt Loretta and Aunt Elna who were all taking their adorable petite Mom – my Grandma Sanderson – out for pie and coffee at Cafe 16. It was like being asked to attend the Battle of the Chefs 2026 in Malaysia with an afterparty for all the great food experts, except this was just pie and coffee at the most expensive and popular restaurant in all of Murdo, South Dakota. We all thought it was a special place to eat even though Mack’s was numero uno with delicious downhome food like ham and beans or hot beef sandwiches. Their gigantic homemade cinnamon rolls were to die for.

I felt included as a young 13 year old going out with my adult aunts, Grandmother and my Mom. I was special, worthy and old enough to be asked for that big people outing. But the best most loving part was seeing how Grandma Sanderson laughed as three of her four daughters joked around with her and made her giggle like a young girl. My aunts and Mom also gossiped freely, which was what you did in a small town back then. Grandma ate it up – the gossip – along with enjoying her cherry pie and coffee, which for a change she didn’t have to bake. You see, Grandma always loved lording it over on Grandpa that she knew new gossip before he did. What a day. I’ll never forget it.

Then fast forward to another trip to Murdo when we had moved to California and Mom and I visited there. Mom always had new dresses and shoes on these trips and looked all stylish that day.

Uncle Jeff took us to Cafe 16 for lunch because we were special. We walked through all the tables crowded with tourists and sat in an AC cooled back table. A young waitress served water which she promptly spilled down the back of my Mom’s lovely new summer frock. After apologizing and cleanup, we went on with our food orders, chatting and enjoying another great meet up with family.

So that’s why when Ralph set up a meeting at the Star Cafe with four seniors from Murdo on a bittersweet day in July of this year, the same day I was flying home, I jumped at the chance to attend. We talked about, what else, the good old days and funny stories they recalled. Ralph wrote it down old school style because he wanted to hear Sammy Seymour and his wife Marilyn tell about Ralph’s brother Paul and about some homeless guy and many other characters he had known. It was entertaining and brought to mind what this cafe had meant to me and my family and my past.

Part 2, Cafe 16, by Mary Francis McNinch

When I was growing up in Murdo, SD, Cafe 16 was the place to go if you were looking for the best atmosphere. It mostly catered to the thousands of tourists who traveled through Murdo each summer. Murdo was a good place to spend the night if you were traveling to the badlands and the Black Hills.

At that time, Highway 16 went right by Cafe 16. This was before Interstate 90 was built. Most of the motels sat along Highway 16, too.

Many Murdo girls put themselves through college by working at the Cafe summers during their high school and college years. Those waitressing jobs were coveted because the tips were fantastic! It was a hard job, but more than worth putting in the work.

I never applied for a job there because my parents had a motel along Highway 16 and I always worked there.

Cafe 16 became the Star Cafe sometime after the Interstate was built which went around Murdo. The tourist trade was still good because there were two exits into and out of Murdo.

Yes Cafe 16/The Star Cafe was an iconic place in Murdo. It still operates there today.

Everywhere I went in Murdo the week I was there was a backward glance into my past, a lovely flood of memories and joy. It didn’t matter that I was a Murdo High School graduate imposter. It was all good.

I had a marvelous childhood divided between growing up in the suburbs of Pittsburgh, PA and summers every other year in Murdo where I loved being with my cousins and getting to know Grandma and Grandpa Sanderson. Then there were the Aunts and Uncles who were hardworking and had great houses where I could visit. Aunt Helen, my Mother’s sister, and Uncle Bob would usually meet up in Murdo from their home in Michigan with their four kids to get us all together for a reunion. It was a happy time. Most Sanderson’s lived in Murdo though.

Then after my Dad lost his job at a machine shop outside Pittsburgh, we moved back to Murdo, having lived there when I was born. Dad went back to work at Sanderson’s Store. I was in heaven being able to walk all over town and play with most of my cousins and their friends or their cousins not on the Sanderson’s side, like the Bork’s, but this all came crashing down when we had to leave again because Sanderson’s Store was closing in the early 1960’s. It was a sad time for me because I was all primed to start my high school career with the junior high class I had come to know. Shock hit me like a California earthquake.

So when I go to these school reunions, I’m the imposter since I didn’t graduate from high school there but I do have a history in Murdo and loads of good memories. I was fortunate to be able to crash the festivities during this time with cousins Billy and Mary and Uncle Gus Gustafson later. I went to one reunion by myself but met up with Billy. Then we hung out late one night at the Buffalo Bar with Suzanne Brost, and Joe and Ralph Thomas. We told jokes while we drank. Fun doesn’t do it justice. I told my cousin Billy that I drank wine now that I was retired. He thought that was a lame yet funny excuse to drink.

This 2026 Murdo Reunion was the best. I am getting pretty adept at being the imposter graduate. What class was I in? Class of 1967 of course, Anaheim, California. Ralph Thomas in all his wisdom, kindness and honesty sent this form to the committee that plans these things:

I like to dance. The band can help a lot. There was a dance in hometown Murdo on July 18 after the parade, after the meetups for different graduation groups from MHS, after the silent auction and the big luncheon at the Auditorium. Now for a young person this is all fine because they have energy to keep going like the energizer bunny. However, for we 70ish people, the dance was a country too far. I didn’t admit that to friends, Ralph and Judy, so I went dragging my sorry impostor’s body to the street in front of the auditorium and to the people crowding under the tent thingys across the street. So that night after attending all those activities, in hot prairie weather, we old friends went to check it out. I will stress “old.” We were all “over the hill” and couldn’t be found even over many hills.

It was around midnight, which I’ll call past bedtime. I was pushing myself to keep moving forward, backward, to the side, anywhere.

There were barely four people out on the floor and I use the term floor loosely. The dance floor was the paved street.

Two young teenagers were out there doing their western style dancing. They were fun to watch especially when the youthful cowboy flipped the girl over. It was like gymnastics. Also a bunch of youngsters were dancing with parents, being goofy and so my friend from Mexico and former famous Murdo High alum, Judy Dykstra-Brown, and I went out there to show these whipper snappers. I told her, “I’m gonna dance like it’s the 1960’s – let’s show ‘em!” We did.

As we rocked out dancing doing the hippie hippie shake, the jerk, the mashed potatoes, the electric slide and once I tried to spin around in a jerky old lady way, we pretty much stopped everything. The band took a break, we cleared the “floor” and when we ended our dance routine, nobody was left out there except us. The other dancers must have been embarrassed by us or else they thought we were so good that they couldn’t be seen dancing with us and they couldn’t keep up with the old experienced dancers . Hmmm. Naw, not a chance on that last guess. But we had fun! Judy got into her dancing and seemed to throw caution to the wind.

It was fun and that’s all that mattered. We went inside the auditorium to use the restroom plus there were cookies sitting out so we took a couple of those to sustain us. Ralph had fled to talk with people he knew but we caught up with him across the street where he introduced us to some guy he knew and we had to pose for pictures. The fine young man was kind and put up with us. It all had something to do with this kid’s family babysitting the Thomas kids I think.

By this time I was parched something awful so I asked at the big food truck set up in the Circle E Drive- in parking lot. But they didn’t sell water bottles.

By this time I was a zombie and just walked mindlessly around asking at a private bbq back across the street by the school if they had water. They ignored me. Who could blame them? I looked like a vampire with no soul nor heart with my dry throat kinda raspy, looking like a lizard.

I don’t think the people barbecuing heard me. I think I was melting at that point kinda like the witch in Wizard of Oz, except they threw water on her and I was beyond hoping water was coming. All I could think about was wishing I could get in that comfy big bed in my room at Range Country with all the soft pillows and warm quilt covering my sad melting lifeless danced out body with a big glass of Murdo water.

Ralph drove Judy and me back to Range Country finally as they talked about how the auditorium had been built and I chimed in that Uncle Jerry and his brother and crew had built it and Uncle Wayne had graded the site for it, however, they said the community played a huge part in getting it built as well. Students even pitched in helping with cement footings or something like that. It made me stop and think how lucky we were to have spent a large part of the day centered around this beautiful old auditorium and how it had brought us much joy and friendship over the decades.

Thanks, Uncle Jerry and Uncle Wayne and everyone who helped long ago build a landmark in Murdo for people to gather.

Long ago, in a world far far from today’s, people would gather around a large table to have their noon meal in Murdo which was called “dinner”. When I first heard that, having moved to Murdo at about age 12, I thought we would be eating at days end around 6:00 or 7:00 pm which to me is dinner time, not lunch which was noonish. Nope. In Murdo, dinner was your big hot meal, served when lunch usually is served other places.

Fast forward to a couple weeks ago, I was fortunate on my recent trip to Murdo, South Dakota to be invited down to the Thomas Farm on Sunday July 19th for dinner.

I was both surprised and honored by the opportunity to witness and indulge in dinner, farm style. Gadzooks, it was a pleasure and an opportunity. Shucks, the food variety and amount was unbelievable. Geeze, it was food galore. Yikes, I felt part of their family seated around the oval table with 10 of us and a few kids on laps and a sweet baby being passed around during dinner. It felt incredibly special.

Have you ever felt like an outsider yet somehow a group of people included you in a tradition of their family, and they wrapped their loving arms around you, you being a stranger, but this stranger- you- they knew had family ties with their family from the past? So they were fine with you being at the Sunday dinner table with the father figure cooking the main thing- ribs and burgers.

I was that stranger who Paul Thomas invited on a lovely Sunday of about 102 degrees to their farm. He was barbecuing and brought in a great pan full of ribs then hamburgers. The other relatives he invited some who lived on the farm and some who lived nearby brought food, mouth watering perfect food. Sister Susan steamed cauliflower and broccoli. Others picked veggies from the garden and made pickled beets, delicious cucumbers, mushrooms that I cannot even describe as to how good they were, a zucchini cheese casserole that was as unique as it was fresh and salad and rolls. It was so much deliciousness.

But the most delicious, delightful, divine part was the feeling of love and family. Plus my Sanderson Family roots were dug in deeply from the early 1900’s with the Thomas Family and I heard stories from my mother about her family often having fun dinners and going to school with the Thomas’s. That made the day better by a lot. I was able to stop and breathe it all in as we passed one bountiful dish of food to the next person and I got to take plates and serve the casserole since it was too hot to pass around. I hadn’t brought anything to share. So I’m sharing this story hoping it brings a smile or an “ahha” moment to you as you maybe recall a time you got to sit down for a family meal or share food and conversation with others. It’s a blessing of true joy.

I got the feeling that this Thomas Family down on the farm Sunday dinner was no big deal for them. To me it was being home again.

Imagine this beautiful new pickup truck with all the bells and whistles and a big back seat with leg room to spare, cold water bottles in the cooler in back, AC and a knowledgeable guide to take you all over farm country for a few hours outside your hometown in central South Dakota. I was invited to do that drive with four others who were related to one another, plus the driver, Mike McKernan. He’s the guy, THE GUY.

We left early before it got hot. We met at Mike’s house in Murdo about 9:00 am. We loaded up the cooler and were told where we were going north of town, and that it would be a few hours on dirt and gravel roads outside town. The tour was leaving, so buckle up. Unfortunately two of us in the backseat had to buckle up together so we had the married couple do that. They got to jostling around to get comfy buckled together and then were giggling. It was like a couple teenagers in the backseat of a 1958 Chevy back in the day. Ralph and I were good friends in the backseat behaving nicely. Paul was riding shotgun.

Mike told us stories of an old town in Jones County called Van Metre which no longer exists and also Capa. Ralph Thomas and his family used to visit a family that lived there a long time ago. Mike drove us by fields planted in oats, millet, corn and other crops some of which were being harvested and some just not ready. These fields were lovely shades of gold, and tawny and also deep green corn with the crops growing on into the horizon, unable to see where they ended. We all craned our necks looking out the pickup truck windows, getting pictures on our phones. Paul Thomas added his knowledge of farming and what he knew of the area. Mike said South Dakota farmers used to grow the same things over and over but then branched out into a variety of crops: soybeans, sunflowers and others.

Every now and then Mike would point to this special buffalo fence which was taller and stronger than regular fencing. Buffalo could break through regular fencing easily. He said about 100,000 acres out there was owned by Ted Turners Corporation and it was fenced with the stronger fence.

Mike was clearly in charge, like the high school teacher he had been. He was not overly talkative nor taking over the entire conversation. He was just being a gracious intelligent story teller and narrator offering us an objective view of what farm country holds, what it offers, what impact it plays in our community and country.

We were hooked, all of us experiencing a grand, free feeling, free wheeling high and a “peaceful easy feeling” when whoops…Mike said we were stopping for a break. He pulled his beautiful Maserati…heh heh…Ford truck up to a driveway skirting a rangy looking old cemetery on a small hill with a cute little white church across from it with an outhouse to boot. Some of us checked out the Lutheran Church but it was locked up tightly.

We jumped out and I went in through the cemetery gate to our left, spotting a bird flying past us with a broken wing. Except it wasn’t a bird with a broken wing because someone in our group spotted the two darling baby birds on the ground in the cemetery with half eaten cactus all around the babies. That one flying past had been the mama bird trying to distract us.

Susan – another Thomas relative – said that deer probably nibbled on the small cactus since each one was clipped short. We all checked out the two gray baby birds and they just looked frozen, not moving an inch and facing uphill seeming as dead as the residents of this old cemetery. But they were alive.

We studied each gravestone noting that some were people born pre- Civil War days: 1850, 1860 and some after the Civil War 1872, 1875. The names were given and some couples were titled Father or Mother. A few had the same birth and death years, babes that hadn’t made it on earth for long.

We were back on the road after hydrating and back on the road along with Mike telling stories about hunting around the area. He said that there are a lot of Road Hunters who park off the road on the shoulder during hunting season and must close and lock their vehicle door, shooting game between road and private property. We discussed how many pheasant it takes after it’s dressed and cooked to feed a person. That wasn’t resolved but the pheasant meat sounded delicious. I remember it when I was 12 or 13 and also eating grouse. It was gamey but good.

We saw a few pheasants and a deer or two, one doe with two fawns. The black angus herds looked hearty.

The next stop was surprising. Mike drove off the road and entered a wooden entrance through a ranch gate. We were surprised when Mike drove us to a big red barn that ended up being a hunting lodge. We didn’t see anyone so we went in by a side door and walked down a long hall opening onto lovely bedrooms neatly made ready for lodgers, nothing fancy just clean, simple beds and each room had a window and an air conditioner. We walked through another part with a big dining hall, heavy duty kitchen at the rear and then to a bar well stocked with booze, big stools and fancy chandelier overhead. We used the restroom and walked up stairs to a balcony and display of stuffed grouse.

Mike had found the manager and a hired hand outside and we all stood in a circle listening to him talk and joke around with Mike who seemed like an old friend to the lodge manager. He explained that they had six hunting dogs and were expecting some 12 Veterans that weekend to stay a few days and hunt Prairie Dogs. They told us about hunters, their chef and who had to clean the place. It was something we all weren’t expecting way out on the prairie plains. It was a bonus surprise to see the beautiful lodge and Mike seemed to know this location well. He talked like old friends to the man who ran it.

Imagine being out for an adventurous road trip with an incredibly comfy ride and with a well educated driver who can tell you about hunting the land, crops that grow well there, the people who live and had lived out on this road and your driver made it interesting. He took you to historic places and made it fun. I felt like I was on South Dakota safari.

We saw feed lots on our way back which were spacious, and canyons carved out of the earth giving the flat plains topography a contrasting view.

It was an experience I hold dear and proudly admit it was a pleasure riding with Mike, the driver. Like my Grandpa Sanderson used to say as he drove us little kids around South Dakota, “This country’s looking good.”

Sometimes during my recent visit to Murdo, there would be times when I wouldn’t be involved in a long drawn out conversation, meeting other people, or I would be taken to someone’s house for dinner or some minor business or for a quick pop in. I didn’t have a car so I relied on others. It’s these small things and short moments that add up.

One such time was when friends and I had stopped to check on a bridge game at the Senior Center on Main Street. These eight people playing bridge were serious players. They studied their cards intently. They even had these wooden racks on the card table holding their hand. I was trying to joke around with them only to be met with cold shoulders and icy glares. Brrr. The cards were their focus. This showed me that no matter how small a group met regularly to play bridge, to them it was a big thing to meet and have fun, serious fun. They didn’t like me goofing around. Seems like a small thing to me, but not to bridge players. It was a big deal, no pun intended.

I relied on Paul and Ralph or Suzanne to drive me around (also cousin Mark and Dave). I had just a glimpse of the senior center and what people did to pass the time. They totally were immersed in the game. I never learned how to play bridge. Someone mentioned that only smart people played it. That could be the reason I don’t play bridge.

Another small thing happened that made me feel…uh…small. We were going to the alumni luncheon at the Harold Thune Auditorium where 300 people attended but first we stopped by the ambulance garage where the 1960’s and 1970’s graduation classes were meeting. I would’ve been in the Murdo High Class of 1967 if my parents hadn’t moved me to California. It was well attended and there were homemade desserts on a table with lots of cold water bottles. It was hot in that metal building so I was guzzling cold water and trying cookies and other goodies. Every treat was homemade which is special. I kept wondering where the bathroom was.

I enjoyed taking pictures of my cousin’s friends and mine but after a couple hours, everyone left since it was so hot in the metal building. I zipped in back to use the bathroom. I washed my hands and since I was hurrying, I jerked on the paper towel roll with wet hands and watched as the entire roll fell off the holder falling directly into the toilet. I grabbed it but it had hit the clean water soaking one end of the towel roll, so I decided to just fish it out and hang the roll up to dry. I’m probably getting demerits for that and guilt fills my mind as I write about it. It’s a small thing but will haunt my memory of the 2026 trip to my hometown. At the time, it wasn’t a small thing. The cops might be looking for me right now or at least the janitor.

The entire 8 days I spent in Murdo, I experienced how close these people were and how family meant so much to them. They’d ask me who my parents were or when I had graduated. They looked at me askance as I said I hadn’t graduated from Murdo High but had attended Junior High in Murdo. So as one cousin said, I am an imposter.

Another time I was touched by how kind Murdo folks were. We were in this ginormous line at the auditorium waiting to pick up our lunch. We were talking to a man pushing his mother in a wheelchair and they actually knew my Aunt Loretta and he explained that his Mother had cleaned rooms at my aunt’s Chalet Motel. She asked how Loretta was doing and I realized she wasn’t all right mentally so I tried to break it to her gently that my aunt had passed away about 18 years ago. The lady said, “Aww, that’s too bad. I really liked her.”

Also while standing in line at the auditorium, I noticed my shoe laces were untied. This was complicated by the fact that my laces had been chewed by my puppy when at home and I had them tied in three places. Ralph bent down to tie them, but I stopped him and leaned against a wall to do it myself, knowing the job wasn’t easy. He showed me how helpful people are regarding such a simple yet sweet thing. He knew I had lost my husband a year ago and I was still pretty fragile. The help he was offering was a small gesture but not for me.

When you’re in your 70’s, the little moments take center stage because there isn’t much you haven’t experienced and the big moments in life are pretty much over or things are passing by like a bullet train that’s not stopping at your departure depot.

I’m going to remember my trip to Murdo, but mostly I hold these memories of the people there closest to my heart.

Who would’ve thought that in a Pizza Parlor you would find a Coffee Shop? My cousin, Greg, and his wife have one. It’s a brilliant idea because they have people staying at their motel, Range Country, in Murdo, they have chargers for EV vehicles in the parking lot, a good continental breakfast, a place to get fed delicious pizza later in the day and now early risers can buy delicious crafted Starbee’s style lattes, mochas, coffees and teas plus – get ready – cinnamon rolls! They’re big gooey and sinful. Some have cream cheese frosting and some are just oozing with caramel type filling. They are large and coiled into delectable circles of dough with irresistible sweetness layered inside. The coffee shop is called Sweet Olivia’s and it’s pretty sweet especially with the – did I mention – cinnamon rolls. I need to quit thinking about them. I might choke myself drooling.

I wanted to hang out there all morning on July 16 th and on this particular morning in mid-July, right out on the prairie at Prairie Pizza, I was lucky to meet up with Paul and Ralph Thomas, beautiful good friend Suzanne Brost and meet Jim Anderson who was in Murdo to attend the school festivities.

Jim was a past resident of Murdo in a Sun Devils T-shirt, wearing western jeans, and a decorated belt with a Native American design on the side. He wore wire rim glasses, and had a pleasant smile, and his hair was partially gray but combed to the side in a boyish style. This face was set off with a graying goatee that fit his calm, take- life -easy style. His voice came out calmly and low as he talked.

He talked as we five enjoyed our coffee and cinnamon roll, cut into five easy pieces. Wink wink.

Jim had been in Murdo most of his life. He amazingly seemed to know who I was and talked about the Blog cousin Mary has been writing for over a decade and how I add to it oftentimes. I took rough notes so this is the way I remember our conversation.

Jim said he had gone to Vietnam in 1969 to serve his country. He was northwest of Saigon and on a base with thousands of GI’s. He could have gotten a student deferment but joined up.

He skipped around a bit in his discussion as people around the table asked him questions but I got the gist of his conversation sharing his life experiences with us as a young man.

He was fresh out of the military when he attended a party he actually crashed. Somehow Jim got into a conversation with Dr. Gordon Bork, the local Murdo dentist, who advised him to become a dentist. Dr Bork was Suzanne BROST’s father. He gave Jim good advice and some spark was lit in Jim’s young mind.

Jim taught school for a short time and worked for the Atomic Energy Commission and did other things but his life changed when he got accepted to Loyola for dental school. At 29 years old, he started his career as a dentist which served him well for countless years.

He also spoke about a well loved Uncle Walt Anderson who was killed in WWII at Kwajalein, a decisive victory for the allies from January 31-February 3, 1944. His Uncle Walt is buried at Murdo Cemetery. He was recommended for the Bronze Star but never received it. Jim talked about asking for assistance from South Dakota Senator John Thune to get his deceased uncle the Bronze Star and the senator eventually came through for the family. His Uncle Walt Anderson received the Bronze Star posthumously for his family. This of course was an honor. The medal is engraved on the back: “For Heroic or Meritorious Achievement” and has the recipient’s name.

After listening to Jim speak, I felt glad to have met him and wished we five could’ve met for a longer period of time, but some conversations are gems and mean more no matter how long we are given. What was shared was succinct, enjoyable and meaningful. Thanks, Jim.

https://maryfrancismcninch.com/2025/07/11/murdo-girl-the-food-swap-ladies-2/

When I go to a reunion every few years, not only do people look older but they still don’t remember me because I only visited Murdo during the summer as a kid with my parents and only lived in Murdo as a baby then again in 7th-8th grades. So I tell people my cousin’s names, grandparents, uncle’s and aunt’s names and that I’m a Sanderson, but basically I am a nobody.

Ralph Thomas had the introduction of me down pat. He automatically repeated a spiel. He got good at it and didn’t seem to get tired of explaining who I was. He acted like an interpreter pointing at me and detailing my background. I heard him do it at least 10 times during the reunion week. He made me feel like somebody even though the person he was telling, looked at me like I don’t know you. You’re nobody.

As I mentioned in Part 1, the people in Murdo are the best part of visiting this small town. I heard there were over 300 people at just the luncheon alone on July 18th in the Harold Thune Auditorium. There was a lot going on and many people came for just the reunion.

One citizen who has since left the town is Eddie Jackson. He’s in his seventies but looks like he’s early sixties, gray hair, solid smile and engaging personality. I saw him at the Auditorium then again for a light breakfast on Sunday the 19th with others who were meeting at Range Country to say goodbye and go to their respective homes. But Ralph, Eddie and I stayed to talk and exchange stories. Eddie was a star athlete at Murdo High and his times for some track events still hold records. He seemed to enjoy sharing times about his past in school in Murdo.

As I remember it, Eddie dated my cousin,Stephanie, for three years and he told about a time he had been worn out from a sporting event and sat in a car with his head on Stephanie’s shoulder. It was someone else’s car and all of a sudden a big guy approached the car door and looked in the window thinking it was someone he knew, I guess. The big guy scared them half to death, so Eddie drove as fast as he could outta there, protecting Steph and himself. He and my cousin Stephanie broke up after high school and went their separate ways. It sounded like they had been close as teenagers and Stephanie held a special mark in his life.

Another time he and Don Edwards were talking about how they liked the TV show The Fugitive with David Jansen and how the main character was always running away and got chased by the police over and over. That sounded like fun to them. They thought up a practical joke they could play in the night time on a cop on duty to simulate what The Fugitive actor did, except they were just teenagers. They knew this police officer always hung out in one spot at about 9:00 pm with his headlights on. They headed there together with excitement and mischief in their eyes. Now their plan took shape. They turned into fugitives. They were ready.

The two boys ran in front of the police officer’s headlights taunting him and ran away as fast as their young legs took them. They were no longer teen athletes. They were no longer pranksters. They were fugitives, just like the character on TV. The chase was on. They ran off going through the Ford Dealership lot laughing, cutting this way and that and where, coincidentally, Steve Parish, another teenager and prankster, was letting all the air out of the car tires on the lot.

I cannot recall the exact details of how this infamous chase came to a close, but the police found out and the next morning the one “fugitive” named Eddie was in big trouble with his Dad. The police believed that Eddie and Don were in on the prank with Steve Parish, even though Steve confessed that Eddie and Don had not been on the tire prank with him, they all got punished.

Eddie had to clean erasers at school and stay after school for two weeks. Ralph and I commented about how that wasn’t very tough punishment especially for the fugitive, but Eddie just laughed at us. He seemed to relive a moment in his history that couldn’t be forgotten.

I’m glad I got to hear Eddie tell Murdo stories. It made me happy. He had some good memories to share. He was somebody.

(As an aside: Eddie Jackson’s family is mentioned in the book War Pipe, Peace Pipe – Tuffy Saylor)