By Clay Smith, grandson*
*Relation to Andy and/or Flora Lehr
Most of my memories are just snippets. One in particular at our house, 720 North Denver Street, in El Dorado was our bedroom in the attic. Five boys, one room. I think it was just used as storage. I think dad laid down mattresses and our stuffed animals blankets and pillows. I remember Jay’s stuffed grey dog. It was huge as big as him maybe 3 feet long but it seemed huge at the time he used it as a pillow. It was not a big house but we made the best of it.
I think Eaton’s had a room upstairs in their house. One morning I went in the room and all the boys were sleeping. I’m guessing Jim, Mark, Joe and Matt. All I saw was knees and loud snoring.
Another memory of 720 North Denver street, was seeing grandpa Lehr for the last time. It was night and a knock at the door. I was playing on the floor in front of the front door of the house. Grandpa Lehr opened the door and stood in the door way. He didn’t say much that I remember. Dad got his hat and coat. Grandpa looked sad or not well. He and dad were going to play cards down the street at an orphanage. He and dad drove to the orphanage and grandpa fell over with a massive heart attack. The next morning mom was getting breakfast for us and crying. She told us grandpa died but we were too young to understand it really.
Our house at 720 North Denver was a great place be as young boy. Next to our house was a very old dark house. A lady lived there who must have had a disease or problem. I don’t ever remember seeing her. Her yard was filled with little medicine bottles – very dark brown. Next to her was a pipe yard I think for the railroad. Just long pipes with bearings in the ends. Next to that were the railroad tracks that we walked all the time.
We would walk to TG & Y, a toy store, or walk the other way but you could never see the end of the tracks. We would walk as much as we could and you had to watch your step. I think that’s why Jay walks with his head down, so he doesn’t miss his step.
We would have to use our imagination to pass the time. Putting Beatle baseball cards on our bike wheels to make a cool sound. I think those cards are worth thousands now. One day after a big rain the street in front of our house was filled with mud all of us boys went out and covered ourselves completely from head to toe and let the mud bake in. That was a great day.
I remember I had my tonsils taken out. They put them in a jar and I took them home and buried them in the front yard. To this day, I wonder if they are still there.
One day dad brought home a new car. It was a station wagon and had a back seat that faced backwards but it held all of us kids. We also had a green truck that had fenders so big we could sit on them must have been a 50s model.
Our TV was a blond color console tv about 25 inches on the tube. Black and white no color then and no remote. Maybe 3 or 4 channels. I would lay down under a coffee end table and chew on the leg. That’s probably why I have a crooked tooth I almost chewed all the way through the leg.
The front steps were a popular setting for photos.
Please share your memories of 720 North Denver Street, El Dorado, Kansas
By Roger Eaton, grandson*
*Relation to Andy and/or Flora Lehr
I lived in this house from birth to about four – 1958 – 1962. My siblings had friends in the neighborhood. After we moved, my cousins, the Smiths moved in. I played there frequently and stayed overnight. On Saturday evenings, Uncle Charlie would watch Andy Williams on black and white television. It wasn’t appealing to us, so we found other ways to entertain ourselves.
Clay Smith was my best friend. We would usually get covered in dirt or mud, so I would have to be hosed down and borrow some clothes. After housing the Eatons and Smiths, I am surprised the building is still standing.
It was near the swimming pool. Several of us would gather at Smiths and walk to the pool. The aunts would supervise us. One time my brother, Matt, stepped on a piece of class and cut his foot. Two of the aunts were nurses. They took him to the hospital. Instead of stitches, they used special tape to close the wound. That was leading-edge medical treatment for the early 1960s.
This was our playground. It was our theme park. We built forts from scrap materials that we scrounged. In the evening and into the night, we would play Kick the Can. It was a form of Hide and Seek. We dug huge (to us) fox holes. During the day we played Army, kickball and other physical games. Any tree that was large enough to hold us was climbed. We only stopped when Aunt Ruth made bologna sandwiches and served them with carrot sticks and Kool Aid.
By Jim Eaton, grandson*
*Relation to Andy and/or Flora Lehr
Most of my formative years were spent at 720 N. Denver, El Dorado, Kansas. I “welcomed” home all my brothers and sisters as they arrived for the first time. I am not capable of summarizing my time and surrounding events in a few sentences or even a few paragraphs. I will be as concise as possible.
How nine people not only lived, but thrived in this small house with one bathroom is beyond me.
View (see post) of the west side of the house before the addition was added. Sidewalk was concrete. Left window was the living room. Center window was the dining room. Far right window was the kitchen.
There was a large, open drainage ditch on the north side of the house. I ran under the street. There was always an open dare to crawl through the covert to the other side of the street. Penningtons lived on the other side of the street where the covert opened. The father worked for the railroad, I think. I never knew what happened to them when they moved. There was a vacant lot on the southwest corner across the street from us, and in the next house east lived the Tarrents. The field was often used for a large garden. We were playing in it one day after it had been plowed. I had on a brand new pair of shoes. The salesman from the store came by to exchange a shoe with me. Apparently, he had given me two shoes of different sizes. He didn’t complain about the one being scuffed.
Lyon’s Moving and Storage was across the street at the end of the block. The section of Denver in from of our house was gravel not paved. The large moving vans left large ruts in the street when it rained. These created large mud puddles.
Baileys lived to the south of use. There were three older boys, Gary, Jerry, and Larry. The mother was a single mother. I only saw her when she was hanging clothes on the line to dry—early use of renewal energy! She did come to my rescue one day. There was a hedge row of bushes between our houses. I was crawling in-between the bushes, my hand tripped a metal animal trap. I was unable to free myself. She apparently heard me yelling and came to free my hand. Baileys also were a little behind the times. They still had an “outhouse” at the back of their property. It was quite a site when they build a replacement! At some point, they got facilities inside their house. The oldest brother, Larry, bought one of our future homes.
We had several periods of severe drought. I remember large cracks in the ground. There were times where there was a water shortage when the lake went dry. An emergency pipeline was constructed between El Dorado and Mulvane. That was long before there was global warming! I tried to fill them with water, but to no avail. During that time, we had NO air conditioning. At some point, we had an evaporator cooler installed in the window on the north side of the living room. Often we slept on the floor in front of it. Later we were fortunate to have a window air conditioner installed. Much time was spent in front of the air conditioner listening to the radio—AM only. It was many years before we had a TV—black and white. TV then was limited to three channels and only a few hours a day. The antennae on the roof had to be adjusted periodically. Many of the early shows were TV versions of radio shows. It was interesting to see what the radio characters looked like on TV.
One way to keep cool in those hot summers was to spend time at the swimming pool. There was a nearby park with a very large, modern swimming pool. What many didn’t know is that we had one of the first private pools in the neighborhood! Admittedly, it was not deep enough for diving, or swimming for that matter, it was refreshing. (see photo in post)
My memory is not complete for the layout of the bedrooms. We had a set of bunkbed that Bill Lehr had built—I had the top one. The sole bathroom was between our bedroom and my parent’s bedroom. There were doors on both sides. Eventually, the addition was built on the south side for Cathy’s bedroom and the utility room.
Our backyard saw a wide range of activity. Soon after we moved in, my Uncle Dick Lehr and my father created an oil reclamation facility. They installed a number of heating and cooling vessels to revitalize used oil. They would collect the oil from service stations then refine and sell it—early recycling!
The business thrived and was moved to the Y at Oil Hill Road and Sixth Street. Soon after the move, major oil companies saw the benefit of recycling oil and captured the used oil source.
There was a lean-to originally built by Chuck Stewart for the goats. Later it was used as a dog house. Dogs were outside animals, so we made them as comfortable as possible. One of my worst memories was when the dog catcher came and drug away one of our dogs. It had contracted rabies, and there was no cure. I still can see him dragging the dog at the end of a long rope.
With my neighbors, we built a club house in the back yard. My father had excess lumber from repairs to his grocery story. One of his friend’s sons accidentally drove a tractor through the side of the building. We took the excess lumber and build a two story club house. It was notable in that I cut the end of my thumb off with a hatchet. I put it back on and taped it tightly. Several days later I was hammering nails, and you guessed it. I hit my thumb with the hammer. It was then that I learned what true pain was! The doctor gave me a metal guard to put on my thumb to protect it. I healed in one piece.
The large back yard was a great place to play anytime of the year. My father had a large swing set made for us. We spent endless hours swinging. In winter, there was plenty of room for snowball fights.
For many years, laundry was dried by hanging it on three lines stretching between two poles. Electric driers were rare and expensive. Trash was burnt in in the back yard in 55 gallon barrels. The admonition I remember was not to burn anything when any of the neighbors had whites hanging on the lines to dry. Garbage (garbage disposals were not common) was placed in a s30 gallon metal container with a lid. Various varmints would occasionally help themselves to the contents.
There were many first for me at this residence.
First puppy. First bike. My mother came out and pushed me off the kick stand, shoved me forward, and I was off!
First pony ride. My father arranged for us to have photos taken on ponies. A man showed up at our house with a big camera, a couple of ponies, and western costumes. The man dressed us (I remember both my sister Cathy and I being the subjects of the photoshoot) up in western wear, each with a big hat. He paraded us around for a few minutes to set the mood for pictures, and to make me happy, then took the pictures.
Soon after the picture session, my father had the yard around our house fenced. One day, a couple of Shetland ponies appeared in the back yard. Apparently, my father had arranged it with John Cameron, one of my father’s many friends who had a ranch north of town and raised horses and cattle (I think he had a few oil wells also!) to loan us the ponies. He also added a few goats. They were Joe’s favorite. He used to butt heads with them.
We had a great time riding the horses around the yard. Cleaning up after the ponies was not as much fun. The Terrants lived across the street to the north of us. It just happened that their son was the sheriff. They apparently did not think we should have so much fun, so they asked their son to have the ponies removed. As usual, my father found a way around this.
First ponies of our own. My father bought a trailer court with adjacent land that had a barn and small corral around it. This property was approximately six blocks north of our house. One day my father took us out to the property. Guess what? There were two ponies—Nipper and Bluie—along with saddles and tack.
First horse. Early one Christmas morning, my parent made me get dressed, then took me out into the front yard. Much to my surprise, Bucky Fuller showed up with my Christmas gift—Buck, a buckskin horse. I had absolutely no inkling it was coming. I mounted him, and off we went. We rode for a very long time. My parents thought I was just touring the neighborhood. The truth was I could not get Buck to stop.
For many years, we had only one car. That proved to be quite a challenge with nine people. Somewhere in the mid 1950’s, my father bought a second car. We did not have a garage. The cars were parked in front of our house. It was difficult to keep them clean on the muddy street.
Lincoln kindergarten was only a couple of blocks away. However, because of the pipe yard described by Clay blocked a direct route, my mother usually walked me to kindergarten. Grade school was at St. John’s. For some reason even though it was many blocks farther, my parents thought I could navigate around the pipe yard, and walk or ride my bike to school.
We had many great Christmas celebrations in this home. We always had a big Christmas Eve party at my grandparent’s Lehr, so that we could celebrate Christmas Day at home. Often, we attended Midnight Mass after the celebration my grandparent’s. Another tradition for several years was the recital. My father had purchased an upright piano, and “encouraged” us to play. My mother played very well. I think the piano was really for her. Anyway, she “produced” a Christmas recital for family and friends.
One Sunday morning I awoke to sirens and flashing lights at the first house north on Denver. There had been a multiple attempted murder, and a suicide. I have a memory of blood flowing down the gutter on Denver. Apparently, a man with whom I had met the week before and with whom I worked cattle, attempted to kill his in-laws and wife. He then committed suicide in his car. At least, that is the way I remember it.
All in all, it was a great neighborhood. There were many more neighborhood kids with whom to play. We had a vacant lot behind us that became our own sports center. We played baseball, almost daily during the summer, set up a track and field area with a broad jump and high jump pits, and used LaRue’s basketball court for basketball. No playdates were needed. We just spontaneously gathered and played, and had a great time.
I wish everyone had the same opportunity I had at 720 N. Denver.
By Mark Eaton, grandson*
*Relation to Andy and/or Flora Lehr
It was a dusty little town with lawns of dirt and broken toys. Doors were never locked and neighbors always talkative. Summers were long and hot with warm evening hide and seek with anyone available. My earliest memories recall the days in our home on North Denver. The long warm summer evenings bring back the days of hide and seek in our huge back yard with Jimmy, Cathy, Joe and the neighbors, the LaRue boys. Returning to the homestead years later the yard in reality is of normal size but during those summer nights it sure seemed like a football field.
One house over was the pipe yard. A storage facility for oil field piping, which was off limits to us. We would stand on the neighbor’s fence and gaze into the forbidden and wonder what, or who, was in there. We never went in except in our imaginations.
This first home of mine also brought my first girlfriend and first kiss. I was 5. Gail Pennington. She lived across the street in a big white house and we played together everyday. Frequently we played with the kids living in the house behind her.
The Carmichaels were a house of 4 large boys and one tomboy. These were the meanest guys that walked the earth at the time. While big and mean, they never bothered me or any of us that I can remember. I think having Joe and Jimmy around had a lot to do with that. For some reason no one ever seemed to bother them. Most of the Carmichael boys grew up to be excellent students and athletes. Who’d have guessed?
The front steps were a popular setting for photos.