I have done my best to give tribute to all of you who have share your stories with me and the world. As readers can imagine, some stories are too colorful to share. Perhaps those, never to be printed stories, we can share in person July 26, 27 of 2024 at the Dobson Museum in Miami, Oklahoma.
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Dickie Neel, Johnie Stapp, Norma Lou and Doc Jackson at a men's invitational in the early 1970's.
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As I read over the notes I took when Scott was living, I realized that he needed his own page. I only wish I had more to share of the time and energy his mother put into every men's invitational tournament. The credit went to Doc but the work, the organizing, the phone calls, the letters sent were done by Norma Lou and I am confident her team of women friends from the club.
Scotty Jackson's memories from a story sharing afternoon in 2012 in Norman, Ok. Scott, son of Doc and Norma Lou Jackson, died in 2013.
My
most vivid memory is of the mole/gophers killings by Fred and Johnie.
The boys all
watched. We followed Johnie and Fred all over the golf course, watching
as they shot the moles with his 410 rifle. Those two men had fun and we wanted to be a
part of it.
Mark Wojcik had a wedge shot into #4 green. He carried the trap
and the ball dropped into a mole hole. Mark was so made that he dug a hole with his wedge, between
the trap and the green. Johnie was furious.
Johnie Stapp carried a lot of clout with the kids and our parents. He treated us like his own and scolded us more often than you and Jonya put together. Of course, we may have deserved.
My friends, Mark Cordell, Richard Varley, Tom Cordell, and
Charlie Grayson. We played lots of golf together.
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Personal photo: MHS 1968 golfers Richard Neel, Mark Cordell, Charles Grayson, Randy James and Scotty Jackson.
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(Adult read only!)
Dad’s best friends were from Springfield, Missouri. The Whipple's and
Chi Galloway, who married Earlene Gaines DeArman, finally joined the
club even though they lived in Springfield. They called Earlene, Spooky,
but I
don’t know why. In Miami Chi and Spooky joined up with the
Brown’s, Wanda Jo and Jack to play golf. Whipple joined up with my folks to play golf.
They all drank too much. Chi would drink
a 5th of Whiskey between Springfield and Miami.
One time I (Scotty)
caddied for Doc at the Joplin Invitational at Twin Hills along with Chi
Galloway. They stopped in Commerce for a 6-pack of beer and drank it before
they teed off. Dad
and I were changing
shoes in the car at Twin Hills. We pulled out two sets of clubs, Docs
and
Chi’s. Chi then goes into the clubhouse and returns carry a new golf
bag. He promptly
filled the round leather golf bag with ice and beer. Then played in the
tournament. He ran out of beer on the backside. The caddy for Chi was
carrying
two bags, the clubs and the beer. When Chi ran out of beer he sent the
caddy
with the beer bag to the clubhouse to refill. Chi carried his own bag
for
several holes until the caddy returned. Chi always had a cigarette in
his mouth or hand. He smoked with tar nicotine filter on a long stick.
My parents and their friends all liked to party, go to dances and have dinner and drinks at the club. They were great ballroom dancers and especially like to sing dance and perform the jitterbug. They also hosted an annual New Year's Eve party at our house. My mother was known far and wide for her love of entertaining and her cooking.
However, she did have one favorite recipe that she prepared especially for the New Year's day "Ice Cream Social" at our house. There are many wild tales that I could share about those parties, but they are not for print (not that anyone remembers those days!)
**My thanks to Scotty Jackson's wife, Leah Jackson, for finding this delicious and highly intoxicating Ice Cream Social punch. She shared that it could be found in the "Eve's Apples" cookbook published by the Presbyterian Women's in 1975 with the cover painted by Charles Banks Wilson. ***ICE CREAM SOCIAL
1 c. cold coffee
1 c. bourbon (Leah insisted that they poured the entire quart bottle into the punch)
1 p. vanilla ice cream
sprinkle of nutmeg or cinnamon
Mix and serve in punch cups. Increase ingredients in proportion, as needed. Use blender to mix or stir, but be sure to blend thoroughly.
Dr. W.D. Jackson and Co. (This is how wives often referred to themselves in the 1950's and 1960's. The creator is definitely Norma Lou Jackson, and this recipe is representative of the times and social occasions of ladies and gentlemen. My generation chose to drink "Purple Passions" for a real knockout and use our given names or the initials "Ms." Each generation distinguishes itself from their parents.)
PRO FROM MIAMI-- KY LAFFOON: Ky Laffoon's Golf Swing
One time at the country club Ky Laffoon, professional golfer from Miami, duck hooked a tee shot off
the #4 into the brush (perhaps over the fence and into Fullerton's pasture). He sat the golf bag down in search of his one lost ball, and misplaced the golf bag in the
trees and brush. My dad told this story. I was very little and this story has been told and retold.
Ky Laffoon's Last Stand This is a song written about Ky and his golf game.
Jim Conatser, a Judge from Bartlesville, was a former
baseball player whose golf swing was very much like his baseball swing. He always hit the ball way too hard. One time, when I
was caddying for dad, we watched Conatser decide to fly a ball over the water on
hole # 9 (This may have been at Shangri-La on the original layout?) The pond was full and overflowing with water
because of the recent rains. Giving no regard to the course conditions, Jim hit his first ball into the water, then his
second ball into the water. Next, he threw a temper tantrum and one by one
threw his clubs into the water. As dad and I watched, he continued until he
threw his bag into the water. Then he turned to the caddy and said “Well, go
get the bag.” The caddy walked off to
the clubhouse and did not return.
**Personal note: Scotty referred to Steve Owens, Mickey Mantle and the golf tournaments/fundraisers they hosted at Shangri-La in the early 1970's, but he did not share any stories. I thought this a prime opportunity to share one of my stories.
Playing in the Mantle/Owens fundraiser was a real treat for me in 1974. I played with three other women, who I did not know previously. They were great golfers and consequently, instead of drinking a lot the four of us set out to play our best
golf. On one long hole at Shangri-La my approach to the green was left of where I should have been, but not in the other fairway. As I took the club back, I collapsed to my knees, followed by my head hitting the ground. For a moment, I did not realize what had happened. Before I could stand the man who hit me and his teammates were at my side lifting me upward.
As it turned out, George Foster, who owned a liquor store in Miami, hit me with a drive that landed once and picked up speed and spin hitting me in the right butt cheek. I was wearing jeans with a round leather label "Turtle Bax" placed squarely on my derriere. The golf ball hit that label smearing my tiny turtles. George was beside himself with fear of the fury of my father. After he and his teammates quit apologizing, he said, "Tell your dad that his liquor at the store is free from now on." I recovered but hurt miserably. When I reached a warm locker room the ladies checked by bruise and much to our surprise the leather did not save me from receiving a dimple marked bruise, like the ball's dimples. That bruise lasted for over a month, and yes, I did tell my parents in hopes that they would laugh at the outcome. Now you ask, did my father receive free liquor? I know I never did, but perhaps so.
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The car built by Mad Man Muntz and sold to Johnie Stapp by Lou Newell.
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MUNTZ: Doc and Johnie
drove to Southern Hills to play. This had to be in the 50’s because Doc always
bragged about it and the story got better with time. After they played and
drank enough to be blind drunk it began to rain in Tulsa. The Muntz convertible top was hanging in the garage in Miami, so they drove Route 66 in the rain as fast as they could with the top
down so they didn’t get wet.
Your dad (Johnie Stapp) built two cars if I remember
correctly. The one with the fiber glass body called Buttercup and then later
one made for you (Letty). Dad bought
Buttercup when I was a little baby and drove it home. It never did have a top,
did it? (No, dad built that car in the
garage and framed it in fiber glass, our house smelled like fiber glass all
winter long.)
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Carole Lea Searle,Jonya Stapp, and neighbor boy.This is the same car that I drove on the streets of Miami from our house on H st. Northeast to the club, until the police officer told my mother how dangerous it was, not to mention illegal. From then on we took turns driving all over the wide sidewalks at NEO.
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The other car was the one that you and Jonya drove. It was
low to the ground and made for children.
After Jonya out grew it, Doc bought it from your dad. I drove it all
around the Bay street area and the college.
It was lots of fun.
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Tommy Jackson, their neighbor Speer, Scotty Jackson
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***A brief note on the Presbyterian Women's Cookbook "Eve's Apples."
The cover was created especially for "Eve's Apples" by our own Charles Banks Wilson, whose works continue to bring national acclaim. We gratefully acknowledge the significant contributions of this great artist who was not only reared in this church, but who, along with his family, has contributed immeasurably to its progress and well being during most of its existence. The title for this cookbook was suggested by his wife, Edna.
The Weather-vane
It is particularly fitting that the artist should have selected for the center of interest the 126 year old weather-vane from the Claude Williams' family home. The Williams, one of the church's earliest families, brought the vane from Shawnee Mission, Kansas. It is now on of the treasured objects in the Ottawa County Historical Society Museum at Miami, Oklahoma Pub. by Frontier Printing Co., Ron Forkum, Miami, Oklahoma. 1975
Introductory Poem by Miami Doc
A book about cooking is not with danger,
For every new dish is an untried stranger.
These Miami recipes gathered with care
Will give you the best of our prandial fare.
And if one of these is especially delicious
Call up the dear lady and give her best wishes.
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