CV Main Street Page 4

By Wayne Woodruff

The dental practice was very interesting. Herb and his father Josh each had an operatory where they worked. The entire office was not air-conditioned, so the window that was in front of the torture chair looked out onto the street, and was usually open in the warmer weather. It was not unusual for Herb to stop his work to look out to what commotion was occurring in the street.

They had no receptionist, no secretary nor book-keeper, no accountant. The waiting room had a bare wooden floor and there was an overhead ceiling fan to cool us off. No magazines that I recall. The procedure was to walk up the stairs, into the waiting room, stick your head around the door and tell the doctor that you were there, then sit patiently. He was a hard worker. In place of sending out all of his "lab" work, he did it himself in the little lab behind Josh's operatory. It was not unusual when driving home at night after a football or basketball game to see the light shining from his lab window, and one knew that he was up there putting finishing touches a my inlay.

He needed an accountant. He never sent out bills, as far as I know. You just had to ask him "Herb, how much do I owe now?", and he would usually say, "I'll look it up." but never did.

I recall after my father died and my mother needed to move to Winfield to try to get her teaching certificate, she asked him how much we owed. She asked multiple times and never got an answer. We moved and I think he was never paid for all the extensive work he had done for our family. Looking back, I realize that he and my father had been close friends, he knew that mother had very little money, and he just provided that "charity of friendship" to her.

Out onto and across the highway, we come to the Baptist church, where I spent many hours hearing how I was going to Hell, and needed to be "Washed in the Blood" to save my miserable soul. My sister, Barbara, played the piano for the services at times and sang in the choir along with Pat Duncan(Bailey) and Lesta and Judy Johnson, among others. I was glad when I married and my wife introduced me to the Presbyterian and Methodist churches and they did not seem so interested in how lost my soul was.

Next, going west from the church, one came to the neatest business in town. "Under the Spreading Chestnut Tree the Village Smithy Stands". But Harve Barger did not stand under a tree, he actually worked in his shop sharpening blades and plow-shares, and doing other things that blacksmiths do. He was not a big man, but had large muscular forearms from wielding the big hammer that molded the metal to his needs. It was a fascinating place for little kids to watch him work. He would activate the bellows and the flames in the forge would leap up, change from a glow to blue-white hot. Then he would take the plough-share or blade, stick it into the flame until the metal was glowing red, remove it and using the big hammer would strike the edge until he had it the way it should be. He was always patient with all the little boys that stood around the shop watching the performance, and most of us will never forget it. And our mothers would never forget the dirty coal-dust that we brought home from the shop.

On up to the corner, turn North, and there was Smith's Grocery Store at the corner. In 1941 I was arrested for shop-lifting when I was four years old. I had gone into the store with my Dad one noon, and while he was shopping for food, I entertained myself by eating the Thompson seedless grapes from out of the bin. When Dad saw this he became a little upset, told Lester Smith, the store owner, to call the marshal who was right up the street. Then he told me that I had broken the law and the marshal was going to have to put me in the jail for stealing the grapes. He advised me that there were mice and spiders in the jail and I would have to sleep with them. When the marshal arrived and told me I was going to jail, I told him that I didn't want to go to jail because I didn't like mice and spiders. At that point, all three of them burst out laughing. I didn't go to the jail, but it was a long time before I ever stole any more grapes. I guess that was better than a spanking????