Memories of Sikeston, Missouri

                                         

Most of us who grew up in a small town have fond memories of our hometown.  For me, it was Sikeston, Missouri. We could walk anywhere, anytime and by yourself, if we wanted.  We knew the neighbors on both sides of our house and usually many more neighbors.  If my parents were not home for some reason and I needed an adult, I just went to a friendly neighbor.  We knew all the neighbor kids that went to school with us too.

I have posted pictures to bring back memories of the place.  From the library to the Bank of Sikeston with its painted mural (I believe it is a Thomas Hart Benton mural) on the back wall, to Kirby's Sandwich Shop.  Everyone knew you, and we were kind to one another.

  

Those of us born in the mid-1940s experienced a freedom of movement that children today could hardly imagine.  We could get on our bikes and ride all over town as long as we were home by the time our Mom told us to be home.  I was blessed with good loving parents, but I am sure there was some child abuse back then too.  We just never heard of it.  Not one of my friends talked badly about their parents.  Their siblings were another story.  That has not changed over the years.  It was not perfect, of course.  The relations between Blacks and Whites were not acceptable. Many Whites had a feeling of superiority over Blacks, and I was uncomfortable with that back then, and still am today.  As a child and teenager, you just seem to go with the flow.  Today, I defend my opinion, when different than the majority, in as non-offensive manner as possible. 

   

Who could forget the Jaycee Bootheel Rodeo?  I looked forward to purchasing my western clothes for the rodeo, the Rodeo Parade, and learning who the movie or TV star would be that year.  I wish I had saved some of the programs to remind me of all the stars that appeared at the Rodeo while I lived at home.

    

     

Another great memory is of the Gay 90's Village and all those moving and loud musical instruments.  I begged my Dad to take me there all the time.  We would go out to the Village about once a week.  Sadly, it is gone now, but I am grateful to Mr. Eakins for restoring all those beautiful instruments so they can continue to bring joy to old and young alike.  My husband Tom and I visited Eureka Springs, Arkansas in 2006.  In the lobby of one of their historical hotels stands one of the larger models roped off to the public.  In the front left corner is a sign stating, "purchased from Paul Eakins of Sikeston, Missouri."  Just think, I played the instrument in the Gay 90's Village weekly.  Today, it is by special invitation only.  I think a bit of each of us remains the child from our hometown.  Our hearts skip a bit when we connect to those formative years.

1916 Killer Tornado Remembered

    My thoughts this spring, are on the 1916 Tornado that hit four states, including southeast Missouri. After they cared for the injured and recorded the dead, the headline read:

Tornado Killed 30 and Injured 75 in Missouri.

    My great grandmother, a great aunt, and five field hands were among those counted in the dead. My Grandfather, Henry Price, was reported as injured but he died nineteen days later from injuries received that sad, dark day.

     Related tornadoes reportedly killed 83 people in four states, but the number used to report Missouri's lost in that early report was only 14. The other three states experiencing the death and destruction from the storm were Arkansas, Mississippi, and Illinois. I wonder what the final total was after a week of recovery?

     The path of the tornado reportedly started near Jackson and traveled to Vicksburg, Mississippi.  It was next reported as capsizing the Mississippi River Packet Eleanore along the Arkansas banks of the Mississippi River. It then lifted up from the Mississippi River and followed the path of the river a few miles to the west in Arkansas. 

     The deadly tornado happened a century ago, June 5, 1916. One of the results from the storm was that my Mother always felt the loss of not knowing her father who died from injuries received the day the tornado swept the Prices' two-story home off its foundation and into a thousand pieces.  

     After the storm passed, Carrie Rettig Price first checked on her mother-in-law, Cummy Grandstaff Price (my Great-Grandmother).  She found her lying on the ground near the home's foundation.  Carrie soon realized Mrs. Price was dead.

    Carrie then hurried to find her husband, Henry Price. To her shock and horror, she found Henry alive but pinned to a tree by straw through his body. Carrie cried to others family members to help him. She then looked for her thirteen-month-old daughter, and could not find her. A group of surviving family members and neighbors began to search for the toddler.  The group heard a small child crying in a distant field of corn; the searchers followed the cry until they found her, nearly a quarter of a mile away from where she played just minutes earlier. She was scared but alive and well. That child was my mother, Marie Price-Cline.

     Carrie Price was eight months pregnant the day the tornado hit the Price farm.  Her husband was severely injured, and she was frightened and confused.  She looked in the direction of the small home she, her husband and young daughter shared nearby and it was still standing, seemingly unharmed.  She wondered why they fled the small house to go to the larger one.  They thought it would be safer.  They were very wrong.

     The patriarch of the family, James D. Price helped removed his son Henry from the tree.  He prepared his wife for the mortician.  Then he left the group to be by himself and with his thoughts.  He lost his wife, and a daughter-in-law that day, plus five field hands that also had to be prepared for the mortician.  When he returned, the farm was busy with neighbors and others from the area who came to help retrieve what they could for his family.  They also brought food and drink for the Price family, along with moral support.

     My grandmother, Carrie Price, told me the area looked like a war zone.  Carrie went into shock briefly but understood her new responsibilities would not allow for such a thing.  Her dreams were blown away along with the Price house and its contents.  On the 23rd of June, Carrie gave birth to her second daughter, Beulah Virginia Price.  Her husband saw her briefly before he sure come to infection caused by his injuries.  He died June 25, 1916.

    My Mother was always terrified of storms of any kind. Is it any wonder? The wind took more than her father and grandmother in 1916; it took her feeling of security for most of her life; it also made a widow of twenty-two-year-old Carrie Price.  The thought of the loss of her husband and the unknown future without him to help her raise two babies overwhelmed her for months.  Nothing would ever be the same again.  What would she do?