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Good Living In
West Frankfort
Summer 2013
Good Living In
West Frankfort
Publishers Letter
I
t almost seems like I’ve written this letter before. In the summer of 2011, I recall writing about life taking you abruptly on journeys that you never intended to take. That was when I was diagnosed with breast cancer and Michael and I spent that summer making daily trips to St. Louis where I went for treatment. This summer it’s a similar kind of journey that we are taking, again, not a planned one. And this time it’s Michael’s journey and I’m just tagging along for the ride. He was diagnosed with prostate cancer a couple of months ago, and we are going daily to St. Louis for his radiation treatments. There will be 44 before it is over. It is a nuisance, but we thank God for all the miracles of modern medicine. In the middle of this, we decided it would be nice to put out a summer magazine. We also decided to leave some of the creativity to our readers. Check out the great photos of Frankfort residents enjoying their summer. Even the wonderful cover photo is a reader’s contribution. Thanks everyone for sharing your summer days with us. Michael shared some stories of weddings that we thought were humorous with coincidental anecdotes, and we hope you do too. Our friend and columnist Sherri Murphy relived some great memories of the park pool and what it meant to a West Frankfort kid in during a simmering hot summer. I have to admit; she brought out some details that made me remember little things about it that I hadn’t thought about in years. I could almost smell the chlorine. After our book, West Frankfort Back in the Day, was published, we heard from Thomas Engram, a West Frankfort native now living in Carbondale. We visited with him one day and learned that he is another WWII Veteran with a great story to tell. We are always honored to capture a veteran’s story in the pages of our magazine. I wish we could tell every one of them so that they all could be preserved for posterity. I hope you enjoy our visit with Roger Stanley and a peek at all the great pieces of West Frankfort’s past that he has collected. The story of his collection is overwhelmed by the story of the man himself and what he does for this community. Kindness is just a way of life for him and his story confirms it. We want to honor two other hometown heroes in this issue also. Sue Ann Webb and Cathy Sanders are West Frankfort residents who ask not what the community can do for them, but just get out there and think of things to make this town a better place to live. And we congratulate L. Goebel Patton, whose motto is “Service is the rent you pay for the space you occupy on this earth.” Patton officially turns 100 in October, but his family held an early “Centennial Celebration” for him recently in the banquet hall at the Aquatics Center that bears his name. Bravo! Goebel has touched many lives during his years as an educator and community leader.
As we leave the 4th of July behind us, it seems the summer days just spin by, so make the most of every one of them that is left. And quoting from the publisher’s letter I wrote in 2010, may the only journeys you take be the ones that you choose.
Gail Rissi Thomas, Publisher Summer 2013
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Please support our advertisers. They make this magazine possible: Aaron Hopkins, Attorney ..................... pg. 9 All American Hearing ............................ pg. 17 Banterra Bank ......................................pg. 4 Browning Clark Auto Repair ................ pg. 22 Calico Country Sew & Vac ...................... pg. 13 Coleman-Rhoads ...................................... pg. 13 Dogwood Ridge Bistro & Gifts ............... pg. 19 Dr. Michael Clay, Dentistry ..................... pg. 11 Frankfort Area Historical Museum ...... Back Gandy’s Auto Body Shop ..................... pg. 31 G. L. Williams Real Estate ..................... pg. 16 Good Life Publications ........................ pg. 28 Herron Chiropractic .............................. pg. 8 Honker Hill Winery ................................ pg. 29 Howell Insurance ...................................... pg. 25 JenRuss Glass Design ............................... pg. 31 Johnson Realty ....................................... pg. 12 Kreative Design Showcase ........................ pg. 15 McCollom Real Estate ........................... pg. 31 McDonald’s ............................................... pg. 11 Mike Riva, Attorney ............................... pg. 16 McCollom Real Estate ............................ pg. 31 McCord’s Market ..................................... pg. 30 Monuments for Less .................................. pg. 30 Nolen Chiropractic Clinic ...................... pg. 7 Origami Owl ............................................ pg. 22 Parker-Reedy Funeral Home ................ pg. 4 Ponton Foot Clinic ................................. pg. 22 Professional Pharmacy .......................... pg. 2 Ramey Insurance .................................... pg. 9 ReMax Realty .......................................... pg. 15 Rich’s Appliances .................................... pg. 23 Rich’s Balloon & Party Shop................. pg. 21 Sandy’s Flowers & Gifts ........................ pg. 15 Severin Garden Center............................ pg. 21 Southern Illinois Bank .............................. pg. 25 Stotlar-Herrin Lumber ............................. pg. 23 Union Funeral Home ................................ pg. 12 Weeks Chevrolet Buick GMC .............. pg. 16 Weeks Chrysler Dodge Ram ................. pg. 16 WF Chamber of Commerce ...................... pg. 31 WF City Hall ............................................. pg. 13 West Frankfort House Furnishings ...... pg. 15 Contact Michael A. Thomas at 937-2019 if you wish to advertise in “Good Living in West Frankfort”.
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Good Living In
West Frankfort
Summer 2013
Good Living In
West Frankfort
No.19 Summer 2013
10
Table of Contents
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10
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Sherri Murphy remembers the old West Frankfort Park Pool and the con cession stand. Snowcones anybody?
Is West Frankfort a “Caring Commu nity”? A reader makes us pause and ref lect.
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20
Three Wedding stories show what weird, wacky and wonderful things can happen when two people decide to tie the knot.
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Longtime city worker Roger Stanley is pre serving West Frankfort History once piece at a time.
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L. Goebel Patton has a Centenial Celebration!
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West Frankfort celebrates July 4th with tradi tion and family fun.
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Staycation anyone? We asked readers to share their photos of enjoying Sum mer at home.
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Good Living in West Frankfort is a magazine about the people, places and pride of West Frankfort. Our goal is to showcase interesting, unique and previously unpublished stories about the citizens, events and places in our community in a positive manner. Good Living in West Frankfort provides businesses the choice to advertise in a high-quality full-color venue at affordable prices. This magazine is free to our readers because of those advertisers.
No portion of this publication, including photos and advertisements, may be reproduced in any manner without the expressed consent of Good Life Publications . ©2013 Cover photo by Lara Short: Ahh, sweet summer! Mollie Short soaks up some fun in her pool.
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WWII veteran Thomas Engram, a West Franfort native, shares his story as a pilot on a B-24 bomber.
Volunteers Sue Ann Webb and Cathy Sanders help make Main Street beautiful.
Good Living In
West Frankfort A production of Good Life Publications 309 East Oak Street West Frankfort, IL 62896 (618) 937-2019
E-mail Contact: GoodLifePublications@Gmail.com Summer 2013
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Finding Fun in Frankfort
Photo by Amanda
Mitchell
A first! 9-month old Nolan Wall, son of Brandon and Sarah Wall, enjoys the beach at Rend Lake.
(Right) Fun at the farm. Nick Hefner, son of Josh and Jill Hefner, sits on the tractor with his grandfather, Wiley Turner. (Below) Every day is a vacation just outside the backdoor! Connie Howard and husband Keith spend many a summer morning drinking coffee in their cozy outdoor patio.
(Above) This is what every golfer was thinking about in January. Phil Stanley tees off on the beautiful 4th hole of the Franklin County Country Club in West Frankfot.
Good Living In
West Frankfort
Summer 2013
Croslin
e and Lane Croslin rid r! Brothers Landon lve Si o -H Hi w) elo (B e ever. ir first horseback rid bareback during the
submitted by Jodi
submitted by Connie Howard
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photo by Angie Stanley
submitted by Kathie Turner
(Right) Who needs Daytona Beach? Seven-year old Braden Mullins enjoys some backyard summer fun in West Frankfort with a hose.
Jeffery James,3, hauls in a bluegill with a little help from his dad, Brett on a recent trip to their fishing hole on the Ohio River near Golconda.
Photo by Kristen Miflin
This talented trio of Ava Harkins, Gabriella Yadro and Kailyn Kahl will have plenty of fun playing softball this summer at the city park.
Photo by Lisa James
submitted byJena Yadro
submitted by Shelley Wilburn submitted by George Hopkins
Don Athen Wilburn shows his grandsons Abraham Ivey (21 months old) & Radley Wininger (6 yrs old) how to beat the heat on a hot day.
“Go Redbirds!” Grayson Hopkins, takes in a Cardinal ballgame at Busch stadium with his father Dustin.
photo by Julie (Presley) Trogolo
photo by Wanda Rotramel
Dog Day Summer! Bella, a German Shepherd owned by Lisa and Brett Hall of West Frankfort, enjoys retrieving a tennis ball at the West Frankfort City Lake.
“Here ducky, ducky, ducky!” Logan Hall, 3, tosses some bread to a lucky duck at the West Frankfort City park. Logan’s grandfather, Floyd “Pawpaw” Rotramel, is ready to reload for Logan’s next toss. Putting a spring in Summer. Sisters Presley and Ady Trogolo laugh while playing in the sprinkler on the trampoline.
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(Top Right) “C’mon Dad, this would make a great place for a tree house!” Jeffery and Reese James get a squirrel’s eye view of the neighborhood.
Photo by Teri Duryea
(Below) Logan Hefner, son of Josh and Jill Hefner, knows hot to enjoy a summer day by the pool. Submitted by his grandma, Kathie Turner
“How about a push?”, Charlie Bedokis seems to be asking. We think summer is always a good time for a nice swing.
Photo by Jill Morthland
(Above) It beats being in school! Mitchell Bencie and Duke Watson shoot some baskets at the WF City park.
Watch out for the bears! Annie Morthland, Benjamin Hayes, Sam Morthland take a summertime safari near the Morthland home.
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Good Living In
West Frankfort
Summer 2013
Submitted by Brett James
Seven-year old Cortney Cash gets ready to take her bike for a summer spin.
Submitted by Debbie Cash
ro Jena Yad Photo by
Submitted by Pam Kopec
a warm ls off on o o c ro d Ya e pool. abriella around th erfect! G Picture p y by taking a spin da summer
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The Park Pool
Memories of a Lazy Summer By Sherri Murphy
O
nce upon a time, there really was such a thing as a lazy summer. It took place long before children's calendars were filled with back-toback sports camps, competitions and practices. It was prior to the time that computers and other hand-held devices held children hostage inside their airconditioned homes. A time before texting our messages to each other, when we actually called our friends on the phone, or better yet, rode our bikes to their homes to see if they could come out to play. Some of my fondest childhood memories were from time spent outside, "unplugged”, connected with my friends—not by Facebook, or twitter updates or messages sent by phone. We were connected by a large body of crystal clear, highly chlorinated water, the West Frankfort City Pool. I spent nearly every day at the park, walking or riding my bike there with childhood friends, Lea, Robin, Shelley, Jamie and Kim. We slept late, waking in enough time to eat, and walk or ride bikes there before the first session be-
gan at 1:00 PM. My swimming sessions were almost daily, interrupted only by a day or two break to nurse a sunburn, which was common at the time when this freckled, fair-skinned girl had yet to be informed about the importance of protective sunscreen. Many of my friends had season passes (and darker skin) that allowed them to swim more often and at a discounted "frequent swimmer” rate. Many of them took advantage of this and swam all three sessions of the day. However, after the first session, my blistered skin would be my not-so-gentle reminder that it was time for me to go home. Sometimes, if the burn wasn't too bad, I would be allowed to return for the night session. For a bunch of kids needing to release some energy, it was a wonderful experience to swim in the dark, under the stars with the pool lights lighting the water I can remember either walking or riding my bike to the park with friends and staying after the swim time to enjoy a snack at the concession stand. I would be gone for hours, and my parents never worried. I had no cell phone
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Good Living In
West Frankfort
to check in with my Mom. I just remember being told the time of my expected return. I knew not to be late or I would surely be embarrassed by her if she was forced to come looking for me. I recall standing inside the entrance before the pool session opened—girls lined up on the left, boys on the right— waiting for the moment when the lifeguards would remove the barrier between us and the counter, so we could pay and enter the locker room. Once inside, we would remove our street clothes, revealing our bathing suits underneath along with lots of insecurities. We could gather our belongings: some change, lip-gloss, shoes, into a metal basket with a lock for safekeeping, until our worn out, sunburned bodies would retrieve them. I had very few cares at that time. I do remember being concerned about how dreadful I looked in the bathing caps we were forced to wear, per pool policy. I had very long, thick hair that was difficult to fit under a bathing cap. My head always looked lumpy and bumpy. But looking around, I really don't re-
What Do You Remember?
Lea Hagar Burgess: We had a season pass, so most days, we went to all three sessions. Since we lived about 6 blocks from the park, we rode our bikes home in between (especially the 2nd and 3rd sessions). I think it was 1-3, 3:30-5:30 and 7-9. I loved the concession stand. I am still hooked on frozen Snickers bars, and that is the fault of the Tefertiller’s! Dwaine Tefertiller: Mom and Dad took over the stand the summer of ‘76. That summer was miserable for me because I had to work the stand between sessions instead of hanging out with my friends. On the other hand ,if you ordered a sno-cone you wanted me to make it ‘cause I bad a heavy hand with the syrup. When the popcorn was really yellow and tasty, yep ,that was me too. Jayma Dial: My parents, Jim and Elizabeth Hogg, ran the stand when I was in grade school, before our cousins, Herm and Theresa (Bandera), ran it. They made everything by hand back then: dipped cones, milkshakes,malts, delicious grilled burgers, and those wonderful snowcones! We stopped by the ice plant every morning, and I remember sitting on the ice in the backseat of the car the rest of the way to the park. Marcia Raubach: One afternoon after taking my children for a swim at the pool, we were standing at the concession waiting to get our snowcones when a big bolt of lightning suddenly struck a tree nearby and literally blew it up. Do you think we gave up our place in line? No, we just had to have a snowcone, always a family tradition after swimming. Of course later, I just shudder to think what could have happened. Darlene Connell Richerson: Rocky Rice managed the pool during my Jr. High days and I spent every day out there in the summer. . I remember wearing the bathing caps! Had to get one that was very ornate with flowers and all! Mom wanted me to wear this nose guard, which I never did due to it possibly embarrassing me and ruining my image. In Jr. high, you had to make a good impression with the boys. “Everyone get out and stand behind the red line. NO RUNNING! Isabelle Butler Heyder:Best memories of the park pool were sneaking in after hours, Summer 2013
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member ANYONE looking that great in them, so with a shrug, I'd jump in and enjoy the fun. My friends and I enjoyed practicing different swim strokes, stood on our hands underwater, had contests to see who could hold their breath the longest, but my favorite time was when we would practice our underwater ballet routines. We would actually watch each other perform, eyes wide open in the heavily chlorinated water—no goggles—as we tried to critique our synchronized, graceful underwater routines. We performed with a partner, and we believed were so close to perfection that all we needed was someone important enough who would be willing to watch us under water and recognize our yet-to-be-discovered talent. We would be shoe-ins for placement on the US Olympic Synchronized Swim team! We were very disappointed that no one important enough ever came by. The latest Top-40 tunes—music to swim by—played on the loud speakers and set the tone for a playful day. The beautifully tanned lifeguards (I was always envious) would be perched high above the rest of us, two watching the diving boards, one watching the sliding board. One was always walking around, spinning his or her whistle, which was often blown to stop someone from running, or roughhousing or engaging in other horseplay that was not permitted. Once or twice during a session, there was a "pool check" where all swimmers were required to remove themselves from the pool and stand behind the red line on the burning hot concrete. The rules were blasted once again over the loud speakers, and the
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lifeguards did a spot check of the pool waters. I suppose they were looking for victims that may not have been spotted earlier. I was mesmerized by the diving abilities of those who dove off the high and low dives. I was too scared too go off the high dive myself, and had been reprimanded more than once by an irritated life guard who watched me go to the edge, peer down, standing frozen for moments before deciding to go back down the ladder, causing the others in line on the ladder to move aside while I descended the "walk of shame" back down. There was always at least one heavy teen-aged boy at each session who would wow the crowd with his Cannon-Ball jump off the high-dive that would send water soaring in the air. The rippling effect of the giant wave that followed could be felt all the way to the shallow end of the pool. I did finally jump off the high-dive on a dare—
Summer 2013
probably for money—and jumped feetfirst while holding my nose. When my feet touched the 12-foot deep bottom of the pool, I could not wait to be able to breathe again and finally I reached the surface. I never jumped a second time, although through the years, I did learn to perfect my signature back dive off the low dive, and was very proud. In 1975 the popular movie Jaws came out. Soon afterwards, pool attendance around the nation increased as more than a few swimmers vacated beaches and the dangerous oceans in fear of shark attacks. The next summer, the bottom of the park pool was painted with a mural of a large shark. That was a big deal, back in the day, We always ate after swimming, never before a session, as we all had seen the videos in health class of the diver who met his demise after going in the water too soon after a meal, experiencing the horrifying symptoms of THE BENDS,
and drowning. I wouldn't even eat a snack less than an hour before swimming. I was not willing to take that chance! But after the swim, lunch (or supper) was a no-brainer, the CONCESSION STAND was the place to be! Sopping wet kids, lined up shivering in their towels, would be ready for snow-cones ("rainbow" was my favorite), a hotdog, a frozen Snicker Bar and maybe a candy necklace to snack on for the walk or bike ride home. I remember the Bandera family serving me with a smile when I was younger, then later the Tefertiller family filling my belly with the necessary snacks requested. Mrs. Tefertiller was a kind soul with a British accent who called us all "Love". "Here's your change, Love." "Thank you, Love." I really could feel the love exuding from that precious lady. We would enjoy our snacks on the outdoor tables, enjoy our friends, flirt with the boys, and wait until it was time to go home and prepare for the next day of fun. My summers spent at the park pool will never leave my memory although I have no photos to share of my 'home away from home". I asked for photos from friends and there weren't many of those to share either. It was not common to carry a camera and record every moment of our daily routines at the time. We didn't share the story and photos immediately afterwards on Facebook. We didn't text or tweet about them either. We just lived it...one lazy, hazy, crazy summer day at a time.
Letter from the
Summer 2013
Publisher
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West Frankfort: A Caring Community? By Gail Rissi Thomas
West Frankfort to light in our magazine. Under the circumstances, this is the best we could do. It has been brought to our attention, and so we bring it to the community’s attention—all 8800 residents, if there really are that many—that some have needs that are not being met. We’re talking about very basic needs here, holding a door for someone and letting them go before you, saying, “Hello, How are you doing today?”, smiling and nodding toward someone we don’t know, looking them in the eye. It’s hard to admit publicly that we’re not the perfect place to live, although we admit it readily enough among our friends. It’s hard to even write about the fact that West Frankfort probably has its share of bullies, (I don’t know any, but you know we must have). I’m sure that there are those among us who are, not mean spirited, just indifferent. And face it. We all have our own problems without worrying about everyone else’s. Can I keep my business open another year, another week, another day? We’ve been there. Will I survive this cancer? Been there. Will someone I love survive their cancer? Good grief, I’m there again. The need for kindness to strangers is hard to write about without sounding like preaching. But we’re struggling, along with every one of you, to remember that the most important thing our community can never have too much of is compassion. Again, let me say that we know West
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Good Living In
West Frankfort
Graphic by Michael A. Thomas
Mother Theresa of Calcutta said that there are three important things to remember in life. First is “Be kind.” Second is “Be kind,” and the third is “Be kind.” I’ve been reading a lot about kindness lately, and these words seem to be the simplest and the most meaningful. Michael and I have been talking a lot about this and trying to put it into practice in small ways. I would never pick up a hitchhiker in these times. But when I see someone—and it’s usually an elderly person leaving Farm Fresh or even Krogers and stopping to shift and juggle three bags of groceries as they begin a very slow pace on foot in the rain or the blinding humidity—I feel pretty sure that it’s not murder that they have on their mind. And when I offer them a ride, and they gratefully accept, I learn that what was on their mind was “How am I going to make it to the Anna Grey High Rise?” “Where am I going to stash two of these bags, and will they still be here when I come back to get them?” I kind of get that old feeling, “I’d like to teach the world to sing in perfect harmony.” Well, I’d like to give the world a ride and save some misery. So Mother Theresa’s words have served me well. But I’ve been reading some other words recently that stick with me, and I don’t even know who said them. Michael and I hear from time to time that West Frankfort is not always as caring as we all seem to hope it is. “Good Living in West Frankfort” is what we all think it is, and it is what we all want it to be, but like any other community in the world every day, we fail someone miserably. We have been challenged by a reader to bring this less than friendly image of
Frankfort is full of kindness. It seems that nearly every month, there is a benefit to help someone suffering from a serious illness. I bet if I put on Facebook right now that I needed a gallon of milk and was too sick to go get it, within an hour I would be going door to door in the neighborhood asking neighbors to store the extra gallons of milk for me so they wouldn’t spoil. If I put on Faceook that I needed prayer, by the end of the day, I would have 67 responses from prayer warriors and be listed on prayer chains of half the churches in town. But we’re not talking about Facebook friends here. We’re not talking only about those in the community with a faith family. We’re talking about the disconnected, the untentionally excluded, the lonely. And because we don’t know who they are, we have to look at everyone we encounter as an opportunity to make someone’s day better. Kindness to strangers is much more difficult. Maybe it just because we are too busy with our own needs and don’t see the opportunities to show it. And if you are the stranger, it takes courage to be the first to smile or to speak. Thus things stay as they always have been, lack of awareness, resulting in exclusion and interpreted as unkindness. So while we’re finding out that it isn’t even possible to get one community to sing an off key melody together, we might just remember Mother Theresa’s advice for life. Be kind to one another.
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S
omebody once contended that people’s lives are merely a series of small coincidences. The most innocent of happenings can sometimes determine where we live, who we marry, or what profession we choose. A decision to attend a certain function may have led us to meet our future spouse. A breakfast out with a friend at the local eatery instead of toast and coffee at home may have resulted in a business venture. We can all retrace our paths and see how the dots to certain circumstances were connected. But, there are also things in people’s lives that simply defy logic and fall into the category of strange but true. By Gail Rissi Thomas Who Gets Married on a Monday?
Jane and Tim Rissi walk down the aisle of St. Paul’s Catholic Church on July 1, 1963. (Photo Provided)
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While dating, Paul and Susan Tregoning discovered that both of their parents were married on the same day, in the same year and at the same time. Tim and Jane Rissi, Susan’s parents, were married at 10:00 AM on July 1, 1963 at St. Paul’s Catholic Church in Johnston City. It was a small ceremony with no one present but three members of the immediate family, two witnesses and a neighbor, Stella Ahlm, who said they would have to lock the doors to keep her out. The reception was cake and champagne at my mom’s with about ten people present. That was on a Monday. Now, who gets married on a Monday morning? “I worked at the Bank of Egypt in Marion,” says Jane, (formerly Jane Arnold, a Pittsburg girl), I couldn’t get off work on a Saturday to get married, so we just got married on Monday.” Summer 2013
That wouldn’t be so strange in itself, but about 6 miles away in Marion, on the same Monday, at Mt. Zion
Susie and Dennis Tregoning were married at Mt. Zion Church of Christ on July 1, 1963. (Photo Provided)
Church of Christ, also at 10 a.m., Paul Tregoning parents; Dennis and Susie Tregoning were getting married. “We may have had fewer people at our wedding than Tim and Jane had at theirs,’ recalls Susie. “There were only my parents, my grandmother and our witnesses there. My parents owned the Country Kitchen Restaurant out west of Marion, and it was closed on Monday, so that was the best day for them. They did close the restaurant the following Sunday and had a big reception for us with a huge buffet dinner.” So that’s the way it was. Monday, July 1, 1963 must have been a good day for a wedding. It certainly worked well for Tim and Jane Rissi and their daughter, Susan, as well as Dennis and Susie Tregoning and their son, Paul.
I’m Not Gonna Marry The Guy
But none of this would have come to light had Paul not met Susan through a mutual friend while they were both students at John A. Logan College.
Paul and Susan Tregoning were married on December 29, 1990. (Photo Provided)
A few days later, the mutual friend asked Susan if she remembered "that guy" and asked if she could give him her phone number. Susan agreed and asked her friend what Paul’s last name was. The friend could not pronounce, “Tregoning”. She jumbled it up and Susan never really understood what it was. But the phone number was still given and a date arranged. About a week later, as Susan was getting ready for her first date with Paul, Susan’s mother asked her who she was going out with. “Paul, “ Susan replied, "but I'm not really sure what his last name is. It's Tregar or Tregari or something like that. Mom was giving me a hard time because I didn't even know the guys name and I flippantly said, ‘It's not like I'm going to marry the guy; I'm just going out on a date with him!’" Six years later they were married.
I’m The One in the White Dress
Now, as for Michael and I, on June 24, 1972 we tied the proverbial knot at St. John’s Parish here in West Frankfort on a Saturday afternoon with all the trimmings. We had many guests and even two receptions. Remembering my father’s advertising slogan as a professional photographer, “Photographs Live Forever,” we had my brother, Tim, then owner of Rissi Studio, take pictures of everything that moved. We had a beautiful leather album with photographs to share and remember. Many times I have written stories about our youngest son, Jay, better known to many as Jaybird. Born with Down Syndrome and later diagnosed also with Autism, he has kept our life
interesting in many ways, the star of our stories, some times funny, sometimes, not so much. When Jay was about four years old, he decided to entertain himself with our wedding album that he found safely tucked away in a cabinet. He also found a spray bottle of Clorox Cleaner and using a paper towel, Jay wiped all those wedding people right off the pages. Somehow he managed to miss one photo of the full wedding party, including our parents. After we got over the shock and remorse, (about 30 minutes), we put the one remaining photo carefully back into the cabinet which had housed the original photos. Not too smart? I know, I know. About a week later, Jay revisited the cabinet, this time with a pair of scissors, which of course he was not allowed to have. I know. I know. He made a clean cut, chopping everyone off at about the ankles, and then proceeded to shred the rest of those people in the photo. I didn’t even know he knew how to cut! So in honor of our 41st anniversary, I am going to have the audacity to bore you with our one surviving wedding picture. Hope you enjoy it. I’m the one in the white dress.
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By Gail Rissi Thomas Photos by Michael A. Thomas
I
(Above clockwise) Roger Stanley stands besides an old Coca Cola sign that hang behind the WF Elks building. Part of Stanley’s collection includes: a restored sign from the Bonacorsi Grocery Store, a cigarette machine from Cody’s Tavern on Main Street, gasoline pumps from Swifty’s and the Deep Rock station, and a Sherwin-Williams paint can and sign from Giffords Hardware store.
f you happen to be looking for a cold coke some sizzling hot summer day, you know like one that comes out of one of those l950’s vintage coke machines, you just might find one in Roger Stanley’s garage. He’s not really in the vending machine busi-
ness, but he probably has one of those, and you can bet that the old green frig in his garage is stocked with sodas that are super cold. And although Stanley isn’t selling cold drinks, if you really need one, he’d be the first to supply you with one. He just can’t help himself. He’s that kind of guy.
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West Frankfort
There are probably few people in West Frankfort who don’t know Roger Stanley. A West Frankfort native, Stanley has worked for the city for 45 years, spending most of those years loading trash onto the garbage truck. He is now superintendent of the street department. “I really didn’t want this job,” Stanley
said. “I don’t like paperwork jobs. I’m a worker. I’d rather get out there and work on the truck or on the street any day, but this is what they wanted me to do, so I’m doing it.” There are a lot of stories that are told about Stanley’s willingness to hustle and go above and beyond the basics in doing a job well. But this article started out to focus, not on his work ethic, but on his hobby and how it is preserving a lot of the history of the community. “I love old stuff,” Stanley explains in talking about his eclectic collection of relics from West Frankfort’s past. “ I just like being able to save some of those things that wouldn’t be around for kids to see them these days. When I see something like that that I want, I just try to buy it or at least try to get people to let me know when they’re ready to let go of it.” Those things that Stanley loves range from gas pumps to a handmade candy case that was made by Fred Bonacorsi and held a place of honor in Bonacorsi’s store for decades. Having the case in his garage isn’t enough to satisfy Stanley. He has it stocked with a wide assortment of candies and is more than generous in sharing them with special visitors, his paperboy for instance. “Yeah, I tell my paperboy to go on in the garage and get himself some candy or a cold drink. Then he started bringing his buddies,” he
Stanley holds a serving tray he rescued from Mike’s Drive-In. “They were cleaning it out and were tossing them in a pile outside so I asked if I could take a few,” he exlained.
laughed. “But, heck that’s ok. You know, that’s what it’s all about. I grew up without much of nothing and I remember being a kid that age and seeing a piece of candy I wanted and didn’t have money to buy. I know what that’s like. Once in a while I have to tell someone, ‘Just 4 or 5 pieces now,’ but that’s ok. They go along with me.” Stanley is quick to say that he learned kindness through the kindness of others. “When I was in about fifth grade, we moved close to Bob and Anita Sparks’ store down on ’37,” he said. “I hung out there a lot and tried to do little jobs for them. I’d take out trash, burn boxes, sweep up, stuff like that. Well then they started teaching me how to trim the produce and do more jobs. Anita would take me to Sunday school and then I started going home with them and spending Sundays with them. Sometimes I’d go Saturday night and stay all night. I don’t know how it got to be, but I just started staying with them on
Two of Stanley’s prized pieces of West Frankfort nostalgia include the hand-built candy case from Bonacorsi’s Grocery which he stocks with penny candy and a Coke machine from Mrs. Collins beauty shop located on the corner of Oak Street and Van Buren.
weeknights too and they’d take me to school. I lived with them for about 7 or 8 years. She helped me buy my first motorcycle so I could get around; they sure were good to me. Anita called me “her boy,” and she treated me like I was. When I got out of high school, I went to work for the street department. At about that time, I bought a house and lived on my own.” In the assorted collection of gas pumps and advertising paraphernalia, Stanley points out several items that he feels particularly proud or lucky to have in his possession. “That old Coke machine came out of a beauty shop on the corner of VanBuren and Oak Streets,” he
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of cigarettes that you don’t see anymore, not to sell, you know, just to show what it looked like. I have Kools, Pall Mall, Lucky Strikes, Camels, Chesterfields, and Viceroys. The price was 35 cents a pack” With prices that we all wish would return, a Daily American NewsStanley recentpaper clipping from 1956 features a “Remodeling Sale” by the ly acquired the grocery owened by Bob and Anita Sparks. Stanley was befriended by sign that hung for the Sparks and worked in the store for many years while growing up. nearly 40 years over Bonacorsi’s says. I’ve got a Hostess Cakes and Wonder Bread sign. You know they grocery on 5th street. He considered don’t sell Hostess any more. I’ve owning that piece wasn’t enough. got a gas pump that came out of Swifty’s from back when it used to be the Deep Rock Station, and the one from the old Texaco Station still has 39 cents showing on the pump.” “I really like that 55 gallon Sherman Williams Paint tank,” Stanley says. “It has a picture of the world on it, with paint pouring out of the side. That’s pretty neat, because that’s how they used to sell paint. They would pour it out of 55-gallon tanks into gallon buckets. I got that from Dale Gifford; it came out of Ace Hardware. The cigarette machine (something you don’t see anymore) came out of the old Cody’s Tavern. I stocked it with all the old brands
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“I had that sign repainted and completely restored,” he says. “Boy it looks nice.” Stanley’s collection of antiques would make it seem to be a picker’s paradise, but the fact that he treasures his collection contradicts that possibility. Not only is he not looking for buyers or traders, but just about everything is bolted to the floor, just to prove to anyone with those ideas that nothing is going anywhere. “I just love this old stuff about West Frankfort,” he says. “My wife, Vanda, she likes it too. Not as much as me, but she likes it. If it makes me happy then it’s OK with her.” So thank you Roger and Vanda both for helping to preserve just a little more of West Frankfort’s past before it slips away.
A Centennial Celebration for Goebel Patton Clockwise: Longtime WF realtor Rex Rowland congratulates Mr. Patton. Franklin-Williamson Regional Supt. Matt Donkin and longtime F.C.H.S. principal Gail Borton were two of several educators in attendance. George Tomlinson and Goebel Patton share a moment together.
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riends and family members from across Southern Illinois crowded the banquet center at the West Frankfort Aquatics Center on Sunday, July 21, to honor the man for whom the center is named. L. Goebel Patton, who officially turns 100 on October 24th of this year, was treated to an early birthday present as well-wishers shared memories and congratulated the man who spent much of his life as educator and then superintendent in the West Frankfort School District. Patton’s daughter, Penny Tippy, explained that having the celebration now, instead of October allowed, grandchildren and great-grandchildren from across the country to attend and not miss school, something we are certain Mr. Patton can well appreciate. In addition to his years of service in education, Goebel Patton has been active in the Second Baptist church, the West Frankfort Lions club, the American Cancer Society and the Franklin County Salvation Army to name just a few. His service to West Frankfort and Southern Illinois is best exemplified by his motto that he is fond of sharing: “Service is the rent you pay for the space you occupy on this earth.” Summer 2013
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Story and Photos by Michael A. Thomas
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n July 4th, 2013, Americans young and old alike, celebrated our nation’s 237th birthday and the fine citizens of West Frankfort cooked hotdogs, took a day off of work and watched fireworks along with the rest of America. (Above) David Wickes conducts the Southern Illinois Concert Band in the playing of John Phillip Sousa’s “Stars and Stripes Forever March” at the West Frankfort Park Bandshell as fireworks explode in the nighttime sky behind him. The band was making a return appearance in West Frankfort after a seven-year absence due to scheduling conflicts.
Twins Zachary and Bella Chambers (inset) enjoy a bomb “bursting in air.” West Frankfort native and longtime Main Street businessman Etheredge Tharp, (right) celebrated his 103rd birthday at his home in Christopher with family and friends. Old Glory was proudly displayed in front of the stores on Main Street and families, such as the Riddle and Stanley families (bottom facing page) got together for food, fun and fireworks. Ron and John Riddle were at the park early to stake out a shelter. “It’s something we do every year,” John said.
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(Top right) Khaleeyah Davis, age 5, from Benton, spins her hula hoop while waiting for her Grandmother, flutist Cheryl Valleroy to perform with the SICB. No hotdogs for him! Jason Cogdill (above) tries his luck fishing in the park pond. No word on how he did, but he gets an A+ for effort.
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Photo courtesy of Frankfort Area Historical Museum
homas Engram was born in West Frankfort on Clark Street in 1920. “I’ve logged a few years,” he says with a laugh. “My parents, Harry and Bessie Odle Engram, moved out of West Frankfort when I was about 8 years old. My dad was the administrator of the UMWA Hospital. He wasn’t a doctor or anything like that, but he worked with a Dr. Black and a Dr. Crane. He was there during the tornado and he used to tell me how they had injured just lining the hallways. I don’t even know how he came to get that job.” “In about 1928 we moved to Shake Rag,” Engram says, “just east of Johnston City.” Although a little off topic, Engram had some stories that were just too good not to share, one of them being how a town ever got to be named
Thomas’ father, Harry Engram (center), was the administrator of the UMWA Hospitat in West Frankfort. This photo is dated 1925.
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Photo of Thomas Engram provided
West Frankfort native Thomas Engram (inset )grew up dreaming to be a pilot. He fulfilled that dream and more when he piloted a B-24 Liberator similar to the one pictured during WWII in the Pacific campaign.
Shake Rag. “There was a little school there,” he says, “and a guy who lived there who ran a still and sold bootleg. Whenever he had bootleg available to sell, he would hang a rag out on a limb, so his customers would know to stop. Gosh, that went on for years.” “That little old school was surrounded by a cemetery that sat at the bottom of a bluff. Over the years, that bluff began to erode into the cemetery We used to go up there to play, and you could look down from that bluff and see that some of the graves from the cemetery had eroded away until you could even see the old wooden caskets. Another thing I remember is that some of the kids would go home for lunch and come back in about 5 minutes. That was during the Depression, and I remember that my mom and some of the other moms noticed that and said, ‘Those kids don’t have anything to eat at home.’ They set up a soup kitchen in the hallway of the school to make sure every kid got at least one meal a day.” The reason Engram’s family left West Frankfort was because his dad realized that the country was on the brink of a big depression, and said the family would have to go out somewhere into Summer 2013
the country where they could farm and support themselves off the land. “We raised cattle and hogs, smoked meat and grew every kind of vegetable and fruit. He shared with his family and everyone around.” Engram graduated from Johnston City High School in 1938, but after graduation he returned to West Frankfort where he worked for the West Frankfort Merantile Company, a company store, and later in the payroll department of the Orient #2 coal mine office. It was in 1941, before the war, that he married his wife, Betty June Howard. While in high school, Engram belonged to an aviation club. “We lived and breathed airplanes,” he said. “We didn’t have an airplane; all we did was build solid models. Of course, I’m not talking about gasoline engines or remote control like they have on models today. We built the ones with a rubber band that you would wind up physically and let it go. It would go four or five feet,” he laughed. “We learned about Wally Post, Amelia Earhart and other aviators. One of the guys in that class went to Marion and took private flying lessons at that little airport down there. I had never even been in an airplane.” “We lived on a little 20 acre farm near Shake Rag,” Engram continued. “There was an old barnstormer who came through there and developed engine trouble and landed on a farm just east of ours. I used to go out there, crawl in that thing and work the controls. He finally came back one day, worked it over and flew it out of there. “I told Betty, ‘You know, my heart and my head are in the air. I’m going to go see if I can pass the exams to get into the Aviation Cadet Program. I passed the exams and the physical and talked them into swearing me in immediately.” “We started our training in Texas in a primary trainer, just a little single engine guy, and I got airsick the very first week. The trainer sat behind me where he could see everything I did. I was so sick that I kept throwing up and
training than we did in combat.” “We were finally shipped out to Fresno where we had brand new B-25s waiting for us, Engram continued. “They would give us our orders, but we were not allowed to open them until we got in the air. We were in the 7th Air Force, 11th bomb group, 42nd squadron.” The 11th Bomb Group, nicknamed “The Grey Geese”, was deployed to the Pacific Theater of operations during WWII. The primary objective of the group was to prepare for the expected invasion of Japan. To accomplish this, strategists devised a system known as ‘Leap Frogging’ which avoided attacking islands which held heavily fortified Japanese positions and instead attacked strategically important islands that were not as well defended. By this means, supplies and troops could be brought closer to the Japanese mainland with fewest expected casualties. The “Grey Geese” conducted long-range reconnaissance and bombing missions throughout these South, Southwest, Central, and Western Pacific areas until the end of the war and operated from a total of 21 different island bases as the war progressed. Engram piloted a B-24 Liberator bomber while a member of the “Grey Geese”. These four-engine planes have the distinction of being the most produced American military aircraft of WWII. They were valued for their ability to fly long-range missions with a large payload of bombs. As the pilot, Engram had the honor of naming his plane and he chose the name the “Betty J” in honor of his wife, Betty June. As was typical of all named planes, the Betty J was adorned with nose art, which at first featured a seductively posed woman wearing no clothes. When the squadron commander saw it, he ordered the Betty J re-painted with a more modest look, and the artist obliged by adding some covering. The crew of 11 flew over 30 missions in the Betty J, but almost didn’t survive the second one. Three Liberators were ordered on
a mission to mine the waters around ChiChi-jima, a strategic island some 150 miles north of the better known Iwo Jima. The Japanese used ChiChijima, with its two tall mountians, as a major point of radio relay communications and surveillance operations. The three planes flew at low altitude, some 250 feet above the water, and dropped 1,000 pound mines by parachute. Unbelievably, a plane flying above the Betty J released a mine which somehow fell not into the Pacific Ocean, but into the midsection of the Betty J. The lodged mine did not explode, but severely hampered the ability of Engram to control the plane. The crew scrambled around the mine, using .50 caliber machine guns as levers to try to dislodge the mine. The Betty J was slowly losing altitude. Worse, it was approaching stall speed of 95 mph which meant a certain ditch into the Pacific. Engram ordered two of the men to rush to the nose of the plane to help balance out the weight. Miraculously, this worked and the plane stabilized its airspeed and altitude. It took the crew nearly 30 minutes to dislodge the mine, but finally the Betty J limped back home safely
Photo provided
it was flying back and hitting him in the glasses. I went to the mess hall and got some bags and I would throw up in those and throw them overboard. One day he said to me, ‘Mister, my grandmother can fly better than you.’”But the cutting comments of the instructor did not deter Engram’s determination to fulfill his flying dream. “As a pilot, you flew either pursuit planes (fighters) or multi-engine aircraft.” Since flying bombers involved much less in the way of aerobatics than fighters, Engram decided he was much better suited to piloting a bomber. “Eventually, I passed everything and got my license.” “We went through various stages of advanced flying and finally went to the advanced school at Brooks Field in San Antonio. We were the first class at the advanced school to fly B-25s. When I graduated from there, they assigned me to be a B-25 instructor out of West Texas at Lubbock. When I got there, they only had two B-25’s on the field, and I was just a second Louie (2nd Lieutenant) at that time and they wouldn’t let me near it. They finally got a call for replacement combat pilots in California at Hammer Field, so they sent two of us (my wife, Betty, was with me) by train to Fresno.” “When we got there, we went out to dinner with our wives and went to a picture show. In the middle of the movie, they turned off the projector and said, “All personnel from Hammer Field report immediately.” I turned to my friend and said, ‘I didn’t hear that, did you?’ He said, ‘I didn’t hear a thing,’ so we just stayed in the motel with our wives that night. The next day, when we showed up at the airfield, there wasn’t a soul in sight. They had all gone to the Murock Army Air Field.” “I told my friend, Tewk, ‘We better get on a train and get down there.” We did get down there and met up with all the rest of the crew. The daytime temperature got to 130 degrees and we were flying “war weary” B-24s. We lost more airplanes at that air base in
Engram named his B-24 “Betty J“ in honor of his wife, Betty June. Nose art on bombers was a common occurrence as crew members often formed strong bonds with their aircraft and ‘pin-up’ art was a popular theme during WWII. Summer 2013
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Photo provided
The mining of Japanese harbors using B-24 Liberators was a classified matter when this illustration appeared in the Chicago Herald-American in June of 1945. This account was changed to hide that fact. Tail Gunner Rasmussen had plenty of help from the rest of the crew to dislodge the mine.
with all aboard. Engram’s crew also used a new technology to avoid enemy fire. “If you flew night missions they had a fix on you, search lights and radar guns. Our air force had a thing called Window, big bales of tin foil cut at various lengths. When those lights would hit you at night, I’d call the tailgunner and say ‘Start throwing out a handful of the Window and those radar lights would just go crazy. That would disrupt both the Jap lights and the guns. As soon as the bombardier said, ‘Bombs away,’ we’d be flying along at about 170 miles an hour, and we’d just take a slow dive to the left and take out of there so fast that B-24 would just shake, rattle and roll, but we never got hit on in any of those missions.” “Our last mission was our closest call,” he said. “The Japanese had lost so many aircraft that they wouldn’t fly out and attack you, but would fly out parallel to you, call in your altitude, and then all hell would break loose around you. We were flying around the clock at Iwo Jima. The B 29’s really needed that airbase to land on their flight back to Saipan.” “There was another guy from West Frankfort who was in the same squadron with us. Name was Lee and after the war he came back and operated the Dixie Cream Donut Shop on the
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The crew of the Betty J. included a pilot, co-pilot, navigator, bombardier, radio operator, nose turret, top turret, 2 waist gunners, ball turret, Engram is pictured center front.
Lt. Engram and another crew member check out the damage to the Betty J caused by the mine.
west side of town. In fact,” he recalled, “he was the leader in one of the missions where we got shot all to pieces in our airplane. It blew a big
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hole right next to my head. It hit the navigator in the tail and the bombardier broke his finger. We lost so much gasoline that we were running really
Photo by Cheryl Engram Francis
short on fuel, so we landed at Saipan, instead of going on to Guam like we were supposed to.” “Well, we thought our landing gear on the right side was still intact, but as soon as we lost flying speed, that right landing gear on my side of the airplane folded up, the wing dropped on the runway, and we crashed off the runway into a big ditch. I called to the guys at the back and said, ‘You’re not going to get another invitation; when we crash, we might blowup. You better all get your stuff together to get your butts out of here.; As soon as we hit, I threw the master switch to shut everything down and kill all the sparks. Those guys jumped out so fast, it looked like a covey of quail out there. Everybody got out fine, and that ended that mission. Our commanding officer came over to us and said, ‘I believe you people need to be sent on combat fatigue.’”
Lt. Colonel Thomas B. Engram currently lives in Carbondale where he resides after retiring as supervisor of the SIU Physical Plant for many years.
Hometown Heroes
Sue Ann Webb and Cathy Sanders “dead head” one of the flower boxes on Main Street. Want to duplicate the look? The box contains nine varieties of flowers: Angelina, African daisies, Geraniums, Marigolds, Vinca, Sweet Potatoe vines, Wave Petunias, Verbena and Victoria Blue Salvia.
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f some people have green thumbs, then West Frankfort residents Sue Ann Webb and Cathy Sanders must have 10 verdant digits. “Flowers are our passion,” explains Cathy. “We take road trips to Evansville, Galatia. Belle Rive and Murphysboro just to find certain flowers.” But local residents don’t have to drive that far to see the results of their floral forays. One only has to drive down Main Street and see the beautiful flower boxes that Sanders and Webb have volunteered to design and plant. “We usually start in May the week after Mother’s Day when the danger of frost is over,” said Sanders. “The city provides us with about $400 and we are able to use that to buy flowers for 4 large planters and 12 smaller ones on Main Street. The flowers are delivered to the Fire Department and then we spend about five to six hours doing the actual planting. It takes us about 1213 trips in my SUV just to haul the plants from the Fire Department.” This is the fourth year for the Main Street project. The duo has also volunteered for planting flowers at the I-57 exit, the Strand Theater Park and the flower box in front of Frankfort Elementary School. Webb is a teacher at St. John’s Catholic School in West Frankfort and Sanders teaches in McLeansboro but lives in West Frankfort. Their residences, at 702 E. Elm and 413 N. Washington respectively, are also beautifully landscaped. As to why they do it, the ladies responded, “It makes our town look happy. It puts a smile on your face when you drive through. It just makes our town look pretty.” Summer 2013
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MONUMENTS FOR LESS By FAMILY HERITAGE STONEWORKS Monuments • Yard Rocks • Pet Markers • Signs Gary W Hood
1909 E. Charles St. West Frankfort, IL 62896
By Appointment 618 • 513-1153
Since 2001
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