When I was 14, I did all kinds of different odd jobs. I had a chicken farm, had an ice cream operation in the summertime, worked as a caddy; all things to make money and save money. Save money in order to invest - that was the first step, though I never really accumulated very much because of other demands like bicycles and things like that." --- Charles Schwab
Growing up in 1930s and 1940s Franklinton with younger brothers James "Jim" Lampton and Thomas "Tommy" Russell Richardson, R. W. "Dick" Richardson had a youth that conjures up images of Mayberry. The son of Frank Lampton and Nora Wood Richardson, he attended Franklinton Elementary School and Franklinton High School, where he graduated in 1951 as president of his senior class. This, he referred to as his "next big claim to fame." But before that, he amassed interesting experiences, here in his hometown. Mr. Dick pinpointed his youth, "Mainly, it was during the Second World War." The daughter of WWII era parents, I was spellbound.
Elaborating, Mr. Dick described how everything hinged on rationing, from gas to sugar. Food stamps were used to buy the latter. And there was the Civil Air Patrol, run by Harriett Green and Opal Simmons, with a spotter house built atop the old jail. Citizens took shifts there, calling a number in New Orleans if any airplanes were spotted. As Harriett was Walter Green's older sister, he and his pal Dick were assigned a shift to watch. Mr. Dick explained, "We were on stand-by because we weren't really old enough." But what excitement and responsibility!
Being young didn't deter Dick from much of anything. With his dad Frank the operator of a pressing shop - Dependable Cleaners - on Cleveland Street, Dick was the delivery driver. He explained that during the war driver permits were issued to twelve-year-olds whose families had a business. So, at twelve years of age, Dick was driving the delivery vehicle, while his brother Jim hung on the fender, distributing clothes and picking them up. Gas was rationed during the war on an ABC scale; with a business, the Richardsons were allocated five gallons a week to make deliveries.
After the brothers ran their regular route on Saturdays - "everything had to go out on Saturday" - they would treat themselves to a dressed hamburger and a coke at Charlie Manning's wife's café, which was situated where Subway is today. Total cost for a burger and coke - 25 cents. I can't imagine. And the back entrance to the pool hall wasn't far. With a gleam in his eye, Mr. Dick reminisced, "We didn't want to get caught in there, but we'd slip in."
With a mind like a filing cabinet, Mr. Dick laid out the businesses, as they were downtown in the 1930s and 1940s. There was Washington Bank on the corner of Washington Street, with Dr. McGehee's office upstairs. And Squinch Erwin's, my Mamie's first husband, law office for a period of time. Other businesses were Bickham's Grocery and Barney Welch's shoe shop and a variety store, like a five and dime, where the boys played pinball. This was also where Ms. Lillian Wood brought milk from Wood's Dairy and left it, for Dick and his cousin Earl Wood to deliver about town on bicycles. They were industrious.
It was at this juncture that Mr. Dick's wife Marilyn interjected, "You did a lot of stuff." He clarified, "I had a real good time." And this reminded him of the potatoes. Dick also worked at Jim Burris's potato platform. After the farmers brought in Irish potatoes from their fields, the produce was dumped and washed before being tossed in sacks. Mr. Dick declared, "I was the sack sewer." It was his job to sew up the sacks of potatoes before they were whisked away to market on the railway. His first paycheck was ten dollars, a lot of money in that day, and it was burning a hole in his pocket. Walking home, Dick passed Ralph Wilson's Hardware store where he bought a shiny leather baseball glove, in the window, for $9.95. He told it as if it were yesterday. And though his mother gave him a whipping when he made it home, for spending all his earnings, it may have been worth it. In any event, the punishment turned out not to be his last.
With buddy Kaye Varnado, who lived right behind the original "Era-Leader" office and whose father was the Fire Chief and Scoutmaster, young Dick would go camping. It tickled the boys when Mr. Varnado would blow the fire siren out in the woods. But when the boys were on their own, up in their treehouse, Kaye taught Dick to smoke. Kind of ironic, I thought, the Fire Chief's son smoking. But boys will be boys. And after Dick and his brother Jim smoked on Methodist youth fellowship retreats in their pup tent, they chewed pine straw so the chaperones couldn't smell the smoke on their breath. All was fine until their mother Nora caught them. Mr. Dick recalled, "It was a long time before I smoked again."
Such antics reminded me of what Mark Twain once said, "My mother had a great deal of trouble with me, but I think she enjoyed it." It's apropos that Mark Twain came to mind as Mr. Dick is a relative, relatively close, of Samuel Clemens (also known as Mark Twain). As well known historian Bill Stafford told me, "It's a pretty solid line." It traces from Twain's mother Jane Lampton Clemens who was directly kin to Benjamin Lampton who settled in Tylertown; Dick's great-grandmother Nancy Lampton Richardson hailed from Tylertown. According to my friend Bill, Dick Richardson is a second cousin three times removed to Samuel Clemens/Mark Twain. Another claim to fame, if you ask me.
•Stay tuned next week for Part 4 of Remembering the Richardsons which begins with football at Franklinton High School.
