The Karen Files, pt. 3

Every old-movie buff has seen scenes set in nightclubs in which a pretty gal with a camera sidles over to the protagonists’ booth and asks if they’d like to have a picture taken.

We’ve often wondered, when watching one of these movies, just how common a practice it was for night spots, tony and otherwise, to employ someone whose job it was to take and sell souvenir photographs. Was it always a woman?

And if it was common, what’s become of all those pictures?

Well, we can tell you what became of one of them.

As part of our ongoing weekly tribute to our mother, we’re very pleased indeed to share with you this shot, discovered in the days following Mom’s passing, as we explored hundreds of stashed-away photos and documents that she long meant to take down from the attic and organize.

The cover of the folder that held the souvenir photograph Karen and Lloyd in the middle, Marilyn and Ronnie on the left, Katie and Lowell on the right

The setting, as you can see from the cover of the folder in which the picture was stored, was Louie’s Club 29, which was located at 2929 S.W. 29th Street in Oklahoma City.

We’re guessing the year was right around 1955, give or take a year or two. Mom and Dad can be found smack dab in the middle of the picture, and she hasn’t yet gone blond, a transformation that occurred in the late ’50s. And that’s Dad’s younger sister, Marilyn, and her first husband, Ronnie, on the left, each sporting a wedding ring. As Dad recalls it, they were wed in 1954 or so.

And that’s Katie and Lowell (Lo-Lo to us kids) on the right, backyard neighbors to our folks from 1955 through 1964. The two couples were so close they ran a fireworks stand together for a couple of summers in the mid-1950s (doesn’t that sound like the plot of a forgotten I Love Lucy episode? Fireworks: Lucy hatches a get-rich-scheme, convincing the Mertzes to go in with the Ricardos on a seasonal fireworks stand).

There are other details we find intriguing about this photo. For one, everyone appears to be limiting themselves to Coca-Cola—there are several bottles scattered about the small table and what appears to be an ice bucket. Was that how soft drinks were served at Louie’s: self-service, with bottles, glasses, and a bucket of ice provided?

We note from the cover of the photo folder that Louie’s Club 29 featured three floor shows nightly. We don’t mind admitting we’d give our eyeteeth to see one of those shows.

And the photograph, as the cover touts, was taken by a gal named Peggy. We can’t help but wonder where Peggy is today. Is she still snapping souvenir photos somewhere at some time-capsule of a night spot? Probably not, but here’s hoping she’s still going strong somewhere—taking photos of her great-grandkids, perhaps.

The Karen Files, pt. 2

There comes a time in every kid’s life when he’s hit with the realization that his parents weren’t born married—that, before they found each other, they dated, danced with, even smooched other people.

It can be a jarring, worldview-altering revelation for a young person.

Our own mom (Karen, as we’ve all come to know her here at Cladrite Radio) was very popular with the fellows. She may not have been a world-class beauty (though who’s to say? That’s so subjective), but she was cute and friendly, fun and energetic—a bundle of vivacious personality.

And over the years, she shared some great tales of her youthful romantic exploits with my three siblings and I. Like the time she went on five dates in one day with five different guys (our father likes to remind those hearing this tale for the first time that, while he can’t be certain he was the last beau she saw that day, if he wasn’t, the last date sure got off to a late start). Or the time she saw the same movie—The Eddie Cantor Story—six times in two weeks with, yes, six different guys.

Or there’s the time that late, great Bob Wills stepped down from the stage in an Oklahoma City dancehall, leaving his Texas Playboys to fend for themselves, while he cut in on my father, who was dancing at the time with Karen. No only was Mom one to dance with the one who, to use the common parlance, brung her, she, in the very flower of young adulthood, was especially disinclined to cut a rug with the hoary Wills, especially after he started letting his mitts wander where they didn’t belong.

There were so many stories, each more entertaining than the last—enough to fill a book.

After the initial shock of learning that our folks weren’t always connected at the hip—that, in fact, for most of their early years, they were total strangers—one grows accustomed to the idea, and moves on to the other great shocks that life invariably holds in store for all of us. (Have you gotten the straight scoop on Santa Claus yet? We were stunned at the news, ourselves.)

The decades zip by and we all grow older, and it’s easy to almost forget our parents ever were callow youth (or, for that matter, that we were)—until that dark day that a parent passes, and one digs deeply into the mementos of her life.

Which is where we are, dear readers, as those of you who are regular readers of this ongoing journal have already learned. And that’s why we’re devoting every Friday for the foreseeable future to a weekly look back at Karen’s life.

This week’s photos were almost as shocking to us as those first accounts of her dating adventures back in the day (well, not really, but humor us). For they depict her in the company of a stranger (to us, that is), a strapping man who is not, unsettling as it is to realize, our father.

           
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And danged if she isn’t looking into his eyes in lovestruck fashion, too. How dare she? Didn’t she know that she’d be meeting our father within a year or two? Didn’t she know that they’d fall in love, get married, have four kids together, and stay together until death did them part?

And who brought the bottle of Calvert scotch that’s featured in the fourth photo?

So many questions.

We have only just spotted Mom’s lifelong pal Patsy in a couple of the photos. She and Karen met in college and Dad has no idea who the schmo in the photo is (what’s more, he doesn’t seem particularly upset that she had something of a love life before they met), so we’ll see if we can get in touch with Patsy and ask her if she knows who Karen’s dreamboat date was the night.

Keep checking this space for the answers.

The Karen Files, pt. 1

As we told you yesterday, we’re going to be sharing with you some photos and documents we discovered in dusty boxes and crates last week following the passing of our mother.

It’s our way of celebrating her life, and we are confident she’d be pleased at our (and, we hope, your) interest.

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Our first offering depicts both Karen as a young girl and her folks in their salad days, which we found exciting. We had somehow reached a ripe old age (well, not that old) without ever having seen a picture of our mother’s folks as young marrieds, and that situation has now been rectified.

Karen is the little tot in the front of the line, and the young gentleman just behind her is her brother Cecil, Jr. Behind him stand our grandparents, Cecil Sr. and Frances. We love Granddad’s suit, and were pleased to see Grandmother looking lovelier than we might ever have imagined.

Who the other four people are, we don’t know, but we’ll look into it and get back to you.

This shot was taken in on April 21, 1935. The setting is very likely somewhere in Oklahoma—Okemah, perhaps, or Norman. Karen was two years old.

As with most images at Cladrite Radio, you can click the photo to see a larger version of it or select the hi-res link below the photo to do some real scouring for detail.

Watch this space in days to come for more from the Karen Files.