Get the Hell out of Dodge - Part 2
Coming from Scotland, I have seen my fair share of rain. I have even endured Arkansas rain, but I have never experienced rain such as the deluge I encountered in Wichita.
The raindrops were so fat they glinted like diamonds on the Queen’s tiara as they thumped down onto the pavement. They also obviously contained some kind of rubber, for on hitting the ground they bounced back up at least two feet. This meant you got hit on the head on their way down and your legs were pummeled on the way back up. They fell in such multitudes from the sky that I was drenched top down and bottom up within the two seconds it took for me to get out of the car and put up my umbrella.
Eight inches (20 cm) fell within eight hours on the Saturday of our week in Wichita, which was to be an opportunity for us to catch up and stay with a former US Navy buddy of Richard’s over the July 4th celebrations.
A sudden furious thunderstorm lashed Benny, our intrepid truck, and the Jet, our 38ft 5th wheel trailer parked in the FAMCAMP on McConnel Airforce Base during our first night in Wichita. Our second morning, Saturday, was hot and steamy, and I was soaked in perspiration by the time we had delivered our suitcases to Brent and Janet’s home. I was thankful for the air-conditioned stores which helped Janet and I stay cool as we went shopping for accessories to further enhance the Jet.
That evening our friends were attending a pre-booked show downtown, so Richard and I were looking forward to the opportunity to do a pub-crawl in the lively old downtown whilst our friends were at the musical.
The rain began as we arrived at the Anchor diner for a pre-show meal. As mentioned above, in the few seconds it took to get out of Brent’s car, I was soaked. I froze in the air-conditioned Anchor, but tried hard to ignore that clammy feeling and enjoy my meal. We left the diner when we noticed the rain seemed to have abated, but by the time Brent dropped us off at our first brewery (from where we planned to move on to a couple of others that were hosting live bands) the downpour had started again. And yes, you have guessed it, I was drenched once more.
The rain never stopped. I spent the first of the four hours we spent in the brewery, shivering in the air-conditioning, yet it was too daunting to contemplate moving on to a new venue. Thank goodness for the great music playing in the background, and the warming and medicinal effect of Vodka. Our evening had not become a total washout. Yet.
Ignoring my feelings of guilt and unease at how Benny and the Jet were holding up against this torrential rain, I was looking forward to being safely and warmly tucked up in bed in Brent and Janet’s basement - a very large basement, with living room, ping-pong room, bedroom, bathroom, boiler room, and various other storage rooms. Nice.
We descended the stairs only to hear rushing water, and traced the source to a waterfall rushing through a previously unknown poorly sealed hole in the wall into the boiler room. A sump pump (presumably installed in all basements for just such emergencies) and Brent’s industrial Texas-sized wet/dry vacuum cleared the worst before we went to bed. I was emotionally drained by the time I finally fell asleep at around 2 am, despite the thunder and lightning that continued in the sky far above us.
It wasn’t until I walked barefoot on the carpet on Sunday morning that I realized the flooding had not just been through the obvious hole in the wall. That wet and dry vacuum paid for itself once more. Poor Brent and Janet however, were stoic in their handling of the situation and said they would worry about getting the source of the leaks looked at after the 4th of July holiday, which was to be the next day.
The previous year we had watched a 4th of July parade in Westcliffe, Colorado, but I really didn’t get a feel for what the celebrations were all about. Twelve months ago, with only 6 months of living in the US under my knowledge belt, I hadn’t had much opportunity to learn about US history. My recent visits to museums in Virginia, Washington DC, and in Pennsylvania earlier this year, however, made all the difference in the world in helping me appreciate what this holiday commemorates.
The family Brent, Janet and Richard and I were invited to spend the evening with, was famous for their annual party to celebrate their country’s independence from British Rule. More than 100 people were fed and watered in the gardens of a Ranch house, to the north of the city. The patriotic patriarch of the family had hosted this party for many years, with a film show commemorating history and the best of what an independent democratic America stands for, along with singing of patriotic songs, a parade by all the attending children on bicycles and any other forms of transport they could manage, and as a grand finale, a 15 minute fireworks display.
It was a wonderful afternoon and evening, full of family and humble thanks for the good and positive blessings enjoyed by American citizens, a gentle patriotism that I found much more palatable than people flaunting their ability to openly carry weapons of all descriptions.
So, as promised, to the epilogue of our visit to Dodge City...
As mentioned previously, we visited to find out a little more about Richard’s family on his father’s side. A family rift during his grandfather Homer Tepe’s lifetime had left Richard knowing very little about his dad’s ancestors. A friend’s genealogical research had given us some exciting information about the Tepes living in Dodge City. Richard’s great-grandfather, George Homer Tepe, emigrated from Germany to the USA in 1849 aged 11. He registered for the Civil war aged 25, in Ohio, and would therefore have been on the Union side. He married, moved to Missouri, and in 1878, moved on to Dodge City. He was a shoemaker.
By 1890 (when Dodge City’s heyday had passed) George had three sons, and three daughters, and had moved to Canadian, in the Texas panhandle. His three sons made their living via lumber and hardware. Ben, the eldest, owned a string of lumber yards across southern Kansas, and in the Texas panhandle. Ben had 5 children. In 1917 Homer, the middle son, moved to Eagle Nest in northern New Mexico to establish a lumber business there. This same area is where Homer raised his son Ben, Richard’s father. Eagle Nest is the town where, eventually, his dad ran a motel and garage/gas filling station. Richard also spent his first 12 years there, and the local historical society have raised a placard outside their erstwhile Tepe home with a photo of Ben, his mom Clarabel, his brother Jim, and Richard as a toddler.
In 1922, Homer and Fred, the youngest son, bought over The Misner Plumbing and Heating Company in Dodge City, further expanding their hardware business interests back in their old stomping ground.
You can imagine how delighted we were to find a store that bore the Tepe name, on 2nd Street. It had once been a hardware store that now specialized in sewing machines. I do believe, and I will be doing some research to confirm my suspicion that this was sitting in the same location of the previously mentioned Misner store which I suspect was once owned by Zimmerman – relocated in brick there after the fire that destroyed the original wooden Zimmerman store on Front Street.
Imagine our surprise at meeting the owner, Brad Tepe. He was similarly delighted in meeting someone who bore the rather unusual Tepe name. He told us he knew very little about his family history as there had been a family fall out when his grandfather Lawrence Tepe was alive.
Sound familiar? Do my detective antennae sense something here? Did something happen to make Homer Tepe get the hell out of Dodge, never to return? Time to get online and do some more research, methinks! In the meantime, here is a picture of Brad and Richard. I think they look extremely similar – what do you think?
The raindrops were so fat they glinted like diamonds on the Queen’s tiara as they thumped down onto the pavement. They also obviously contained some kind of rubber, for on hitting the ground they bounced back up at least two feet. This meant you got hit on the head on their way down and your legs were pummeled on the way back up. They fell in such multitudes from the sky that I was drenched top down and bottom up within the two seconds it took for me to get out of the car and put up my umbrella.
Eight inches (20 cm) fell within eight hours on the Saturday of our week in Wichita, which was to be an opportunity for us to catch up and stay with a former US Navy buddy of Richard’s over the July 4th celebrations.
A sudden furious thunderstorm lashed Benny, our intrepid truck, and the Jet, our 38ft 5th wheel trailer parked in the FAMCAMP on McConnel Airforce Base during our first night in Wichita. Our second morning, Saturday, was hot and steamy, and I was soaked in perspiration by the time we had delivered our suitcases to Brent and Janet’s home. I was thankful for the air-conditioned stores which helped Janet and I stay cool as we went shopping for accessories to further enhance the Jet.
That evening our friends were attending a pre-booked show downtown, so Richard and I were looking forward to the opportunity to do a pub-crawl in the lively old downtown whilst our friends were at the musical.
The rain began as we arrived at the Anchor diner for a pre-show meal. As mentioned above, in the few seconds it took to get out of Brent’s car, I was soaked. I froze in the air-conditioned Anchor, but tried hard to ignore that clammy feeling and enjoy my meal. We left the diner when we noticed the rain seemed to have abated, but by the time Brent dropped us off at our first brewery (from where we planned to move on to a couple of others that were hosting live bands) the downpour had started again. And yes, you have guessed it, I was drenched once more.
The rain never stopped. I spent the first of the four hours we spent in the brewery, shivering in the air-conditioning, yet it was too daunting to contemplate moving on to a new venue. Thank goodness for the great music playing in the background, and the warming and medicinal effect of Vodka. Our evening had not become a total washout. Yet.
Ignoring my feelings of guilt and unease at how Benny and the Jet were holding up against this torrential rain, I was looking forward to being safely and warmly tucked up in bed in Brent and Janet’s basement - a very large basement, with living room, ping-pong room, bedroom, bathroom, boiler room, and various other storage rooms. Nice.
We descended the stairs only to hear rushing water, and traced the source to a waterfall rushing through a previously unknown poorly sealed hole in the wall into the boiler room. A sump pump (presumably installed in all basements for just such emergencies) and Brent’s industrial Texas-sized wet/dry vacuum cleared the worst before we went to bed. I was emotionally drained by the time I finally fell asleep at around 2 am, despite the thunder and lightning that continued in the sky far above us.
It wasn’t until I walked barefoot on the carpet on Sunday morning that I realized the flooding had not just been through the obvious hole in the wall. That wet and dry vacuum paid for itself once more. Poor Brent and Janet however, were stoic in their handling of the situation and said they would worry about getting the source of the leaks looked at after the 4th of July holiday, which was to be the next day.
The previous year we had watched a 4th of July parade in Westcliffe, Colorado, but I really didn’t get a feel for what the celebrations were all about. Twelve months ago, with only 6 months of living in the US under my knowledge belt, I hadn’t had much opportunity to learn about US history. My recent visits to museums in Virginia, Washington DC, and in Pennsylvania earlier this year, however, made all the difference in the world in helping me appreciate what this holiday commemorates.
The family Brent, Janet and Richard and I were invited to spend the evening with, was famous for their annual party to celebrate their country’s independence from British Rule. More than 100 people were fed and watered in the gardens of a Ranch house, to the north of the city. The patriotic patriarch of the family had hosted this party for many years, with a film show commemorating history and the best of what an independent democratic America stands for, along with singing of patriotic songs, a parade by all the attending children on bicycles and any other forms of transport they could manage, and as a grand finale, a 15 minute fireworks display.
It was a wonderful afternoon and evening, full of family and humble thanks for the good and positive blessings enjoyed by American citizens, a gentle patriotism that I found much more palatable than people flaunting their ability to openly carry weapons of all descriptions.
So, as promised, to the epilogue of our visit to Dodge City...
As mentioned previously, we visited to find out a little more about Richard’s family on his father’s side. A family rift during his grandfather Homer Tepe’s lifetime had left Richard knowing very little about his dad’s ancestors. A friend’s genealogical research had given us some exciting information about the Tepes living in Dodge City. Richard’s great-grandfather, George Homer Tepe, emigrated from Germany to the USA in 1849 aged 11. He registered for the Civil war aged 25, in Ohio, and would therefore have been on the Union side. He married, moved to Missouri, and in 1878, moved on to Dodge City. He was a shoemaker.
By 1890 (when Dodge City’s heyday had passed) George had three sons, and three daughters, and had moved to Canadian, in the Texas panhandle. His three sons made their living via lumber and hardware. Ben, the eldest, owned a string of lumber yards across southern Kansas, and in the Texas panhandle. Ben had 5 children. In 1917 Homer, the middle son, moved to Eagle Nest in northern New Mexico to establish a lumber business there. This same area is where Homer raised his son Ben, Richard’s father. Eagle Nest is the town where, eventually, his dad ran a motel and garage/gas filling station. Richard also spent his first 12 years there, and the local historical society have raised a placard outside their erstwhile Tepe home with a photo of Ben, his mom Clarabel, his brother Jim, and Richard as a toddler.
In 1922, Homer and Fred, the youngest son, bought over The Misner Plumbing and Heating Company in Dodge City, further expanding their hardware business interests back in their old stomping ground.
You can imagine how delighted we were to find a store that bore the Tepe name, on 2nd Street. It had once been a hardware store that now specialized in sewing machines. I do believe, and I will be doing some research to confirm my suspicion that this was sitting in the same location of the previously mentioned Misner store which I suspect was once owned by Zimmerman – relocated in brick there after the fire that destroyed the original wooden Zimmerman store on Front Street.
Imagine our surprise at meeting the owner, Brad Tepe. He was similarly delighted in meeting someone who bore the rather unusual Tepe name. He told us he knew very little about his family history as there had been a family fall out when his grandfather Lawrence Tepe was alive.
Sound familiar? Do my detective antennae sense something here? Did something happen to make Homer Tepe get the hell out of Dodge, never to return? Time to get online and do some more research, methinks! In the meantime, here is a picture of Brad and Richard. I think they look extremely similar – what do you think?
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