January 8, 2014 Upate

1. 

This shot was taken around 1962 when we lived in the house on far west Olive in Porterville. It was located just across (west of) the Tule River bridge and on the south side of the road. It's still there though a different color and it has been built onto. Dad had a "flat top" haircut for the first time ever. Not sure who put him up  to that or why. He only had it about a year or so and he switched back to his usual "do".

I don't have a time line on this picture but I'm confident that it was taken in Duncan, OK. He appears to be about 5 or 6 years old here.

This was at the funeral in late April of '79.  It is of minor note that his estranged wife, Fran, had, for whatever reason, tried to block having the funeral and burial in Porterville. She wanted it be in Fresno though she actually didn't even live there any longer. There is a politic that was there about which I have yet to be informed. There was a bit of a power struggle but the family prevailed in the end. The funeral parlor in Fresno simply shipped him home to the family in Porterville and was done with the matter. Prayer works.

David Ray died in Dec of that same year ('79).  I don't recall the exact date but it was close to the middle of the month. He died on the 10th I believe after being in a coma for a couple of weeks after Thanksgiving Day. He was cremated and buried in the same plot with Dad. He was just shy of his 29th birthday which was December 21. The plot is at the "Hillcrest Cemetery" in Porterville where just about all of our kith and kin are buried.

It looks like Rocky Hill in the background which would place this shot out on the east end of Hooterville. That tells us, then, that this is very likely Page Street and where Tut and Vernie Clark lived for many many years. They ran a fertilizer hauling business for a long time in this area. There used to be many chicken ranches in this area and Tut would haul off and sell the chicken manure. Fuzzy Sanders and my dad both worked for Tut in their younger days. I believe that that's how Fuzzy got started in the trucking business.
Tut was married into the family for a few years when he was married to Willie Sanders, my grandmother's sister. They were both quite young and times were tough in those days. He and Willie divorced but the family just adopted him anyway. I took Dad to see the Tut shortly prior to his passing. Vernie, his wife, passed away a couple of years later as I recall. Nice folks, to be sure. The timeline is probably around 1951 which would make the toddler that Dad is carrying David Ray.

Speaking of David Ray, this is him in  '65. We lived on North Prospect just north of N. Grand here in Porterville. The house is still there. Dave was a natural athlete. In fact, the boy had phenomenal abilities. The coaches from PC came to the high school when he was a freshman and recruited him to come teach the "big boys" how to high jump. He could have been a true star but frittered it away. I was and still am mystified why he wouldn't focus on doing something with that talent. He had more athletic ability in his little toe than I every had in my entire body.

David Ray the guitar player. Yes, he did play the guitar. However, he really never applied himself to it so usually just played a bit of rhythm. His timing was pretty good and he did toss in a few lead licks. This was taken on James Street in Fresno and it was probably the summer of '79. He lived in Fresno at the time in a halfway house. His life was always one of recovery. It was sad.

The "Tres Hermanos" in April of '74. I had just moved back from Rockford, IL after 5 years. Steve on the left and David on the right. This is the house on 1700 N. Newcomb where mom still lives. I was 25, Dave was 23 and Steve was 20.

This is Steve and his first wife, Cleta. This was taken at Dad's post-funeral reception that was held at Bob and Elaine Batten's house in P'ville.

Steve playing Dad's '53 Telecaster in Fort Scott, KS. This is probably '58 making Steve right at 5 years old or just short of that. Although he played the guitar well, Steve ended up being one of the best bass players around. The Tele ended up with a friend of Dad's, Jim Knapton. I suppose dad needed the money at the time and let his "ax" go. Jim, another g-tar picker (though not all that good of one as I recall), moved to Las Vegas and his family probably still has it. It's worth a lot of money if that's the case. Dad had the matching herringbone amp too and held onto it until the early '60s. I don't recall what happened to it. It, too, was worth a ton of money.

"The Band". Alen Jackson, far left, is still a professional musician who even played with Buck Trent in Branson. This area has produced a lot of great talent and Alen is one of the best and brightest. We stay in regular contact and get to visit once in awhile.

 Next to him is Sonny Carter, an excellent guitarist to this day. He and his wife, Beth, live  in Port Angeles, WA. I had the opportunity to visit with them a few years ago. It was good to see him after a long long time.

I forgot the next kid's name but that's Steve-o on the far right. They're all about 14. I was in Illinois at the time but wish that I could have heard these guys.





                                          
Not that there was any doubt, but the entirety
of the Connie Minnick clan was musical. This my
mother, Geraldine, on the drums. This shot was
taken at the "Senior Citizen's Center" at the Santa Fe
Depot in Porterville in the early "oughts". My guess
is about '02. She also plays lead, rhythm, and bass
guitar and sings too! 'Scuze me for bragging but my mother
is the easiest drummer to play behind that I've ever seen.
Her rock solid timing takes the work out of playing music. Some drummers
can work you to death (you pickers know what I'm talkin' about).

 

 

 

Here's a shot of the Ol' Wingnut, himself. This was taken at Eckert Field in Strathmore, CA probably in '97.  The plane is an early '70's Cessna 150 which was just barely powerful enough to haul me off the ground (at about 200 lbs in the picture). I flew this plane quite a bit until the guy sold the airport and the planes and they were no longer available for rent. The airport (surrounded by orange groves) has a runway that is only 2,000' long. One has to be mindful of density altitude on hot days when flying out of such a short field. Otherwise, you are no longer a pilot; you are an orange picker. The nice hairdo is courtesy of the headset I had just taken off. I had just stepped out of the plane from a trip to "Meadow's Field" airport in Bakersfield where I took the written test for my commercial license.