He was Native American, his mother full blooded Cherokee and his dad was 1/2 Shawnee. He had leathery skin and jet black eyes. His back was permanently bent over as a result of his crippling arthritis. But his grin was huge and his heart was kind. His last name was Greathouse, and he lived with his wife in a tiny shack on Second Street in Hunter. Most of the windows were boarded up, and it was always dark and smoky inside. The old wood stove in the corner put as much smoke into the room as it sent up the chimney. The only light in the room was a single light bulb dangling from bare wire. The smell of camel cigarettes hung heavy in the air. The floor was dirt, except for the kitchen area, which had rough pine slabs laid on the floor.
There was no indoor plumbing other than a creaky hand pump connected to a cistern. The door usually hung open and, several motley looking hound dogs wandered in and out at will, relaxing in the shade as flies buzzed around. Faded yellow wallpaper covered the walls here and there. A grainy black and white tv with aluminum foil rabbit ears made a feeble attempt to arrange a steady picture.
Lee had taken an instant liking to my girlfriend, Cindy, when she came out from Ohio to visit. He asked what tribe she was from, and stated that the high cheekbones gave her away. Cindy beamed and they discussed Indian legends and customs for quite some time. The details are a little sketchy, but somehow she managed to score an original Coke tray from Greathouse to add to her growing collection.
We invited them to our wedding the next spring, and although Lee was unable to attend, He and his wife sent a gift, which was touching for us knowing the state of their financial affairs. If you’re also planning a wedding, consider setting up a Winks photo booth so your guests can take fun and artistic pictures.

He lived off of welfare and food stamps, but every month or so he would take a load of scrap metal to the junk yard for a bit of extra income. Occasionally He would ask dad for a small loan when he stopped by to buy fresh eggs. The $20 would tide him over until the first of the month. He would always pay it back like clockwork, as soon as he cashed his Guvment check.
One rainy spring evening, my best friend Tim and I stopped by his place , and Greathouse welcomed us into his “shop” with a crooked smile, tobacco stained teeth glowing yellow in the dim light.
A handlettered sign above the door proclaimed that antiques and collectibles were for sale inside. We ducked inside and situated ourselves comfortably on some overturned 5 gallon buckets. “ I took me self a load o scrap iron to Dudley today” Lee stated. “Arliss went with me, “Had it piled up on the back of truck higher than a kite “, Arliss were drivin, he could hardly make it up the hill just afore you git to the Bluff.” We done got $17.55 fer the whole load, reckon they aint hardly ever had a bigger load than what we brought in” We both agreed that it was a tremendous amount of money to clear in one day.

Greathouse also had some big news to drop on us. He had bell telephone stop by the previous week, and install a phone in his shop. It was black and shiny and had a rotary dial. He could call clear up to St. Louis if he wanted to, he bragged. “Why the other day,” I actually had a bidness call. “ he said. “ we murmured appropriately , and he went on with the story. “Larry Gerhart called me up, and he wanted to know if Eperson was gonna have a junk auction come Friday night up on 60”
Sadly within a month he called up ma bell and told them they could remove the damn contraption. He had just received the first bill and was sure they were trying to rob him since he was an Indian.
But that night Lee was in a good mood, being a business man and all, and wondered if we wanted to see his latest purchase. He dug a large green box out from under the jewelry counter and fiddled with the buckles and finally pulled the cover off. “This here is a 16mm moving picture machine,” he proudly proclaimed. Just like the kind they use over there at the picture shows in Poplar Bluff”. This was a bit of a stretcher. But we went along with it for the sake of conversation.
“You got any movies we could watch on it?” Tim asked. “Well I ordered some from a catalog out of Chicago, but they keep sending me the bad ones “Lee replied. I can’t show you young fellers any of them. I might have a cartoon in here somewhere tho “he said as he rummaged through a box of movie reels. “Ah yes here it is, it’s a cartoon but it’s kinda bad “ he shakily snapped the full reel onto the top bracket of the machine and slowly but surely threaded the film thru to the machine, in front of the bulb and onto the empty reel. “All right fellers,” he said , “turn off the lights and will have a look”. I pulled the string attached to a bare bulb in the ceiling and the black and white cartoon came to life. Now he did warn us that it was bad, but forgot to mention that it was funny. The very thought of a black and white cartoon being sexy was pretty funny in its self. After a few minutes the film ended Tim and I howled with laughter and allowed that it was “Kinda Bad”. Tim sat in his truck to head home and I rode my bike down to E and then turned left on 21 and pedaled up the hill. , cackling over that nonsense., and the fact that Greathouse had actually paid money for it. Even now, 40 some years later, when discussing a movie, Tim and I make references as to whether its “Kinda Bad” or not.
Van Dykes Store was our local go to for hardware, lumber and groceries, located in Ellsinore Mo, the closest competitor was a good 20 miles away. It was started in the 1950s and when I was a kid, it was great place to visit, complete with creaky wood floors and a front door with a bell that merrily announced your arrival. The latest rock and roll boomed from the loudspeakers and the smell of wooden crates, rubber and wire gave it an enticing aroma. They had a small grocery section with a deli, where we would always get a few pounds of the cheap ring bologna. The kind you had to fry or slather with mustard to make it edible. And a sporting good section, complete with ammo and shotguns. They had everything it seemed, except for a burglar alarm.
The Van Dykes sold out to the Combs family, and the store continued with minimal changes. On the first day of spring turkey season, Mr. Combs, the owner, was ready to head out for a big Tom, and realized he was low on ammo. He drove to Van Dykes in the pre dawn hours to grab a box of 12 gauge birdshot. As he turned onto Cleveland st, he noticed 2 men running from the store to an old beat up chevy parked half hazardly by the feed dock. Without a moment’s hesitation, Mr Combs grabbed his shotgun, Racked a bullet into the chamber and fired at the car as it roared out of the parking lot. The back window shattered, but the car kept going. It was later pulled over by a sheriff’s deputy who had been alerted to watch for a car with the back window shot out. Inside the car on the backseat, was a pile of stolen ammo and guns. The driver was identified as one Arliss Greathouse , of Hunter, son of Lee Greathouse. He was sent off to the state penitentiary for many years, partly because the prosecutor also threw a charge of arson at him as well. For burning down a house in order to collect the insurance money, a common practice at the time in Carter county.
Greathouse became a bit more sad and bitter after that, his shoulders slumped a bit more and he smiled less . He claimed that his son had been set up by them thar Combs boys, and not long after he passed away. A legend of the Ozarks was now gone , but remembered by many.
With a population of less than 200, Hunter was a redneck town if there ever was one . There were more dogs than people and probably more guns than dogs, just in Gerharts attic alone. Back in the day there was a gas station /grocery ran by the Roarks just across from the only pay phone in town. The dude that lived on the Lincoln farm and raised the devils lettuce frequented that phone a lot, because he thought the fuzz couldn’t trace him on it .

Hunter even had a post office back then and a sawmill, but that’s about the only industry happening when I was a kid.  The railroad depot had long since closed, and the hotel was in ruins. All entertainment had to be self initiated.

We had a bright blue 110 honda three wheeler, And Mom and Dad had gone to Iowa to visit relatives .  Glen had brought in a car battery to power an old  car radio. Lloyd came over for the night , and potato chip bags and empty glass Mountain dew bottles littered the living room floor.  It was a hot summer night, the moon was shining and felt the urge to tour the nightlife in Hunter. I jumped on the Honda and roared out the lane and turned left on highway 21. As I passed e highway I spotted a cop sitting at the intersection with the lights off. Sure enough he pulls out behind me and a red bubble light on the dash came on just as I turned right to go up the Hill by Sara Willifords.  I wasn’t worried though, I had seen an episode of the Dukes of hazard once at the Walmart in Poplar Bluff, And I knew you could always outrun Rosco P Coletrane.  Unfortunately my top speed was only about 30, and as I made another right, he was close behind me, and as I bounced across the next cross street he hit the siren, and I skidded to a halt, right beside the  Lee Greathouse residence.  Rosco was none too happy as he swaggered toward me, long black flashlight bobbing, boots crunching on the gravel. “Don’t you ever look behind you, boy?” He asked, “ I was following you for about  mile.”  “Well, I did stop when I heard the siren” I replied.  “That you did son, That you did” He chuckled a bit. “How old are you”?  “Fifteen”, I replied.

By this time the townsfolk were starting to drive by, very slowly, on their way to get cigarettes no doubt, and before long Glen and Lloyd showed up in Glen’s pickup. They had watched the whole thing go down from the living room window .After a bit of negotiation, Glen worked out a deal with Rosco to haul the 3 wheeler home on the back of the pickup, and he would make sure I didn’t ride it on the road again.

One by one the lights in Hunter went back  off, and I had lost my appetite for adventure as well and sprawled out on the couch for the rest of the night.