R. Harper Mason

The Rialto Music Hall Ghosts

R. Harper Mason — Wed, 13 Jan 2010 16:07:49 +0000

The stories about mysterious sounds and smells have been almost continuous since the early days of the theater. Gabriel, a young employee during the 1990s had multiple encounters with a ghost during his employment at the theater. The most vivid occurred late one evening when he saw something in the main auditorium which made him nearly incoherent. Ms. Williams, the theater manager, who was with Gabriel, describes it this way; “We were in the main auditorium one night—it was around 10:00 P. M.—-and we were walking down the aisles. He was on the right-hand side, and about a third of the way down. He started looking up and started rotating just turning as if he were watching something in the ceiling. I kept asking him what was going on, and he just got hysterical and started screaming at me. ‘Don’t you see it? Don’t you see it?’ I never saw anything, and when he finally got coherent, he said it was like a cloud of mist and that it floated across the ceiling and went into the balcony—right through the balcony wall. He definitely saw something, and he smelled the perfume.”

Deer Delicacies

R. Harper Mason — Wed, 13 Jan 2010 16:00:45 +0000

Deer Delicacies

Yep, we got them deer this year! Heck, we shot ‘em with bows and arrows, muzzleloaders, and AK 47s, not to mention the thirty-aught sixes. Did we do any good? Sure did. The papers were full of dead deer pictures and proud hunters, from a four-year-old Porker’s Chapel shooter to a 90 year old geezer from Bigfoot.
Now, with a freezer full of deer meat, we’re in good shape as we enter the second year of the George ‘Herbert Hoover’ Bush Depression, and, since we’re going to eat a lot of deer, this is a great time for some of our kitchen heroes to really get creative. Heck, I’ll bet we’ve got some Arkansas cooks that would whip up some tasty dishes of unusual deer delicacies, if given the ingredients. So guys, step up to the plate, and if you whack a big buck, don’t toss the mountains oysters out on the side of the road, like you do the innards and hide. Bring ‘em home for Momma to cook. Well, she may take a little time to feel comfortable with a mess of mountain oysters, but heck, if those Cajun or Chinese cooks can handle blood sausage and pig’s ears, she’ll relish whipping up a batch of poached mountain oysters, or maybe
something French, like mountain oysters sautéed in their own juices. Makes your mouth water, don’t it?
But there’s so much more. You know, if you’ve watched some of those exotic food shows on TV, there’re a lot of animal parts, we usually throw to the dog, that other folks eat. Let’s start with deer tongue? Deer tongue? Sure, the French would rather eat horse or cow tongue than a sirloin steak. How about a sliced and fried deer tongue sandwich on toasted white bread for junior’s lunch? I’ll guarantee you he’ll have a school lunch that will really stand out.
But folks we haven’t scratched the surface when it comes to edible deer parts. How about sautéed deer brains as a side dish this Christmas? I know you think I’m pulling your leg, but no. In south Arkansas, when we had fried squirrel for supper, grandmother would pounce on the head like it was a crown jewel, and then give that squirrel head several stout licks with the end of a knife to crack it. Usually, after a lick or so the eyeballs would shoot out, and if you weren’t careful, you’d have to wipe a squirrel eyeball off your forehead before you could dig in. Well, after Grandmother cracked the head, she’d dig out the brains and plop them in her mouth.
“Hummmmm! The very best part of the squirrel!” She’d always say.
Okay, if Grandmother can eat squirrel brains, what about deer brains? Don’t we eat calf brains? So guys, when you bring home a big buck, get out the hammer, whack that deer head, pull out a mess of brains and throw ‘em in the sink. Then say, “Honey, I want them brains medium rare.”
Well, there’s so much more tasty food we can get from a deer. Just think of the unusual dishes we’d get, if we’d let a Cajun, Chinese, and a French cook into an Arkansas kitchen, and plop down a mess of special deer parts for them to work on. Shoot, they’d come up with dishes that would make your stomach do flips. Just think of Cajun deer blood sausage or fried chitlins, or maybe Chinese Deer Hoof Soup, or Tibetan Candied Eyeballs.
Well, cooking is one thing, but every good cook needs fresh ingredients, so this may take a trip to the deer camp. I strongly recommend you arrive well before lunch. An arrival late in the day would be embarrassing to all, and instead of getting your special ingredients, you’d probably be recruited to head for the hospital with those hunters that had staggered into the campfire. So, try to arrive around 11:00 A. M. just as the hunters are coming in from a morning hunt and pick out the biggest deer of the bunch. Then, pointing to the big deer, say,
“Bubba, get me two fruit jars of blood, the tongue, the mountain oysters, eyes, ears, innards, and, oh yeah, don’t forget the hooves and put ‘em in this Wal-Mart sack.”
After you have your sack full of delicacies, thank everyone, and say this, “What time is supper? Y’all have been so helpful, I’m gonna go home and cook these up, and I’ll be back later to serve them. Don ‘t bother to cook tonight.”
Well, don’t bother to show back up either, because the guys will spend the rest of the day moving camp .

Lyin’ Like a Dog…the redneck character

R. Harper Mason — Wed, 06 Jan 2010 15:44:09 +0000

In the novel, Lyin’ Like a Dog there is man who is, without a doubt, a mean reneck. This is Richard’s first encounter with him.

“Dang, the sound just echoed through the woods, and I nearly jumped outta my skin ’cause a bullet smacked into a tree right beside me and bark flew out and stung my arm. Shoot, Sniffer jerked away and took off like a scalded dog.
“What in the world?” I yelled. “Who’s shootin’ at us?”
Heck, we were scared just absolutely outta our minds, and we didn’t move an inch ’cause we were afraid whoever was shooting at us might shoot again.
“That’s far enough, boys!” yelled somebody from up in front of us.
I jumped about three feet again when that fella yelled, and then he stepped out from behind a big pin oak tree holding a rifle. My gosh, he was one of the worst-looking men I’d ever seen. He had on an old crumpled felt hat and some ragged overalls with a blue work shirt pulled over them, and he was wearing some old beat-up work shoes with shoelaces hanging off the side. He had a stub of a cigar in his mouth and a kinda scruffy “I ain’t shaved in a while” look. Shoot, that guy looked as mean as some slimy snake.
It took us a little bit to calm down, and then I hollered back, “Why’d you shoot at us?” Well, I kinda threw out my shoulders like I was all put out and stuck my fingers in my belt.
“Hell, son, I didn’t shoot at you. If I’d shot at you, you’d be dead right now. I shot at that tree to get your attention.” He pulled the cigar outta his mouth, spit a stream of tobacco juice toward us, and gave us a sneer like “Y’all messing with the wrong man.”
“Whata you mean? We ain’t doing nothin’, just walkin’ ’long the creek bank,” I said. “Shootin’ at somebody’s against the law!”
“You’re trespassin’—comin’ on private property―and I’m the law in these woods. You understand that?” The man shifted his gun to his other hand like he was maybe gonna point it at us again, and I began to get real worried.
Well, I’m a little bit of a smart aleck, and I put my hands on my hips and stepped forward.
“Naw, I don’t understand that ’cause we ain’t a-trespassin’; this is Parson’s Timber Company land, and it ain’t posted or nothin’. Heck, we’re always roamin’ round on Parson’s land. Do you work for Parson’s?”
“Naw, I don’t work for no damn timber company, but if I say this is private property, then its private property. You understand that, boy?”
Well, the man kinda shifted his rifle again and gave us another hard look.
“Richard, shut up―let’s get outta here,” John Clayton whispered.
But shoot, I knew durn well we weren’t trespassing, and I just kept going on and on.
“Naw, it ain’t private property, and even if it is, you ain’t got the right to shoot at us just for walkin’ down the creek. We could have you arrested!” I kinda yelled that arrested part and shook my finger at him.
Dang, that was a big mistake ’cause, after I shook my finger at the man, he kinda squinted his eyes and his lips curled down. Whoa, I knew right then I shouldn’t have done that ’cause that man kinda leaned his head forward like he couldn’t believe I’d talked back to him, and then he licked his lips real mean. Then, my good lord, he raised his gun.
“Y’all is gonna regret pokin’ round down in this swamp!” he yelled.
“Dang! Dang! Dang!” I whispered to John Clayton. The hair on the back of my neck just stood straight up, and I stopped breathing.
“Oh my god, don’t!” yelled John Clayton, who was already backing away.
“Ahaaaaa, don’t shoot us!” I screamed, and, heck, I was running before them words was outta my mouth. ’Course, John Clayton did the same thing, and then I just nearly dropped dead of a heart attack.
Boom!
There was a rifle shot and dirt kicked up, and wow, did we turn it on. We flew through them big woods like nothing you’ve ever seen, and then, just as we started to slow down, another boom sounded, and a bullet tore through the trees above our heads. ’Course, that put us in high gear again, and we must have run another half-mile before we stopped. Well, we’d just stopped running when Sniffer, that cowardly dog, came sneaking outta the woods with his tail between his legs, giving me that “I’m so sorry I run off,” whiny look. John Clayton was panting like he’d run five miles.”

Lyin’ Like a Dog will be released March 1. If you would like to review this novel, please contact me. I only ask that you post your review on Amazon.com.

Richard, the paperboy, from The Red Scarf, Jan. 1945, #25

R. Harper Mason — Wed, 06 Jan 2010 15:35:57 +0000

The boys and all the characters from The Red Scarf return in the sequel, Lyin’ Like a Dog. The sequel, which will be released March 1st, picks up the day after the Christmas Eve ending of The Red Scarf. Richard, the paperboy, tells the story. The paragraph below is Richard’s intro into the story.
“’Course, not everything that happened to me last year was just things you’d laugh at. Heck, there was some upsetting things and some stuff that just scared the beejesus outta me. Well, most of the exciting stuff happened after last Christmas, and as the months passed things just got all wound up. Heck, there was times I thought me and John Clayton was goners for sure. Wow, some of them things were so wild you’d never believe them in a million, zillion years. Huh? You wanna hear about ’em―every little thing? Well, okay, now listen up, ’cause some stuff that happened might sound kinda made up, but it ain’t. Promise, cross my heart.”

If you are a book reviewer and would like to review this novel, please contact me and I will send you a pre-release copy to review. I only ask that you post your review on Amazon.com reviewing post.

Haunted…in El Dorado, Arkansas

R. Harper Mason — Wed, 06 Jan 2010 15:25:24 +0000

El Dorado seems to have ghosts in every nook and cranny. As I was compiling a book about various sighting, several people contacted me and gave me their acount of paranormal experiences they had in or around the city. I have included an especially interesting one from Montana Staples, age 10.

“I have a story that happened to me when I was nine years old at Mr. Vergil Amason’s funeral at Bethel Cemetery. After the preacher gave his announcement, I happened to glance over at the three black men floating in thin air. One had a pipe and real fancy clothing, just sitting in the air. The other two also had fancy clothing on, standing in the air. At first I thought they were the men who were going to bury the body. So I looked over to the other side of the field and realized they were not. They looked like rich men in 1950s outfits. I felt chill bumps all over my body! I asked Barbra Nelson (who was there with me) if she saw what was out in the field. She said she couldn’t see anything but open ground. Right then and there I knew they were ghosts. When we were leaving I didn’t see them anywhere! It was spooky!
P. S.= Now I’m ten years old.”
Sincerely
Montana Staples
628 East 3rd Street
El Dorado, Ar 71730

Downtown trees…for wildlife?

R. Harper Mason — Wed, 06 Jan 2010 15:15:19 +0000

In many of our towns and cities, downtown improvement associations, city governments, and interested individuals have joined together to plant trees. They look nice, and many of them cover up some unsightly architecture. But do trees in downtown provide other uses? How about wildlife habitat? I know that sounds strange, but let’s take a closeer look at downtown trees as they relate to wildlife.
First, let me say that my hometown, El Dorado, Arkansas, has a master plan for downtown tree planting. The year by year implementation of this plan has resulted in over 800 trees planted. My comments here are being written as I look into a downtown that is literally full of trees.
El Dorado’s downtown trees are a mix of Ornamental Pear,(actually a bad selection) Live Oak, Red Oak, Sycamore, and Sweet Gum extending out over a twenty block area.
These trees have matured to the point where they rise above the mostly two story buildings in the downtown. As they have gotten larger, their use by wildlife has increased. Numerous downtown trees are now roosting areas for a wide variety of birds. Granted, not all of our downtown birds are the most desirable of the species, but on the whole, the cumulative effect of several thousand birds in a downtown is positive. As the trees have gotten larger, nesting has occured. On a recent trip to Houston, I passed a mall with several Pear Trees planted in a parking area. In one tree, I counted six nests. In several major cities, the downtown trees, which have attracted a general mix of smaller birds, have brought in hawks and falcons which prey on these birds. Several falcons have even nested on building ledges, adapting to tall buildings as if they were mountains. Recently in Chicago, one of the most popular public television programs was a still television camera trained on a falcon’s nest.
Spring comes to my downtown with the Pear Trees in full bloom. Honey bees by the thousands invade the city to work the pear blossoms. In the fall as acorns fall from the numerous oaks, birds feast on the acorns crushed by cars or pedestrians. At night, when the opossums, raccoons, and skunks roam our back alleys, our trees serve as a place of refuge or as a spot to prey on the roosting birds.
It may sound unlikely, but just the presence of hundreds of trees in an otherwise sterile downtown setting is conducive to wildlife. Birds crossing from one area to the next pause in our trees and squirrels dart across traffic from one tree to the next.
Across the country, thousands of trees have been planted in downtowns. Each one of these trees is looked upon by wildlife as either a source of food or shelter. When the tree planting is supplemented by the addition of shrubs or other low bush planting, the wildlife usage jumps. Vacant lots or even parking areas can be mini wildlife corridors by merely planting trees, shrubs, and grasses along their back edges. As more and more habitat is lost to urban development, these city trees and shrubs become more and more attractive to wildlife.
And finally, one more good reason to plant downtown trees; lower utility bills for your downtown merchants. No, it’s not only because of the shade of the leaves, it’s more complicated than that. When our first satellites carrying heat sensors scanned the country, they immediately detected hot spots in every town and city of any size. If you have ever walked across a blacktop highway barefoot, you understand how asphalt, concrete, and other building materials hold heat. The average downtown is sometimes 10 degrees hotter than the surrounding countryside. When the satellite data was closely analyzed, certain areas within a city would stand out as cooler than other areas. It became very clear that cities with parks and downtown trees were substantially cooler than a city without trees. A downtown with good tree planting can have midsummer temperatures as much as 10 degrees cooler than a comparable city without trees. Translate that to your electric bill and you can have as much as a $50.00 to $100.00 a month reduction.
So the next time you look at your downtown, try to imagine a beautiful tree every 25 feet along every street. What a difference it would make. A difference not only for wildlife, but as a beautiful addition to a bare street and as a cooling agent for those hot Arkansas summers.

Setback for the drone program

R. Harper Mason — Wed, 06 Jan 2010 14:40:39 +0000

The recent attack on a remote CIA base in Afghanistan was an attempt to stop or hinder the very successful drone program. This program has killed hundreds of Taliban and al-Qaida. The CIA base was a primary co-ordinating base to gather intelligence to give drones their al-Qaida targets in Pakistan and in the mountains of Afghanistan. The high-value double agent that was used to carry the explosives is indictive of the importance that al-Qaida places on destroying the effectiveness of the drone program. This is a small setback, but a setback never-the-less. It will take several months to get the base fully staffed again and longer than that to bring it up to where it was before the attack. However, other posts in the region will pick up the slack and with the addition of more and more drones, the attacks will increase. 2010 will be a critical year for the war in Afghanistan, but it can be a year where the tide turns, if the drone program reaches its potential.
A sad note to the attack on the CIA base: Killed was Jermey Wise, a former Navy Seal, who was working for an independent contractor. Jermey was a native of El Dorado and we are friends of his family. He was a fine young man and will be missed.

The 2009 Christmas Letter

R. Harper Mason — Thu, 24 Dec 2009 14:25:27 +0000

CHRISTMAS 2009
This Christmas, Vertis and I will be staying in South Arkansas.
There’s something about Christmas that seems to draw us back to our roots. I can’t think of a place we’d rather be than Corinne, our wonderful home of 35 years…sitting by a crackling fire listening to carols. Then, maybe we’ll ride downtown, where we’ve been heavily involved…it seems like forever… to view thousands of old fashioned, red and green Christmas lights and take a nostalgic ride in a horse-drawn carriages. All of the glitter and glitz of Las Vegas can’t make a Christmas sparkle like a sense of place shared with family and friends
To me, the holidays are always about returning to our roots, seeing family and friends, and reaffirming our wonderful faith. This year will be no exception. Thanksgiving turned out to be one of the warmest and most pleasant times we’ve had with our family in years, as our extended family gathered around the table to give thanks and to enjoy each other’s company.
But, as Christmas approaches, our thoughts are always more than just about family and friends. It’s a time to celebrate our faith, and one of the special ways we do that is to attend a very special Christmas Eve service at First Baptist Church, with candles and carols. If that doesn’t get you in the Christmas spirit nothing will.
This year we have lost friends from illness and tragic accidents, and our prayers go out to those families who are grieving this Christmas. It makes us so grateful, as we approach the new year, for our health and the well being of our extended family.
As Vertis and I approach the autumn of our lives, we are especially grateful for the friendship of so many in such distant places, and, of course, here in Arkansas. Friends are such a integral part of life that I can’t imagine living without them. Christmas calls attention to our lives and relationships, and, as we look forward to Christmas, I can assure you that a life without faith, friends, family, and a place to call home, is surely a dismal existence.
And finally; as the new year approaches, Vertis and I are looking forward to a very special day, January 17th. Fifty years ago we walked out of First Baptist Church in Smackover, Arkansas to spend the rest of our lives together. This coming January 17th we’ll forgo the reception our children wanted to give us, and, maybe selfishly, take a sentimental journey back to New Orleans where we spent our honeymoon. We won’t be staying in a $10 a night Quality Inn and eating Chrystal Hamburgers this time.
Merry Christmas
Richard
Vertis

Crepe Murder

R. Harper Mason — Wed, 23 Dec 2009 20:31:51 +0000

Well, it’s about time for the whacking crews all over the south to start pruning Crepe Myrtle. That’s not big news of course. It happens every year about this time and most of the time these crews ‘murder’ the Crepe Myrtle. It seems southerners belive Crepe Myrtles are shrubs and they should be trimmed like boxwood. No, a Crepe Myrtle is not a shrub. It’s a tree…the national tree of Pakistan. There is a proper way to trim Crepe Myrtle and it’s just the oposite from what is usually done. This is how the Master Gardners do it. Trim only the top dead flower blooms off the top..not more than six inches. Then work from the bottom up and cut the extra shoots off until only one trunk is left. Then every year trim from the bottom up until you have a Crepe Myrtle tree with full foliage on the top and a true single tree trunk coming up from the ground. The result will be a long lasting blooming tree which is the way God intended it to be. Quit trying to improve on Mother Nature.
By the way, Crepe Myrtle trees make great street trees.

The Rialto Ghosts…my story

R. Harper Mason — Wed, 23 Dec 2009 20:15:45 +0000

Although I have recorded many accounts and stories about para-normal occurrences in the Rialto Theater and other strange events that have occurred in the vicinity, until recently I had never heard or seen anything that I would call unusual. That all changed on Tuesday afternoon, May 25th, about two p. m. Earlier that day I had a call from Mark Givins, the El Dorado Main Street Director. He requested some new photos of the interior of the theater in order to add them to the application for a renovation grant. I took my camera and walked down to the theater, tuned on all the light, and proceeded to take pictures. In order to show the new lights that had been added to the stage, I went backstage and began to photograph to new rows of lights. The old theater was built to be a live performance theater as well as a movie theater. The stage area ceiling is some 70 feet above the stage and the movie screen is attached to cables where it can be raised and lowered. During this latest renovation we decided to temporarily return the stage to its vaudeville appearance by raising the screen into the fly space. Our contractor climbed up the top of the theater where a cat-walk extended across the back wall. While he was up there he found the original 1929 padded hanging drapes that were used when the theater first opened and the sound was too harsh. Several of these drapes which have a decorative stenciling and fringe were still in good condition, will be used in the final restoration of the theater.
The first of two para-normal occurrences happened when I was standing in the middle of the stage trying to photograph the row of stage lights right above me. The stage lights hang some 25 feet above the stage and they shine down. Above the stage there are no lights, only darkness. As I stood there, all of a sudden, I heard heavy footsteps coming from the dark area above the stage. Someone or something was walking and then running on the cat-walk. The heavy steps were much to loud and strong to be any kind of an animal. As I stood there the hair on the back of my neck raised. Then as quickly as it started it stopped. I had a small flashlight that I tried to shine toward the cat-walk, but it was much too small. I took a few more photos and then left the stage and began to walk toward the front of the theater to leave. As I walked into the lobby I smelled the distinct odor of a cigar.
Later I tried to envision what could have caused these occurrences, but I could come up with nothing that would account for them. Then, as I remembered the old theater manager from the 1940s and 50s, Mr. Rob, I thought about his ever present cigar. Was it the ghost of Mr. Rob in the lobby, letting me know he was still watching over his theater, by letting me smell the cigar smoke? I can only say this: There are numerous documents occurrences where multiple individuals have smelled cigar smoke, either in the lobby or upstairs on the mezzanine. Yes, I think the only explanation is that Mr. Rob is one of the ghosts of the Rialto. After all Ms. Pate, the cynic, described him perfectly when she visited the theater. Down to his stubby cigar.
But what about the walking on the cat-walk above the stage? It seems to me that different ghosts leave different signals of their presence. With Mr. Rob it’s the smell of his cigar.
Another signal is the sighting of a woman wearing vintage clothing. She is always seen in or around the Ladies Rest Room. Ms. Pate says she is a blonde lady, who seems to be in a hurry; rushing in and out of the rest room.
Hearing someone walking in various parts of the theater is one of the most common para-normal happenings that have been reported. Many times steps have been heard going up and down the stairs. The logical conclusion is that it is Mr. Richardson, the old projectionist from the 30s through the 60s. Ms. Pate said the most prevalent of the spirits she encountered were a man who fits Mr. Richardson. She said he was not only a projectionist, but a handy man around the theater. He even lived in the theater according to Ms. Pate. That is exactly what Mr. Richardson did for many years. Ms. Pate says he seems a little grouchy and very possessive of the theater. When she tried to go into the projection booth he told her, “You don’t belong here! Get out!”
It seems to me that putting all of the stories together gives us an overall indications that the Rialto Theater is the home to multiple ghosts, and they delight is making themselves known.