just chickens & eggs
In 1938, "Gran Dad Griffing" at age 83 in front of a little house thathe built to live in. This is a digital image of a photograph for sale on E-Bay in 2022. We wanted the original, but were an unsuccessful bidder. This is likely Olin "O.W." Griffing (1856-1940), whose wife died Mattie died in 1934.
Reverse of Grand Dad Griffing photo
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Sadie Binder with one of her baby chicks in 2020. Photo 10028, from Valerie Binder.
2015 Village Easter Egg Hunt
2015 Village Easter Egg Hunt
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2015 Village Easter Egg Hunt
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thoughts on chickens & eggs
part 1
By Sharla Sitzman. Adapted from a column written for the Pawnee Republican of February 13, 2025.
Egg, poultry, and cream station with manager Edwin Freeman, Jay Dow, and Cloyd Freeman.
Undated. Photo 188.
A couple of weeks ago, the newspaper USA Today reported that 100,000 organic eggs worth $40,000 had been stolen from a distribution center in Pennsylvania. Eggs are valuable now, the price having doubled in the last six months, and bird flu again poised to wipe out large-scale operations.
The theft of “organic” eggs is nothing new to the Midwest. Periodic scourges of chicken thieves have plagued us for way over a century, waxing and waning with the value of eggs.
In 1927, the problem was so bad that an “Anti-Poultry Thief Meeting” was conducted at the Pawnee County Courthouse. It wasn’t the first such gathering, because plagues of chicken thieves had come around at least twice since the turn of the century. In Table Rock, an “Anti-Stealing Protective League” had been formed ten years before. Their main focus? Chickens. After that livestock and “some” machinery which had been disappearing as well. Annual meetings of the Anti-Stealing Protective League were announced in the paper by a warning headline: “CHICKEN THIEVES,” followed by the time and place of the meeting.
Many people raised chickens and many were hit. The thefts were egregious. From Mrs. Roscoe Zink, the thieves stole a thoroughbred setting hen and her brood of chicks. She mourned their loss. The paper noted some time after that that she was not the only person in mourning. The thieves have been “obnoxiously numerous and industrious” of late. Mrs. Caselton lost a couple of hens with 30 young ones – the thieves even took the boxes in which the chickens had roosted.
A poignant article in the DuBois Press reflects the kind of thing that was happening. Someone “with malicious aforethought and a sack or two” stole almost every chicken from the Joe Fink chicken roost. “Mrs. Fink had spent a great many hours of hard work raising as nice a bunch of Rhode Island Red chickens as could be found in any community, and just as they were getting the right size for either the table or the market, some miscreant, too lazy to try to earn an honest living, comes along and swipes the whole bunch.” The editor was not pleased. Using the royal “we” that editors of the day preferred, he ranted, ““It seems to us that there should be some way to catch and punish these people who, thinking the world owes them a living, collects it after honest people are in bed. We believe the owner of chickens would be perfectly justified in filling these miscreants so full of shot that they would assay thirty dollars in leadage the ton.”
The same feeling was announced by the editor of the Table Rock Argus in reporting that 40 of Martin Karas’s chickens had been stolen. “One night some of these chicken thieves will receive a load of buck shot and won’t get much sympathy from the public.”
Thomas Puryear of Elk Creek gave buckshot a try. The Argus carried an Elk Creek Herald article about him. Running out with his shotgun when he heard a noise among his chickens one night, he discovered chicken thieves in the darkness and fired two shots at them. The door casing of the chicken house was filled with shot, but the thieves missed. They did drop 3 chickens in their haste to depart, but sadly got away with 30 others.
Elsewhere, not all chicken thieves got away. In Lexington, Missouri chicken thieves defending themselves killed the chickens’ shotgun wielding owner. They were lynched. It was reportedly a well-organized crowd of up to 300 people. Law enforcement had no sympathy for the chicken thieves and made no effort to identify anyone in the lynch mob. The story appeared in the Argus, and doubtless it was well received.
As you can see from the Lexington situation, chicken thieves were not unique to this area. The papers reported problems all over Nebraska, sometimes with the forming of other anti-stealing and protective leagues. Burchard, Nebraska City, Beatrice, David City, Weeping Water, and Wymore were hard hit one year. One week, thieves hit almost every hen house in Blair. In one night in Falls City, thieves made away with “valuable” chickens at four farms. In Tecumseh, thieves hit at least four farms also, and in one instance left not even a single chicken. In a 1925-1926 outbreak, an “auto truck” carried off almost 100 chickens from a farm near Liberty.
Most of the time the thieves were never caught. However, a couple of cases were cracked over the years. One was in Tecumseh. In those days, some larger law enforcement departments had bloodhounds to track criminals. Beatrice had a nice brace of bloodhounds who would loan them out and on occasion a posse was popped onto the train to chase down particularly reprehensible criminals, usually, it seems, suspected murderers. Tecumseh once brought in bloodhounds to track down a couple of chicken thieves. (I don’t know where the dogs came from.) They succeeded, and sadly it was a couple of local men, not tramps passing through. Second, two young thieves in Table Rock were busted. I’m not sure how it came about, but they confessed to stealing 11 chickens from the James Fritch farm, and were sentenced to 40 days in jail, along with the two weeks they had already spent awaiting trial since they couldn’t post bond. They were local men, too.
Chicken theft was a distressing problem because chickens represented food for the table, and, in a cash-poor society, something to sell or to barter for kitchen staples that couldn’t be produced on the farm. On Wednesdays and Saturdays, farm families headed for town with their eggs (along with milk, cream, butter, and produce) to grocery stores and cream stations.
Grocery stores took eggs in trade for groceries. In Table Rock, Will Taylor, who had a grocery & dry goods store in what is now the Argus Museum, took in so many eggs one week that he was able to ship out $200 worth of them in 10 days. $200 in 1900!
“Stations” bought eggs, poultry, cream, and butter on a large scale and shipped the goods to larger cities. My own great grandpa had the unpleasant but money-making job of riding in railroad cars carrying chickens to New York City. He kept them fed and watered on the way. It was not a pleasant job being cooped up with a moving mass of chickens, but it was cash money for his new family. We know that chickens were shipped from here from a news article about the Table Rock Poultry and Egg Company. There was an accident at the Table Rock depot where switch engines assembling a railroad car full of chickens badly damaged a railroad car full of chickens. The chickens not killed in the crash escaped to dash everywhere, expanding outward from the depot in a flash.
The theft of “organic” eggs is nothing new to the Midwest. Periodic scourges of chicken thieves have plagued us for way over a century, waxing and waning with the value of eggs.
In 1927, the problem was so bad that an “Anti-Poultry Thief Meeting” was conducted at the Pawnee County Courthouse. It wasn’t the first such gathering, because plagues of chicken thieves had come around at least twice since the turn of the century. In Table Rock, an “Anti-Stealing Protective League” had been formed ten years before. Their main focus? Chickens. After that livestock and “some” machinery which had been disappearing as well. Annual meetings of the Anti-Stealing Protective League were announced in the paper by a warning headline: “CHICKEN THIEVES,” followed by the time and place of the meeting.
Many people raised chickens and many were hit. The thefts were egregious. From Mrs. Roscoe Zink, the thieves stole a thoroughbred setting hen and her brood of chicks. She mourned their loss. The paper noted some time after that that she was not the only person in mourning. The thieves have been “obnoxiously numerous and industrious” of late. Mrs. Caselton lost a couple of hens with 30 young ones – the thieves even took the boxes in which the chickens had roosted.
A poignant article in the DuBois Press reflects the kind of thing that was happening. Someone “with malicious aforethought and a sack or two” stole almost every chicken from the Joe Fink chicken roost. “Mrs. Fink had spent a great many hours of hard work raising as nice a bunch of Rhode Island Red chickens as could be found in any community, and just as they were getting the right size for either the table or the market, some miscreant, too lazy to try to earn an honest living, comes along and swipes the whole bunch.” The editor was not pleased. Using the royal “we” that editors of the day preferred, he ranted, ““It seems to us that there should be some way to catch and punish these people who, thinking the world owes them a living, collects it after honest people are in bed. We believe the owner of chickens would be perfectly justified in filling these miscreants so full of shot that they would assay thirty dollars in leadage the ton.”
The same feeling was announced by the editor of the Table Rock Argus in reporting that 40 of Martin Karas’s chickens had been stolen. “One night some of these chicken thieves will receive a load of buck shot and won’t get much sympathy from the public.”
Thomas Puryear of Elk Creek gave buckshot a try. The Argus carried an Elk Creek Herald article about him. Running out with his shotgun when he heard a noise among his chickens one night, he discovered chicken thieves in the darkness and fired two shots at them. The door casing of the chicken house was filled with shot, but the thieves missed. They did drop 3 chickens in their haste to depart, but sadly got away with 30 others.
Elsewhere, not all chicken thieves got away. In Lexington, Missouri chicken thieves defending themselves killed the chickens’ shotgun wielding owner. They were lynched. It was reportedly a well-organized crowd of up to 300 people. Law enforcement had no sympathy for the chicken thieves and made no effort to identify anyone in the lynch mob. The story appeared in the Argus, and doubtless it was well received.
As you can see from the Lexington situation, chicken thieves were not unique to this area. The papers reported problems all over Nebraska, sometimes with the forming of other anti-stealing and protective leagues. Burchard, Nebraska City, Beatrice, David City, Weeping Water, and Wymore were hard hit one year. One week, thieves hit almost every hen house in Blair. In one night in Falls City, thieves made away with “valuable” chickens at four farms. In Tecumseh, thieves hit at least four farms also, and in one instance left not even a single chicken. In a 1925-1926 outbreak, an “auto truck” carried off almost 100 chickens from a farm near Liberty.
Most of the time the thieves were never caught. However, a couple of cases were cracked over the years. One was in Tecumseh. In those days, some larger law enforcement departments had bloodhounds to track criminals. Beatrice had a nice brace of bloodhounds who would loan them out and on occasion a posse was popped onto the train to chase down particularly reprehensible criminals, usually, it seems, suspected murderers. Tecumseh once brought in bloodhounds to track down a couple of chicken thieves. (I don’t know where the dogs came from.) They succeeded, and sadly it was a couple of local men, not tramps passing through. Second, two young thieves in Table Rock were busted. I’m not sure how it came about, but they confessed to stealing 11 chickens from the James Fritch farm, and were sentenced to 40 days in jail, along with the two weeks they had already spent awaiting trial since they couldn’t post bond. They were local men, too.
Chicken theft was a distressing problem because chickens represented food for the table, and, in a cash-poor society, something to sell or to barter for kitchen staples that couldn’t be produced on the farm. On Wednesdays and Saturdays, farm families headed for town with their eggs (along with milk, cream, butter, and produce) to grocery stores and cream stations.
Grocery stores took eggs in trade for groceries. In Table Rock, Will Taylor, who had a grocery & dry goods store in what is now the Argus Museum, took in so many eggs one week that he was able to ship out $200 worth of them in 10 days. $200 in 1900!
“Stations” bought eggs, poultry, cream, and butter on a large scale and shipped the goods to larger cities. My own great grandpa had the unpleasant but money-making job of riding in railroad cars carrying chickens to New York City. He kept them fed and watered on the way. It was not a pleasant job being cooped up with a moving mass of chickens, but it was cash money for his new family. We know that chickens were shipped from here from a news article about the Table Rock Poultry and Egg Company. There was an accident at the Table Rock depot where switch engines assembling a railroad car full of chickens badly damaged a railroad car full of chickens. The chickens not killed in the crash escaped to dash everywhere, expanding outward from the depot in a flash.
THOUGHTS ON CHICKENS & EGGS
PART 2
By Sharla Sitzman. Adapted from a column written for the Pawnee Republican of February 20, 2025.
An egg and some strips of bacon walk into a cafe. The waitresses gang up on them and toss them out, yelling, “We don’t serve breakfast!”
That joke just cracks me up. But eggs (and chickens) have been serious business in these here parts since the 1800s.
Back then, people feared chicken thieves and hoped for healthy hens. In a cash-poor economy, a steady stream of eggs meant a steady stream of income so people valued their chickens. As C. I. Norris said in a 1917 ad for a product to keep poultry in good condition and increase the yield of eggs, “Eggs are not bankable, but the money from their sale is. This money is yours for the effort.
How do you treat the hen that lays the Golden Eggs?”
In Table Rock, cash was not king. You could also take eggs directly to a grocery store, like Bethel’s or Smitty’s, and trade them for groceries. If you were saving for something like a musical instrument or a kitchen stove or a store-bought dress, you could certainly get cash. Cream stations like the Falls City Creamery in Table Rock, managed by Edwin Freeman, paid good money.
The late Evelyn Mach Pettinger got married in 1946. They farmed. “We made a living. It wasn’t the best,” she said. She bolstered the budget by raising and dressing chickens. Evelyn said, “Folks paid a dollar for a live chicken, another quarter for me to kill and dress it.” The first thing she got with the money she raised was cupboards in her kitchen.
The late Dorothy Penkava got married in 1953. They farmed. He also worked on small machinery, and she raised chickens. Chickens meant eggs. She told me, “I had so many eggs I couldn’t keep up!” Finally, “I told Elmer, put a sign out in the shop, Homemade Noodles for Sale. Oh my gosh, I had so many people buy them. I sold them for $1.75 and they’d take all I had, people would.” She sold them for 50 cents a dozen. “I had red hens and they laid big brown eggs. 50 cents a dozen! Lyle and Mary Sturgeon would always come out and wanted eggs.”
Eggs are also a source of pride. For example, Mrs. Henry Boltjes once brought an egg to the newspaper office to show it off. It was a pullet egg weighing “a full half-pound.” The editor measured it, finding it 9 inches around the long way and 6.5 around the circumference. Mrs. Boltjes didn’t know which chicken had laid it. She had a flock of 25 “Austra-White pullets” and one obviously outdid herself.
Those eggs of which one is so proud are prized by others, too. Lyle and Mary Sturgeon loved Dorothy Penkava's brown eggs, for example. Another story is from my friend Pete Hedgpath. He's a bit older than me, told me in 1952 he worked at a grocery store that took in eggs in trade for groceries to lots of folks. They had one lady, a Mrs. Minter, whose eggs were far far above the usual quality and when people bought eggs they would also asked for more of Mrs. Minter’s eggs than Mrs. Minter’s chickens produced.
Nowadays we have some young chicken farmers in Table Rock who have immense pride in their eggs. There is something about picking up a egg made by a hen that you feed and watch over every day.
My friend Blane Vogt, age 5, has a patch of land that he calls Tall Corn Acres. Tall Corn Acres has five chickens from which Blane gathers 2-3 eggs a day. Asked about the hardest part of raising chickens, Blane said, “Keeping their water from freezing in the winter and keeping their eggs from freezing and cleaning up poop.” Nevertheless, he persists.
On the other side of town, Rosie Winkinhofer, age 6, has a gaggle of chickens in her back yard, which her mom helps her with. She recently brought me a dozen of pretty brown ones and says she sometimes gets as many as 21 a day.
Out in the country, Sadie Binder, age 9, is the veteran young egg producer of Table Rock. Sadie has 13 hens and 3 roosters. Sadie reports that one of her roosters has only one eye and he’s the loudest of hem. The hens lay about a dozen eggs a day during the winter. It seems like Sadie been raising chickens since she could walk but it has only been since she was 5. Back when she was young.
Our young egg producers haven’t experienced chicken thieves, which is good, since they are not old enough to be shooting a shotgun at night. However, I’m sure they do face death and destruction from time to time from predators and weather. I hope that their egg-gathering happiness balances it out. And if one of their hens produces a noteworthy egg, they should ask for a ride to the newspaper office to have it measured and reported on. It’s important!
That joke just cracks me up. But eggs (and chickens) have been serious business in these here parts since the 1800s.
Back then, people feared chicken thieves and hoped for healthy hens. In a cash-poor economy, a steady stream of eggs meant a steady stream of income so people valued their chickens. As C. I. Norris said in a 1917 ad for a product to keep poultry in good condition and increase the yield of eggs, “Eggs are not bankable, but the money from their sale is. This money is yours for the effort.
How do you treat the hen that lays the Golden Eggs?”
In Table Rock, cash was not king. You could also take eggs directly to a grocery store, like Bethel’s or Smitty’s, and trade them for groceries. If you were saving for something like a musical instrument or a kitchen stove or a store-bought dress, you could certainly get cash. Cream stations like the Falls City Creamery in Table Rock, managed by Edwin Freeman, paid good money.
The late Evelyn Mach Pettinger got married in 1946. They farmed. “We made a living. It wasn’t the best,” she said. She bolstered the budget by raising and dressing chickens. Evelyn said, “Folks paid a dollar for a live chicken, another quarter for me to kill and dress it.” The first thing she got with the money she raised was cupboards in her kitchen.
The late Dorothy Penkava got married in 1953. They farmed. He also worked on small machinery, and she raised chickens. Chickens meant eggs. She told me, “I had so many eggs I couldn’t keep up!” Finally, “I told Elmer, put a sign out in the shop, Homemade Noodles for Sale. Oh my gosh, I had so many people buy them. I sold them for $1.75 and they’d take all I had, people would.” She sold them for 50 cents a dozen. “I had red hens and they laid big brown eggs. 50 cents a dozen! Lyle and Mary Sturgeon would always come out and wanted eggs.”
Eggs are also a source of pride. For example, Mrs. Henry Boltjes once brought an egg to the newspaper office to show it off. It was a pullet egg weighing “a full half-pound.” The editor measured it, finding it 9 inches around the long way and 6.5 around the circumference. Mrs. Boltjes didn’t know which chicken had laid it. She had a flock of 25 “Austra-White pullets” and one obviously outdid herself.
Those eggs of which one is so proud are prized by others, too. Lyle and Mary Sturgeon loved Dorothy Penkava's brown eggs, for example. Another story is from my friend Pete Hedgpath. He's a bit older than me, told me in 1952 he worked at a grocery store that took in eggs in trade for groceries to lots of folks. They had one lady, a Mrs. Minter, whose eggs were far far above the usual quality and when people bought eggs they would also asked for more of Mrs. Minter’s eggs than Mrs. Minter’s chickens produced.
Nowadays we have some young chicken farmers in Table Rock who have immense pride in their eggs. There is something about picking up a egg made by a hen that you feed and watch over every day.
My friend Blane Vogt, age 5, has a patch of land that he calls Tall Corn Acres. Tall Corn Acres has five chickens from which Blane gathers 2-3 eggs a day. Asked about the hardest part of raising chickens, Blane said, “Keeping their water from freezing in the winter and keeping their eggs from freezing and cleaning up poop.” Nevertheless, he persists.
On the other side of town, Rosie Winkinhofer, age 6, has a gaggle of chickens in her back yard, which her mom helps her with. She recently brought me a dozen of pretty brown ones and says she sometimes gets as many as 21 a day.
Out in the country, Sadie Binder, age 9, is the veteran young egg producer of Table Rock. Sadie has 13 hens and 3 roosters. Sadie reports that one of her roosters has only one eye and he’s the loudest of hem. The hens lay about a dozen eggs a day during the winter. It seems like Sadie been raising chickens since she could walk but it has only been since she was 5. Back when she was young.
Our young egg producers haven’t experienced chicken thieves, which is good, since they are not old enough to be shooting a shotgun at night. However, I’m sure they do face death and destruction from time to time from predators and weather. I hope that their egg-gathering happiness balances it out. And if one of their hens produces a noteworthy egg, they should ask for a ride to the newspaper office to have it measured and reported on. It’s important!
Evelyn Uhlir Pettinger caring for the family flock. How old is this photo? She was born in 1919.
In 1937, Elmo & Neva Frank with kids Keith and Delores.
Frances Edmonds Workman with her banty hens
Blane Vogt with some of his eggs from Tall Corn Acres. Asked what he likes about chickens, he says, "They lay eggs." He added, "They eat my bad strawberries and bananas." Asked the hardest part of raising chickens? "Keeping their water from freezing in the winter and keeping their eggs from freezing and cleaning up poop." Does he eat eggs? Yep. "I eat their eggs for breakfast with cheese on them and I use them to make pancakes, too." His favorite quote is a joke he likes to tell: "Why are chickens so funny? BECAUUUUUUUUUSE [in a clucking voice]!"
Rose Winkinhofer with one of her chickens in 2025 just before she turned 6.
Sadie Binder in 2020 when she was 5.
Howard Blecha with grandson Eli, photo by Debbie Blecha
In 1938 - Grandpa Griffing's chickens
Chicken coup at the Reno Inn in the 1950s. Photo shared by Ronnie Gilbert.
about one-eyed roosters
Roosters were put to their task of guarding the flock, with some breeds more ferocious and more protective than others. Many who read this will remember at least one vicious one, and wince thinking back to the damage that a rooster with sharp cockle can do when hurling themselves, wings spread wide and beating the air like a tornado, with their sharp cockles in the fore. Of course, the attack was not always a frontal assault, with the calves of an unsuspecting farmwife hanging laundry a favored target.
Ruby Taylor, the wife of long-time Table Rock Argus editor Frank Taylor, had such a rooster. Frank was afraid of it. He said his wife had a battle with it almost every week. He reported, “The regular fight took place this morning and the rooster carried one closed eye as a result.” Frank had no sympathy for the rooster. Speaking in the usual third person of editors, he said, “The editor learned long ago that it is danger to eyes to fight with his wife.”
In 2025, Sadie Binder has three roosters, and one of them has only one eye. "He is the loudest one," she says.
Ruby Taylor, the wife of long-time Table Rock Argus editor Frank Taylor, had such a rooster. Frank was afraid of it. He said his wife had a battle with it almost every week. He reported, “The regular fight took place this morning and the rooster carried one closed eye as a result.” Frank had no sympathy for the rooster. Speaking in the usual third person of editors, he said, “The editor learned long ago that it is danger to eyes to fight with his wife.”
In 2025, Sadie Binder has three roosters, and one of them has only one eye. "He is the loudest one," she says.
looking back farther
July `12, 1900
March 3, 1902
December 3, 1920
chicken thieves everywhere!
September 29, 1923 Lincoln Star
September 23, 1921
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August 18, 1916
November 19, 1920
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may 1920 -- buy your little chicken feed, cracked corn, and oyster shells from mr. fencl!
Oyster shells were fed to chickens as a supplement, worked a little better than gravel, etc.
November 2, 1923
March 27, 1925
November 16, 1911
buying groceries with eggs
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Regarding "tradin"... Whenever my grandma went to "the store" she went to "do her tradin'."
I was able as a sophmore in HS back in '52 to work in a grocery store. Lots of the "folks" did, indeed, bring in eggs "in trade" for their groceries. We had one special lady whose eggs were far far above the usual and were in high demand. We always had orders for more of "Mrs. Minter's eggs" than she brought in. Them was "the days." PETE HEDGPATH November 2019 Editor's note: Pete is not from Table Rock so you won't find anything else about Mrws. Minter's eggs, but he's a member of our Facebook group and his memories are universal for small town Nebraska! |
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After high school graduation, I stayed at home and helped with the farm. Times were hard. One of the two Dubois grocery stores, the Farmers Union Store, bought eggs and cream. On Saturday, we took our eggs and cream to town to buy groceries with.
EVELYN MACH PETTINGER January 2019 In an interview on the occasion of her 100th birthday Editor's note: Evelyn grew up in Dubois. Again, her memories are universal for small town Nebraska! |
Here's little Evelyn Uhlir Pettinger feeding the family chickens! Photo 6975, shared by Evelyn, who was born in 1919.
chickens in the street
ELK CREEK IN 1911
church ladies' chicken pie supper called off due to influenza pandemic, 1918
November 11, 1918
ruby taylor wins another r0und
May 1906
May 1931
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May 1929
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December 1930
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September 11, 1925
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the falls city creamery bought & sold eggs:
Edwin and Cloyd Freeman with Jay Hinton in the middle. No date. Photo 188
July 1912
May 13, 1913
March 18, 1909
1957
a half pound chicken egg
November 4, 1954
September 1955
December 1954
Photo 4038, Edward Tomek with a chicken dinner in 2017
June 16, 1898. William L. Taylor had a general store. He built it in 1894. It now houses the Argus Museum.
April 1977
Some of Faith & Robert Sitzmans chickens, drawn by Carmen Cerra son of Sharla Cerra.
1919
Sadie Binder with some of the family chickens in 2020. Photo 10026, shared by Valerie Binder.
In 1937, plenty of chickens -- and goats! Here are Elmo & Neva Burow with children Keith and Delores. Photo 3732, shared by Gary & Terry Frank.
In 2020, Howard Blecha grandson Eli out feeding the chickens. Photo 8923, by Debbie Blecha
In the early 1950s, chickens and pigeons out behind the Reno Inn. Shared by Ronnie Gilbert (Class of 1957) whose family ran the Reno at the time. Photo 7441.
Photo 7439, Ronnie Gilbert riding around the chickens, early 1950s, shared by Ronnie
Sharylin Vrtiska Knock with her chickens. Photo 7022, shared by Sharylin, Class of 1959.