Dear Mr. Bottorff,
I was quite interested to locate your web page, particularly the images and
information concerning Winfield, Kansas.   My Grandparents lived there from
before WWI.  My Grandfather, Emmett C. Pugh, owned a plumbing business,
located around the NE corner of 13th and Main.  Emmett Pugh was born in 1898
and died in 1976.  My Grandmother, Florence Pugh, was also born in 1898, a
little farther South in what was then the Indian Territory, later called
Oklahoma.  She died just a few years ago in 1995.  She was a Gilcrease, the
next younger sibling of Thomas Gilcrease, the Tulsa Oilman and founder of the
Thomas Gilcrease Institute of American History and Art.  Sometime after my
great-grandfather Gilcrease was shot and killed in a rather shadowy incident
after a poker game, some of the family moved to Winfield.  Uncle Tom was
already pretty well involved in the oil business, primarily located in San
Antonio at that time, I think.  My grandparents lived in a house East on
16th, but I can’t quite recall how far East.  East of  Fuller and Millington,
I know that.  As a matter of fact, the street running North and South by that
house, which was on the SE corner, used to fill with water during heavy
rains.  The street could have been Bliss.  I believe it was constructed for
that very purpose, as drainage.  Millington, as I recall, was generally
referred to as “Church” street since a number of churches seemed to be
situated on it.
I don’t want to bore you with a lot of details in which you might not be
interested, but I’ll risk it anyway.  My Mother, Bette Pugh, was born in 1922
and grew up in Winfield until she married my Father, Edgar King, from Burden,
Kansas and moved up to Wichita.  I was born in 1946 and lived most of my life
just South of Wichita, close to Haysville.  I spent a good part of my life in
Winfield hanging around with a bunch of cousins, a mix of Kings, Pughs and
Gilcreases.  I left Kansas in 1971 to continue my education at the University
of Washington in Seattle.
My Mom, while not in the best of health, still remembers quite a bit of
Winfield, and just last fall took a trip back.  She and my Father live here
in Washington now.  Lately I’ve been doing more research on Winfield for a
little project of my own, and have been questioning her every chance I get,
since her memory naturally goes back farther than my own.  This research led
me to your web site.
I grew up hearing stories of Winfield and Cowley County and some of the more
colorful inhabitants, such as “Hippo,” from the hospital we called 3rd Hill,
who, usually on Saturday nights, decided to direct traffic at the
intersection of 9th and Main.  Hippo also went to any local fair or carnival
and danced with what my Grandmother called Hula Girls.  I’m sure you know
about 3rd Hill.  As I recall, there was another citizen named Hercules, also
from the hospital, with the stature and musculature of  a giant, but the
heart of a lamb.  Sounds stereotypical, I know, but still true.  And of
course there was “The Sheriff,” who carried a toy badge.  Hap, or Happy I
believe was his name. I was about 9 before I discovered that he wasn’t
actually the Sheriff, but simply the product of a somewhat suspect gene pool.
At an early age, my Cousin Jeff Page (son of Jewel Gilcrease and James Page)
and I spent some wonderful times exploring the town, usually ending up at
Island Park.  In those days, there was a separate swimming pool for the black
folks, located just SE of the current pool at Island Park.  That other pool
got torn down sometime after Brown vs. The Board of Education of Topeka, I
think.  We typically spent Saturdays at the movies, usually the Fox, less
frequently the Regent, and very rarely the Nile, located a couple of blocks
East of Main on 9th St.  Attendance at the Nile was generally sparse, since
rats tended to scurry across the stage during movies.  For, I think, twenty
cents at the Fox, we could see a couple of movies, usually featuring John
Wayne or Randolph Scott, a serial, and a bunch of cartoons.  This was a
superb investment for the adults, getting rid of  hyper-active children for a
mere twenty cents.  Later I think the price went up to twenty-five or thirty
cents, still providing an excellent return on investment.
I spent a lot of time just wandering up and down Main Street, sometimes with
cousins, frequently without.  This was pure exploration, not applied,  since
I was basically just loafing without any real purpose other than to just
discover any interesting thing I could.  Occasionally this activity led to
what I might call an adventure.  In those days my friends and I traded
personal adventure stories, just like baseball cards and marbles.  I had a
Beagle at that time.  Dogs, especially Beagles for some reason, will
naturally lead one into adventures that are a little more stressful than one
would wish.
I’m interested to know if you have access to any photographs, especially from
the fifties, that you haven’t posted on the web.  Later this week I’ll be
visiting my mom to investigate her collection.  I’m especially interested in
any photographs of my Grandfather’s plumbing shop, and all the train depots.
 I seem to recall there being a total of three train stations in town, two of
which were just South of Island Park, on either side of Main, and another one
West of Main somewhere.
Which reminds me: frequently on Saturday evenings we would go out for ice
cream then head for the train station West of Main to “watch the Streamliner
come in.”  I think this occurred about an hour before the Jackie Gleason
show, but I’m not sure.  Naturally we listened to a lot of radio in those
days, too, Jack Benny, Our Miss Brooks, and such.  My Great-grandfather (not
the one who got shot) sat in front of a big console radio and listened to all
the Chicago Cubs games, cussing the Cubs every chance he got.  The Cubs gave
him plenty of chances, and we kids usually got ushered into another room by
the third inning or so.
One marvelous activity on a warm summer evening, and it sounds rather mundane
when put into words on paper, was simply sitting on the front porch and
listening to the locusts.  A cold glass of lemonade added to the enjoyment.
 Lord, I miss those locusts.  My grandfather listened to the St. Louis
Cardinals on the radio.  He didn’t cuss the Cardinals as much as his father
cussed the Cubs, but then the Cardinals frequently had better seasons.
 Consequently, we kids got to stay out and listen to the ball game and
locusts later into the evening.
I wanted you to know how much I enjoyed your web site.  I’m curious about
your own relationship to Winfield.  My memory sometimes is a bit defective,
hence the research.  It is very important to instill an appreciation of the
past in our children, a fact that I believe you mentioned.  I remember that
during the last year of my Grandmother’s life, I put together a small summary
of events occurring during her years and was astounded when the list was
completed.  When she was born, Nicholas II was on the throne of Russia;
Victoria was Queen of England, and the Wright brothers had yet to fly.  She
lived to see the Russian Revolution and the fall of the USSR.  She watched
Neil Armstrong set foot on the moon and remembered an age before flight.  I
am proud to have known her.  She could actually remember the last time that
the Chicago Cubs and Boston Red Sox won World Series titles.  I do know that
her last thoughts were of both her late, loving husband, Emmett C. Pugh, and
of Winfield, Kansas.  Winfield will certainly always be with me.
Sorry but I tend to ramble a bit.  If you would be so kind, I would
appreciate seeing and hearing more of Winfield.  If you like, I will
certainly pass along any further information I obtain from my Mother and any
of my own recollections.  If we correspond again, I’ll try to be a little
more concise.
Sincerely,
Victor A. King
VKing23971@AOL.com