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Framed. And liking it.

October 9, 2015 /

Feeling a little Hoity-Toity. An evening visitor at the front counter looked across the store and said:

I love your Larry Greer.

As in… original watercolor painting by artist Larry Greer that’s hanging on the wall of the shop, a painting I’ve owned all of my adult life. And my customer is talking about it with authority.

That was from his post-European-visit phase, she said.

Oh.

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According to her – and I have no reason to disbelieve – the late Mr. Greer was first known as a painter of western-style art. It was a long time ago when I bought the painting and I don’t remember anything else that was on display under his canopy.

It was at the Italian Festival at McAlester, years ago. Back then, the event was a big deal and was attended by at least one of the big-city television stations every couple of years. I don’t know if it has survived as an annual festival or not – shame on me.

The year the Original Greer (I may start calling it that from now on…hoity-toity-like), the year it came into my hands, I was a young DJ working afternoon drive radio in McAlester. The festival committee apparently decided that the way to entice some higher quality artists to display their works was to guarantee that some paintings would be sold.

We were asked as business-folks to promise to shell out some money. I offered to spend eighty dollars (and what was I thinking?) That amount was – as I recall – the figure I was paying for monthly rent. Eighty dollars doesn’t sound like so much now, but think about your own monthly mortgage or rent payment.

Yikes.

What can I say? I was a civic-minded knucklehead and not so good with finances.

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The Italian Festival rolled around and – always one to stand behind my word – I dug into the cigar box and pulled out those saved-up twenty dollar bills. After polishing off a plate of spaghetti and ravioli, I wandered around the grounds looking for something that might liven up my apartment.

Maybe something out of the ordinary, just a tad.

Larry Greer handed over his watercolor and it has been in my custody since. I’ve never known much about it except how it came to be on my wall. Not too long ago, a woman spoke to Dustin about it and later returned with a printed page about an Oklahoma City art auction. It showed the sale of a companion piece to the one I own.

Same red-capped fellow in the same matte and frame, but painted in profile. Auctioned for some twelve-hundred dollars. It made me feel better about spending my eighty all those years ago. It’s still valued at about the same as a rent payment.

Then today, the lady says: I love your Larry Greer.

I may have gotten eighty dollars worth of satisfaction just having someone recognize it. Not a Picasso or Remington print, but still.

Nice to have a life-long companion get a little attention.

It’s Friday night – Late Night – in the Rose District! We’ll be serving lunch tomorrow, so…

Come visit!

McHuston

Booksellers & Irish Bistro
Rose District
122 South Main St. Broken Arrow OK!

Early Morning Surprises and the Good Old Daze.

September 30, 2015 /

There’s a saying about having one’s past come back to haunt. My long-ago years popped up this morning – in the newspaper, by all evidence. The article from the Broken Arrow Ledger had been clipped out and was hand delivered by a friend shortly after I unlocked the front door.

I had almost forgotten about the interview and picture-taking session with Mr. Dapron, the fellow who asked if he could chat with me about my sports background. Understanding that topic would make for a short conversation, I had agreed to it.

Wasn’t sure how that was going to work out.

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Before Doug Quinn retired from the Ledger and was still manning their sports desk, we bumped into each other on several occasions and wound up talking sports and reporting. Mr. Quinn covered a lot of sports and – like the territory I covered during my tenure – it was mostly smaller towns (although Broken Arrow certainly is out of that category these days).

There was common ground that only someone covering small-town sports could understand, things like rickety football stadium press boxes and lavish hospitality offerings at college basketball arenas. (The Oral Roberts University staff used to set out some great food and sodas for the reporters back when I had a press pass.) Although plenty of people talk into microphones about high school sports across the state, it is still a small fraternity, and people wind up crossing paths.

I’m guessing Doug must have mentioned something about former sports reporters, or something. That’s where Duane Dapron comes in – armed with a notepad and a camera.

I appreciate his time and the fact that he was able to make me sound more interesting than I am. The publicity actually brought a couple of groups at lunchtime who hadn’t realized until reading the article that we offered food as well as books.

Even though I was caught off-guard this morning, I later had time to read the story and could appreciate Mr. Dapron’s efforts. He was very patient during the interview, despite the fact that we had to pause several times so I could run over to the front counter.

So, a big Thanks! to the Broken Arrow Ledger – and Duane Dapron in particular – for a nice article about the shop and the Old Days when the microphones were more than just shelf-top displays.

I’m just trying to figure out who the old man in the picture is.

A Handshake Deal etched in Stone.

September 7, 2015 /

There are some new Riders in the District. They’ll be sticking around for a time, so you’ll have an opportunity to see them on horseback, striking up a handshake deal over the fence rails.

It’s a big bronze, fashioned by sculptor Bradford J. Williams, who comes to Western art naturally, having been raised in Colorado amidst cattle drives and country fairs – living the cowboy life. The large-scale monument sits on the north end of the new building being constructed by Arkansas Valley Bank, or AVB as their signs identify them these days.

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I’m fond of the idea of the handshake deal, and the bronze makes me think of my dealings with the local bank in McAlester when I was a young man. The new car bug had bitten and I found a little one-owner that I just had to have. My enthusiasm for it may have just caught the banker off-guard or maybe it was just the nature of small-town dealings. He didn’t ask for any collateral or down payment. “I know your Daddy,” he said, and told me to go ahead and get the car. He’d have the paperwork drawn up as quick as he could.

Just a signature was all he required. My promise that I would repay the loan.

Time was, a man’s word was his bond – something that could be trusted. That’s the spirit of the handshaking monument. It’s called “Binding Contract,” and once upon a time a handshake was better than a signature on a piece of paper. A contract might be misfiled or lost, but you can’t dispute shaking on a deal.

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Our own Rose District sculptor David Nunneley has worked with Mr. Williams in the past, and aided in the recent installation of the monument. Both artists work in bronze and have statues in public spaces all across the country.

Williams – a self-taught artist – describes his western sculptures as “symbols of our need to believe that another world exists beyond that of our experience – a world that is richer and truer, a world where hard work, trust, decency and strength without excuse aren’t just rumors, but fact.”

It’s a fact that the bank’s new building is progressing nicely, and the street repair on the south edge of the property has been completed, allowing the road to be reopened for traffic. For now, you’ll have to peer through the chain-link construction fence to have a gander at the cowboys, but they’ll be out of the gate soon enough.

We’ll be open tomorrow and firing up the lunchtime chuck wagon, so…

Come visit!

McHuston

Booksellers & Irish Bistro
Rose District
122 South Main St. Broken Arrow OK!

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