On Monday, the 4th of January, 1971, I entered upon
a career in urban planning. I awoke early and got all prepared, down to my only
tie and spit-shined Navy shoes. I had even purchased a ballpoint pen in case they didn’t furnish them. I combed
my still-short hair, and shaved, even though I didn’t need to. I was "locked and loaded," to borrow a phrase from my past.
I had made a “dry run”
and knew it took a little more than ten minutes to walk to the office. Heavy traffic
wouldn’t bother me a bit.
When to leave? One mustn’t be late. I had learned that from
the USN. On the other hand, it wouldn’t look all that great to be standing at
attention outside the office door like a supplicant looking desperate. I had a
good watch that I had bought at the ship’s PX, so I would arrive ten minutes
early and hang around until time to enter. That ought to do it.
Leaving the apartment at Capitol and State streets, I
encountered a brisk, chilling morning with a freshening breeze. The vehicles at
Horace Terry Pontiac Sales across the
street had thin films of frost on the windshields, waiting for a warming sun
before entering their day.
I started eastward along Capitol Avenue as anxious and happy
as I had ever been in my life. I owned a suede coat that was suitable for most
winter days in Arkansas and I stepped gaily, as if I had been doing this for
years. Cars sped by, their occupants ignoring me. Didn’t they know that I was the
newest professional in this fine city? The tall buildings coming into view
seemed to offer a welcome though. I walked on.
Coming to a multi-story hotel, I noticed a rock wall behind
it, maybe seven feet high, with what appeared to be broken glass embedded in a
top layer of concrete. A sign announced it as the Sam Peck Hotel. Story was it was originally named The Hotel Freiderica, having been
renamed by the Peck family in the 1930s. It has had other names in more recent
history but is still standing tall, boasting an addition designed by Arkansas-born
architect Edward D. Stone, the same man whose firm designed the civic center in
Pine Bluff.
The story circulated that the rock wall and broken glass was
designed to thwart neighborhood boys who might want to explore the hotel’s
mysteries. I never verified this.
Next, I encountered the most tantalizing spot of what was to
become my daily walk. I smelled it first, the unmistakable and tantalizing
smell of bread baking. Yep, the Colonial
Bakery stood on Capitol, filling the surrounding area with its pleasant and
pleasing aromas. It wouldn’t be a good week to start dieting.
The exterior of the building consisted of a solid brick wall,
near the center of which was a large rectangle of differently colored brick
that had been added at some point. I learned that this had once been a large
window that had allowed a most charming view. Inside, on summer afternoons,
legendary sportscaster Bennie Craig, would announce baseball games featuring
the hometown Arkansas Travelers,
while people watched from the street.
Our world was both simpler and more gracious, in many ways,
back then. With a person currently playing the character of a professional wrestler
while serving as president of our country, those of us who can remember the
Benny Craig days, and the quiet smell of bread baking, are truly fortunate.
I reached the Hall Building on time. I had decided during the
walk there, that five minutes until eight o’clock would be the appropriate time
to show, not showy but not tardy. It was important to make a good impression.
The receptionist was already in place, having arrived early enough to make
coffee, as evidenced by the cup on her desk.
I made a mental note of that and walked in to confront my
destiny.
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| Yep. The world needs more Benny Craigs. |
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