Discussion - Member to Member Sales - Research Center
Discussion - Member to Member Sales - Research Center
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A pleasant little collection from an unpleasant past.
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@Angore — in 1958-59-, when I in high school, I got a part-time job working behind the camera counter at Save-On Drugs in Silver City, New Mexico (my hometown). The pharmacist, Bobby Jackson, Jr., had survived the Bataan Death March following the American surrender at Corregidor. He was a good boss, but troubled: he must have been suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder as a result of the Death March and prison camp.
Bobby had been a member of the local unit of the New Mexico National Guard, all of whom had been sent to the Philippines before the war, ostensibly to defend the Philippines, which was an American protectorate. One problem was that they were poorly trained, not that that would have made a lot of difference against the superior Japanese invasion force.
An interesting sidebar to this story involves Bobby’s father, Bobby Jackson, Sr., who was also a pharmacist and owned Howell Drug at the corner of Broadway and Bullard Streets. Take a look at this postcard, showing a view of Bullard Street to the north, the drugstore at the right and a flagpole in the centre of the intersection:
When Bobby Jackson, Sr. learned that his son had been captured by the Japanese, he vowed to personally raise and lower the flag every day until his son returned home, and that is what he did, at least according to what my family was told. (We moved to New Mexico from New York State in 1949.) After the war, perhaps after Bobby Jackson, Sr. retired, a group of businessmen took his place, and carried on until some time in the 1960s or 1970s when the flagpole was removed. Later postcards show the same intersection and flagpole, with the concrete base badly scratched, gouged, and chipped. Lot of drivers, perhaps going home from the nearby Buffalo Bar, couldn’t quite avoid it!
My friends and I knew that flagpole well. On Friday and Saturday nights, “dragging Main” in Ruben Carrillo’s ancient Chevy, we would do a 180 around the flag pole to go back up Bullard Street, or we might do a 360, over and over again. The Chevy had a wiring short: Every time Reuben made a left turn, the horn would toot! (Reuben could toot better — he was an accomplished clarinetist and saxophonis (and became a Boeing engineer).
Bob
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@Bobstamp
I always enjoy your stories
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This collection is on K-Line Album pages. K-Line is no more. The paper was thick card stock.
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re: Philippines - Japanese Occupation
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A pleasant little collection from an unpleasant past.
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re: Philippines - Japanese Occupation
@Angore — in 1958-59-, when I in high school, I got a part-time job working behind the camera counter at Save-On Drugs in Silver City, New Mexico (my hometown). The pharmacist, Bobby Jackson, Jr., had survived the Bataan Death March following the American surrender at Corregidor. He was a good boss, but troubled: he must have been suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder as a result of the Death March and prison camp.
Bobby had been a member of the local unit of the New Mexico National Guard, all of whom had been sent to the Philippines before the war, ostensibly to defend the Philippines, which was an American protectorate. One problem was that they were poorly trained, not that that would have made a lot of difference against the superior Japanese invasion force.
An interesting sidebar to this story involves Bobby’s father, Bobby Jackson, Sr., who was also a pharmacist and owned Howell Drug at the corner of Broadway and Bullard Streets. Take a look at this postcard, showing a view of Bullard Street to the north, the drugstore at the right and a flagpole in the centre of the intersection:
When Bobby Jackson, Sr. learned that his son had been captured by the Japanese, he vowed to personally raise and lower the flag every day until his son returned home, and that is what he did, at least according to what my family was told. (We moved to New Mexico from New York State in 1949.) After the war, perhaps after Bobby Jackson, Sr. retired, a group of businessmen took his place, and carried on until some time in the 1960s or 1970s when the flagpole was removed. Later postcards show the same intersection and flagpole, with the concrete base badly scratched, gouged, and chipped. Lot of drivers, perhaps going home from the nearby Buffalo Bar, couldn’t quite avoid it!
My friends and I knew that flagpole well. On Friday and Saturday nights, “dragging Main” in Ruben Carrillo’s ancient Chevy, we would do a 180 around the flag pole to go back up Bullard Street, or we might do a 360, over and over again. The Chevy had a wiring short: Every time Reuben made a left turn, the horn would toot! (Reuben could toot better — he was an accomplished clarinetist and saxophonis (and became a Boeing engineer).
Bob
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@Bobstamp
I always enjoy your stories
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