Tales of a Boy from Cane River

By Harvis Johnson

I owe my father, Harvis Sr., and my mother, Rita, a debt of gratitude for the values they instilled in me at an early age that carried me through life. My goal is that readers of my stories will have fond memories of their childhood and events throughout their lives. If I am able to put a smile on the readers face as they recall their own past lives, I will have succeeded in this project.

I also want to thank my sweet wife, Ginny, for encouraging and supporting me throughout this journey.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Apr 13, 2017
• ISBN: 9781532020858

Harvis Johnson

Meet the Author: Harvis “Junior” Johnson is a retired Production Supervisor in the Oil and Gas Industry, having spent 32 years in his career. This is Junior’s fourth book, the first “Tales Of A Boy From Cane River”, “CoCo Bed Justice”, and “The CoCo Bed Kid Writes And Rides Again” which was released last year. Junior, now affectionately known as “The CoCo Bed Kid” resides near his home of Cloutierville, La. on the banks of beautiful Cane River Lake in Natchitoches, La. He is a graduate of Northwestern State University in Natchitoches, La.

Book preview

TALES OF A BOY

from

CANE RIVER

HARVIS JOHNSON

(JUNIOR)

27615.png

TALES OF A BOY FROM CANE RIVER

Copyright © 2017 Junior Johnson.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

iUniverse

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.iuniverse.com

1-800-Authors (1-800-288-4677)

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

ISBN: 978-1-5320-2084-1 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5320-2085-8 (e)

iUniverse rev. date: 04/12/2017

Contents

Note Of Appreciation

Chapter 1 There Is A Santa Claus

Chapter 2 A Lesson From My Dad

Chapter 3 Huck & Tom:

Brothers Explore Cane River

Chapter 4 Catching Chickens

Chapter 5 Ghosts In Those Hills?

Chapter 6 A Tale Of Two Whippings

Chapter 7 Young Entrepreneur

Chapter 8 A Blood Feast

Chapter 9 In Search Of Hobos

Chapter 10 A Boys First Fox Hunt

Chapter 11 Mean Or Mischief?

Chapter 12 The Thrill Of Victory & The Agony Of Defeat

Chapter 13 California Dreaming With Two Ladies

Chapter 14 A Hitch-Hikers Adventure

Chapter 15 Shell Beach Bridge

Chapter 16 Death Of The Bell

Chapter 17 Celebration Of Life

Chapter 18 Sharks In Lake Tyler

Chapter 19 A Father And Son Vacation

Chapter 20 Surfside Beach And The Monkees

Chapter 21 Risk And Reward:

The Oil And Gas Industry

Chapter 22 Charlie Tolar And Card Games

Chapter 23 Amtrak And Chicago Cubs

Chapter 24 Scuba Bill And Reverend Junior

Chapter 25 Substitute Teaching

Chapter 26 Lost And Found

Chapter 27 Guardian Angels Protect Us

Chapter 28 Producing Oil & Gas Wells

Chapter 29 Natchitoches And Mayor Joe Sampite

Chapter 30 Last Buffalo Hunter

Chapter 31 Rock Chapel Story

Chapter 32 Emanuel Community And The Burbie

Coming Soon

Chapter 1 A Brother Saves The Day

Chapter 2 Aiden And Dylan’s Homecoming

NOTE OF APPRECIATION

This has been a very fulfilling project, but I could not have done it alone. There are many who have helped me along the way.

I would like to thank Carla Kelly, a very talented and successful writer, who provided advice and suggestions along the way.

Bill Vance and Corey Poole with the Natchitoches Parish Journal, who had faith in my stories, and provided the space to showcase them.

Miss Fredricka, with the Natchitoches Parish Library, who patiently aided me in research, and assisted me with the computer technology needed to prepare my work.

Our daughter Karlis Eliasson, who assisted in editing of the photography, and my sweet wife Ginny, who had the patience to allow me to pursue my dream, and encouraged me along the way.

But most of all, this could not have been accomplished without my faithful readers who would tell me how much my stories reminded them of events in their own lives.

Everyone at iUniverse was extremely helpful and patient with me in finalizing my project. Without their valuable assistance, I would have nothing but a pile of papers on my desk.

To each of you I am very thankful, and those who spent their hard earned money for a copy of my book, my sincere thanks. I hope you are not disappointed.

Junior Johnson

Dedicated to My Precious Son

Kevin Harvis Johnson

(1974-1996)

Dedication%20%26%20Chapter%2020.jpg

CHAPTER 1

There Is a Santa Claus

chapter1.jpg

Y ears ago when I was a young four year old living on CoCo Bed Road our family was like many others who lived in the area. We were poor but did not know it. We had a loving family to carry us through difficult times.

There were no food stamps back then for those of us who needed assistance, but there was a commodity program where once a month I would go with my Mom to the Parish Fairgrounds to get our allotment of food staples which included canned ham, cheese, peanut butter, powdered milk, sugar, and flour. These items assured that families would not go hungry while their financial needs were at a minimum because of hard economic times.

I had to use my imagination for entertainment because there was no money for toys. My Dad worked in the logging woods and drove a truck and trailer. I looked up to him and wanted to be a log hauler as well.

My Dad smoked Prince Albert tobacco that came in little red flat cans. He would give me the empty cans which I would use as my truck, and then drive a nail through the end of a piece of Mom’s cooking stove wood. I would drive a hole in the can and this piece of wood made the perfect trailer that I would push around for hours on my hands and knees driving my log truck. I’m sure I wore holes in the knees of many pair of blue jeans.

My other favorite toy was a stick horse. When Mom would wear out a broom I would cut the brush end off, drill a hole in one end and put a piece of leather through it for my reins. I would ride my horse up and down the dirt road in front of my house and into the nearby fields. As with my fleet of trucks I soon had a stable of horses. When Mom wore out a broom I would make another horse, and since her brooms came in different colors I would have a name for each horse.

These were simple pleasures that gave me hours of entertainment and did not cost anything. We would always receive a Sears & Roebuck Christmas Catalog during the season and I would go through it looking at all the toys that I would like to have, but knew that it was not possible. This did not bother me because even at a young age I knew that we could not afford these luxuries, but did not give up hope that perhaps Santa Claus would get something for me.

I was fascinated by a Red Ryder cowboy set that included a red hat, neck scarf, and a genuine leather gun belt with two holsters and pearl handle guns. These were no ordinary pistols that you put a roll of caps in, but had a revolving cylinder with bullets that came apart and a round cap inserted into each one. When you pulled the trigger it would fire and smoke would come out of the barrel.

Red Ryder was my favorite Cowboy and I would listen to his show on our big radio every Saturday morning from a series called Cactus Matinee. Mom suggested I write a letter to Santa Claus, which I did, and kept my fingers crossed.

In our home Mom and Dad’s bedroom was strictly off limits both day and night. The door was always closed and I always wondered what was behind it. I had never been in the room until one day right before Christmas.

My Dad was working in the logging woods and Mom had to walk down the old dirt road to a neighbor’s house to deliver some eggs that she sold for extra money. I was alone.

As soon as she was out of sight I slowly opened the door to their bedroom. I was very nervous as I entered the room. It was dark and very quiet. As I stood inside the doorway I noticed the door to a big closet in the corner partially open. I walked over and opened it wider and peered in. Despite the lack of much light what I saw put a chill down my spine. On the floor in the corner was a Red Ryder hat and coiled up next to it was a leather gun belt with two pearl handle guns.

I immediately closed the door and rushed from the room. I was scared and confused. I took one of my horses from the corral and hurried down the road to meet my Mom leaving a trail of dust behind me.

As we slowly walked home Mom noticed that I was unusually quiet and asked if anything was wrong. Not wanting to confide to her that I had been in their room, I quietly said that I was fine and was wondering if Santa Claus had received my letter. She said that he probably had and we continued on our way home.

The next day was Christmas Eve but all I could think of was what I had seen in the closet, and the fact that I should not have been in that room to begin with. The guild was driving me crazy but I did not want to confess and get in trouble right before Christmas.

I didn’t sleep much the night before Christmas, but in the early hours of the morning I finally gave up waiting for Santa and dozed off.