Light Fingers in the Underground Atlanta, Ga 1995

"Papa Monk said someone stole Uncle Lamar's wallet," said April Beddingfield. At 15, April could have posed for Jean-Baptiste Greuze's painting, The Broken Pitcher. She has beautiful eyes and a sensitive mouth. Her countenance is one of disarming serenity, like the girl in the picture. Now, she looked worried.

"What happened?" I asked.

"I don't know," said Monk.

It was 12:15 PM on Saturday, August 5, 1995. All 32 members attending the Ousley Seven Sister Reunion had just completed a visit to the Coca-Cola Museum in downtown Atlanta. Our party had split: one faction headed for a mall in the suburbs, while the other wanted to see Underground Atlanta.

Originally, Underground Atlanta was the underground train station for the Western and Atlantic Railroad. In 1989, the city restored and expanded it into a six-block complex of restaurants, shops, and cabarets. Civic planners believed this would revitalize the old business district.

Fran (Ousley) Johnson and I, along with Norma Jean (Ousley) Beddingfield and her husband and daughter, Keith and April, were huddled together in a churning sea of people on the second-floor entrance to the Underground Mall. We had entered ahead of our group, waiting for them to catch up. Staying together seemed prudent.

Hearing about Lamar's wallet, we were confused. What should we do? We waited and waited. Eventually, Lamar passed us, following a security guard up to the third floor. Although he didn't speak, he appeared okay. Monk Beddingfield joined us.

"Monk, what in the world happened?" asked Norma Jean. We pressed close to hear.

"I'm not sure," he said. "Lamar was in front of me as we entered the double doors. I saw a man fall to the floor. I couldn't tell if he was drunk or sick... As he fell, another man backed into Lamar twice, like he was trying to get away from the man on the floor. I believe that in the confusion, the man bumping into Lamar picked his pocket."

"Were they acting together?" I asked.

"Yes, I believe several people may have been involved," Monk continued. "I saw a woman smile at the man who pushed into Lamar. After it happened, I talked to a bartender serving drinks on the patio. He told me that it was the second time today that they had pulled this stunt."

"Did you actually see someone take Lamar's billfold?" asked Frances.

"No, I didn't. It was so quick. I didn't realize anything was wrong until Lamar said that they got his wallet," Monk admitted. "I feel badly. I had just suggested to Lamar that he put his wallet in his front pocket to protect it."

"It wasn't your fault," I said. "They would have gotten his billfold regardless of what pocket it was in. They were professionals."

"Monk, do you know how much money he lost?" asked Frances.

"No. I guess he had a couple of hundred dollars in his wallet," he replied.

We asked more questions. Soon, however, it was evident that we would never know exactly what happened. We were left to speculate.

As we waited, I grew apprehensive. Sweat trickled down my spine. I was concerned that one of the children might wander off. I don't like crowds. I especially don't like tightly packed crowds of strangers.

They reminded me of antelope at a water hole when the lions show up to drink. Their eyes enlarge, their nostrils dilate, and they run in circles, acting unruly and mindless. If I didn't know better, I would have thought we were somewhere in the African savanna. And I didn't have so much as a pocket knife.

Evelyn (Ousley) Bailey said, "I'm so sorry this happened... I'll never get him out of Causeville again."

I dared not laugh, although I wanted to. Evelyn was distraught, not over the stolen billfold and lost money, but over the potential for future arguments with Lamar about visiting another big city. How like an Ousley girl: material loss means nothing compared to a strained relationship with a loved one. They are peacemakers.

I saw Lamar descending from the third floor. He was angry and upset. Without a word being exchanged, everyone departed the underground mall. I wasn't the only one glad to leave.

The theft was the defining moment of the Ousley Seven Sister Reunion in Atlanta, Georgia, on August 4 and 5, 1995. It struck a sour note.

Sharon (Ousley) Kling and Dan Kling had volunteered to host the '95 reunion in Atlanta. They worked tirelessly to make it a success. And it was, in spite of Lamar's bad experience.

Most of my memories of Atlanta date from 1958 when, as a young ensign, I attended the Navy Supply Corps School in Athens, Georgia. Occasionally, after classes on Friday, several of us would drive to Atlanta to see the sights. Then, Atlanta seemed sleepy and comfortable. Today, Atlanta enjoys an excellent business climate that has produced explosive growth. As New Orleans has earned the title of "The Big Easy," so Atlanta deserves the title, "The Big Hustle."

Local literature says that Atlanta was established as a rail hub in 1843 for the southeastern states. It has been a center for aggressive entrepreneurs ever since. And yes, indeed, Peachtree Street begins in the center of town and heads north forever.

Frances and I began the 860-mile automobile trip from Houston to Atlanta on Thursday, August 3, 1995. We stopped in Baton Rouge to see Ann (Ousley) Hoadly and her daughter, Allison Hoadley Anderson. Since Allison was expecting and in the middle of a house move to Waveland, Mississippi, Ann had answered an urgent S.O.S. for help. Moms are always there when you need them the most, even if they live halfway around the world in Hawaii.

We enjoyed talking and playing with Noah (18 months) and Hannah (4 years) and speculating on the gender of the little Anderson waiting in the wings.

The owner of a folksy, neighborhood restaurant served a superb lunch. Allison had done some modeling for him, and that entitled us to special treatment.

Allison told all about her new house under construction in Waveland. It's a dogtrot design, with an open corridor on the first floor. It is joined on the second floor. One side will house their studio and guest bedrooms, and the other side will be the traditional arrangement with the children's rooms on the second floor. Since both Allison and John are architects, the design is full of unique features. I can't wait to see it.

Leaving Baton Rouge, we planned to head for Mobile, turn northeast through Montgomery and on to Atlanta. However, the eastern sky was dark and threatening. Our radio reported a hurricane moving onshore in the vicinity of Mobile. We elected to run due north out of Hammond, Louisiana, to Meridian, Mississippi.

We arrived in Meridian about 8:30 PM. It was dark and raining. Frances suggested we call Norma Jean or Evelyn, but I didn't want to drop in unannounced. We tried four motels before we found a vacancy in Tom Bodet's Motel 6. (Tom advertises for Motel 6 on National Public Radio. His pitch is catchy and homey: "We'll leave the light on for you.") But don't be taken in. Yes, Motel 6 is inexpensive. The downside, however, is lumpy mattresses and no hot water. I suppose any port will do in a storm. The entire Gulf Coast was evacuating inland. Rooms were scarce.

At about 3:00 PM on Friday, August 4, we checked in at the Peachtree Hampton Inn. Peachtree City is located 25 miles southwest of downtown Atlanta. Our room was on the ground floor. After freshening up and greeting everyone, the reunion party convoyed in ten cars to the Kling residence.

Sharon and Dan advertised snacks, but they offered a complete spread for all 32 of us. The house was filled with the sounds of laughter and conversation as we recounted the past year's highlights.

I marveled at Rebecca Kling (9 years old) as she played with Brittany Atter (9 years old) and Matthew Beddingfield (10 years old). Rebecca has boundless energy and enthusiasm. She's a daredevil and a leader. Matthew looks just like Keith, his dad, and he has his grandmother's (Norma Jean) personality—bright, cheerful, and talkative. Brittany is sensitive and very perceptive. I'll wager she's more at home in a library than on a playground.

Peter Kling (16 years old) watched over his sister and the other children with amused tolerance. There is a kindness and goodness about Peter that will take him far.

Shea Shepherd (17 years old) is a grown-up, very pretty young lady thinking about college. Her younger sister, Emily (13 years old), possesses the impish manner and breathtaking smile of my favorite actress, Meg Ryan.

Abby Olivier's (6 years old) red hair lights up the room as she follows Whitney (12 years old), her older sister, everywhere. Whitney is quieter and more serious than I remembered.

My head was spinning with images and stories by the time the party broke up. It had been a busy year for everyone.

We assembled Saturday morning in the lobby to plan the day. We decided to drive to the nearest Marta station and catch a ride into the city. Everyone wanted to visit the Coca-Cola Museum.

The ride-token vending machines baffled us. Finally, we sorted out how to insert dollar bills to obtain tokens. We boarded a rail car. I dubbed it, "The Soul Train."

20 minutes later, we disembarked in downtown Atlanta. A short walk brought us to the museum at 55 Martin Luther King, Jr. Drive at Central Avenue.

Several hundred people were waiting in line to enter. We were told there would be a two-hour wait. Elvin Shepard said, "I'm not going to wait that long." We discussed what to do.

Jolene Shepard James said, "Wait a few minutes. Rene Olivier will get us in as guests of Chic-Fil-A." It happened just like that. Rene is one of those people who quietly gets the job done with no fuss.

Inside, flags represent 195 countries where Coca-Cola is sold. We viewed a film, "First Things First," a brief history of how a fountain drink became a favorite worldwide beverage. Coca-Cola is a study in marketing genius.

Hearing the Coca-Cola songs and seeing the old-time vending machines and promotional items brought back pleasant memories of long ago summer afternoons. As a child, I was allowed one Coke per week. All week, I would dream about my Coke and moon pie treat on Saturday afternoon. The museum left me with a warm, secure, and happy feeling.

Saturday evening, we dined at the DuRock Cafe. Monk and Norma Jean, Tom and Lucille (Ousley) Sofge, Helen Sofge Atter, Evelyn and Lamar, Merle (Ousley) Shepard, and Frances and I shared a table. The DuRock specializes in old-fashioned southern barbeque. It was tasty.

During dinner, we learned that Jodi James (20 years old) and Matt Slocum planned to get married on May 11, 1996. Jodi is a stunning young lady who moves like a goddess. She and Matt make a very attractive couple.

We had a fun time. Later, we returned to Dan and Sharon's home for a group picture. What a fire drill that turned into. How do you get 32 people together in a house for a group picture that includes everyone? Let me tell you, it isn't easy finding just the right spot.

As Matt struggled to arrange us, Elvin yelled out, "Matt, this is the second family reunion you've been to. You can't come to any more until you've married my niece! And I want to see the paper to prove it!" This brought the house down. Matt didn't miss a beat. He must have experienced Elvin's rough and ready humor before.

We left about midnight and returned to the motel. We departed Sunday at 9:00 AM for Birmingham.

When we arrived at 4317 Old Brook Trail, Dad and Edie surprised us by inviting Gene and Doris Suttle, Aunt Mildred and Aunt Benny, and Bill Duke and Jimmy and his son, Charlie Irwin. I really appreciated their efforts to make our brief visit enjoyable.

We had a good time. Edie prepared a delicious lunch. I enjoyed talking to Jimmy and Charlie, and Gene and Doris.

Jimmy regaled us with stories of their Alaskan adventure earlier this summer. Jimmy has a subtle sense of humor and an understated manner that makes him a gifted storyteller. I found myself hanging on his every word.

Aunt Mildred is especially proud of her son and grandson. She beamed listening to Jimmy relating stories from the trip.

He has just graduated from Auburn with a degree in Mechanical Engineering. He accepted a job in Montgomery. He is handsome, intelligent, and well-spoken. He'll make quite a catch for some young lady.

We left about 3:00 PM for Meridian, where Monk and Norma Jean put up with us for the evening. It felt good to relax in the company of such dear, old friends who also happen to be relatives. Their house is filled with tranquility and happiness.

The next morning, we left for Houston. Like most good times, the four days went by too quickly.