Not Just A Clock

As I look around the rooms of my house, I can clearly visualize images in my mind of historical events that occurred in my life.  I can see Brother Dave instigating annoyance between Brother Rob and Chris, calling one or both of them “dumb” or any one of us making fun of Brother O.J. and his ‘Fungi Back’, my Dad yelling about the school principal for whom he worked, that was a ‘stupid son-of-a-bitch that should never have been in the classroom’, or my Mom threatening to sit on Brother Chris’ lap to force hominy down his throat.  To some readers, these incidents may seem volatile but that is definitely not the case.  This was the typical sibling harassment that occurred in our redneck community and a demonstration of the frustration and the passion that my parents had for their jobs as teacher or parent.  Each and every one of those images brings me to outward laughter and warms my heart. 

The ability to recall these memories is brought about because of the furniture, wall hangings, knick-knacks, books, etc. that are a heart-warming part of my life.  For instance, my kitchen table was the table where I ate thousands, yes, thousands of meals with my annoying brothers, the sister that I wanted to be exactly like, and my parents, whom I loved deeply, feared slightly and learned from constantly – some good things, some not-so-good things.  Regardless, these household items mean a great deal to me but maybe of no value to most. 

Recently I had a conversation with my Aunt Betty Thayer (wife to my Dad’s youngest brother, Lynn) where she explained that these types of items carry memories to others in my family too.  Her story revolved around a clock.  As she described this clock, I remembered it and could see it hanging in Grandma and Grandpa’s house.  This particular clock was a mainstay in my grandparents house.  It was the type of clock that had a key that was needed to wind the clock in order for the clock to keep time and it hung directly above the telephone stand, complete with a swinging pendulum.  As a result, sometimes you could hear the tick, tick, tick of the clock and sometimes not!  

Aunt Betty explained to me that the clock came from the one-room Clifford School where Grandpa and Grandma were both teachers back in the early 1900’s.  This clock was cherished by Grandma and Grandpa as it was given to Grandpa to show gratitude for his contribution to the school and the community that the school served.  

Aunt Betty told me that in the early years of hers and Lynn’s (we called him Lyndie) marriage, they lived in Boston where Uncle Lyndie was attending school to become a pastor.  Grandma and Grandpa visited Boston once a year to see Aunt Betty and Uncle Lyndie and their growing family.  Betty said that every afternoon, Grandma would take a nap or have a rest while Grandpa walked the neighbourhood, talked with the neighbours, meeting people and learned about Boston and the community where they lived.  Grandpa loved talking to people and loved history.

In addition to their annual visits, Grandma was an avid letter-writer.  She wrote to all of her children, including Uncle Lyndie and Aunt Betty.  Receiving a letter from Grandma was very exciting for Uncle Lyndie’s family.  It was a time where the kids would gather around Aunt Betty so that she could read the letter to them, as the kids were too young to read – especially Grandma’s handwriting.  In one of Grandma’s letters, she was relating what was going on at the farm and the letter went something like, “6 a.m., breakfast is ready, waiting for Dad to come back in from the barn”.  Based on the continued reading of the letter, breakfast was finished and the letter continued  - “breakfast is over, dishes are done and pies are in the oven!”.  Grandma baked pies every day – except Sunday.  The letter continued:  “It’s 9:15 – at least I think it’s 9:15 but I can’t quite tell.”  The reason that she couldn’t tell was because one of the hands on the clock above the telephone had fallen off.  Grandma went on to explain that she wasn’t really sure whether it was the hour hand or the minute hand that had fallen off, but “it really doesn’t matter which hand it was as long as the clock keeps running”.  Betty and the children laughed and laughed through this portion of Grandma’s letter.  They could picture Grandma writing the letter, looking at the clock and trying to figure out the time.  But in reality, to Grandma the time wasn’t important.  Writing the letter, communicating with the family and looking after her family’s food preparation was important.  Also important was the fact that as long as the clock ‘ran’, no money needed to be spent on a repair! 

After Grandpa and Grandma died, my Dad and his siblings were clearing out the house and dividing the household items amongst the family members.  In that division, Uncle Lyndie and Aunt Betty received the clock, complete with only one hand!  Betty and Lyndie decided to repair the clock and use it in their home, remembering this letter and Grandma every time they looked at the clock.  Aunt Betty went on to explain that the clock ultimately ended up in Cousin Mike’s possession and now it continues to tick, tick, tick in Mike’s daughter, Natalie’s home.  Thank you to Uncle Lyndie, Aunt Betty, Cousin Mike and now Cousin Natalie for taking care of that special clock and preserving a wonderful memory of our Grandma.  She was definitely worth remembering. 

 

"But do I qualify?"

Near the end of 2021, Indiana residents were being given their third Covid vaccination – usually referred to as their ‘booster’ shot.  There were rules governing who was eligible for the booster such as minimum age of 65 or immune-compromising health conditions such as high blood pressure, high cholesterol, diabetes, obesity, etc.  Chris did not yet meet the age requirement but wanted to inquire as to whether he could get the booster anyway.  As he hesitates to go to a doctor (until his mean sister forces him!  I’m talking about Sister Joyce here.), he was unaware of his cholesterol or blood pressure numbers and he didn’t take insulin or medication for diabetes so he assumed he didn’t have any of those ailments.   What about obesity?  Well, anyone looking at Brother Chris would quickly recognize that he likely fell into that category but there wasn’t anyone stupid enough to EVER say that he did. 

 

Chris set off to go the location where he received his first two vaccinations and as he sauntered up to the door, a female staff member came outside and locked the door and was obviously closing the facility for the day.  Chris said to her “Well, I guess you’re closing for the day.  When do you open next?”  She replied that the following day he should come back.  She gave Chris a thorough head-to-toe once-over and asked, “Do you qualify?  Are you 65?”  He replied that he was not.  She gave him another up-and-down.  “Well, do you have high blood pressure, diabetes or high cholesterol?”  Chris said no again.  She then gave him a long look up and down, likely knowing for sure that he had to have at least one of the previous ailments but MOST CERTAINLY was obese but she seemed to hesitate to label him as such.  So she asked a leading question, hoping that he would admit his weight issue – “Do you have any OTHER health issues that would qualify you for the booster early?  Chris thought for a moment, knowing exactly what she was fishing for.  He then replied, “How about erectile dysfunction?  Does it qualify me?”  Seeing Chris’ smart-ass grin, she quickly and urgently replied, “It sure does!”  Come back tomorrow!“  They both departed, laughing all the way.    

Highlight of David Ray Thayer's Life

As the number of days dealing with Covid approaches 475, I notice that many of the media and ‘influencers’ are attempting to spin to their followers the benefits and positive aspects of this pandemic.  In the news today, an educator, was attempting to convey that she felt students received a ‘different’ type of education this year and that parents should not feel that the school year was a waste.  One item listed on her bullet-point list of things that students learned was ‘appreciation of family and friends’.  To my dismay, I didn’t think that it should take a pandemic to ‘teach’ this to students but I am discovering more and more that I am out of touch with the values that are taught to students.  However, the following writing came from my father, David Ray Thayer during his 91st year on this Earth and demonstrates clearly that anyone who lived or visited his house could see clearly that family was a treasure to him.  Though, he goes about getting to his point in a roundabout way, ultimately the ending is precious to me – and likely to my siblings, children and other family and friends.  And I imagine that in my 91st year (if I live that long!), I will also have difficulty getting to the point too. 

Excerpt from David Ray Thayer’s journal – handwritten on July 21, 2015

The frustration generated by Harriett’s absence after sixty-two years of marriage will be reflected in an attempt to write some thoughts ordinarily left unmentioned. 

This effort grows from the fact that it occurred to me that my children might be surprised by the “look back”.  This expectation grows from my awareness that prior to the WWII era, I was (a) much different Dave Thayer from the Dave Thayer of the current date in 2015.

I choose to indicate the extent of the change by describing some life events that occurred after my graduation from high school that might reflect a “Dad” much different from your perception of what Dad’s view of the culture is today.   

A first exposure to college occurred in the fall of 1942 - at Indiana University in Bloomington.  As an entering freshman, my weight was approximately 130 pounds (or less).  I resided in a private rooming house, approximately 15 rooms in an upstairs - located approximately 3 blocks from the major college entrance which, at the time, was on the west side of the college. 

All the renters were male college students.  The rooms were above a bar and reflected a “problem occupancy” after a few weeks of living there, which resulted in a campus policeman tenant moving into the first room at the upstairs stairway entrance.  This individual was not an educated and trained policeman, but certainly not a student.  I mention this interesting beginning to suggest that the students in that facility did not reflect a college-managed dormitory but rather a group of male students (two per room) most all reflecting “low-level cultural experiences”.  

The above seems enough said to indicate the cultural level of the students living therein, with maybe adding I was not bothered by the “social status” of my residence - but my acceptance probably indicated the fact that I was not intimidated by this and it did not make me feel misplaced.

After one semester I moved a few blocks to live alone and work in a family restaurant as a dishwasher.

Enough said about my beginning of college “living”, far removed from the residents of the fraternity facilities, etc. - except to mention that my first impression was that my co-inhabitants and I had little in common.  This remained true until I moved out after one semester.

 If I had attempted to estimate the effect of two semesters at I.U., an event at the end of semester number one would have been a good demonstration.  The event was an unusual conference with one of my professors.  I always arrived late for this particular professor’s class because when I had enrolled, I overlooked the fact that I had to walk from a preceding class across the campus - over ten city blocks.  There was only ten minutes between classes, making it necessary to go down three stories of elevation to a location 10 blocks from this particular class.  Of course this was impossible so I elected to explain to the professor that I must always be late for this accounting class but I would be as non-disturbing as possible.  The instructor said to do my best and she would see how it progressed and make changes if they were necessary.

The entire semester passed, with me arriving late, missing the better part of half of the period but the professor made no further comment about the late arrivals.  At the last class of the semester, the professor said to me “Remain after class this afternoon for a conference.”  I assumed that she wanted to reprimand me regarding my late arrivals to her class and explain a docking/reduction of my grade as a result.  Once the rest of the other students left, the professor began, “I want you to know that I am giving you an A+ in this course.  I have never given an A+ before to any student in my more than 20 years of teaching.  I do not know whether the administration will record an A+ grade but in your case it is clear to me that you have earned an A+.  I have never taught any student who is such a student as you.  You never make a mistake or have an omission.  I realize this comment from me is unusual but you are an unusual student.  I wish you good luck and if I can ever be of help, please let me know.”

As I ponder the above commentary, I am not certain of its effect on my adult children - perhaps it would be best to not send such an unusual message.

I now elect to introduce my children to me at age 18 - this recital of a transition in lifestyle reflects approximately 1-1/2 years prior to entering the Navy Air Corp.  The Navy period of time was approximately 2 years of training and a great personal adjustment.  To recall this period requires a review of a different existence in which no personal control is possible nor is it expected or even allowed to be desired!

Adapting to military “survival”, led me to be a “loner”.  That is to say, “never seek to be a cadet leader”.  Never being a leader may appear to be inappropriate however in the military, it allows one to be “no problem to the officers”.  Earning high academic scores should be sought but ‘rank’ is to be avoided during training periods. 

The above-convoluted comment is offered to reveal that I viewed the military as an unknown entity in which being a leader was to be avoided.  I never changed my mind in this view and never tried-out to be appointed a Cadet officer.  My observation of this isolation from leadership by choice lasted the entire 2-year duration in the military. 

When viewed from my present age of 91 years, I am led to the belief that my family members have experienced considerable perplexity in this long evolvement through my life.

Upon finding the present comment to be perplexing more than informative, I will end this effort in the hope to make your life events understandable other than to make my view of our “family role” is the absolute “High Point” of my life!

 

Republican or Democrat vaccination?

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During the 1950’s when my father and uncle ran for public office in Bartholomew County Indiana, the county newspaper, The Republic, stated that it seemed that the Thayer men belonged to neither the Republican nor the Democrat party - that they had their very own ‘Thayer’ party. My family has been unapologetically critical of both parties, depending on the issue. Most recently, my brother Chris demonstrated his tongue-in-cheek criticism of both parties while getting his groceries for the week at the local Columbus Kroger grocery store. A trip to the grocery store for my brother has become quite a social event during the pandemic. He socializes with the staff and is well-known for his humour and his hillbilly personality. While at the checkout, the Kroger cashier engaged in casual conversation with Chris as his groceries were scanned and it was obvious that other customers were listening to their conversation and were amused at the banter between Chris and his cashier. As the transaction neared its end, the cashier asked him if he had gotten his Covid vaccination yet. His response turned somewhat serious as he replied, “No, I haven’t gotten my shot yet - I have to call and make sure that I get the Republican vaccination, not the Democrat one”. The cashier wasn’t sure if he was kidding or not but Chris let the topic die with that abrupt statement. He then proceeded to put his bagged groceries in his cart to proceed outside. En route to the parking lot, Chris passed by an area at the exit of the store that had several self-serve lottery ticket machines. As he sauntered by, he overheard a woman who had been at one of the nearby checkouts say to her husband, “When we get home, remind me to call the doctor to make sure that we get the right Covid vaccination next week. We want the Republican one, not the Democrat.” Her husband looked at her and nodded in agreement. I can only imagine how many doctor’s offices were called to request the Republican vaccination over the next few days. That brother of mine - quite the shit-disturber. Definitely a member of the ‘Thayer’ party.


The Trial of Robert Watts

Recently one of my cousins died – got my attention.  I am the youngest of 25 grandchildren on my paternal grandfather’s side.  I have grown up with a bunch of storytellers.  So many colourful characters, so much hillbilly culture, rural warmth and shenanigans.  As time marches on, many of these storytellers are no longer with us – and neither are their stories.  This loss of the stories that help us understand our roots is sad.  Trying to reclaim a story or two, I am having discussions with my siblings, my cousins and neighbours, asking for their recollections of memories that I have heard but needed help with some of the details.  The following story was told to me by my cousin, Margie Lou, about her father (my uncle), Dick Thayer.  Dick had a VERY interesting life – serving time as a POW of WWII, elected sheriff and then mayor of my family’s home county and more.   Margie Lou retells this story to me as her father told it to her.  Some of the details can be verified on the internet but some of the information can not be verified and remains a recollection of the individuals involved, as they remember them.  

I intend to put the family stories in a separate section of this blog but February is Black History month and hopefully this story will remind readers of the unfair treatment blacks have received for decades and spark a change.  It certainly has affected me and Dick’s family.  

Setting for the story begins in Indianapolis, Indiana, in the late 1940’s.  Civil rights movements were trying to make progress across the U.S. and this was true for Indianapolis as well.  There were several individuals, both white and Black, who were organizing in an attempt to improve the lives of Blacks living in Indiana.  During this time, it was reported that friendships developed amongst all the individuals in this organization, whether Black or white.  Some of these friendships led to sexual relationships as well.  These mixed-race relationships were not approved or understood by most Americans and therefore had to be hidden, at all costs.   

In November, 1947, a married woman, Mary Lois Burney was found dead in her home, by her husband, on the east side of Indianapolis.  She had been killed by a shotgun wound to the left side of her face.  As the recorded testimony will verify, Mary Lois’ husband, testified that on the day of the murder, he had joined his wife for breakfast and when he left for work in the morning, his wife was wearing her night clothing and robe.  Upon his return from his day at work, he parked his vehicle in the garage and found the back door locked.  According to the testimony, he proceeded to the front door and found the screen door unlatched and the interior door ajar.  He then proceeded to go get a neighbour to accompany him into the house, where Mary Lois was discovered dead, wearing the same clothes as when he last saw her.  A few hours after the discovery of Mary Lois’ body, a young Black man who was in police custody already, was charged with her murder.  His name was Robert Watts.  

According Dick and Margie’s story, Mary Lois had been one of the women that had been involved in the civil rights movement actions.    The connection between Mary Lois and Watts is unclear.   The court records indicate that Watts worked for the city and that he drove a large truck delivering asphalt around and about the location of the Burney home. 

Court records indicate that upon his initial arrest for the murder, Watts was put into solitary confinement in a portion of the jail referred to ‘the hole’.   The court records state that Watts was then interrogated by a rotating shift of police officers/detectives for six days until Watts finally confessed to the murder.  In contrast to this recorded testimony, Watts conveyed to Dick that he was held in solitary confinement and then received a fierce daily beating by police personnel in which the yelling/screaming of Watts and other officers could be heard by other inmates.  Watts conveyed to Dick that his confession was only a means to end the misery and life-crushing beatings that he was receiving.  Both the court records and Dick’s story state that Watts never received any opportunity to talk to legal representatives, never received any opportunity to have any communication at all outside of the officers that beat him daily.  

Once the initial confession was acquired, Watts was tried for murder in early 1948, having asked for a change of location to Shelby County.  He was convicted and sentenced to death.  Later in 1948 the Indiana Supreme Court denied Watts’ request for a new trial.  This story was getting a lot of media attention – especially in Indiana.  As a result of that attention, the NAACP got involved and took up Watt’s defense and took his conviction to the U.S. Supreme Court.   In June, 1949, the U.S. Supreme Court determined that Watts was not given a fair trial, he had not been given the right to legal counsel, and there had not been a fair representative jury (not enough Blacks) and it was determined that the confession was given as a means of coercion rather than voluntarily.   The media attention became greater – especially with the move to the U.S. Supreme Court and the involvement of the NAACP.  Watts was granted the right to a new trial.  Another change of venue was requested and Bartholomew County was the new location.  Should be noted here that there were no Blacks on the Bartholomew County jury but since the population of the county had very few, if any, counted Black residents, the all-white jury represented the county adequately.  Near the end of 1949, Watts was transferred to Bartholomew County jail and put in the custody of Dick, the sheriff of Bartholomew County. 

At this time, the sheriff and his family lived in the jailhouse.  Hard to believe but that is true!  Dick was married to Evelyn Miller, lovingly referred to as Ebby.  They also had their first-born child at the time, Cousin Gordie.  Gordie was about 2-1/2 years old at this time.  Dick was not the usual sheriff – especially considering how restrictive current law enforcement policies and procedures are.   He didn’t ever use restraints.  He was an intimidating man on his own – didn’t need the use of guns or handcuffs.  He had them but they just weren’t used.  (Maybe his reluctance to use these types of restraints was a result of being a POW in WWII.)  Dick was taught by his parents and instilled in his children that no person is to ever be mistreated – even in law enforcement.  Though Bartholomew County jail was a small jail, there were still a fair number of hard-core criminals that came in and out of Dick’s custody.  

Sheriff Dick Thayer with Robert Watts, during Watts’ murder trial in 1950.

Sheriff Dick Thayer with Robert Watts, during Watts’ murder trial in 1950.

Ebby played a contributing role in the sheriff’s position too.  She served as cook for the inmates which is quite funny as the whole community and family knew that Ebby was a terrible cook!  But what she lacked in cooking skills, she made up for with her kind heart, her charming personality and her compassion for others.  Margie commented that people loved to get picked up or arrested and brought to the jail because of Dick and Ebby.  Ebby always had coffee and doughnuts and if the convict played a musical instrument, Ebby tried to find one for the convict to play!  

When Watts was delivered to Uncle Dick’s custody, Ebby was also present.  She described it as “just awful”.  The escorting officers suggested to Dick that “you can trip or fall or something and give us an excuse to kill him now if you want”.  Dick promptly replied that they could leave and that “Watts is in my custody now.”  Watts was wearing a filthy t-shirt, torn dirty pants and was completely shackled with chains – his wrists, his waist and his ankles.  The first thing that Dick did was remove the chains and show him to his cell.  In the next few days, Dick, Ebby and Gordie became familiar with Watts.  So familiar in fact that before long, Dick was having conversations with Watts about his life and his current circumstances.   Dick was aware of what the newspapers had reported but based on Dick’s gut instincts, he was having trouble believing that Watts could have committed murder.  In the conversations, Dick became convinced that Watts was innocent of murder.  Watts admitted to Dick that he had stolen a few cars but added that he had never committed murder or physically hurt anyone or anything close.  

Dick described Watts as a young man, mid-twenties and uneducated, simple – maybe not even able to read and write well.  Based on this information, it is easier to understand how Watts would not have known to ask for a lawyer or the right to call a family member, let alone fight back against the daily beatings that he was receiving for six days.  Blacks at this time were persecuted and viewed as far less than a white person.  Blacks were fearful, intimidated and were therefore hesitant to protest or contradict anything that a white person would say.  

In the recorded court testimony, there is mention of a woman in the vicinity where Watts worked, who claimed that she was raped and at one point Watts was charged with rape but the case was not pursued in light of the murder conviction.  Dick had learned of this woman and knew that it was part of the evidence against Watts and by now Dick was trying to do everything that he could to help Watts.  They had become friends – so friendly in fact that Cousin Gordie and Watts had become buddies.  Dick and Ebby would even unlock Watts cell and let Gordie in the cell with him, along with his tricycle!  Gordie would spend as much time as he could, playing with Watts.  Watts even taught Gordie how to count and taught him many nursery rhyme songs.  

Several times a week Dick would take the information that he had gleaned from his discussions with Watts and deliver it to Watts’ court-appointed lawyer, Lew Sharpnack.  Dick explained to Sharpnack that the testimony of the woman who alleged rape against Watts had to be discredited.  Dick said that when he asked Watts about this woman, Watts readily admitted knowing her and added that he had often had consensual sex with her.  Watts described the woman in detail to Dick, telling him that she had had a hysterectomy and described her scar in great detail.  Told Dick of every freckle and mole that the woman had and details that only someone who had been having relations with her would know.  

Another area of strong evidence against Watts was the discovery of the murder weapon.  There had been a picture in the Indianapolis paper that showed Watts in a rural Indiana field, pointing to the ground.  The caption and article that accompanied the photo stated that Watts had directed the police to the gun in this particular field.  Dick asked Watts about the picture.  Watts had never seen the photo but admitted being taken to the field.  Watts explained that the police had directed him to get in the car, which he did.  Watts continued his story, stating that they then picked up a man with a camera and they were taken to the field.  Watts was directed to go stand in the field, point to the ground and they were going to take a picture.  Dick wanted to follow up on this story of Watts’, so he obtained the photographer’s name and went to visit him.  Dick asked him to tell him what happened on the day that the picture was taken.  The photographer explained that he was directed to go with the police to take a picture.  He was picked up and sat alongside Watts in the back seat of the car.  When they arrived at the field, both Watts and the photographer were told to go to the field.  The photographer explained that the police told Watts to point to the ground and the photographer was directed, by the police, to take the photo.  Dick asked the photographer if Watts had directed the police to the field.  The photographer explained that Watts had no idea what was happening – didn’t know where he was being taken any more than the photographer.  Dick asked if Watts gave directions.  Photographer adamantly said “no”.  Dick asked the photographer if he would testify to the events of the day and he agreed.  Dick gave all this to Sharpnack as well.

Dick also discovered that the woman that Watts supposedly attempted to rape was a part of the group of white individuals that were involved in the civil rights movement.  If a woman was taking part in this kind of activity and it was known, her marriage, her reputation would be destroyed and her life may have even been in danger.  

Dick also visited the Marion County jail and got the names of any of the inmates that were in the cells during the time when Watts was being held during his initial six days of custody, where he was beaten daily and kept in ‘the hole’.  Dick interviewed several of the men and they admitted quickly and freely that indeed Watts was beaten.  The screaming and yelling could be heard clearly and often.  There was blood all over the police personnel and it was hard not to see it.  All of the inmates that Dick talked to, agreed to testify to the beatings. 

All of this information was fed to Sharpnack from Dick.  

There were articles in the paper all the time about the Watts trial.  One article commented about what a well-dressed man Watts was, trying to discredit Watts any way they could. Ebby said that the media and folks were just shameful.  Remembering how Watts was dressed when he arrived to Dick’s jail in his dirty, ripped clothes, Ebby wanted to help Watts look presentable for his trial.  She gave Watts one of Dick’s suits which is what he wore to the trial.  Ebby and Dick liked this man, couldn’t believe that he was guilty of the murder, though he had been given a death sentence in two trials already.  The fact that they allowed their child to play with Watts was clear indication that they believed he was not guilty of murder. 

When the trial started, Ebby wanted to go to the trial to support Watts.  She had no babysitter so she took Gordie with her.  Upon their entrance to the courtroom, Gordie saw Watts at the front of the court room and wanted to run up to him so he could be with his buddy.  Ebby stopped him from running to Watts and Gordie threw a fit, yelled and screamed that he wanted to go be with Watts and sit on his lap like he did in the jail cell! Watts was Gordie’s buddy!  Ebby had to take Gordie from the courtroom and she never went back.  

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Dick was convinced until his death that Watts never committed the crime.  It is Dick’s thought that Lois Burney’s husband should have been a suspect – but he was white!  Dick always viewed the husband’s action of going to get a neighbour first to go inside your own home seemed suspicious but there was never any questioning of Watts guilt.  There was a Black man to pin the murder on, why look any further.  

Another twist to the story is that one of Dick’s cousins (Link Nading) happened to be on the Bartholomew County jury.  As the trial was in progress, Dick saw that things weren’t looking good for Watts.  Dick said to Ebby that he was going to go see his cousin.  He said that he wasn’t “gonna tell him anything, just that he should try to throw the jury”.  Ebby begged Dick not to do this, said that she was afraid that Dick’s cousin wouldn’t be able to keep Dick’s visit quiet and would get Dick in trouble and liable to end up in jail with Watts!  Dick didn’t make that trip to see his cousin.  Watts was convicted – a third time – to death.  After the verdict, Dick brought Watts back to the jail, no handcuffs, no restraints of any kind.  They walked into the jail, side by side, to find Ebby there.  Ebby asked, “what did you get?”.  Watts replied, “Oh Mrs. Thayer, they gave me the chair again.”.  Ebby disappointed, replied, “Well, hell, let’s put some coffee on and have some donuts.”  Quite a response but what are you going to do or say? 

After the conviction, but before Watts’ execution, Watts was still in Dick’s custody.  It was hard for Dick not to think about Watts, knowing that his conviction wasn’t fair and that his life was about to be taken.  Suddenly Dick wondered to himself, what if he were Watts?  What would he do?  He’d be desperate, wouldn’t he?  How desperate?  Dick let his mind go to the worst-case scenario.  If Dick were Watts, he would take Gordie and hold him as a ransom in his cell, telling Dick that he would kill Gordie if Dick didn’t let Watts go.  With this crazy thought in his head, Dick immediately and with panic, ran into the jail and saw Ebby.  Dick asked Ebby quickly and in a panic, “where’s Gordie?”.  Ebby replied with surprise, “what d’ya mean?  He’s back with Watts, like he always is”.  Dick grabbed a rifle, walked back to the cell, as calmly as he could, considering the thoughts that were going through Dick’s mind.  Dick leaned the rifle against an adjacent cell, and looked in the cell and there was Gordie, as usual, playing with his buddy Watts.  Watts looked up when Dick arrived at his cell.  Dick said, “Watts, I’m gonna open this door and when I open the door, I want you to give me Gordie.”  Confused at first, Watts looked at Dick and Watts slowly seemed to understand what was happening.  Watts replied, “Oh Dick, I would never hurt him.  I would never hurt him.”  Watts handed Gordie over to Dick and Dick apologized and added, “I’m sorry but I think that I would do something like that if I were you.”  Watts continued to confirm that he would never hurt Gordie.  Dick felt some shame for having those thoughts but Dick knew how men reacted when they were desperate.  Again, knowledge gained from being a POW.    

Dick had to transport Watts to Michigan City, Indiana for his execution.  Dick left the jail early in order to miss all the possibility of press coverage.  Dick let Watts out of his cell and they both walked to the car.  They both sat in the front seat!  Completely unrestrained, no handcuffs, no nothing.  No one else accompanied them.  Upon their arrival to Michigan City, Dick left Watts in the car alone, completely unrestrained as Dick goes inside to report that they have arrived.  The Michigan City authorities said that they were too early, not ready to receive Watts as he was a death row prisoner.  Dick said, “that’s all right, I’ll bring him back”, so Dick went back to the car, Watts still there, waiting patiently.  Dick explained to Watts that they were too early and the two of them went to a restaurant for breakfast together!!!!  As they were going into the restaurant, Dick said, “Watts, I need you to do me a favour. “Watts replied, “yeah, what is it?”.  Dick said “Please don’t try to run because I don’t know what I’m gonna do if you run.”  Watts replied that he wouldn’t run.  They ate breakfast together, no one knew who they were, just two men sitting eating breakfast together.   Dick took Watts back to the Michigan City jail and before he delivered Watts to the authorities, Dick explained to Watts that Dick was friends with the warden of Michigan City jail and that if he had any last words or messages that he wanted to convey, just tell the warden and Dick would honour his wishes.  The only message from the warden was one of gratitude from Watts to Dick and Ebby, for being so kind to him.  And he was executed in January of 1951.  

Dick never got over this.  After leaving Michigan City jail and heading back to Bartholomew County, Dick went to visit Watts’ attorney’s home, Sharpnack.  Dick was greeted at the door by Sharpnack’s wife.  Dick said to Mrs. Sharpnack that he would like to see Mr. Sharpnack.  She invited Dick in and led him to where her husband was having his dinner.  Dick walked in, saw Sharpnack and began to release his anger and frustration, “You sorry son-of-a-bitch!  You did nothing for him!  I gave you all that information, you didn’t defend him, you didn’t give a damn!  You might as well have put a gun to his head yourself!  You are going to hell!  I am sure that you will go to hell for this!”   Sharpnack stood and ordered Dick to leave his house.  Mrs. Sharpnack, who had been listening, stopped and said, “No – you listen to him.”  Dick continued to scream and yell at Sharpnack for his lack of fair representation for Watts.  But it didn’t matter.  It was too late.  The irreparable damage was done.  

About six months before Dick’s death, the former reporter of the Columbus Republic newspaper, Harry McCawley, contacted Dick and explained that he was writing an article about the Watts trial - maybe an anniversary of the event or something.  Harry asked Dick questions about the events that occurred and Dick got very emotional, squalling and crying so badly that Dick had to turn the phone over to Margie.  Harry explained to Margie that he didn’t mean to upset Dick and Margie explained that the Watts trial and execution had been a huge issue for Dick – hard to come to terms with such injustice and whether or not Dick ‘did enough’.  Margie then had a conversation with Dick and asked what was causing so much emotion and Dick said, “I just don’t think that I did enough for him.  I just didn’t do enough.”  Margie asked, “what else could you have done?”  Dick wasn’t sure – he wondered out loud, maybe he should have let Watts escape, maybe he should have talked to his cousin that had been on the jury, anything!  He just didn’t think that he done enough for Watts.  

Dick died a few months after the phone call from Harry McCawley and his discussion with Margie.  Margie, Gordie and brother, Tim was sitting in the kitchen drinking a coffee, hours after Dick died and Margie asked, “after the family, who in heaven do you think that Dad will look for?”.  It was unanimous – “He’ll look for Watts and Dongel”.  You may wonder “who is Dongel?”.  That’s for a future story!