Remembering C-Town

Okay. So it's been a little over a week since my trip to Corinth. If you'll recall, I mentioned I took some good pictures and would post them soon. To some of you, these pictures won't mean a thing. But to those of you from Corinth, they should trigger some good memories and maybe a laugh or two if you'd forgotten about some of this stuff.

You ready? Here we go...

The White Trolley Cafe

If you're from Corinth and you don't know about the White Trolley, then something's wrong. Located out on Highway 72, the Trolley is the best place in Corinth to get a good ol' slugburger. Restaurants in Corinth always seem to come and go, but the White Trolley has been around for years, and my guess is that it ain't going anywhere anytime soon. During my high school days, we'd head to the Trolley for a slugburger fix almost every weekend. Atlanta has a boatload of restaurants...but not a single one of them sells slugburgers. They don't know what they're missin'!!!

The Midget Farm



This, my friends, is the Midget Farm. That's right, the Midget Farm. If you turn off Highway 72 onto Oakland School Road, you go past the Hillandale Country Club and once you cross the old bridge, you make an immediate right. You then go about a mile and as you go over yet another smaller bridge, you look to your left, and there's the Midget Farm!

My assumption is that everyone in Corinth knows about the Midget Farm. But, this could also just be something that the kids have always kept quiet. In Corinth, we had to be creative to have a good time. We didn't have huge malls or recreation centers to occupy our time. So instead, we drove up and down the Corinth "Strip," or we'd make an occasional late night trip to the Midget Farm. What is the Midget Farm? Well, as far as I know, it's some type of family or village, if you will, of midgets that live in trailers and collect and work on junky cars parked on their property. It may sound rather innocent, but if you get a bunch of drunk teenagers together and then drive by honking horns and screaming stuff, the midgets come running out and throw rocks and stuff at your cars.

I vividly remember leaving the "Strip" one night in Beth Coleman's red Volkswagen Rabbit. We'd had enough of the Strip, so we decided to make a trip to the Midget Farm. Several off us piled in Beth's car (I was driving) and headed out that way. We turned onto the dirt road and slowed down as we approached the Midget Farm. As soon as it was in sight, I started honking the horn and we started screaming, "Midgets! Midgets!" and probably a few other names or phrases (that I won't repeat). We went past the Farm and then turned around to make another pass, when all of a sudden we started getting pounded by rocks and sticks and stuff. I floored the gas pedal and we went tearing by the Farm through a shower of rocks and other flying objects. I got Beth's little Rabbit up to about 80 MPH and kept it there until we got back to the Strip. The problem was that I kept the car in 2nd gear the whole time, which just about killed Beth's car. Oh, well....sorry Beth!

Pizza Hut

In Corinth, for years the Crossroads Twin Cinema was also out on Highway 72. Despite only having two screens, that place was a hot spot for a very long time. For those of us that weren't old enough to drive, this was the place to be on the weekends. Our parents would drop us off in groups, and for $5 to $10 each of us could see a movie, buy a Co-cola and some popcorn, and play a few games of either Donkey Kong or Phoenix. But that was just the beginning of the night...

The rest of the night was spent at Pizza Hut, which was right next door. We'd walk there after the movie, and we'd pile in booths or crowd around tables and order pizzas and pitchers of Co-cola. Of course, when it came time to pay, we'd barely have enough to cover the tab, and the waitress usually got ripped off because we didn't fully understand the concept of "tipping." Either way, we'd stuff our faces, play a few games of tabletop Galaga or Wizard of Wor, and then head outside to The Wall.

Lots of things happened outside on "the wall." Some people sat on the wall and just chatted. Others sat on the wall and yelled at cars that were passing by. Others sometimes got IN the cars that were passing by, and then they went to the Strip. Sometimes a fight would ensue in the parking lot, and you could stand on the Wall and see the whole thing. Most of us got our hearts broken on the Wall. That's where you'd usually get dumped after holding hands with someone at the movies. After all the action was over, you could walk across the parking lot and get some ice cream at Baskin- Robbins. Then you'd head back to the Wall and wait for your parents to pick you up. Of course, that was the worst part....having to get in the car with your mom in front of everyone. Life was tough, wasn't it?

Borroum's Drug Store

If you head downtown, directly across from the courthouse, sits Borroum's Drug Store. The oldest drug store in the entire state of Mississippi, Borroum's has been in business since 1869. As kids, we'd go into Borroum's to look at the amazing collections of arrowheads, as well as to get slugburgers if the craving hit you while in the downtown area. But my favorite thing about Borroum's has always been the fountain Coke's. It's the only place in Corinth where you can get an old-fashioned fountain Coke...syrup and all. Man o man are those things good. We'd ride our bikes downtown and that was the highlight of the day...to hit Borroum's and get a fountain Coke. They made one hell of an ice cream sunday, as well!

The CHS Bridge

Today, if go under the railroad tracks near Corinth High School, you won't really notice anything out of the ordinary. It's just an overpass, so to speak, that allows you to go under the railroad tracks near the high school. It's painted a nice tan color, and it's just your everyday bridge or overpass or whatever you want to call it. But "back in the day" it was much more than that. It was the Corinth "message board" for many, many years. Driving by, one would know who won the ballgame the night before, who broke up with who the night before, and other random tidbits of information. Because it was near Corinth High School, it was usually spray-painted by students and almost always had something to do with the rivalry between CHS and the county schools (Alcorn Central, Kossuth, Biggersville, and sometimes McNairy Central). When it wasn't about a ballgame score or a tragic break-up, various messages from the infamous Rat Patrol (to be covered in future stories), could be found, as well as general "statements" about people that, for whatever reasons, weren't much liked at the time of the message.

Now the adults liked to refer to our messages as "graffiti," but we took this as a major slap in the face. You must remember that these were the days BEFORE the Internet. There were no chat rooms or message boards. There were no websites or text-messaging capabilities. We kids had to use this as a way to "express ourselves." Whereas kids these days go to counseling sessions and take ADD medications, we just spray-painted our thoughts and opinions on the CHS bridge, and this allowed us to vent our frustrations and become "one" with ourselves. It was a "colorful" way for us to show our individuality and ruin reputations in the process. If you ticked someone off or did ANYTHING wrong, you better believe it was gonna show up on the bridge!!!

CHS Practice Field

Man. Where do I start? The CHS/CJHS practice field. Man, does this place bring back memories. Junior High football and Coach Smiley's cut-away's. Hundreds of those things before practice each day. "Hitler" would come out of the field house and line us up to stretch. As soon as we were done stretching, we'd have to run in place, and every time he blew his whistle, we had to hit the ground on our stomachs and jump back up to run in place again. We'd do this for about 30 minutes before Coach Shirley finally came out for practice begin. I remember being sick at my stomach during my last class of the day...just dreading practice and the cut-away's.

Then you had High School ball. Coach Dorsey and his two-man sled..."Hip-Hike-Hip-Hike-Hip-Hike-Hawwww." Sprints. Eggs. Popcorn drills. The smell of freshly cut grass in the mornings when two-a-days started each August. Those were some good times. Might not have been our favorites at the time, but looking back on them, man those days were the best.

The Back Steps

This is where we'd hang out before school every morning in the 8th and 9th grades. Directly across from the band hall, this is a back door to the Jr. High that was chained and locked and never used. We'd meet here every morning before school and watch as cars drove around Warrior Circle....similar to the Strip....but affiliated with CHS. The "band jocks" would hang out in front of the band hall, and the guys with loud stereos in their cars would ride around Warrior Circle and "thump" while they "cruised the campus." Kent Houston. Brian Hudson. Benny Hill. You could hear them coming a mile away. And we got to sit there and salivate because we weren't old enough to drive. Talk about pain and envy. Our group of girls all had eyes for those guys...and their cars....and there was nothing we could do about it. The back steps. Fortunately we got to move to a different building the next year when we entered the 10th grade....

The CHS Courtyard

This is where we hung out during mid-morning break and lunch. Break was only 15 minutes (as I recall) and there wasn't much time to do anything other than stand around and talk or gawk at girls. Lunch, on the other hand, was different. The goal was to get to the cafeteria as soon as possible, eat, and then get outside for all the action. On any given day, you could see any number of things: a fight, a break-up, or more importantly...someone getting "poled." You remember....several upperclassmen (or perhaps just friends that decided you were due for a prank) would grab you, hold you up and horizontal to the ground so that you faced the sky. Then they would carry you over to one of the walkway poles and pull your legs apart and ram your "groin area" into said pole. Then you were dropped to the ground to gather yourself, as the entire high school student body laughed and pointed at you. Fond memories of this spot, huh?!

The Webster Street Bridge

It didn't snow a lot in Corinth, but when it did, one of the first places we went was the Webster Street Bridge. There were probably much better places to go for sledding, but this bridge was in the center of town and was a great spot to break-in the sleds. It's a closed street now (thus the barricade in the picture) but years ago, this was a great spot. It's interesting, however, at how much bigger things are when you're younger. Seeing this bridge a few weeks ago, it didn't seem as steep and big as it did years ago. Regardless, we had some great times sledding from the top of this bridge. Not to mention that Eddie Muchmore lived right down from it....

The YMCA Football Field

This is where it all started. Those of us that strapped on the pads for the first time in the 2nd grade....this is where it happened. The Golden Eagles. The Red Rebels. The Packers. The Blue Hawks. The Colts. There were just enough teams for all of us to learn the game, learn how to win and lose, and play great football for the next 6 years. Tom Miller was the quarterback that ran with his head tilted back so that every time he got tackled, he split his chin wide open. Bobby Burns always had more pads than anyone. And I was the punter that rarely connected with the ball. Remember Punt, Pass & Kick contests? Those took place on this field, as well. Obviously I never won that contest!

The Hobo Cave

I'm not exactly sure how many people knew about the Hobo Cave. Located behind the YMCA Football Field, this was the weekly meeting spot for the Rat Patrol (again, to be discussed in forthcoming stories). Every afternoon after school, we'd take the bus to the YMCA, and when we didn't have football, baseball, or basketball practice, we'd be down at the Hobo Cave. You could swing across the creek on vines, play Rambo in the woods, or walk the railroad tracks above the Cave. On the other side of the Cave and creek was the old sawdust mill that stretched all the way to Weston's house. We spent countless hours all over this area, but there was always something about the Cave that attracted us.

Tommy Taylor's Concession Stand


When we were kids, if you spent any amount of time at the YMCA, you knew who Tommy Taylor was. A man who knew no strangers, Tommy ran the concession stand at the Y. He sold hotdogs, popcorn, candbars, soft drinks, and his specialty...the slush drinks. You could get just about any flavor, but his most popular was Tooty Fruity. Unfortunately, the yellowjackets loved his slushes, too, so they were always swarming around the window as you placed your order.

Tommy's stand was open almost all year long. Regardless of the sport or season, he could almost always be found in his concession stand. And believe it or not, Tommy was also the ONLY concession stand owner to EVER allow the kids to buy stuff on "credit." Tommy rarely had a dime to his name, and Lord knows he didn't make money on that concession stand. Despite this, if you didn't have the money to pay for your food or drinks, Tommy would give you what you ordered, and then he'd turn around and write your name on the wall with a magic marker, to include your outstanding balance. Eventually, every square inch of the wall would have names and totals on it, and he'd paint over it and start over again.

Tommy was a legend around town, that's for sure. As old as he was when he finally passed away, Tommy never really talked about dying. In fact, he had always referred to dying as "catching the West bound." It was old hobo talk. When one of the old train-hoppers died, it was said that he "caught the West Bound." Tommy finally caught that West Bound. But before he did, he touched the lives of almost every kid in Corinth with his kindness and generosity. No matter what the cost to him, no kid would do without a piece of candy, a hotdog, or a nice, cold slush...

Dilworth's Hot Tamales

Jimmy Buffett sings about pencil-thin mustaches. But if he'd ever visit Corinth, he'd be singing about pencil-thin hot tamales from Dilworth's. Located on Taylor Street just across the railroad tracks on the edge of downtown Corinth, Dilworth's, in my opinion, was the best place in town to get hot tamales. Although the word "tamale" usually makes you think of a Mexican dish or establishment, that wasn't the case with Dilworth's. Run by an African-American family in town, you could find every walk of life enjoying those tamales. For years, Corinth only had one Mexican restaurant in town...Carlos Tacos...but it couldn't hold a candle to Dilworth's.

Coach Booty Wood's Mailbox


I'm not sure when or how this tradition began. All I know is that as soon as we entered the 9th grade and were fortunate enough to attend Coach Wood's biology class, it all went downhill from there. At some point, the "cool" thing to do was to vandalize Coach Wood's mailbox. Bricks, sticks, eggs....you name it, we probably used it to pay homage to that damn mailbox. I remember barreling down Hickory Road in my truck with about 10 guys in the back. Trey Brewster had a shovel in his hands, and he smacked that mailbox as we passed it doing about 90 MPH. Of course, it didn't even put a dent in that damn thing, but it did almost jar Trey out of the back of the truck.

Being a biology teacher, not to mention just one hell of a smart man, Coach Wood must have concocted some type of secret formula to make his mailbox invincible. I personally think he had some type of secret lab or workshop behind or beneath his house where he made these mailboxes. Funny thing was that he never talked about it. It was always so obvious that we had tried something...anything...to tear that sucker down, but he never talked about it, brought it up in class, or anything. It was us against him...IT....a silent war.

But we outsmarted him one night. You see, Bill Payne had a Jeep. And this Jeep had a winch on the front of it. So one Saturday night, we pulled up, jumped out of the Jeep, hooked that winch up to the mailbox, and pulled that damn thing out of the ground. We could have sworn some type of demon appeared through the smoke and rubble, so we jumped back in the Jeep and disappeared into the night. As usual, nothing was said come Monday morning at school. We carried on as usual, and so did Coach Wood.

You know how as a kid, every time you walked by a painting that was a portrait, it seemed like the eyes were following you? I still feel that way every time I drive by Coach Wood's house. I swear that mailbox turns and watches me go by....