"Sand in the Streets" - Kinston Concert Series

On June 4, 2009, I caught the initial installment of Kinston's occasional concert series for the summer that they are calling "Sand in the Streets." Pride of Kinston is sponsoring the concert series to promote Kinston's downtown.

I have to admit, I am one of the people that has been slightly more than skeptical about the idea that Kinston's strength is as a tourist attraction. But having said that, "Sand in the Streets" was an incredible evening.

First, the setting was one of the best that I have been in for this type of event. The concert was held (and will be held throughout the summer) at the Neuseway Park at the intersection of Gordon and Mitchell streets, just a couple of blocks from the King Street bridge in Kinston. The air was clear, the temperature was warm but not overpowering, and the trees and proximity to the Neuse River, which the park backs up to, gave a fresh-scrubbed aspect to the breezes blowing in off of the river.

It was a genuine family event. In one section was a group of teenagers playing hackeysack, in another was a mother playing catch with her small son. Just in front of the stage is a huge concrete slab for a dance area, and the number of three-year olds showing off their dance moves gave an air of cuteness to the evening that was worth the trip all by itself. Everywhere one looks throughout the park are couples and small groups sitting in gazebos, at picnic tables, and on park benches talking, laughing, or swaying to the music.

Parking is plentiful both in the park area and across the street in the large parking areas that back up to the downtown businesses. Various drinks and snacks were for sale, but admission to the concert itself was free.

Bull City Syndicate is a horn/funk band of the 1970s variety reminiscent (to me, at least) of K. C. and the Sunshine Band, minus the embarassing haircuts and clothing. The bass-heavy, accessible funk included a whole host of cover tunes that would have been familiar to anyone over the age of 20, including tunes by Michael Jackson, The Jackson 5, Chicago, and K. C. and the Sunshine Band. A trio of singers, including the band's newest member, Charlotte Gregory, shared the crooning duties, but the distinctive sound of the band was at its finest when trumpet, trombone, and saxaphone was leading or intertwining with the traditional power rock core of guitars, bass, and drums.



I am oddly surprised every time that I go to a concert in which music from the 1970s or 1980s is played at the number of small children and teenagers who know the words to these songs from my own youth word for word. This time was no different.

The music was, as I say, upbeat, familiar to most, and expertly rendered. The showmanship of lead singer Dan Lantier was professional but fun - inviting the small children and teenagers gathered around the stage to sing, dance, and enjoy themselves.

The "Sand in the Streets" series continues from now through August 13 at Neuseway Park. Future bands include Teresa James (June 18), The Showmen (fireworks this night, July 4), Sweet Potato Pie (July 16), the Four Knights Band (July 30), and one of my own favorite bands to close the series - the Band of Oz (August 13).

Downtown Thomasville, NC

My wife grew up in Thomasville, North Carolina, and we were recently there on a brief sightseeing tour. Below are just a couple of sights in the downtown area - I will be posting more on Thomasville a little later. The City of Thomasville calls itself North Carolina's "Seat of Hospitality."

Above is the statue of John Warwick Thomas, the founder of Thomasville. Thomas was a businessman and politician, born June 27, 1800 in Caswell County. He married Mary Lambeth of Davidson County who was from an area known as Cedar Lodge.

Thomas was elected as a Whig representative to the North Carolina General Assembly in 1830, representing Davidson County. One of his primary interests was infrastructure and transportation, and he worked hard to bring plank roads and railroads to the area. In 1842, he was first elected to the North Carolina State Senate. In 1856 Thomas introduced a bill in Raleigh for the incorporation of Thomasville, which was ratified on January 8, 1857.

Thomas' home was directly across the street from the statue. The place is memorialized with a historical marker. The statue is viewable between Salem Street, Trade Street, and Main Street in Thomasville.




At the intersection of Salem Street and Main Street, Thomasville is the home of "The World's Largest Chair," a 30-foot reproduction of a classic Duncan Phyfe design erected as a symbol of Thomasville's heritage as a furniture manufacturer. Thomasville's largest non-governmental business interest has been Thomasville Furniture Industries. Thomasville Furniture has been in business for more than 100 years. Its original name was Thomasville Chair Company.

The original chair was actually constructed of wood and leather, in accordance with the specifications for the actual Duncan Phyfe model, in 1922. The original chair was constructed by the Thomasville Furniture company and stood about 13 1/2 feet tall. The original chair was scrapped in 1936 and a new chair, the current chair, was constructed of more durable concrete. The second chair was built through a partnership between the fledgling Thomasville Chamber of Commerce and the Thomasville Chair plant beginning in 1948.

The cornerstone was laid for the new chair in 1951 and includes a timebox including, among other things, a Bible, several photos, a city directory, and a letter from then-mayor Harry B. Finch.

During a campaign stop in 1960, Senator Lyndon Johnson (campaigning for the vice presidency) once climbed on the chair and delivered a speech to a crowd gathered in the square below (a picture of this event is hung in the visitor's center). The chair has been a gathering point for governors, mayors, beauty queens, and evangelists ever since.




Less than a block away from The World's Largest Chair, just along the railroad track, lies North Carolina's oldest remaining railroad depot. Listed in the National Register of Historical Places, the Thomasville Depot was originally built in 1870. The restoration of the depot was completed in 1977, in conjunction with the wave of patriotism and historical interest that accompanied the nation's bicentennial. Today it serves as a visitor's center for the downtown area. A section of the visitor's center in the depot has been decorated with pieces from Basset Furniture. Accessible from the depot are several walking trails that will guide the visitor through sites such as the downtown's historic churches and its historic commerce.





Downtown Thomasville also hosts the headquarters of the Baptist Children's Homes of North Carolina, established in 1885. A museum is on the premises. Winding Creek Golf Course is reputed to be one of the finest public golf courses in the state, and has hosted the Golf Channel's Drive, Chip, and Putt competition. A little further away, but still within the City of Thomasville, is Finch Field, the home of the Thomasville Hi-Toms baseball club.


Also downtown is this small monument erected by the Thomasville Lions Club. The Chamber of Commerce is almost directly across the street from this monument (which is, itself, alongside The World's Largest Chair), and closeby is also a Rotary monument containing a series of plaques which recommends guiding one's communication by the familiar formula of: "Is it true? Is it kind? Is it necessary?"

All of the photos on this page were taken within a one-block radius of The World's Largest Chair, at the intersection of Salem Street and Main Street in Thomasville, North Carolina.

Kinston Indians: 60 Years of Family Nights

I grew up at Grainger Stadium. And on Saturday night I returned to see a minor league baseball game with my hometown Kinston Indians. It was the night that they dedicated the press box to Delmont Miller, the Indians' former scoreboard operator and occasional microphone personality, only recently passed at age 42.

I have enough experience at Grainger Stadium to remember an owner named Kuhlman, a batboy named Tex, successive generations of Eagles, Bluejays, and now Indians, and I have Tony Fernandez's autograph somewhere.

And yes, I knew Delmont Miller. My buddy Robert Dixon introduced me to him when we were all teens.

My wife, though, has been to precious few baseball games in her life, and I am not exactly sure that she can distinguish (well) between baseball and golf. I have had to explain such advanced concepts as "bunt" and "double play" to her in the past.

Nevertheless, on April 11, 2009, we went out to Grainger Stadium with my now-retired mom and caught the game between the Kinston Indians and the Winston-Salem Dash. Oddly enough, just last year my wife and I had caught one of Winston-Salem's last games as the Warthogs. In my humble opinion, Warthogs was a better mascot name than is Dash. I don't exactly get all of this new age sports team abracadabra, though I have a vague hunch that it is all done in an attempt to "expand the sports market" to women. I have had enough of the abstract team names like Magic, Heat, Fire, and Dash. Whatever happened to Bulldogs? Lions? Warthogs? I presume that it won't be long before some team will rename itself the Rash. If it keeps up, I will someday buy a sports franchise and name it the Rage. But that is another story.

So we arrived relatively early and, true to form, having found our seats quickly found the concession stand. Now, I don't want to get into a rant here (partially because there is nothing to rant about - I was actually offered EXTRA jalepenos by one of the young girls working the concessions), but if they are gonna sell all that food, shouldn't some community spirit-mindedness also mandate that they offer not a seventh-inning stretch, but a seventh-inning gym membership? One heaping serving of nachos, one helping of fries, and one "Tribe Dog" (don't fall for it - a "Tribe dog" sounds like it ought to be as big as a hatchet or have a scalp on it or somehow be massively "all the way," but it only has onions and chili on it) furnishing the set-up for a bag of peanuts, and I was jazzed for the game.

The thing about minor league ball is that you truly never do know what is going to happen on a given night. When the Red Sox play the Brewers, we pretty well know how things are going to work out 90% of the time. But when the Kinston Indians play the Winston-Salem Rash (Flash? Mash? see the problem with these abstractions...?), the team that won the game 5-2 only the night before could very well find itself trailing by six runs in the bottom of the eighth inning.

Which sounds like a snoozer of a game. But as I sat there wondering if Kinston High School had showed up to play rather than an "Advanced A" minor league team, my eyes began to take in the sights from the stadium. And along the baselines, in the outfield, in the shadows of the stadium I saw memories....

I remember Grainger Stadium before they spent $1.2 million on stadium upgrades. I remember when the scoreboard had some guy hanging numbers on it. I remember when behind the foul lines on both sides there was a single set of bleachers, and lots of empty space, so that players used to come out of the dugout and play catch. Now, there is a huge animated scoreboard with flashing lights and coordinated sounds. Now, the area behind the foul lines is filled with bleachers.

Delmont and Tex, alas, are gone. Grady Little is gone. Tony Fernandez and Marty Pulley are gone. But I remember seeing Darryl Strawberry play in Grainger Stadium. And perhaps more importantly, I remember sitting there with a dozen dates, numerous family members, and my dear departed granddad.

And as I sat there through what seemed would likely be an excruciating game, I shared these memories with my wife. At least she knew who Darryl Strawberry was. Apparently her own granddad had something against drug-addled outfielders.

I boasted that I could predict when a foul ball would occur (and I can - a trick I picked up from listening to Harry Carey). Now she owes me some Dipping Dots.

And I told her stories about playing catch with my granddad when I became a member of Bethel Academy's baseball team. She smiled, but my mother got a tear in her eye.

We talked. We talked about family. We talked about hometown - and hometown legends. We talked about change. And I discovered that Grainger Stadium is a useful metaphor for how much change can take place, and yet everything still remain oddly... stable.

And in the bottom of the ninth, Kinston scored five runs and almost pulled it out.

Despite the loss, it wasn't a wasted night at all. It's not just that Indians baseball offers a "family friendly" atmosphere (though I have no complaints - even after one of the most lamebrained exercises in umpiring that I have ever personally witnessed, there was no cursing from the stands, though an encouraging round of "You're an idiot!" was enjoyed by all), but we had a great family night out. There is something bout the ebb and flow of minor league baseball - perhaps with an emphasis on the ebb, that lends itself to reflection, bonding, and enough moments of rest to really contemplate what is important. It's an added plus when you can enjoy it all while holding your wife's hand and listening to Ozzy Osbourne's "Crazy Train" several times in a night.

The Kinston Eagles/Bluejays/Indians have been on the "cutting edge" (yes, that was an intentional malapropism) of family fun night for 60 years now. I know, because I first came to know Grainger Stadium and the Kinston team about 1978.

And for all of the changes, it is an odd comfort to be there and to remember that this is the place where I met Delmont, hung out with Robert, and first saw both Tony Fernandez and Darryl Strawberry.

And it was a joy to be able to share that time with my wife and mom.

So we lost 10-9. You can't win them all. And there is a dignity in not winning, but scratching back from awful umpiring and stranded baserunners to make a game out of it in the ninth inning, when a quarter of the crowd had already abandoned you in the seventh inning.

For 60 years, Kinston baseball has been offering not only family entertainment, but the occasional object lesson in life to those who take the time to indulge and reflect upon the real significance of what is, and isn't, going on around those bases.

And for the first time in nearly 20 years, it was good to be home.