Stuff and Junk about Our Gang, V-Gardens, etc., Vol. 1 No. 4, Wednesday June 21, 1944

Picture of East End children in front of a stern wheeler on the banks of the Ohio River
Photo Credit: From the collection of Mary Pharo Meldon, pictured on the right
Joe Pharo pictured in the middle

Hi, Gang! Well, your editor and partners in publication hope you're still on the beam and raring to go.

Fennessy has let us down brutally, but promises to do better. He is still confined to the rails, but has made numerous requests to the railway officials for a transfer to a bus that he may broaden his efforts of destruction. It is rather tough on Uncle Bulgey to go from day to day without making the headlines of our local press, but give him time.

As far as the Kentucky Derby was concerned, Pensive won it in good style. He then went on to win the Preakness the same way. Your editor had a "slight bet" on a fugitive from a soap factory. The nag I bet on must have been part of the Light Brigade for I heard later that the jockey carried a lantern to find his way in should darkness overtake him, (and it did).

The Cincinnati Reds are playing ball with about two old-time stars and twenty-three 4-Fs. You can imagine what a struggle it is for the local fans to keep them up in contention. Andy and Wayne better get back here pronto for Burlap isn't doing them any good.

Jimmy Pharo
Ohio River Beach on Kentucky side

The temperature hangs around 88 or 90 but the beach across the river is covered with water due to a 28-ft. stage. If you birds don't come back soon and get things back to normal, the country will go to hell.

And now, my good friend, brace yourself for the blow. Doggie Benton has really gone patriotic. Besides buying bonds till it hurts he now works a victory garden that does hurt (every bone in his body). Picture the Old Dog, if you can, on a massive tract of land (10 x 20 ft.) with a banjo (spade) in his hand tilling the turf. Ah, it does my heart good to see the Old Purp in the middle of his tomatoes, radishes, and beets with a bottle of beer in one hand and chinning himself on a hoe with the other. But hold up, I better not go so fast-- my garden adjoins his. Imagine me with the overstuffed appearance of grounded blimp wrestling with the home grown produce. But as I go about my work among the bean beetles and potato bugs, I wonder why I should have such a large tract of earth to till (20 x 50 ft.) while the Dog has so little. But fate has always dealt thusly with me, so this one more time, I suppose, will not hurt. Our garden plot is at the foot of Lumber Street (next to St. Rose) and our gardening group consists of Fr. Dillon, Fr. Jacquemin, Bud Smith, John Boots, Bob Herking, Al Wellendorf, the Dog, Hody Williams and Joe Rechtin and myself. Oh yes, I almost forgot Chas. Ross.

It is the aim of this group to hold a harvest festival this Fall on the grounds where it is grown. We wish to use this means of extending an invitation to be with us.  An old-fashioned Mulligan stew made with the vegetables from our gardens will be served.

If we can lay our hands on some chickens or ration points, we'll have meat. Of course, there will be beer. So, if any or all of you birds can finish your business at hand, you are welcome.