A Screwball and a Gayla Bat Kite

“If I could go back in time, I would ride my Fuji bike to the Patterson Pantry, buy a Gayla bat kite, a roll of string, a frozen Screwball and head for the sugarcane field by my house and fly a kite all afternoon,” said my friend Andy Cadwallader via a text message a few days ago. You know Andy, I would do the same thing. In fact, I actually do it often. In my mind’s eye I am back to an Idyllic time of bat kites, frozen treats like a Screwball that had the bubble gum at the bottom of the plastic cone, riding my English racer along cracked sidewalks on Main Street onward to adventures from Idlewild Plantation to the airport.

Impatient and excited, I walked out the front door of my home on Rosemary Street that Saturday morning in mid-April. I was in a hurry to get to the sugarcane field on Church Street across from the Kool King Drive Inn. I was in 4th grade and soon another school year would be completed and I would be enjoying nearly 3 months of playing outside, running free with virtually no cares and few worries.

I wasn’t sure who would be joining me this morning to fly our kites. Usually I could count on Greg Lopez, Kenneth Barr, Tommy Vining or someone else to join me for a few hours of high flying, bat kite aviation. The cane had been cut and harvested months prior and the rows that held a few dried sugarcane stalks were all that remained in our unobstructed kite flying haven. The wind was just right: not too strong, but not hit or miss that could cause my kite to float upward for a short while and then come crashing down without notice.

In many of the children’s books I read growing up, stories and pictures could be found showing kids running down the street with a diamond-shaped kite trailing close behind. But for a kid of the 1970’s, a bat kite was our first choice. Well okay, more than likely our only choice. With a center spine already in place when it was purchased, a plastic dowel was then placed across the spine and then attached into the inserts on the tips of the wings. Large black eyes were painted on to the plastic and once airborne, this menacing “bat” looked down on the holder of the string. There was a center flap attached about midway across the wings on the bottom. The string was attached in the center of the flap.

If the wind was strong enough, you could lay your kite on the ground and take off running, and while pulling the kite behind you, it would gradually crawl into the air. Of course a serious downdraft would often thwart one’s kite flying intentions but more often than not, this worked. If you were lucky to have a friend nearby, he or she could hold your kite while you unrolled about 10 or 12 feet of string and once the string was taught, you could take off running with your kite having a bit of a head start by not being directly on the ground. The style of kite may have changed over hundreds of years but the principle of flying a kite remains.

Andy mentioned buying a kite from the Patterson Pantry but I remember buying kites at a few other places as well.  For under $2.00 a kite could also be found at Boo’s Quick Stop, on the corner of First and Grout Streets. TG&Y in the Place Norman Shopping Center and at two of my favorite little stores that were less than a mile apart on Main Street. When I started asking friends if they could remember the actual names of these two stores, none knew for sure, but it seems we all recalled having our own names or nicknames for these cute, family owned jewels that kept everything from the basic grocery staples to Cokes, ice cream and lots of candy. One of the stores, a few houses down from Stella’s Beauty Shop was a small red and white wooden building that was owned by Andrew and Jennie Dicrispino. Heading west on Main Street across from Rentrop’s Shell Station was the other small store owned by two sisters, Jennie and Nancy Catalinotto.

One way to describe both of these two stores would be to say they were quickly fading icons from another era. Part general store, part convenience store, part candy store but the sum of all three equaled a favorite place for kids like myself to find cookies, candy, a cold Coke and of course, a frozen Screwball and a kite. The floors were rough wooden planks, the shelves were lined with jars of sweet treats and most cost a penny or a nickel back then. On the Facebook group ‘You know you are from Patterson’ Peggy Rentrop wrote of Jennie and Nancy’s store. “I remember sitting on the bread box in front of the lil green store or having to stand on a wooden crate to see the candy in the box and the windmill cookies kept in the jar on the counter.” She also fondly remembers the kerosene pump in the corner and for Peggy, the best red popsicles in town.

From these two stores, Kirk Brown speaks of Now ‘n’ Laters candy, Jaret Rentrop stopped there to buy frozen Push Up ice cream, Tony Clayton was also a regular refusing to let his loose change burn a hole in his pocket and stopped by each morning as he walked to junior high school. Joe Russo and others will always think about the dozens of jars filled with a variety of colorful treats sitting on the counter and what Joe describes as “candy heaven for kids.” Mary Leggett somehow acquired a couple of those old candy jars when one of the stores closed and now keeps her sugar and flour in them in her home back in Louisiana.

I just recall making a trip on my bike to the Dicrispino’s little red store on that Friday afternoon and buying a bat kite and two rolls of string. Well, I also bought a Screwball and a box of those candy cigarettes that were sold back in the day. It’s hard to imagine now, but there actually existed candy that was sold in a replica cigarette pack with actual cigarette names on the package and inside there were these 2 inch “cigarette candies, complete with a tip that looked like it had been lit with a lighter.  Even more interesting, when I was in first through third grade at Hattie Watts, there was a row of old candy machines that sold candy for $.10 each and they also sold those candy cigarettes. I knew my Daddy would never approve of this candy purchase so on this Friday after I left the store, I quickly “smoked” that pack of candy before I got home.

The next morning before I left the house, I went to the refrigerator to pull out a block of cheddar cheese to go along with some saltine crackers I had already placed in a sheet of tin foil. It’s interesting that back then we called ‘foil’ tin foil, not aluminum foil like we do now. So here I am, barely able to see over the kitchen counter, setting out a block of cheese, a small wooden cutting board and a butcher knife to go to work slicing off a few pieces of that dairy goodness.  I had cut off a small piece of cheese when my dad came into the kitchen and saw what I was doing. His first words were, “give me that knife before you cut your head off.” Thinking back, I realize I may have sliced a finger, jabbed myself with the knife but never really entertained the thought that I might actually cut my head off. However, my dad thought I might so he confiscated the knife but did cut several pieces of cheese for me which I added to the crackers to take on my kite flying adventure.

I don’t recall why, maybe because I had such an early start, but I found myself alone in the cane field that Saturday morning. On one of the dirt roads on the side of the field, I laid my kite down, unrolled about 10 feet of string and just as the wind picked up, I started running pulling on my kite and glancing over my shoulder as I ran, watching the wind pull my kite into the blue sky. I quickly unwound more string as the wind pushed upward against the plastic kite moving it higher and higher. When I knew my kite was going to stay aloft, I walked through the field, holding tight to the string until I found a row of dirt I would use as my resting spot. The wind was pretty strong that day so I let out more string and the kite flew higher. The wind was blowing from the west and I was facing east looking at the Kool King as my menacing bat kite dominated the airspace above.

I let out more string. I knew I was near the end of the roll and my idea was to get to the end of the roll, then I would tie the second roll of string onto the paper holder from the first roll of string and then I would be able to fly my kite higher and higher. I wondered if my kite would reach the clouds, would it fly close to an airplane, could it soar with the blackbirds that were always around? My young mind was full of ideas and kite fantasies that morning. I couldn’t wait to see how high I could fly my kite that day. To speed things up, I placed two fingers inside the paper roll and let the kite pull on the string and the roll quickly spun around my fingers as inch after inch of string floated upward.

My mind and my kite were soaring and I was in kite heaven that morning in the sugar cane field when suddenly I realized I was near the end of the roll of string and since this was a brand new roll, I had forgotten to tie the end of the string to the paper roll. Frantically I tried to grab the end of the string as it left the roll but I was not fast enough. With no tension on the other end, my brand new bat kite started floating across the field, falling fast. I started running, jumping over each dirt row, chasing after the kite and grasping for the end of the string.  My kite was in a free fall and when I knew it was useless to try and catch the kite, I stopped running and watched as my kite floated toward multiple power lines that bordered the ditch along Church Street. Panic, sadness, fear hit me at once when I knew there was nothing I could do but watch, wait, hope.

What started out as a wonderful morning ended quickly and badly. Helplessly I watched my kite connect with one of the power lines and I saw a couple of sparks and then the kite started wrapping itself around the power line. I walked over to where the power lines were and stood under my kite as the wind beat what was left of it against the other wires. Its wings were broken and I could only see one eye and lots of string drifting across Church Street. My heart broke as I stared up at what was left of my brand new Gayla bat kite. I walked to where I had left my cheese and crackers and my windbreaker, gathered my things up and started walking back home.

Sure, more kites would follow and other kids in the neighborhood would lose their kites to a power line or a tree, but you always remember the time it happened to you and your kite. I had lost my kite and my plans for the day had floated away, burned alive on a power line owned by the electric company. I was sad and felt like I would remain that way for the rest of the day. I didn’t think anything could help me feel better on that Saturday in April. Well, maybe one thing might help.

“Can I have a quarter,” I asked my mom later that morning. Of course she wanted to know why I needed a quarter. I told her about my morning, about losing my kite and how I wanted to go to the store to buy something.  I guess she felt bad for me so she pulled a quarter from her pocketbook, handed it to me and gave me permission to ride my bike to the store. I quickly went to the garage to get my bike. Fifteen minutes later I was sitting on the pavement outside of Boo’s Quick Stop, a Screwball in my hand, a smile on my face and a busted Gayla Bat Kite slowly slipping from my mind.

From Back to the Bayou, by Steve Achord