Bonnie Parker

At least once a year, I try to visit the graves of the down-trodden and forgotten. Call it what you will. In fact, the Good Book says that we should visit the graves of the dearly departed. The term dearly could mean family. It could mean friends. It could also mean the down-trodden and forgotten. There are a couple of graves that I visit at the National Cemetery, too. It takes some effort, sure. But, people turn out by the tens of hundreds to visit Elvis' grave at Graceland, or JFK's grave at Arlington. Jim Tipton of Find-A-Grave fame, made a hobby of visiting celebrated individuals at their graves. Ancerstry.com had been linking to his site for years before finally buying the site. In Dallas, there are several that fall into two groups. Those on the Shady side of the street and those on the Sunny side of the street. I visit both because I do not judge anyone. True, I might express displeasure with their viewpoints, but as a person, to judge is not in my cupboard. So going to the grave of Lee Harvey Oswald, or Bonnie Parker or any other is a way to spend an afternoon in the summer. I have a personal connection through mom as to why I visit the grave of movie star, Greer Garson and while in that cemetery, I go see Mickey. To me growing up, he was Mr. Baseball. He still is.  

Yesterday, I was  checking up on the progress of the US Geological Surveys Ft. Worth Field Office's installation progress of radar measuring devices over waterways. I had taken pictures earlier in the summer of one of their new devices and had talked with their Public Information person in Austin. After looking at the pictures, the PI person ask if I would withhold  one image until such time as the Field Office had completed the installation. Naturally, I'm going to comply with her wishes.She explained to me what they were waiting on to complete the installation and in my original image, there was a bare wire that had not and could not be completed at the time the unit was placed. Once that wire is connected, then I am free to release the images as stock.

 That also means going back and retaking the image again. So, since there are two more units in the works, I'll wait until they are all complete and then go  out and shoot all three. There are no stock images of these new devices anywhere. Therefore, not only do I not want to reveal the locations at the request of the USGS office, I don't want the competition shooting them either! So, I go on a faux-shoot and just observe the progress. But, on the way back from any shoot, I try to fulfill my penitence and visit a few graves of forgotten and down-trodden souls.

 Yesterday, it was the grave of Bonnie Parker of Bonnie and Clyde fame. Clyde's grave was a bit closer to where I was  but you can't get into the cemetery because it is posted and locked. There are those that have done so but my images go untouched by the devil of soft wear that is called photo shop, I don't shoot images on posted property either.

If I am invited, that's one thing and I carry releases with me. Or, if on common property that can be shot from a street or public place, I shoot until the cows come home. While trying to respect the fact that graves are family related and sensitive, weighing those images in the general public interest in a good way is permitted. It's only when in the name of "news" that  you try to put someone down in bad light using the media, that colors the waters of photo journalism and related forms. That's why the tabloids have so much trouble.

Bonnie Parker was a girl that had a good heart. She lived in a time when the Wild had not totally been removed from the "Wild West" by time. It was the first modern era of the Wild West with Prohibition and real gangsters like Thomas "Lonnie" Licavoli, and Al Capone. It was a time when making a name for yourself was recorded with the old flash-type cameras, daily newspapers running headlines with one and two inch block type; the bigger the type, the bigger the story. And the villains made their fame with the clothes still on. My, how things have changed. And it's still as political today as it was then; even more today, I would say.

Since my last visit there, the care at Crown Hill has gone down. The mausoleum is showing its age on the outside. The grass had not been cut. The grounds were dry and cracked and Bonnie's grave was without grass. Still, the grave echoed a message through the inscription on the headstone that rang of an inter- character. Bonnie Parker was a good person at heart.

Bonnie Parker 1910-1934
"As the flowers are all made sweeter by the sunshine and the dew, 
So this old world is made brighter by the lives of folks like you."

In Great Admiration and Respect

Today, in the warmth of a delightful fall afternoon, I started out in search of that one fall splash of color that say, "here, it's not New England but it can be from time to time almost as perfect." Last year, I found it in a patch of woods beneath the dam at White Rock  in the old fish hatchery stands. It was every bit as pretty as I've seen in New England, which is hard to wrap my mind around while remembering that while there are stands of maple trees in Texas, they are many,many miles away from the Dallas area. But every fall, I begin the annual search.

My mother, as a little girl, had grown up with some pretty famous names in baseball coming around. She was nearly 80 before I was able to find out that she had been a Dodgers fan and even rooted for the Yankees a few times. On the other hand, I had grown up on the St. Louis Cardinals and later the Detroit Tigers, but I did know the big names of the day even if they played for the opposing teams. Thinking back now, I had shoe boxes of baseball cards. and mom was hard to beat in answering questions about facts printed on the cards. This really was a side of my mom that I wish that I had understood more then than I do today, but thankful I heard her tell some of the stories when she was growing up.

Yet, when I start out on a shooting trip, the trips are pretty much routed out in a circuit and it follows the events and on-going construction, openings, discoveries of new projects starting or seasonal event. The shoot schedule isn't that large of a schedule but it does have to consider car or train, walks or doctor's appointments , shopping or living in general. The price of gas has cut down on a lot of travel by car and the trains have been a good back-up, but  sometimes, there is that magnetic-like pull that causes you to follow your instincts. Today, although it didn't start out that way, ended up that way and I'm happy that it did.  Mom was a rather self-contained person that would be like an earthquake that she knew or even had a friendship with some people. But, the proof was in the pudding as they say and she usually came out on top in that department. Yet, even today, I pay respect  to the dearly departed  when I can. After paying tribute to one of mom's -never-would-have-guessed friends, I decided that I would go in search of one of my boyhood idols that was in the same cemetery and not very far from where I stood while visiting one of mom's friends.



The plaques on the crypts of Mickey Mantle and his wife.
The two boys are in crypts below their dad.

Note the rows of copper (pennies) stacked up from visitors to the crypt. The two that I found most interesting were the stone and the bent nail. Stones are usually a Jewish tradition left after a visit. The bend nail, I am not sure, but it has it's significances most certainly.

The American Flag stands in the corner of the private crypt area where Mickey is entombed.

It is with much respect and admiration that I post these images in the love for the sport, the players, the institution that baseball is to so many. Mickey, you were my hero in baseball.