To the Bank, the Diner and Pecan Pies

The year was 1964.

One of my favorite activities during the summers working for my grangfather was spending time with Daddy Fox. I was fairly tall at 14, but Daddy Fox at 6' 4" still towered over me. He had broad shoulders and strong arms from years of working on the railroad.

Daddy Fox owned several businesses in and around Guthrie, Kentucky. He had two gas stations with motels, a convenience store, and several houses that he rented. Every Friday he would go around to all the businesses and collect the money to deposit in his bank accounts. His bank was located just across the state line in Clarksville, Tennessee. I suppose he chose that bank because Clarksville was a fairly large town and he had many friends who lived there.

It was on a Friday afternoon that Daddy Fox stopped by the gas station on Highway 41 and took the extra cash from the small safe under the counter to deposit in the bank in Clarksville. Buford was there that day helping me pump gas and wait on customers. Buford was a wonderful black man in his 50s who took a liking to me when I started working the year before and he saved me from a terrible event that involved a three-legged dog named Queenie. You can read that story if you wish but be aware that it was a tragic time and even at 70 I still get tears in my eyes.

Buford and I watched as a big black Cadillac pulled into the driveway.

As Daddy Fox opened the driver's door and stood up he spotted Buford and his face lit up as he walked around the front of the car, stuck out his hand, and said, “Well, Buford, it’s good to see you. I hope you‘re keeping an eye on this boy and making sure he stays out of trouble.”

Buford reached out to take Daddy Fox’s hand and replied,

” Mista Fox, it good to see you too and I gots to tell you dis boy’s middle name is trouble. I try to look after him as best I can but he still has deze crazy ideas and talks a bunch of nonsense most of the time. But I make do and you know I set dat boy right when he messes up. And dats at least 10 times a day!”

Both Daddy Fox and Buford burst out laughing as I stood by with a barely tolerant look on my face but secretly enjoying the banter between two old friends, even if it was at my expense.

Daddy Fox asked if Buford could take over for me at the station for a few hours so that we could go to the bank in Clarksville and get some lunch.

“Sure can, Mista Fox, ya’ll go on now and don you worry about a thing. I be here when you get back and dat boy can take a break.”

Daddy Fox said, "Let's go boy" and off we went to drive to Clarksville. About a 25 minute drive, Clarksville was just across the border of KY and TN. It was the 5th largest city in TN and had all the things that Daddy Fox needed including banks, restaurants, grocery stores, liquor stores, and many friends.

So it was not unusual for us to spend several hours in Clarksville as Daddy Fox made several stops after the deposit at the bank.

It turned out that one of these stops happened to be at a new restaurant in town that looked like a typical 60s diner with a colorful red building and a red and white sign,

Clarksville Diner

Good Food

The Good Food was written below in smaller letters but I knew that this was true as one of my favorite places to eat in the 60s were these types of diners where you could get a "meat and 3" plate and sweet tea. I usually got an open-face roast beef sandwich with mashed potatoes and green beans with a dinner roll on the side. Everything but the green beans were covered in a rich brown gravy that was just the best.

Daddy Fox ordered the same and we had a wonderful lunch and talked a bit about life. Not my life you understand, but his life and his views on the world. I was pretty shy at that age anyway so I loved to just sit and listen to his stories and not talk much myself.

After Daddy Fox had put cash on the table, including a generous tip, we walked up to the counter for him to say hello to the owner and they talked as I stood nearby looking at things on a shelf behind the counter. Something caught my eye, mini pecan pies wrapped in plastic. I got the attention of the cashier, bought 2 of the small pies and we left and started driving back to Guthrie.

After a while, as I took the plastic off of one of the pies, Daddy Fox caught me out of the corner of his eye.

"Whatcha got there boy."

I replied, " It's a little pecan pie from the diner. I bought two of them while you were talking to the owner."

"Well, aren't you gonna share with your favorite granddaddy?” he said.

I handed over the pecan pie and started to unwrap the other one. When I took off the plastic I noticed that there was a thin cardboard bottom that needed to be peeled off to expose the crust. I suddenly realized that I had just handed my grandfather a pecan pie with a cardboard crust!

I looked up in horror to see Daddy Fox struggling with a bite of the pie as he tore a piece off with his teeth while keeping his eye on the road. Since the cardboard was about the same color as the crust it was hard to tell that it was there and it stuck really tight to the pie.

Daddy Fox glanced over at me and said,

"Damn, boy, this is the worst pie I ever tried to eat. That crust is really tough!”

With a disgusted look on his face, he threw the rest of the pie out the window as I shrunk down in the seat and vowed to never tell him about the cardboard. Daddy Fox took that one to his grave. I really loved that man and the idea of embarrassing him was unthinkable.

But it did cross my mind that a close relative of mine had just eaten cardboard.