AT THE END OF A RAINBOW - NORTH JEFFERSON STREET, AUGUST 9, 2016, DUBLIN, GEORGIA

THE EYE OF THE STORM - DUBLIN, GEORGIA AUGUST 23, 2015

RED SKY AT NIGHT - CARL VINSON VA MEDICAL CENTER, DUBLIN, GEORGIA, JANUARY 2, 2017

HERE COMES THE JUDGE DOG

Robert Earl Camp was known as a tough, no nonsense judge and a penultimate politician during his day.   Those who knew him also knew what a sincere and devoted dog owner the judge was.  

Camp was admitted to the bar at the age of nineteen  in 1902.  From his earliest days as an attorney and a judge, Judge Camp, who married Capt. Hardy B. Smith's daughter Gussie,  always kept an aide by his side.  This companion was simply not some ambitious, fame seeking intern hoping for a prosperous position, but a four legged one, who in many ways, was his own master.

Robert Earl Camp served as Dublin City Attorney from 1906-1908, Assistant City Court Solicitor from 1908-1912 and as a Lieutenant Colonel on the Military Staff of Governor Thomas W. Hardwick, 1921-1925.  Camp took his seat on the Judge's bench in 1925 and served two four-year terms.  A politician, while he wasn't a judge,  Camp served as a delegate to the National Democratic Convention in San Francisco in 1920 and in Philadelphia in 1936.  Camp, a member of he State Democratic Committee from 1936 to 1940, was named to the Electoral College which elected Franklin D. Roosevelt to an unprecedented third term in office.   Judge Camp, too, was elected for the third time in 1940 and returned to the bench of the Superior Court. 

Just before Christmas 1929, some eighty five years ago,  Miss Ida Belle Williams, sister of Dublin attorney, George H. Williams, told the story of Camp's constant collie companion, Jeff.  It was said that Jeff never failed to miss a session of court.  Some even called him "the lawyer dog" or more prestigiously, "The Judge."

When Jeff wanted to enter the courtroom, his distinctive scratch was all it took to alert the bailiff to allow Jeff to prance with  great circumstance. On the other hand, when Jeff decided he needed to go outside, he would promenade across the courtroom and stare straight into the eyes of the bailiff, who immediately affected his release.  

Miss Williams, writing in her Macon Telegraph article, told of the day when Jeff noticed a crowd of people entering the auditorium.  Assuming Judge Camp was about to hold court, Jeff entered the room.  When Jeff realized that Judge Camp wasn't on the bench, the faithful pup poked his nose in the air with absolute disgust and stomped out of the meeting.

When it came time for his lunch and Judge Camp wasn't to be found, Jeff would stake out a strategic spot in the hallway at the base of the stairs leading up to the courtroom to await on his master's arrival.  

In writing of Jeff's devilishness, Williams wrote, "Jeff manifests a deed of cleverness in his attacks upon E.G. Simmons' dog, who frequently carries in his mouth a nickel wrapped with paper, deposits it at a meat market and receives a bone.  Old Jeff after observed the custom a few times, he came along to make an attack; lying in ambush at the opportune moment when Simmons' dog is passing the courthouse square, he leaps on him and seizes the prize.  Then enough noise for a battle follows, when the defeated puppy realizes that his precious possession has fallen into the hands of his adversary."  The bullying stopped when the Judge scolded Jeff for his bad behavior.

Popular among the city's grocers, Jeff often was the beneficiary of their free treats.  Some of them maintained a special scrap section, from which Jeff would pick his favorite treat.  When the dog would find his basket empty, he walked out in disgust, not even looking to nibble on delicious meats along his path.

When the Judge wasn't around, Ol' Jeff would cry and howl as he waited under the house for his return.  Little could make him want to eat or chase a wandering, trespassing cat.  

There was this one time when Judge Camp was gone and Jeff couldn't stand it any longer.  Jeff set out on a quest, roaming all over town from the courthouse to the post office, the city hall and the judge's usual visiting places, until he came upon the skyscraper First National Bank building.  Jeff rode the elevator to the top floor. Then the disconcerted dog descended one floor after another barking out calls for his master until he left the building in complete disappointment.  

Like most dogs, Jeff liked to take walks with the Judge, barking greetings to everyone they met.  He loved to ride in the Judge's car.  Anytime, Jeff saw someone in the car, he knew it was time to take a ride and jumped into the auto ready to ride.  One night, Jeff was mysteriously missing from the Camp home.  After one fruitless search after another, all hope of Jeff being found was lost until Camp called his garage where his car was being stored.  Upon an examination of the car, the attendant found Jeff sound asleep in his usual place in the car.  

Camp was known to get up very early in the morning to study his cases for the upcoming day.  Jeff was right there with him, sipping on his coffee to keep them both alert.  

"He never waivers in his deep devotion to Mr. Camp, a true friend, the collie weeps and rejoices with his master. So many turn with the political compass.  Others may back  back when the tide of misfortune rushes in.  But whether following over briery hills, through rocky paths or over dark threatening waters, this dog is faithful Jeff," Miss Williams concluded her feature on one of Dublin's most popular and beloved dogs.

In fact, what may have been the first instance of a humane society came about in February 1937 when the newly created City of Dublin dog catcher rounded up many dogs which were roaming the streets with no evidence of who their owners were or if they had been inoculated.   The animal control officer, acting under the direction of the city council, began preparations to euthanize the animals.  When Judge Camp found out, he, on behalf of himself and other dog lovers,  sought out and obtained a restraining order from Judge J.L. Kent enjoining the mass euthanization.  Sadly, the overzealous officer had already carried out his duty before receiving notice of the belated pardon. Camp continued his efforts to prevent such acts in the future. 

Our lives are filled with the stories of dogs we have loved.  They enter our lives as puppies, strays, adoptions or rescues.  They end their lives as our best friends, our children and  members of our own families.   Most dogs have unconditional love for us.  When we have had a bad day, they are there to greet us, tails wagging, running back and forth, howling and barking in adoration and affection.  They give love and all they ask is love in return.  

During this season of giving and love and throughout the year, give back to our four legged friends at your local humane society, animal shelter and rescue organizations.  You never know whose life you may change by bringing that special dog into your life and the lives of others.

P.S. Don't forget the cats!

METEORS OVER MIDDLE GEORGIA

Lighting Up The Night 

On any clear night if you look long enough, you will probably see a streak of light flashing across the sky. From time to time, especially in mid August, mid November and mid December, the Earth travels through zones of meteoroids in a perpetual orbit around the Sun. These stony and iron objects strike the Earth's atmosphere at tremendous speeds. Most of these extra terrestrial objects are vaporized before they strike the ground, but a few survive the impact with our atmosphere. 

Perhaps the most remarkable year for meteors over Middle Georgia came one hundred and twenty six years ago in 1880. It was a quiet night in Macon as the month of June was about to come to an end. A small gathering of men was standing on the corner of Second and Cherry Streets when an intense light illuminated the city. One of the men, a reporter for the Macon Telegraph, described the light as "not like the sun, the moon nor a gas light. It was nearer the electric light, yet a thousand times more powerful." The light was so bright that trees cast shadows on the ground and all heavenly stars were dimmed. Moving from directly overhead in the direction of Milledgeville, the "shooting star" changed to a brilliant red light at 45 degrees from the horizon and then into various shades of green. The whole spectacle only lasted five seconds and was undoubtedly witnessed by late nighters in Laurens County. As the meteor began to change shades, it began to emit sparks and then vapors of smoke. At thirty degrees above the horizon, the light disappeared.

After three minutes, of silence a thunderous boom reverberated for at least thirty seconds. Witnesses described the sound as metallic and not like the normal sound of thunder. Many reported that the Earth shook. About five days later, the meteorite, said to be the size of a man's head, was found in the forks of a tree some distance from town. If it was indeed the actual meteorite, it is strange that the object has not been documented by scientists. Furthermore, the report of the meteor was probably similar to the sound of a sonic boom caused by an airplane - not by an impact on the ground. If that was the case, it corroborates the belief the meteorite landed about 40 miles away from Macon. Officials in Eatonton reported that the meteor struck south of the town along the southwestern horizon. Coming in the heat of the 1880 presidential election, the meteor was dubbed "The Hancock Meteor," in honor of Winfield Scott Hancock, the former Union hero of the Battle of Gettysburg, but a man who had been embraced by Southern Democrats who were seeking to be relieved of the shackles of Northern Republican policies and politicians.

Nearly two months later, at ten minutes until ten o'clock on the evening of August 26th, a meteor appeared in the southwestern sky. Witnesses in Brunswick reported that the meteor broke into two equal fireballs, each appearing to be the size of a man's head. The phenomenon lasted for just over a minute. Maconites reported that the meteor threw off brilliant fireballs of red, blue and yellow as it disappeared into the northeastern sky. Witnesses in Columbus reported three distinct balls, the first one sporting a long luminous tail. There were no reports of impact as the meteor faded out of sight.

One of the most remarkable celestial events in the recorded history of Middle Georgia came on the late autumn afternoon of December 9, 1880. It was about 5:30 when citizens over Central Georgia and as far north as Atlanta observed a brilliant streak of light following the usual northeasterly course. Observers in the capital city described the fireball as the size of a common cannon ball. When it passed directly overhead, Atlantans saw the meteor break into several fragments until they disappeared from sight. The event lasted only a minute. The resulting trail of smoke remained in the twilight sky for a full five minutes. While viewers in Macon reported that the smoke lasted ten minutes, those gazing upon the rare phenomenon in Dublin stated that they saw the smoke trail for at least twenty minutes before the Sun set. There were no reported sounds of impact, though some residents of Macon reported that their windows were slightly jarred by the passage of the fireball.

Less than forty hours later on the following Saturday, another day light meteor was seen in Savannah. Witnesses reported that the meteor streaked seemingly just about the tree tops from the direction of Dublin toward the Atlantic Ocean. Those who saw the light repeated the same description as the Hancock meteorite over Macon. When the meteor passed over the city, a group of men saw it explode as if it were a sky rocket. A policeman, walking his early morning beat on Bryan Street, watched the meteor for nearly a minute in "the most dazzling sight I have ever seen." No sounds were audible and no impact site was observed.

If you want to catch the best glimpse of a meteor shower, go outside this Friday and Saturday nights, late, or early in the morning I should say. Look toward the constellation Perseus in the northeastern sky. Unfortunately, a nearly full moon will diminish the brilliance of the shooting stars, which have been numbered as much as a hundred per hour. For nearly two thousand years, humans have observed what has become known as the Perseides meteor shower. The bright streaks of light you will see come from dust from the Comet Swift-Tuttle. These dust particles, traveling at more than 132,000 miles per hour, illuminate the entire sky with nature's greatest summertime fireworks show.

The most famous and magnificent meteor shower ever recorded in Georgia came on the evening of November 12, 1833. As the Earth entered the path of an ancient comet, hundreds and hundreds of meteors radiated out of the constellation Leo every hour. The superstitious and the uneducated believed the world was coming to an end. From the skies above Laurens County and all around the world, people were sent into a frenzy. The Leonids meteor shower returns every year on the evenings of November 12 and 13. Approximately every thirty-three years, the shower reaches peak intervals, the last ones being in 1999 and 2000.

For thousands of years meteors have become a fascination and a consternation for observers of the nighttime sky. Composed of particles of iron, stone and comet dust, these spectacles have come and gone, like clockwork literally reigning down pieces of the solar system's most distant past.

Lighting Up The Night 

On any clear night if you look long enough, you will probably see a streak of light flashing across the sky. From time to time, especially in mid August, mid November and mid December, the Earth travels through zones of meteoroids in a perpetual orbit around the Sun. These stony and iron objects strike the Earth's atmosphere at tremendous speeds. Most of these extra terrestrial objects are vaporized before they strike the ground, but a few survive the impact with our atmosphere. 

Perhaps the most remarkable year for meteors over Middle Georgia came one hundred and twenty six years ago in 1880. It was a quiet night in Macon as the month of June was about to come to an end. A small gathering of men was standing on the corner of Second and Cherry Streets when an intense light illuminated the city. One of the men, a reporter for the Macon Telegraph, described the light as "not like the sun, the moon nor a gas light. It was nearer the electric light, yet a thousand times more powerful." The light was so bright that trees cast shadows on the ground and all heavenly stars were dimmed. Moving from directly overhead in the direction of Milledgeville, the "shooting star" changed to a brilliant red light at 45 degrees from the horizon and then into various shades of green. The whole spectacle only lasted five seconds and was undoubtedly witnessed by late nighters in Laurens County. As the meteor began to change shades, it began to emit sparks and then vapors of smoke. At thirty degrees above the horizon, the light disappeared. 

After three minutes, of silence a thunderous boom reverberated for at least thirty seconds. Witnesses described the sound as metallic and not like the normal sound of thunder. Many reported that the Earth shook. About five days later, the meteorite, said to be the size of a man's head, was found in the forks of a tree some distance from town. If it was indeed the actual meteorite, it is strange that the object has not been documented by scientists. Furthermore, the report of the meteor was probably similar to the sound of a sonic boom caused by an airplane - not by an impact on the ground. If that was the case, it corroborates the belief the meteorite landed about 40 miles away from Macon. Officials in Eatonton reported that the meteor struck south of the town along the southwestern horizon. Coming in the heat of the 1880 presidential election, the meteor was dubbed "The Hancock Meteor," in honor of Winfield Scott Hancock, the former Union hero of the Battle of Gettysburg, but a man who had been embraced by Southern Democrats who were seeking to be relieved of the shackles of Northern Republican policies and politicians. 

Nearly two months later, at ten minutes until ten o'clock on the evening of August 26th, a meteor appeared in the southwestern sky. Witnesses in Brunswick reported that the meteor broke into two equal fireballs, each appearing to be the size of a man's head. The phenomenon lasted for just over a minute. Maconites reported that the meteor threw off brilliant fireballs of red, blue and yellow as it disappeared into the northeastern sky. Witnesses in Columbus reported three distinct balls, the first one sporting a long luminous tail. There were no reports of impact as the meteor faded out of sight. 

One of the most remarkable celestial events in the recorded history of Middle Georgia came on the late autumn afternoon of December 9, 1880. It was about 5:30 when citizens over Central Georgia and as far north as Atlanta observed a brilliant streak of light following the usual northeasterly course. Observers in the capital city described the fireball as the size of a common cannon ball. When it passed directly overhead, Atlantans saw the meteor break into several fragments until they disappeared from sight. The event lasted only a minute. The resulting trail of smoke remained in the twilight sky for a full five minutes. While viewers in Macon reported that the smoke lasted ten minutes, those gazing upon the rare phenomenon in Dublin stated that they saw the smoke trail for at least twenty minutes before the Sun set. There were no reported sounds of impact, though some residents of Macon reported that their windows were slightly jarred by the passage of the fireball. 

Less than forty hours later on the following Saturday, another day light meteor was seen in Savannah. Witnesses reported that the meteor streaked seemingly just about the tree tops from the direction of Dublin toward the Atlantic Ocean. Those who saw the light repeated the same description as the Hancock meteorite over Macon. When the meteor passed over the city, a group of men saw it explode as if it were a sky rocket. A policeman, walking his early morning beat on Bryan Street, watched the meteor for nearly a minute in "the most dazzling sight I have ever seen." No sounds were audible and no impact site was observed. 

If you want to catch the best glimpse of a meteor shower, go outside this Friday and Saturday nights, late, or early in the morning I should say. Look toward the constellation Perseus in the northeastern sky. Unfortunately, a nearly full moon will diminish the brilliance of the shooting stars, which have been numbered as much as a hundred per hour. For nearly two thousand years, humans have observed what has become known as the Perseides meteor shower. The bright streaks of light you will see come from dust from the Comet Swift-Tuttle. These dust particles, traveling at more than 132,000 miles per hour, illuminate the entire sky with nature's greatest summertime fireworks show. 

The most famous and magnificent meteor shower ever recorded in Georgia came on the evening of November 12, 1833. As the Earth entered the path of an ancient comet, hundreds and hundreds of meteors radiated out of the constellation Leo every hour. The superstitious and the uneducated believed the world was coming to an end. From the skies above Laurens County and all around the world, people were sent into a frenzy. The Leonids meteor shower returns every year on the evenings of November 12 and 13. Approximately every thirty-three years, the shower reaches peak intervals, the last ones being in 1999 and 2000. 

For thousands of years meteors have become a fascination and a consternation for observers of the nighttime sky. Composed of particles of iron, stone and comet dust, these spectacles have come and gone, like clockwork literally reigning down pieces of the solar system's most distant past. 

THE SNOWFALL OF THE CENTURY, ALMOST

          In our distant past, newspaper reports of substantial snow falls were relatively uncommon.  The accounts and consequences of those ancient snowstorms are few and far in between.  Because of our geographical location and prevailing meteorological conditions, snow falls of more than a couple of inches are somewhat rare.  In order for us to have snow, we have to the right combination of warm moist air and cold air converging at the same time.  It is only in the last fifteen years that more measurable snowfalls have been on the rise.

This is the story of the snowstorm of February 25, 1914, said to be the greatest of the 20th Century.  And so it was until February 9, 1973, when all of the requisite  weather conditions came together at the critical time leaving Laurens County under 14 or more inches of snow.

The greatest snowfall of the 19th Century in Laurens County came on February 13, 1899.  It was perhaps the coldest day ever recorded in the history of the county when temperatures fell to at least five degrees below zero.  Thirty mile per hour winds blew across four inches of snow and caused the wind chill temperature to drop to thirty-three degrees below zero.

The 1899 storm had no negative effect on Valentine’s Day activities.  In point of fact, the day was transformed into a sentimental journey into the past like the country’s  northern regions when the day was once celebrated with sleigh riding and snow ball throwing.  Instead of following the ancient custom of drawing a name of girl and pinning a badge on their shoulders, the young men of Dublin took to the streets to celebrate and play.

Few people had snow sleds.  The ingenious and clever boys went to work, improvising by attaching a cracker box to barrel staves for a sled.  Others took wheels from their buggies, ran the axle through wood and had sleighs pulled by horses.  Ben Hooks had the most fun.  He constructed a sleigh drawn by four horses with a wagon body filled with hay.  All day long, the kids rode up and down the streets throughout the winter wonderland. Boys were boys as sporadic and random snowball skirmishes broke out in all parts of the city.

On a cold Tuesday evening on February 24, 19145, snow began to fall north of town in Milledgeville, which would receive 9 inches in all.  All during the night and throughout the day snow flakes covered the ground.  As the snow slowed, temperatures plummeted down to 20 degrees.

Not a hint of snow was in the short term forecast from weather experts in Washington, D.C.. In fact, fair weather was predicted for Dublin and Laurens County.   When it began to sleet right around midnight, no one had a thought of any dumping of a white blanket of snow.  The previous snowfall on Thanksgiving Day in 1912 was primarily remarkable and puzzling, but all too fleeting.

Bands of snow extended from New Orleans, which hadn’t seen snow since 1901 to Charleston.  Millions of people living in the northern half of the nation were shivering and suffering in the grips of yet another severe snowy storm.

Dublin’s total snow fall by the time the Courier-Herald was published stood at three inches. By the end of the day, that depth would double to six inches and climbing at 6:00 p.m.  -  a record which stood for nearly sixty years until the Great Snow of 1973.  The snow fall that day, 100 years ago,  still stands as the second greatest recorded snowfall in the 200 years of Laurens County’s history.

Not used to such heavy snow, nearly all businesses ceased operation.  Students were excused from classes.  There were few, if any traffic jams.  In 1914, traffic jams in Dublin were almost as rare as snow falls.   Most people walked everywhere in town during those days.

Snow fall totals seemed to heaviest from the southwestern part of Central Georgia northeast to Augusta.  Sandersville’s paper boasted a state high of ten inches, while neighboring Tennille’s yardsticks dipped only 8 inches from the ground to the top of the snow.

Baxley to our southeast reported a single inch, while Americus and Fitzgerald each reported a half foot of the white, wet stuff.  Macon’s measurers came up with roughly the same half foot levels.

It was a day when any kid who was allowed to spent the day frolicking in the snow.   Over the next century, we have had some snowfalls of 1-3 inches, usually no more than two or three of them in each decade.

February 25, 1914 was an exception.  It was the greatest, well almost the greatest, snowfall of the 20th Century.