Margrave and Thrill Hill …

It was Highlawn Avenue before it was Margrave Road, but it was best known as Thrill Hill.

Our house number was 4018 and it’s the boyhood home I remember most.  We moved in back in the fifties when the street name was Highlawn.  For some reason the city decided to change the name to Margrave.  I do not remember when or why that decision was made, but what difference did it make?  The street would forever be known as Thrill Hill anyway.

Thrill Hill attracted hot-rodders nearly every evening.  Our house was located at the end of Margrave where the pavement ended and a steep dirt-road drop-off began.  Cars, usually with souped-up engines or maybe just souped-up mufflers, would get a half-block running start, fly off the end of the pavement and slam down after being airborne a couple of seconds.  Then they would struggle to make it up to Duke Avenue before police could arrive. I guess there wasn’t much to do back then in the evenings.

Many times, friends of mine would confess in a whisper the next day at school, “Hey, did you hear me last night?”  Never told my parents any names.

Thrill Hill isn’t my only memory of Margrave.

Next door for several years was a character named Bill Carroll.  A nice neighbor and Dad of three who thought he could sing.  Sometimes he would practice on his front porch.  He could not sing.  I get this off my chest now because I’m pretty sure Bill has departed earth by now and cannot be offended.  I love my boyhood church, Ridgecrest Baptist, but I will never forgive it for allowing Bill Carroll to sing solos.  I think that’s why my Dad quit going to church.  Apologies to any of Bill’s surviving children.

Next to the Carrolls was a house we called The Alamo.  The Brooks family lived in that fortress-looking place – white stucco walls with a flat roof.  Very odd for our day. Expected to see Davy Crockett firing his musket from that rooftop any day.  Carol Brooks was the oldest kid living in The Alamo, and he was the meanest kid on Margrave, maybe in all of Eau Claire.  He once bloodied my nose for no reason; when my older brother confronted him, Carol bloodied his nose, too.  After that, my brother and I would always walk across the street to avoid passing in front of The Alamo.  My guess is Carol and his younger brother, just as mean, grew up to be professional boxers.

Not everybody on Highlawn left bruising memories.  The Davis family was across from The Alamo.  Bob was the Dad in the family.  He worked in produce, spent a lot of time at the Farmers Market, and kept us supplied with bushel baskets of butter beans and crowder peas.  My siblings and I didn’t like seeing those bushel baskets arrive.  No playing until every bean was shelled.  But we did enjoy eating those fresh beans and peas.

You did not have to wander far off Margrave to find friends.  At the corner of Abingdon and Jackson was a house full of Manleys.  Deborah and Susan spent a lot of their time on softball fields, I recall, as All-Stars.  Classmate Joanna Wiles was just up Abingdon and not far from the Hemming clan (whatever happened to Linda Hemming?).  A house full of Garris boys was on the same side of Abingdon, including Julius, Johnny and others.  Julius and I were pals.

Jay Barry was near the bottom of Myles Avenue not far from Heyward Gibbes School.  Jay achieved his childhood goal in life of becoming a fireman only to die while bravely fighting a fire in Eau Claire.  Another classmate in Heaven, Doris Murray,  also lived on Abingdon.  The world lost one of the best when Doris died.

On the other side of Margrave,  I could go see Mike Whatley on the corner of Jackson and Ridgewood Avenue.  Mike and I were buddies for a long time.  Catty-corner from Mike was Phil Forrester’s house, and catty-corner from Phil was a house full of Belfords on Johnson Avenue – Eddie, Richie, Linda, Johnnie, Bitsie.  Linda and I graduated together in 1965 from Eau Claire High School.  Her family would take up nearly a full pew every Sunday at Ridgecrest where Phil’s dad was the preacher.

Diane Kyzer also lived on Margrave in a house and yard as prim and proper as Diane herself.  Farther down was Trudie Harris, the Moore girls (Patsy and Judy), a house full of Barbees (Betty, Bobby, Billy and Helen), and the Crout boys (Marvin and Ricky).

I know neighborhoods still exist today with neighborhood friends, but I cannot imagine those having as much fun now with the popularity of IPads, IPhones and computers.  So much time is taken away from the outdoors. Then again, this blog is fueled by my IPad, IPhone and computer, and such technology has led to many re-connections with old friends (let’s make that former friends). I might never had known that Mike Whatley is CEO of a high-end equestrian clothing store not far from me today, Trudie Harris is still singing and dancing, the Barbees are still a close-knit family now populated with grandkids, Marvin Crout and his wife live near the S.C. coast also with grandkids, and Marvin’s brother Rick has been hanging around Florida when not piloting airplanes.  Heck, Google Earth can even show that Thrill Hill has been paved.

And, I don’t need technology to tell me that, bless his soul, Bill Carroll is probably singing off key in Heaven where the Good Lord might be considering a transfer for him.  I’m not sure I want to hear from the boxing Brooks brothers; they could be a long, long way from Heaven or still on Highlawn Avenue.

Make that Margrave Road.  Better still, Thrill Hill.