That time Mr. Kiss shot the hog terrorizing Old Town ... and other stories

There are people, no longer with us, who have left a big impression on me. Mostly very good, some questionable.

Leslie Teel lived right around the corner from my store. Leslie and his wife, Sophie, took a walk around Bluffton every afternoon about 4 if the weather was good. The two were always dressed and pressed without a wrinkle anywhere. They had a way of looking like paper dolls, a bit like cardboard cutouts. Leslie was dressed most often in highly starched shirts and pants, and on his head was perched a pith helmet, like someone who was off to the jungle.

My longtime friends who were often present, Luke Peeples, Hasell Heyward and Paul Pinckney, would often alert us to the duo’s approach. All of them had grown up together, except for Sophie, in Bluffton. Leslie would nod his head at us, and Sophie always gave us a faint smile. It seems Leslie’s middle name was Marmaduke, and to top it off, his mother kept his hair long and in ringlets for years. Hasell said that Leslie was taunted by people constantly calling out Marmaduke and Little Lord Fauntleroy, so it was apparent Leslie still held a grudge against the trio.

Enter a very big, wild hog who was terrorizing Calhoun Street and adjoining streets in Old Town at night. Kiss Beach lived across from my store, and every year planted a marvelous garden. He also had a fabulous flock of chickens that he allowed to roam around all day and then put them back in their pen at night.

One morning Mr. Kiss was running around with a big stick and yelling, “I’ll get him.” It seems the hog had rooted around all over the garden and had made a big mess of everything. The hog rooted around in everyone’s yards at night. No one saw him at all during the day. Men stalked the hog at night, but to no avail.

Mr. Kiss was beside himself, so one night he planted himself at the window, so he had good sight of the garden. There was a full moon, and as it was waning, the hog made an appearance. Mr. Kiss got him with one shot. The next morning there was lots of excitement. Woodrow Scott loaded up the big animal in his truck, and off he went to tend to it. We decided it would be great fun to have a barbecue at our house on Bridge Street. Most of Old Town Bluffton was invited to celebrate.

A group of men volunteered to roast the beast, which was quite a chore because it would take all night. The fire was lit, the hog was prepared, and the party was off to a start. In the middle of the night, firetrucks arrived, to the consternation of the chefs, to put out the fire.

It seems that Leslie Teel had decided to end the fun. He lived across from us, so he reported a fire. The firemen thought it was very funny — and were invited to come back in the daylight to enjoy the barbecue. Leslie never lived that day down. He and Sophie were invited to the party but never came. The hog was delicious, and there were lots of leftovers for anyone who wanted some.

Leslie and Sophie continued their daily walks by my store as if nothing had happened. Once in a while he would tip his helmet but never stopped to speak. When I expressed a desire to begin the Bluffton Village Festival, Leslie had a flying duck fit and was the only one against the idea. Luke, Paul and Hasell told me to pay no attention to him, so I didn’t.

Guess who came to the opening of the first festival in 1978? And I think he had a good time.

Lipstick and beer steins

Bright red lipstick came back into fashion during WWII for a surprising reason. It was said Hitler despised red lipstick, so ladies in America sprang into action and used red lipstick to let the supporters of Hitler know we meant action.

Women in factories and on battlefields in the 1940s sported bright red lips as a sign of patriotism. The Marines created a mandatory lipstick for women Marines called Montezuma Red. The red color symbolized the American flag and patriotism.

Another little tidbit: the reason beer steins have lids. During the Black Plague in Europe, it was thought flies carried the disease. The Germans invented lids on beer steins to keep flies out of the beer.

I always wondered why they were on the top because my nose always got kerplunked if I didn’t hold tightly to the lid.