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MUSEUM MUSINGS: He was a lineman for the Army

Written by David Holsted, published in the Harrison Daily Times on August 6, 2020

Bob Coker and Robert Brown worked for the power company. They once made a service call that was 6,726 miles away.

Coker and Brown were both employees of Arkansas Power & Light (AP&L) in Harrison. They were also both members of the Arkansas National Guard. In early 1951, their unit was called into active service, and Coker and Brown, both sergeants, found themselves in Korea and members of Service Battery 936, FABN.

Ever the power company guys, Coker and Brown applied their AP&L experience to bettering the lives of their comrades in Korea.

In a letter written to his former co-workers back in Harrison, Coker described a power system that he and Brown had constructed. The men upgraded a 3 kva system into a 5 kva. Coker and Brown dug the holes, set the poles and strung the wire.

“Got a darned good system, too,” Coker said. “We named our power company AP&L Korean Division.”

Coker described the pair’s first few days in Korea.

“We unloaded the 10th of February and stayed at Pusan for eight days,” he said. “Then we moved out into the mountains and stayed four days. There are 10,000 to 15,000 Red guerillas in this area, but we haven’t contacted them yet. However, you never know if you are among South Koreans or North Koreans. That’s what makes it so tough.”

One day, Coker, Brown and the jeep driver were sent into Pusan to get vitally needed supplies. Normally, a convoy of at least five trucks would have accompanied them to prevent attack from Red guerillas. That day, though, the men would have to go alone.

“Bob and I rode shotgun, and believe me, we were scared,” Coker wrote. “They told us if we met any men (Koreans) on the road to shoot around them until they took to the hills. We took them at their word. The Koreans will carry their guns under their coats, and when you pass, shoot you in the back. You can’t afford to take chances. We met three Koreans dressed in civilian clothes, carrying American-made carbines. We shot until they went over the next hill. They didn’t spare the kilowatts getting gone, either!”

In another letter, Coker talked about a young Korean man who served as their interpreter. The man was 22 and had attended college, but had left Seoul when the Communists took over.

Brown, too, would write letters back home, telling of his experiences.

“This really is a swell place,” he said. “If you just hit the dry spots, you only sink knee deep in mud. You have to watch those wet spots, though. If you don’t, you’re liable to drown.”

Brown went on to say that he had a cabin boy who took care of him. The boy shined his shoes, made his bed and anything else he wanted.

“All that he costs me is a pack of cigarettes every two days,” Brown said.

In one letter, Brown summed up his feelings about Korea.

“I’ll tell you what,” he said. “I wouldn’t send my worst enemy over here.”

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MUSEUM MUSINGS: I double-dog dare you to read this story

Written by David Holsted, published in the Harrison Daily Times on July 30, 2020

Virginia Holmes was puzzled. Her little cocker spaniel, Taffy, would often disappear for days at a time.

Herman Thurman was equally perplexed. His dog, also a cocker spaniel named Rusty, would pull similar disappearing acts.

In May of 1950, Holmes and Thurman found themselves in the middle of a “dog-gone mystery” (as the Harrison Daily Times put it) that concerned a dog leading a double life.

Holmes was the secretary to L.J. Cooper, the Ozark Division manager of the Arkansas Power and Light Company. Thurman was a cadet engineer for the same company.

A friend happened to give Thurman a “brownish-yellowish” cocker spaniel, who was given the name Rusty.

About two weeks later, according to the Daily Times account, in a similar situation, a friend gave Holmes a “yellowish-brownish” cocker spaniel. Taffy was the name given it by Holmes.

Holmes and Thurman being co-workers, they soon compared notes on their new pets. The two dogs, they found, were of similar size and color. They also shared another, more troubling trait. Taffy and Rusty, it seemed, exhibited a strange unhappiness in their homes and would disappear for days at a time.

For about a month, Holmes and Thurman shared with each other suggestions on how to keep their dogs at home.

Finally, Rusty failed to return to the Thurman house, and he could not be found. Taffy, on the other hand, suddenly became more content at home with Holmes.

A mutual acquaintance, who happened to visit Holmes, remarked that her dog looked exactly like that of Thurman’s, even down to the identical mole on the lip.

“A hurried visit confirmed the belief that Rusty and Taffy were the same,” the Daily Times reported. “Confusion – even litigation – might have followed had not Cooper brought the controversy to a happy ending when he was asked to arbitrate.”

Thurman graciously allowed Holmes to keep the dog.

After all, Cooper said, Rusty – alias Taffy – had made the decision himself when he had definitely established residence at Holmes’ house.