Published: December 31, 2007 02:27 pm            

Letters to the Editor

December 26, 2007 — Editor:

There comes a time in nearly everyone’s life when a little compassion, care and concern are needed. Recently our family needed the attention of just such a person.

Through Kings Daughters Home Health Services, Paula Stevens, one of their nurses, was sent to our home to help care for my wife. Paula, although very professional, was also very personal. She was one who would go the second mile like Christ spoke about. Although Paula came to us as a professional caregiver, she left as our friend. We are forever in her debt.

We do honor and appreciate all the nurses, like Paula, who take their jobs seriously and who place a high value on human life.

For all those who will need these services, I can only wish for them such a person as Paula Stevens.

Sincerely,

David (Dub) W. Caudill, Jr.

Grayson



Editor,

On Saturday, December 8, The Olive Hill Church of the Nazarene sponsored a blood drive through KY. Central Blood Center of Lexington in Honor of Leukemia Survivor, Charlie Cooper. Charlie had a Bone Marrow Transplant, this past February, and with several rounds of Chemo and the Transplant, he has needed several units of blood and platelets and they were supplied through KY. Central Blood Center. And if someone doesn’t donate the blood, it is not available for special people like Charlie, those who need surgery, etc. However, on December 8, Charlie had several friends and family members donate for this worthwhile cause. Twanita Cooper, Charlie’s wife, and Coordinator of the Blood Drive, donated blood as well as her mother, Tina Rayburn, and her 92-year old grandmother, Hazel Garvin, who was a first-time blood donor. If you think the name Hazel Garvin sounds familiar, it’s because she is the oldest female deer hunter in Carter County, having killed a deer each year for the past several years. I would like to thank the 21 people who made the effort to come and donate blood that day, and thank the following business for their donations of food and supplies: Olive Hill Slone’s Market, Pizza and More, and Tyler’s Pizza. Also thanks to each volunteer who helped at the blood drive. I know it’s a very busy time of year, and we appreciate all that was done.

Thank You,

Twanita Cooper

Olive Hill



Editor,

I greatly enjoyed “Christmas on the Hill” presented by the Olive Hill Historical Society in the newly renovated gymnasium of the old Olive Hill High School. The members of the Historical Society are to be highly commended for the outstanding work they’ve done in securing funding, working tirelessly, and dedicating themselves to providing the community with a beautiful facility.

My times spent as a high school student and a teacher at Olive Hill have provided me a wealth of good memories. When I looked at the beautifully restored gym, my thoughts turned to my father, Glenn Sparks, and my friend and colleague, Jack Fultz, both of who were principals at Olive Hill High School. My dad’s funeral was held in that very gym, and I believe that the memories of both of these men are honored by the restoration of the gymnasium. I wish to personally thank the Olive Hill Historical Society.

The program presented and the meal provided could not have been better. This was, as someone said, “A Christmas gift to the community”. I’m so glad that I had the opportunity to share the night of celebration at OHHS.

Sincerely,

Cita Dyer

Grayson



Editor,

I was in Tennessee last week when I received the news that Jack Fultz had passed away. I was deeply saddened by this because Jack was someone I had known most of my life. When I got back to Kentucky, I told my son, who is approaching middle age life, about Jack’s passing and much to my surprise, he said he had heard of him, but he was never really around him all that much. I just couldn’t imagine anyone who grew up in Olive Hill not knowing what Jack had done and how many lives he had impacted. So I feel dutifully compelled to tell what it was like to grow up in Olive Hill 50 years ago and how Jack Fultz played a role in that.

Fifty years ago, there were two choices where you went to school: Erie School, a parochial school administered by the Methodist Church, and Olive Hill School up on top of the hill. Most of us went to the school on the hill. Regardless of whether you rode a bus or walked from home, you were required to climb the steps. If you were in grade school, there were 100 steps to reach the main building and then you went up a couple dozen more to get to the grade school building behind. I was a chubby little kid, so my day started with a challenge. The floors of the grade school were covered with oil-- I guess to make them look pretty and less dusty. When the sun shined through the windows, the heat would cause the oil to puddle up in the sunny spots. The principal was Hayden Parker, a strict disciplinarian who peered out the window of his office overlooking the stair steps and shouted at students to slow down or stop misbehaving. Rumors of a gigantic paddle, with holes to make it more painful when administered, awaited anyone who disobeyed rules. Just a stern look from Mr. Parker sent shockwaves of fear through us grade schoolers. My parents advocated corporal punishment and I was told that if I ever got a paddling at school, that was nothing compared to what I would get when I got home.

Olive Hill was essentially a one sport school. Football was dropped back in the 40’s, and baseball was not something that students had much of a passion for. The main passion was basketball and in fact, many of our young lives seemed to revolve around it. It was a time when boys played basketball and girls cheered for the boys. The season would start in mid-October and carry on through March. Olive Hill always had a better team than most of the other schools in our area. This period of dominance begin in the 40’s, when Jack Fultz, as a student, played for an Olive Hill team that reached the semifinals of the state basketball tournament. In the post war period, Jack came to coach basketball at Olive Hill. He was a firey coach. Every game was true drama. At the end of the 3rd quarter of the “B” games, the “A” team would assemble in the hallway and proceed to make a triumphal entry in front of their adoring fans. They walked in perfect line procession across the end of the floor and disappeared into the nether regions of the dressing room below the bleachers. When the preliminary games had completed, out from the catacombs like gladiators came the boys, dressed in their shiny maroon warm up suits with the magical word “Comets” on the front, and began preparing for the game with a series of lay-ups. Boys like me dreamed of being one of those guys someday. There would be no greater glory in life. Then the horn sounded and the next anticipated rituals began. The boys would run to the side of the floor and gather around Jack. He would sprinkle a pile of rosin dust on their hands and on the floor. As they listened to his instructions, they rubbed their Converse All-stars nervously in and out of that dust to improve their traction on the floor during the game (I thought that stuff was corn meal and I wondered why he did it—but I knew there must be a good reason.) It was then that the cheerleaders, the most popular and the best looking girls in the school would dash to the middle of the floor and lead the frenzied crowd in the well known chants of encouragement for the team. Following that, the band would break out in the school fight song, “On Ye Comets”. We were upset when we heard that the University of Wisconsin stole our song.

We always looked forward to who the referees were going to be. Our favorite was Sid Meade, a large, round man, who was way past his prime, but he must have had good eyesight because he could spot a foul from the far end of the court. As a matter of fact, Sid rarely made it past half court because the game was too fast paced and by the time he made it into the side where the action was taking place, it was time to turn around and head the other way. When he made a call against the Comets, that was when the real dramatics would begin. Immediately after a disputed call there arose from the stage seating a clamor of enormous proportions. Bert, Jack’s sister in law, and Bert’s sister, Virginia, would rise up to whoop and holler, and point fingers, and yell out “Come on, Sid!, put your glasses on.” Then the entire bleacher section followed Bert’s lead and scolded Sid. Sid was totally oblivious to this raucous behavior and continued to trot slowly for 25 feet in one direction and then turn and trot 25 feet in the other direction for the entire game. On other occasions when the team made a bad play on the court, Jack himself, would rise from the bench, stomp the floor vigorously, and give a heavenward glance at the ceiling in disbelief of the team’s incredible ineptness. During timeouts, he ranted and raved in the huddle as the players bravely stood their ground and took it like---men. And although those tactics would not be tolerated in today’s society, it was a different time and different social attitudes then today. Jack in fact did make “men” out of all those boys that he coached and he was proud of all of them.

Later Jack wrote his work of love, “The Comet Tales,” a book about Olive Hill sports history. The project actually expanded to become a cultural history of the town itself. That’s because, to many of us, the most memorable events of the town surrounded basketball. There was no greater satisfaction in life than beating the Ashland Tomcats, and Jack’s teams did that with regularity. Those of us that were around then, can never forget that night in Winchester when, in sudden death overtime, JD Kiser charged through the center of the Tomcats and dropped in the winning basket that propelled the Comets to the state tournament. Fans can not forget how the entire town turned out to greet the team on Garvin Ridge. The Fire Engine led the parade back to Olive Hill. Ashland fans had no choice but to be a part of that celebration, because back then, you couldn’t zoom past Olive Hill on the interstate.

Jack later became principal at West Carter High and then worked in the Carter County School system for the remainder of his career. He also became an active member of the First Baptist Church in Olive Hill and influenced many people of the community to live a Christian life.

I always wanted to be a Comet, just like my Dad. There were at least two things that kept me from being one: I was too short, and I wasn’t very good. There are many people in the community that have stories about Jack Fultz that should be told. Many perhaps have far greater insights than do I. But as I sat in the old restored gymnasium of OHHS the other night at the “Christmas On the Hill” program, listening to the great music and looking at the marvelous job done through the tireless efforts of the Olive Hill Historical Society, I couldn’t help but think of those nostalgic childhood times when my idols, JD Kiser, Paul Lewis, Bert Greene, Delmaine Barker and countless others would line up in the hall and parade across the end of the court to ready themselves for the next battle of the boards. And from the front row of the stage seats Bert and Virginia would whoop and holler, and somewhere in the crowd, Arta Kapps’ unmistakable shout “Go Comets!” could be heard by all.

Thanks Olive Hill Historical Society for preserving this place that provides so many great memories of our childhood.

And thanks, Jack, for providing so many great memories.

John Tierney

Olive Hill

        

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