Another half hour of Hattebergs People is coming your way.

And here's a look.

If it's for something this worthwhile and noble, then, you know, I'm glad to have been able to be a soldier.

She saw a need and took action.

See how Wichitas Linda Weir-Enegren helped change how children with special needs were taught and cared for.

Also.

Whether you were here 10 seconds or 110 years, you were important to somebody and you were here.

And it's important that you be remembered.

Preserving the memories of those who've come and gone.

See how Ed Schoenberger dedicated his time and talents to honor those who might otherwise be forgotten.

Plus.

I'm Bud Driscoll, and I am Izzy Fitz.

And here's today's old news update.

They were leading their hometown newspaper into a new era by reporting old news on an Internet newscast.

We'll look back at this groundbreaking effort in 2009 and see where it is now.

And we'll have this story.

I can do what I want to.

I don't have to be hard hearted.

Paul Jakey enjoyed his solitude.

He was comfortable in his own skin and took pleasure in the simplest of things.

His was a quiet life, but might have gone unnoticed were it not for Larry Hatteberg.

Hello, I'm Susan Peters, and I am Larry Hatteberg.

We'll show you those stories and more on this edition of Hattebergs People.

These stories are like old friends.

Their lives radiate from the screen, like prophets of the past.

They were teachers, but not in a classroom.

Instead, they taught about life to those around them who cared to listen.

And I was their student.

Some said it was impossible.

Others just rolled their eyes.

But Linda Weir Enegren proved them all wrong.

Linda believed that every child with disabilities had the potential to learn and live a rewarding life.

So with no money and no paid staff, she started Rainbows United in the basement of a local church.

She had just a few volunteers who shared her compassion and drive to help others.

I suppose there were days when I felt kind of like I'd crawled the last 50 yards on my belly through hot oil.

And that's not a good thing to have for all of your life.

But if it's for something this worthwhile and noble, then, you know, I'm glad to have been able to be a soldier.

I happened to shoot this old video that chronicled the first days of the program.

Linda Weir was a powerful dynamo who believed these children would do better at home than in an institution.

Her job was to find a way to reach them and to help the parents.

We had no money.

We had absolutely no money.

We had no resources.

And we went month to month just hoping that there would not be a crisis.

Rainbows began in 1972, and by these headlines you can tell how far the world has come.

Words like retarded were used to describe her clients.

Linda fought those words.

These were children.

Children who had been dealt a bad hand.

When we started, nobody in the entire country was addressing these children.

Michelle, what's happening here?

Okay, here we go.

Okay, now you push.

That's right.

You push.

Good girl.

The community always was supportive.

Only four months into her married life.

Linda found a child with disabilities who had been abandoned.

He became her family.

Linda and her husband, Phil, went on to have two more birth children but adopted five others.

Some with disabilities.

I did not take them to be a project.

I took them to be their mom to give them love every single day, no matter how this turned out.

Now, remember that first child she adopted who was abandoned?

He is Kenny now 35.

And like the rest of her children, successful.

There is a certain amount of human dignity in taking a risk and succeeding.

Linda's energy knew no bounds, but there came a day when she knew she'd have to turn Rainbows over to someone else.

The first thing that happened was as embarrassing as this is that I forgot my baby's first birthday.

She left in 79.

And that's surprising To many.

She is now the president of LS Industries, a company that makes industrial cleaning equipment.

Nearly 40 years ago, Linda Weir Enegren had a dream.

Now thousands of children have a future where it's possible for them to dream.

And I think that I and the other volunteers here feel very blessed that we're able to have this kind of an experience in life to watch these children grow.

The children who are untrainable.

I wanted very badly for families to be able to stay together.

That is that is why we did it.

In 2022, Rainbows United celebrated its 50th birthday.

Linda was honored for her vision and dedication that made it all possible.

I work closely with Linda on doing some stories and some in-house videos for Rainbow.

When it first started, she was so extraordinary, so patient.

Working with these children and made such a huge difference.

Plus then she was the seed for what Rainbows United is today.

And Rainbows United is an incredible gem in our community.

And she created it.

All those years ago now.

And she's still giving of her time.

She has.

To local charities.

Local organizations.

I see her at several charity functions and she's still giving of her time and talent.

And what what would Wichita be and what would that community be without Linda and Rainbows United?

That's right.

She was a she is a very loving woman.

And you can see that in how she helped all those kids.

We should all be like Linda.

Exactly.

All right.

In Greensburg, Kansas, at the Fairview Cemetery, Ed Schoenberger took up a lonely but historical task.

Ed believed that every life was worth remembering.

And you'll see this story now from 2009.

It's very nice and quiet with the animals and the birds and and also full of history.

And it is history that Ed Schoenberger loves as Sexton of the Greensburg Fairview Cemetery.

Ed is in the perfect job.

All around him are the remains of not only the history of the area, but the history of America.

This is a civil war hardtack biscuit brought back by Joseph Dudley Mitchell as a souvenir he wanted it put in his headstone after he died.

And it's been here since 1916.

His official job is to keep the cemetery beautiful and to make sure all the rules are followed.

But over the years, he has begun a one man task of remembering.

For many buried here headstones were lost over time or perhaps never existed.

It's a very interesting.

Fascinating.

So he began doing research and when he found someone without a stone or a marker, he made one.

All are made from recycled material, material that finds a new use in a quiet place.

That was a little boy that died of dust pneumonia in the thirties.

And I made it out of pipe and the little curlicues on top were from a gate at the Eagle Canyon Ranch, south of Mullinville.

Nearby, another gravestone redone by Ed, the first baby born in Kiowa County, when that county reformed in 1886.

I made it out of concrete.

I used a piece of tin ceiling to get this design, and this is a horn off top of the cement truck.

These two graves also redone by Ed.

This one originally on a farm and had to be removed.

Ed used part of the original fence that surrounded the grave to make the headstone.

Sometimes I have to work at it, but a lot of times I can just see it and know I want it.

What I want immediately.

Like this grave marker that began with a holder for a farm bell.

And this were the centerpiece of a 55 Chrysler imperial hubcap.

And the glass is from an oil field drip oiler.

This one was special to Ed.

It is a marker for his mother who was cremated.

Again, the cross made from recycled material.

And if people like it, okay.

And if they don't, it's okay too.

Throughout the cemetery.

Ed Schoenberger's work is monumental.

He wants everyone to be remembered.

And that's exactly why he makes these unique, original, grave markers.

His motto is simple.

Whether you were here 10 seconds or 110 years, you were important to somebody and you were here.

And it's important that you can be remembered.

Now, Ed retired at his work at the cemetery in 2011, and he said he made a total of about 250 grave markers during his time there.

And my favorite is the one you saw on this story where a Civil War veteran had on his tombstone.

Bread from the Civil War.

He loved the bread so much.

It's in a glass container on a tombstone, as you saw in the story.

I love that.

Can you imagine that?

But it's still there.

And it's still there.

It's still there.

I wouldn't want to eat it today, but it's still.

There.

Yeah.

Well, we're glad that he had the dedication to do 250 of those in the cemetery.

The digital revolution has been taking its toll on traditional newspapers for many years.

Yeah, it's not that people don't care about the news.

It's just that nobody wants to pay for it anymore.

And when they are bombarded with free, supposed information all day long on social media and free websites, their question is, why should I read the paper?

Well, you should.

Yeah.

In 2009, reporters Tim Unruh and Gary Demuth were experimenting with new ways to connect with the public.

It was a combination of new technology and some very old news.

This is Tim at the Salina Journal.

Anything going on today over there?

Are they cleaning up from the Wilson fire?

In a cluttered newsroom, which is the way all newsrooms are.

Reporter Tim Unruh is fishing for a story.

Nothing happening up Beloit way, huh?

A few desks away.

Reporter Gary Demuth is putting to bed a food recipe for a future edition.

No breaking news here.

Daily editorial meetings sort out the day's events and reporters discuss the stories they'll be covering.

Lady with the coat drive.

I'm still working with them.

On the surface, much of the newspaper business looks the same.

But it's not.

Alright.

As newspapers embrace the digital world of the Internet and multimedia, reporter Tim Unruh decided to take it a step further.

He noticed that a popular part of the printed paper was a look back stories from the paper as long as 100 years ago.

Hello and welcome to the way it was.

I'm Bud Driscoll, and I am Izzy Fitz.

And here's today's old news update.

Born was a little segment for the Internet with Izzy and Bud.

The meat markets are absolutely prohibited from dressing turkeys and hanging them up for show.

And I love a well-dressed turkey.

Reporters Tim Unruh and Gary Demuth take on the characters of Bud and Izzy.

And once a week, they look at the news from the Salina Journal morgue.

November 2nd.

1959.

Somebody tipped over an outhouse Halloween night.

One of our editors and long time columnists, Gordon Fiedler, started this about seven years ago, and he would just pore through the microfilm of old newspapers.

Some of the little things were just hilarious.

November 4th, 1909, for the first time in years, an Italian with a hand organ and a monkey are parading the streets of Salina picking up pennies.

It's taking some of the paper's history and, you know, kind of bringing it back to life.

Three, two, one, go.

And here's today's old news update.

Salina Journal, New media web developer Chris Winters tapes the segment.

Theyre both very fun guys.

Exit Stage Left.

With this production, it involves television, the website and the newspaper are all together and really that's that's what it should be.

Oh, hello.

Shot in front of a green screen, Chris adds A background makes it look like old film and spruces it up for the web.

And I Love it.

And I'm Bud Driscoll.

And I'm Izzy Fitz.

And that's been your yesternews.

Well, unfortunately, that historical newscast is now itself part of history.

So are Tim and Gary's careers at the Salina Journal.

In 2016, Gary says the newspaper was sold to a large corporation, which immediately started downsizing.

And, you know, we see that at many great little newspapers across Kansas and in every state in the union that when they're purchased, the local owners disappear and things change, usually not for the good.

At the expense of sounding like an old timer.

It's very disappointing to see as an old time journalist.

It's very, very disappointing.

Yeah, I loved holding a newspaper.

I think.

Didn't you?

I did.

Morning.

And you just drink your coffee, held the paper.

And the kids on Sunday morning would open up the newspaper, and they would read parts of it on the way to the comics.

You know, but it started them reading about news and it was so important to their lives.

Absolutely.

We're missing.

And I like in the beginning you said “supposed news ” on the Internet and on social media.

Yeah.

Folks, don't get your news from social media.

None of it.

That's our statement from Larry and Susan.

That's my editorial right now.

Because youre going to be lost.

You're going to be lost.

I agree.

Now to the tiny Reno County town of Langdon, population 39.

Yeah, I went there to shoot a story in 2002 and suddenly realized I'd been there before many years earlier.

Here's the story.

For Langdon, Kansas residents, once that old train goes by, it gets pretty quiet.

Langdon is the type of town where you come into it.

It's quiet.

You don't have a lot of noise.

It's peaceful.

Everybody seems to get along in harmony.

Gene Lawrence moved in here a few years ago from Texas.

He likes a clean, quiet town.

And it just it just looks a lot nicer when you clean the place up.

Looking around the rest of the town, it has its own quaintness.

But there was this one old abandoned gas station.

It looked so familiar to me.

So familiar.

It looked familiar because I was here and did a story on the man who ran this old gas station.

J.B. Schiro The year 1986.

Joseph Brent Schiro runs this little gas station his way.

Junky.

Messy.

A little bit of everything.

Oh, sure.

It's a bit cluttered inside the station, but that's what makes it unique.

It's got personality.

Well, I was playing around here back in the mid 20s.

This was built here In ‘26.

Autumns came and went, the old pumps frozen in time.

Now, residents like Gene Lawrence see a future in the past.

I'd like to see it redone, rebuilt.

I'd like to see a little gas station come back in here.

Sometimes he forgets to take the “closed ” sign out of the window.

Oh!

In which case he just yells for you to return.

Joe's passed on.

Now, residents like Gene Lawrence fill the tank.

I like my house.

I like.

I just like to, you know, it's peaceful.

Very.

But on quiet days, you can still hear old Joe Schiro making just one more gas run.

Trying to help other people.

If you can.

Just kind of feel like you're helping somebody.

This little gas station never did reopen.

That little old brick building, though, still stands, but the gas pumps are gone.

And both Joe and Gene have passed away.

And, you know, you go to these little small towns now and you see these old buildings that are in horrible shape.

But you can just see in your mind what that might have been like in the twenties and thirties.

I love that, there were probably, it was probably bustling that gas station in and out.

Yeah.

Oh.

Man.

Everybody and Joe had such a such a personality.

They did?

Yeah.

You don't find many people like him.

And that's all gone now.

I mean, it's disappeared.

And the only way to see it is through old film and.

And Langdon.

Langdon.

Langdon could have been a sitcom, probably with Joe as the star would have been, you know?

Yeah, it could have been.

Some people are just miserable, no matter how much money or how many friends and lovers they have.

Now, Paul was opposite of all that.

He was alone, had next to nothing, and couldn't have been happier.

Then we moved back here in spring of 38, and I've been living here ever since.

Paul lives far from the paved roads.

A man not to be found if he so desires.

People ask why we moved back here in the sticks.

Well, they went where they could find water.

They found that and more.

His big old house.

Now full of stuff he collects.

I enjoy it and I think its worthwhile.

He loves collecting pens and pencils.

The collection upstairs is his constant friend.

I feel like I have accomplished something.

More than 3000 pencils, an untold number of pens and a room small in size, but large in interest.

I go to Illinois, Colorado, Texas, Oklahoma, Missouri, South Dakota... His bedroom nearby.

Simple, adequate and filled with his hat collection.

If I ever need one, I know where I can find one.

Outside.

Even the cockle burrs were hoping for shelter as the north wind put change in the air.

Evening.

When I sit here, when I'm watching television, I work on my crossword puzzles.

But there's not much change with Paul.

He's been solo all his life.

A bachelor, if you will.

I can do what I want to do.

I don't have to be hard at.

Living alone since his mother and brother died years ago, and the alone part is okay with him.

Ive been at it so long, I don't know how to act if somebody else would come.

So out here down the old rutted lane?

Paul lives just fine, thank you.

Im going to stay here as long as I can.

In a big house where the wind blows free.

So is Paul.

Im happy.

Well, Paul enjoyed a few more years of peace and solitude.

Then he passed away in 2008 at age 83.

And, you know, you look at someone's life like his and you think, God, I would hate that.

But we're not him.

We're not him.

We're not living his life.

He enjoyed it.

He had a good time.

And it's the way he wanted to live.

And we all strive for one thing, and that's happiness.

Well, he had it.

He did.

So who's to say it was wrong?

No, it wasn't.

No, no, absolutely.

And we should all be happier with less.

That's our, Larry's and my other statement.

Second editorial.

Harry Keplar also found joy in the simple things.

Yeah, Harry found peace and contentment along a quiet country road in Butler County.

There in the field.

That's Harry Keplar.

His little Butler County place is about as relaxing as they come.

Have to admit, we really enjoy it.

Some guys want to go to Arizona, California or something, but I want to stay right here.

Who could blame him?

He's built a good life and created an area that his grandkids just love.

Just something to do.

I enjoyed tinkering around with things and this challenge to see something like the rock or something like that.

Man, that would be a challenge if I could just do it.

So I'd take in after.

And the kids take after Grandpa's train.

Some more of my wild ideas.

See, I just take the blade off my lawnmower.

And it just sits right on here.

It can come right off and back on.

Nearby Harry's Varied animals don't seem at all surprised at his constant tinkering.

I like to tinker with anything.

Anything that is challenging.

I like to try to challenge.

But his grandkids call it fun.

Seen this wheel one time, Larry, down here on the highway.

They was laying that optical cable.

I looked at that wheel and say, wouldn't that make a beautiful kid's Ferris wheel as I, like, get ideas like this just through the country?

Hey, I can do something.

I can make something out of that.

And the truth is, Harry can make something out of anything.

It's hydrostatic drive.

So you haven't got no clutches or anything.

So you can just move this lever controlling your speed or stopping or whatever you want.

Don't you wish you could be this country clever and just have fun?

I'm kind of proud of it.

The Lords been awful good to me.

Yep, old Harrys place is just down the road.

Turn left at the sunset.

Harry lived to be 91 and his obituary mentions that Hattebergs People story from 2002.

And you know that makes me feel so good.

You know, it was important to him and I was so glad to meet him.

And again, he's one of those guys who lives life the way he wants to live it, you know, where it's quiet and peaceful and he does what he wants to do.

And I think that is absolutely great.

And so when somebody mentions that they were on the show in an obituary, that tells me how important it was to him and his family.

Okay, Larry, I have people come up to me all the time and say I was a Hattebergs People.

I was-- It's a badge of honor.

And to many, many, many of these people.

It's the only really recognition they will ever get or ever did get.

And those are the kind of people that I wanted to feature.

That's it.

That's what makes it so special.

Oh, you're so sweet.

Now it's time for us to go enjoy some peace and quiet.

But feel free to send an email if you have a question or comment.

It is always fun to see what people have to say.

I'm Susan Peters.

Thank you for watching.

And I'm Larry Hatteberg.

We hope to see you again soon.

So long.