Another half hour of Hattebergs people is coming your way.

And here's a look.

I just keep it going when my kids really need it.

Betty Cooper was amazing.

Wait till you hear what she made in her basement.

Also.

It's just part of my personality.

I like to say, no.

Matter what it is water, food.

Clothes, shoes, whatever.

I don't like the way.

So many things.

These Wichita nuns hated waste, so they took action.

Learn what they did and why.

Plus, when you come down here, I can hear it bounce over there and come back to me.

And then I get to hear it, too.

And I think this one has really got me enjoying it more than more.

Leon Simmons wasn't trying to put on a show with his music.

He performed mostly for himself.

But Larry wanted to find out about what this was all about.

See what he discovered.

And everyone has a story.

I don't think there's a one of them that doesn't have some kind of a story.

If her quilts could talk, they'd share a story of family tradition and national recognition.

You'll see why quilting was such an important life pursuit for Lilly Webb.

Hi, everybody.

I'm Larry.

Hatteberg.

I'm Susan Peters.

Stories of some of the most interesting Kansans of the past 40 years are cued up and ready to roll.

On this week's edition of Hattiesburg, people.

These stories are like old friends.

Their lives radiate from the screen, like profits 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.

It's almost hard to believe.

A little old lady in her Wichita basement helped build one of the most important airplanes in the world.

And her name was Betty Coop.

Now, she may not have looked the part, but she was helping build the latest technology.

The story from 1989.

The new Air Force One is being built at Boeing.

77 year old Betty Coop has had a part in its construction.

The Voyager is a revolutionary aircraft that flew around the world without refueling.

Betty Coop, working in her Wichita basement, had a small part in its success, too.

I just keep it going when my kids are really amazed at me.

Betty is one of those amazing, ageless people whose life isn't a stereotype.

In her basement, this grandma makes circuit boards.

Yes, that's right.

Circa it boards.

This is single sided.

It will fit over here.

17 years ago, following the death of her husband, Betty Cooper continued his side business of making exotic circuit boards for companies who brought her the designs.

Circuit boards made by Betty controlled the vanity lights in the bathroom of Air Force One.

Not the solution.

Back and forth across the developer.

Now, while making circuit boards is unusual enough, Betty is a woman who lives and loves life.

Sometimes I just.

Write.

A poem in my head, you know, and come upstairs and write it down, go back and browse more.

A sample of her work.

Speak quietly so that your words may be heard as well as your voice.

Promises are like cobwebs, thin, fragile and easily broken.

Betty's life is full and constantly moving.

We're not making circuit boards.

She might be busy on another one of her hobbies photography.

She took this photograph of the Eiffel Tower.

She's also a student of genealogy, loves history, and enjoys cooking.

Now she does not look good.

But it's Betty's sensitivity that affords all of us lessons in life.

Her poems speak to the heart and to love.

I get sentimental.

Eric is a grandson who died several years ago.

Her poems echo a grandmother's heartbreak.

My heart aches when I think of Eric.

Eric with a laughing blue eyes is happy.

Hi, Grandma.

I miss him.

So.

My heart cries and cries and cries.

Betty is in touch with her feelings and in touch with life.

There's 20th century technology in her basement.

It's more fun, more people around me and everything.

And the timeless mind in an ageless body, in her words.

I want to live my life so someone will miss me when I'm gone.

I really enjoy everything in life.

And I said, I want to live to be 100.

Well, Betty had also been a scout and PTA leader and volunteered in the Civil Defense Administration and was president of a genealogical organization.

She outlived not only her husband and grandson, but also all 12 of her siblings and a son who died in infancy.

Betty passed away in 2004 at the age of 93.

She was not only geez and smart, intelligent and.

But she was profound and had a lots of wisdom.

Yeah.

And these people are hidden away all over Kansas.

You know, and I was just so lucky to be able to find someone like her to tell their story, because they made a difference not only to aviation, but to the community.

As you could tell, she was involved in everything.

And you found her in her base.

I was a lucky guy.

Unbelievable.

Well, the next story is about a couple of nuns who found themselves knee deep in trash.

Now, in addition to saving souls, they were on a mission to save the planet from heaps of garbage that just keep piling up.

The Sisters of Saint Joseph do God's work.

There's a little bit of push to get.

These to do a little more.

Everything we can save, we save it is work.

But we enjoy.

Working.

These two nuns, my sister and Catherine Berger, set the biggest promise.

And Sister Cassie and Evan have organized a recycling program for their convent, and they do it all.

And I've always been saving of things.

I never I never like to waste anything.

This is always a problem.

First, we didn't think we could save a lot of things, but as we find out, we can save more and more.

We we do it everything we can save.

We say this all goes to one place.

This pulls out the common.

The sisters recycle paper, glass, plastic, really anything they can.

And it all goes in this classic or perhaps interesting is the better word 1965 Ford pickup and okay.

At the recycler it's the belly of the bottles and cans.

Okay.

But I said family is just part of my personality.

I like to say no matter whether there's water, food, clothes, shoes, whatever, I don't like to be wasteful.

And we're doing it because it needs to be done.

Yeah.

And on this day they are done.

Yes.

How much we got this time?

I don't know.

$30.

But they don't do it for the money.

They do it because they believe it's the right thing for the environment.

I like it, especially because we're making use of something.

It was being thrown away and.

Now both sisters have since passed away, but they set a precedent at the convent that continues.

On the Sisters of Saint Joseph have made recycling and protecting the environment one of their most important ministries.

And it's so nice when I was around them because they were so excited about what they were doing there.

And that excitement extended over to the other nuns who were there.

And I think that's why it continues today.

And it's become more than that.

It's become a ministry.

I like how they put that in something.

It is, yeah.

Now, to a man who use the environment around him as a concert hall.

Yeah, but often times he was his own audience.

Leon Simmons made the music for his own pleasure and reflection, his sounds echoing through the hills and tales of his hometown.

He plays alone, his music going across the water to silent audiences.

Leon Simmons doesn't care.

He plays for the joy and the peace.

I was so surprised when when you called me and told me that somebody would like to hear more about this.

We did because other Richardsons wanted to know more about this gentle man with the outgoing personality.

Oh, I tell you, it just.

Well, look how beautiful this guy is behind us.

It's just serenity.

I mean, it's just wonderful here.

And my it's just it's a nice time to come down and think about things.

In fact, I even think about writing songs now and everything because I have the time now to do this.

Leon plays the pipes.

Some call it a pan flute, but in reality they are pipes.

He's not a professional musician, just a man who enjoys life and people.

He plays in other places, usually alone, so he can hear the echoes of the pipe and feel the notes fade into eternity.

I really enjoy playing it.

I mean, it's and I enjoy it at home, like I said at home.

I don't get to hear it really.

But like you, when you come down here, I can hear it bounce over there and come back to me and then I get to hear it too.

And I think that's what has really got me enjoying it more than more.

He took up the pipe nearly seven years ago, six months after he started playing.

His wife died very unexpectedly.

I mean, never second day in her life.

And it was a hard thing.

Well, it fills in a lot of hours and things.

Hey, it's one of those things.

Her memory is alive in his simple tunes.

Sometimes here at the bridge, sometimes at the Indian Center.

One of the reasons I come here.

Is when it's too cold to go out there, I can come in here for warm.

He plays when no one's around, tunes that make him feel good and some original songs of his own.

I don't mind people I met at all, but I mean, you know, I mean, I don't want to cause anybody trouble, I'll put it that way.

That's for.

And nobody has really invited me too much.

I mean, I. I just come in, and the only place I really feel I know how to write is down under the bridge.

Wichita has many people like Leon Simmons.

Sometimes it's just nice to stop and listen.

If you live your life in such a way that you don't cause any problems for anybody else or yourself, you know you're happy.

Hey, I'm just like everybody else.

I love life and I want to keep right at it.

Leon passed away in 2013.

He was 87 years old.

But I'm sure a lot of people will remember when he would play under the bridge across from the Riverside Castle there by the 11th Street.

And he liked to hear the echo of the pan flute.

Under the bridge.

Under the bridge.

And it was haunting.

I wonder, I wish you could go under the bridge now and still hear the flute.

Speaking of haunting.

Maybe on certain days you still can.

I it?

I wish that was so.

Kansas is a land rich in tradition, with a pioneer spirit that's been passed on from generation to generation.

The art of quilting was central to the lives of many of the women who helped settle the Great Plains, and it lives on today, thanks to the contributions of great crafts women such as Lily Webb.

I just love to quilt.

With at least 90 handmade quilts, to her credit.

You might call Lily Webb, the quilting queen.

Everyone has a story.

I don't think there's a one of them that doesn't have some kind of a story.

Behind the story.

Behind Lily is simple.

15 years ago, she began quilting and now has a host of National magazine articles about her and a scrapbook full of memories.

It has been wonderful thing in this little ladies life in her old years, because I've gotten acquainted with so many lovely people I would not have known otherwise.

All over, everywhere.

And really, it's a wonderful outlet for you.

Rather than just sit here and feel sorry for yourself.

Lily's grandmother was Sarah Turner.

She brought a quilt by wagon train from Weldon, Illinois, to Mayfield, Kansas, in the late 1800s.

Lily has that quilt, complete with dates and names of the ladies who helped her grandmother.

So it.

I learned to quilt and so and cook and everything at her elbow and that to.

And I think of the things that we did.

And yes I feel very and I was very fond of my grandmother when she died when I was 14.

But I still she really made an impression in my life.

Quilts her grandmother started, but never finished were.

We're also worked on by Lily's mother.

This quilt, begun in the 1800s, was finished by Lily.

So I can get so absorbed in it that I just forget my problems and my worries.

We've had a lot of problems in our family and lots of troubles, but I. I can just sit down and get to quilting and forget about.

This quilt on Lily's bed was one of my favorites.

It has 1500 cathedral windows sewn into it and 40 yards of fabric were used to construct it.

Her quilts are artistic family heirlooms handed down from generation to generation, and you can bet they are not for sale.

So many people wanted me to buy one or something and I said you would make a nickel an hour.

You couldn't charge them hardly enough unless you could just really charge their two or $3,000 for one.

But you just don't make enough off of it.

And I said, if I'm going to give my time to my loved ones.

Loved ones like MAXINE McAlister, one of her many daughters.

I hope it will mean a lot to them.

I hope I said if they buy, if they ever put a dog on one or can wrap a car with one, I'll come back and haunt them.

Now, Lily was 93 when she died in 2002, and she is still remembered fondly in the Kansas quilting community and the organization she used to lead called the Prairie Quilt Guild.

And her friend Sarah Farley says she still shakes her head when she thinks about the number of amazing quilts that Lily made during her lifetime.

Yeah, I remember when I did that story, the quilts everywhere, you know, and and they just weren't plain old quilts and they were all artistic and they were all different.

And each one told a story.

Just beautiful pieces of art, too, right?

Exactly.

This next Kansan was featured in a famous book about the people who won World War Two.

Now, the book was titled The Greatest Generation, published in 1998 by Tom Brokaw.

Now, that book was The Genesis is the term we now use when referring to all the brave men and women of Charles Briscoe's generation.

This story helps explain why.

How long you've been retired?

84.

84.

I retired in 84 and three years and nine days later they called me back out there for six months.

But when Boeing retirees get together, there is talk of old times, old days and old friends.

You know, a few of them doozies in here.

Ernie Ogles.

Charles Briscoe is one of those of another generation.

The.

Depression, the war years.

Many believe that it was people like him and millions of others who laid the foundation for today's America.

Know my folks had running water books at Carrollton run get a bucket of water from the well.

Charles, also known as Carol Deen, is featured in Brokaw's book because of his work at Stearman and later Boeing as an engineer.

Back when times were hard.

No, sir, nobody complained.

They would figure out ways that would work.

When I first went to work at Stearman, I didn't have a car with me because my folks had my car.

I would catch a bus, a Greyhound bus, and pay a ticket to go clear down to Utah.

And when I got out to Stearman, they'd stop and let me off.

And that's why I went to work for several weeks.

And then I'd have to hitchhike home.

For Briscoe, it was the B-29 that harbors his finest memories.

So many people working together so fast to produce a flying machine that saved thousands of American lives.

The proudest moment was to see the B-29 take off for the first time.

They plant everybody out to where they could go to the out on the apron to watch it fly.

In those particular times, you knew that you had to get an airplane over there to save the boys lives that were over there fighting.

And you would do anything or everything that had to be done, regardless of how many hours you had to put in on it or how long it took.

You would stay there until the job was finished.

In his book, The Greatest Generation, Briscoe's picture from 1936 hides the work, the sacrifice and the tough times of those days.

Another shot has his car, a car he bought for $46 today surrounded by planes he helped design.

His concern is for future generations.

From the young people nowadays who have no desire to work over time.

Remember the victory gardens that we had during the war?

Young people now wouldn't even know how to plant a garden.

How would they grow something?

How would they survive?

How many people could live in the same house?

How many would live in the same house?

How many would like to live in a house?

Not familiar.

Not much bigger than their bedroom.

The years of war and depression gave a lifetime of memories to Charles Briscoe's generation.

In the end, they proved to be a candle in the darkness for the rest of us, laying down uncompromising values as a standard for the future.

I am real happy because I picked the right lady for me and I've been with her for 58 years and it's made a wonderful life for me.

I've had a wonderful life.

Mr. Briscoe was 88 when he passed away in 2005.

The histories of these men and women from World War Two and throughout that particular generation stunningly interesting to what they had to go through.

And our generation could learn so much from them.

And the generation under us and the generation after us.

Absolutely, Larry.

Well, as we get older, some of us get tired of all things changing all the time.

That is so true.

It can be hard to keep up and to let go of the ways of life that we're used to.

Well, down in Clay County, a man named David Gatton realized he could live however he wanted, and he surrounded himself with the things he loved, the kind of things they didn't make anymore.

Now, listen, I do want to poem.

This is David Gatlin's rant, and he's darn proud of it.

Long as I am able to go, I'll be.

She was.

She was.

He's got cattle.

He's got chickens.

He's got cats.

And he's got his grandfather's homestead that he restored and stocked with antiques.

Once I can find anything, I'll buy.

And he has old stoves, pots and pans and other antiques have kept this Clay County rancher busy.

This house was just built for down shingles and holes in the floor.

I enjoy it.

You're not going to catch me around a fair playing dominoes or nothing when in town.

You're a family out here?

Some.

Or maybe listening to this old record player.

Get wound up and get first.

Oh, well, on the.

House is like.

That.

And if you stop by David Gadahn's ranch, he'll probably show you this old phone, along with an old phone bill.

1937 is $0.36.

That alone makes most of us yearn for the early days, early days that had old woodstoves.

Like Paul laid out come out here and, you know, hot find it right there and enjoy.

I guess we're all hedging there now.

But this man's life isn't watching the Woodburn.

It's being a free spirit.

I the privacy out here, do whatever I want to go and take a leak behind the building, I can do that.

Walking around Gadahn's ranch, you hear words like corn shuckers, scoop board, shucking pegs and this old haystack.

Or think you'll ever get it runnin.

Yep.

See there, I got my house.

I got my cable up.

Antiques like these are scattered throughout his property.

He knows what each one is, and he loves to tinker with them.

It's a challenge.

Challenge?

Something like that.

If I put together and.

It is a trademark of those who live the rural life now, David and his wife lived on the farm for another seven years before moving to a nursing home in Dexter.

She passed in 2001.

He in 2003.

But that farm is still in the family, and I think they'll have a lot of memories.

You know, the ancestors of that couple.

I have a lot of memories both on the farm and the things they left.

Me and David's grandson, as a matter of fact.

His name's Brandon.

He now lives there and he farms the land.

And most of those antiques are still in the family.

I am so happy to hear that they're still in the family.

Yeah, and that is great to hear because so many times somebody passes on and the antiques get sold out to people who don't know their history and don't care.

And don't care.

Right.

I'm glad it's in the family.

The tick tock of the clock says it's time for us to wrap it up.

Hattebergs people at it's thought is our address.

If you have a question or comment via email, we love getting your emails.

Until next time.

I'm Susan Peters.

Thank you for joining us.

And I'm Larry Hatteberg great to have you with us.

We'll see you again soon.