Wake the kids, phone the neighbors.

Another half hour.

Patrick's people is on the air.

Coming up.

I feel like it's something I excel in if I keep working, you know, some day, maybe, God, my best man, it might happen.

His dream was to become a professional musician, but his reality was working a blue collar job to feed his family.

Would things ever change for Brian Donaldson?

Learn the story and find out.

Plus.

The time has come when we're well, we're not going to see one another again.

We simply didn't do anything great.

We just did what we felt we're supposed to do.

Their humility was eclipsed only by their integrity and courage.

But Joe Hampton knew that time was running out.

We'll visit this bittersweet reunion of the 44th bound group of World War Two.

Also very, very happy and getting happier.

He had the world by the tail.

A huge ranch and lots of money.

But little did anyone know the lasting legacy that Charlie Walker would leave behind.

See this story from 1984 and then learn the rest of the story.

And I wanted to build something that would be here a long time after I'm gone.

Ed Dreyer had an old silo and a dream.

See what he did with it and learn why.

Hello, I'm Susan Peters.

Thank you for joining us.

And I'm Larry Hatteberg.

We'll have 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.

Sometimes dreams and talent are not enough.

Reality and responsibility have a way of stifling what we might have been.

In 1989, a talented musician named Brian Donaldson could have been enchanting large audiences with the smooth sounds of his saxophone.

But instead, Brian realized he had other priorities.

He found himself playing for his own enjoyment, wondering someday if that may change.

It's a spiritual feeling, but it's really a nice feeling, and it's something that you can't explain.

A tenor sax is cool to the touch.

It's music.

Warm to the heart.

Years ago, Brian Donaldson had a chance to be a professional musician in Vegas.

He turned it down.

I could think about the kids back home, and I just ran off home.

His children were his music.

They still are.

I got to stay with the kids.

And when I get older and they get older, we'll take another shot.

I don't know if you still will.

We'll talk about it then.

The dreams tethered by reality.

Brian works for an oil company.

His dream on hold, but not his fingers.

On lunch breaks.

Particularly so.

I have an opportunity to practice.

A parking lot.

His stage.

A truck cab.

His concert hall.

I used to just play whatever feels good at the time.

To play a lot of gospel things to myself.

Because I. I'm thinking, I know that God is my help.

And if I'm to obtain any kind of success, it will come from him.

Miles away in Wichita, Brian's mother, Betty, is hooked to a kidney dialysis machine.

She's such a strong lady, and she's thought for a long time.

He'd like to aid his parents.

A successful music career would help.

But there is never enough time.

Brian practices every day.

His fingers moving gently over ivory keys.

I do play what I feel needs to be there.

And what makes me feel good.

And what makes him feel good is his special rendition of The Star Spangled Banner.

Dreams like cobwebs are fragile, and patience is required for both.

I feel like it's something I excel in if I keep working.

You know, maybe.

God, my best man.

It might happen.

So are you wondering if Brian ever got that chance to make music his full time career?

Well, take a look a little bit.

You had a bird.

This is Brian Downs, the man.

It's very nice to have an opportunity to say something to you and tell you how much I appreciate what you did for me years and years ago.

Now I live in Phenix, Arizona, and I have close to 15 years now and totally the whole 15 years I've been here.

I've been doing this as a profession, but I knew my music as a profession.

And it's just been one of those things where it's just been a slow building thing like any other business, but it's been a very happy business and we've been able to do a lot of things for other people, and it's about people like you that influenced me to continue to do it, even in the low times when it wasn't.

But the well, you know, I think about some of the opportunities that have with people like you and and the TV opportunity that it just brings me back and keeps me going.

I can't tell you how much I appreciate it.

Brian and his partner, Lawrence Ross, make up a jazz duo called Flavor.

Now they record and do concerts and really they've become quite popular.

Now, a few years ago, Brian returned to Park City for a family reunion.

His kids, grandkids and great grandkids were there and they shot this music video.

But I don't really think, you know, was really going on would be our grandparents looking out and seeing all the hard work, all the trials and tribulations and all that stuff that was.

Done for, oh, for.

Oh, my gosh, I love that.

Is that not the 2020 version of Grandpa's greatest hits?

Oh, and I'm sure he loved every second of it.

You know, it's just fascinating to see what happens to people 20, 30 years later after you do a story on them.

And for Brian, great news.

He's doing wonderful.

I know.

That's what I love about this Harrisburg's people.

We get to see what they're doing today.

Exactly the magic of television.

The greatest friendships tend to form during the most trying of times.

You see that and the bond shared by many of the men who served in World War Two.

Now, during the war, they faced death at the hands of the Germans and the Japanese, and by the year 2000, they were facing death at the hands of time, which was quickly slipping away.

For a bomber crew, the phonies bubble to the top pretty fast.

And you learn that you have to depend on one another.

For the loss of.

Your club.

They came to remember.

I love.

They came to celebrate that.

Most of all, they came to be with each other and.

The time has come when we're well, we're not going to see one another again.

We simply didn't do anything great.

We just did what we thought we're supposed to do.

For men like Joe Hampton, the fourth 44th bomb group, this Wichita reunion is bittersweet.

Age is creeping up on us.

We get together and tell stories and laugh and talk and we get a great charge out of it.

The B-29 was singled out for the job of bringing Japan to her knees.

A final briefing made all the details crystal clear.

Tokyo's fate was sealed as the pilots received their last minute instructions.

It's an honor to serve so very proud of my service and I. I have contempt for people who say, well, I had bad teeth and my top gunner ever caught it.

Didn't have a tooth in his head.

He said he was good as any damn man.

You just get a kick out of seeing them, old friend.

We simply, all of us didn't think we were doing anything extra.

You're putting their head.

They've been there to really understand that.

10030.

That's right.

I cried from my flight.

Yeah, well, Joe passed away not long after that reunion.

He was 81 years old.

But he had the reunion.

Thank goodness.

Yes.

Thank goodness for you that you shot the video.

We have the video to remember these folks who should never be forgotten.

Exactly.

And remembering is the most important thing.

And that's why they got together to share the moments that they had during the war, which we will never understand.

Ever.

But they were there.

They had a great time.

And I was happy to be a small part of it.

Thanks, Larry.

We owe them a debt of gratitude.

And thank you for bringing us our story.

And thank you to all the men and women who fought.

Okay.

This next story is about a crackerjack rancher and businessman who seemed to have the Midas touch.

Charlie Walker knew how to make money and he knew how to enjoy life.

Yeah, animals were a big part of it all.

But when I paid Charlie a visit in 1984, nobody had a clue what it would all lead to years later.

Take a look at this and then you'll hear the rest of the story.

Rolling Hills Ranch, 12 miles east of Salina.

2300 acres of gently rolling hills.

And Charlie Walker owns it all.

20 years ago, Charlie began the power of that corporation and later the Blue Beacon truck wash. Today, he's a multimillionaire with 800 employees.

He lives in this palatial ranch home on land that was undeveloped five years ago.

Now, understand that Charlie always goes first class.

He gave his wife, Caroline, this $60,000 handmade Zimmer auto, complete with 24 karat gold hood ornament and steering wheel.

But I'm no different than anyone else.

I think we're all the same.

It's just a matter of getting there.

Charlie is there.

On his dream ranch where he raises Arabian and quarter horses.

Texas Longhorns, Buffalo Burros, miniature horses and his bride enjoy Belgian horses.

Well, we wanted to make money, turn the ranch into a moneymaking deal and something a little different that the local people could enjoy other than just corner horses and cattle.

So he did and is now one of the largest Belgian horse breeders in the United States.

Took three years to get this quality of horse and this quality of people.

We went through lots of people and lots of horses to get what we wanted.

There aren't too many people can handle a six horse hitch like that.

But Charlie's people can.

And more to Charlie has nearly 80 of these large Belgians.

A quick note about Charlie's unusual horse barns here, where he keeps his Belgians.

He has a lounge for his hands.

It includes a TV and VCR, a complete kitchen, including trash compactor, microwave, a stove and refrigerator and bunk beds, and a South American parrot for company.

On the other side of the barn is a complete blacksmith shop.

By the way, the small shoe on the left is four regular sized quarter horses.

The one on the right is for a Belgian barn.

Smith.

If the Belgian is the largest breed, then these are the smallest miniature horses.

Another of Charlie's proud purchases.

Charlie loves all horses, but if he has a favorite, it might be this huge Belgian stallion.

He's about 18 hands and 20 £500.

He won the The World's Fair in Tennessee, and I bought him right after that.

Charlie lives life with a flair, like having his own fire truck.

Well, we like to go first class on cars, but a quarter more.

Very, very happy.

I'm getting happier.

Now.

Not long after that, Charlie added more animals to his ranch, including black bears, llamas and a lion.

More and more people wanted to come out and see everything.

So in 1995, Charlie turned a part of his ranch into a nonprofit conservation center for anyone who wants to come the public.

That's right.

And within a few years, the place had evolved into a full fledged zoo that included a wildlife museum.

Unfortunately, Charlie passed away in 2012, but not before the Rolling Hills Wildlife adventure blossomed into a lasting legacy of his love for animals and for all the people who visit.

Yeah, it's up there west of Salina, Kansas.

You can get to it off I-70.

It's a great place to visit and Kansas is fortunate to have part of Charlie's legacy right at our fingertips.

And that name, his legacy, lives on.

This next story takes us to our Kansas City and a hardware store that was as old as the town itself.

Yeah, the Bryant family took it over in 1926.

Well, I stopped by 63 years later with my camera and microphone.

And as you'll see, it was like a trip back in time.

And it's made out of titanium, the exotic metal that is in the rocket.

Bryant Hardware in Art, Kansas City, a place where you can still get just one bolt, a side pulley or a hog ring.

You know, it's so hard to find a good hog.

Bring it down east.

Probably wondered why that right arm is so much bigger than the left arm.

That's from turning that crank all that Christmas time.

I have to haul that arm down.

You know, we get so busy and overheats.

Allen and his brother John operate the family business.

That's one of those stores that just has a comfortable feel to it, a feeling of history.

The store was established in the 1870s.

The Bryant's grandfather became involved in 1926, and it's been in the Bryant family since.

Growing up in a small town.

I feel comfortable with it.

It's called a hog pole.

And so that's one thing that there are no rules.

And then you could look him in the eye and decide who is going to be the master.

I guess I must not work too well because I haven't seen too many of my.

In a store like this.

You got to know where things are.

The employees do.

That's Ivan at the cash register.

Tom on top of the ladder.

And Don helping to keep track of this stuff.

And of course, Allen and his nonrefundable, subtle hardware humor.

Head on the radio as a lot of people are moving in to camp out from Alaska because it was only 20 degrees here.

Around town, Allen is known as the collector.

All manner of things find their way into his hands.

This guy.

Interesting pace.

Like this gizmo that was used to give medicine to a cow.

Or this tool.

Has this kind of while on that some you put it in a little drill three or four holes at one time.

And sometimes it's just fun to listen to hardware lingo.

Well, that's one screws in.

And he goes over the nail.

Here time like the old ceiling fan just turns a little slower.

Than that.

So actually the head's just not turned back or anything.

Allen and his son Matt collect old decoys, fishing lures and knives.

Family's all from Fort Lee now.

All.

We work together, and we grew up on a family farm.

And my family's important them.

And that's a good place to raise children.

But it's the store that is this family's pride.

I mean, they're going to have to chew gum.

Are you kidding?

They had to chew bubble gum.

Yeah.

They're allowed to turn at third.

Party.

Opinion there, I guess.

First over furniture.

The right area.

Never.

Came.

No, no, that's like Grandpa.

Little more.

If you can't enjoy the people and what you're doing and you ought to get into or something else, you know, and they tell you that you're welcome.

Well, Allen passed away in 2006 and family members kept the store going for another three years.

But sales, well, they took a nosedive and it went out of business in 2009.

And it's a real shame because that's one of the all time hardware stores that you just felt warm and cozy by going in and visiting because those stores aren't around anymore.

No, they're not.

I don't want to go and visit.

I want to go and live there for a couple days.

Inside the hardware.

Store.

Feel comfortable?

Yeah.

It's just a nice memory from the past.

Meanwhile, just a few miles away in Winfield, Dottie and Richard Flower ran another old fashioned store.

Yeah, a great memory here.

I used to deliver bread and cakes and pies there in the 1950s and sixties when my dad ran the bakery in Winfield.

Well, in 1987, we went back to see how much things had or hadn't changed.

It's not a very big sign, but it's got all the information on it.

It's just a small, almost like a country store.

It's just too small for everybody knows everybody and likes everybody.

They're all just kind of become friends.

Life like we're going on 33 years in here.

Now.

Right now, the only thing I've got is a beef dinner.

I don't have a frozen chicken TV or anything.

We just deliver to those that call and ask for our services.

And we're just more than glad to do it.

Makes of groceries and stuff available for them.

Six of the small four as they're large.

All right.

I've been trying to pick you out.

Just the smaller ones.

If they can live in their own house and just get by with you taking them for groceries and.

And check on them once in a while.

Or we try to do that.

You're no bother.

You call back if you need something else.

You're no bother.

Okay.

Bye bye.

You just have a 1 to 1 relation ship with all of them and you go through their good times and their hard times and their Z times and and you just get to be very close and you don't think about those customers as much.

You think of them as friends and you just feel like you do anything for them and they do anything for you.

You know, I don't make any difference whether the whether they're out of groceries or they need something.

You know, I try to try to do, you know what they need me.

I don't get around very well to go to town on the shuttle, but or like a lot of people would.

And it's just real handy to have any groceries delivered.

Sort of a life saver for me because I don't drive anymore.

It's just a service that we enjoy doing.

Thank you.

Well, yes, thank you.

Now, that was 1987, and the flowers were in the store there for two more years and then retired.

The store closed.

Richard passed away in 1996, Dottie in 2016.

And it was one of those just little tiny neighborhood grocery stores of the fifties and sixties, you know, that you just.

Again, like the hardware store that you loved going to.

And, Larry, in these times, for some reason, it is so comforting and wonderful to go back to those places, I guess when things were semi-normal, you know, or there's some sort of comfort in that.

It was a simpler time and it when you lived in a small town, it everyone was close and it just felt different.

It felt different.

Warm, comforting.

Exactly.

All of the above.

All of the above.

Now out to the country, south, south, rather, of Halstead, where Ed Dreyer had an old silo.

He wasn't using anymore.

So he came up with an idea.

Yeah.

He turned it into a place where memories could be made.

Just an old concrete silo, building blocks and so forth.

Obviously used as a silo for years and but today it's not used as a silo anymore.

It's kind of a big, tall playhouse for my kids and grandkids.

Ed Dreyer is a craftsman, and with this old silo, he turned his skills not only to the silos renovation, but to the crafting of something even more important.

Memories.

I wanted to build a memory.

I wanted to build something that would be here a long time after I'm gone.

I wanted to build it for my kids so they could see it and play in it.

And then my grandkids that this is a memory of Poppa Ed, as they call me.

And I just wanted to build a memory that was the main thing.

I like the country.

I like to sometimes look in watching the birds and they're going to listen to the quiet.

The view on this foggy, rainy day.

He'll know sunrise or sunset.

Just the green fields accentuated by adjacent farm buildings.

But you get these crazy ideas in your life and you know, the Lord allowed me to do this kind of stuff.

And I enjoyed it building and maybe I can touch somebody, but, you know, it's just fun.

It's just one of those fun things in life that we can do and and again, we make a memory.

It took us about three years total to get it the way it is today.

Silos of silence.

Silos of memories.

Ed Dryer dreams with his hands and creates new life from towering relics from yesteryear to tomorrow.

It is one man's room with a view.

It's going to be here long after I'm gone.

And my kids will enjoy it and my grandkids will enjoy it.

And they'll remember me that he had that crazy idea and he did it.

And it's here.

Ed says that Silo did leave his family with a lot of great memories, but it's no longer part of their lives.

Ed had heart surgery.

He ended up selling the farm.

He says the silo is still standing, but somebody else owns it.

Now, and he's not sure what they do with it.

I know his grandchildren used to go up inside the silo and it had a little windows around it where you could look out over the prairie very neat thing that he did.

And I know it's a great family memory.

Absolutely.

Well, there's another show in the can.

All great stories.

Thanks to Larry.

My pleasure.

Thank you, Larry, for bringing us back to simpler times.

It just feels good right now.

hattebergspeople@kpts.org is our email address if you have a question or comment.

Until next time.

I'm Susan.

Peters.

And I'm Larry Hatteberg.

We appreciate you watching and hope to see you back here next week.