Sit down, relax and enjoy 30 minutes of stories about Kansans through the decades.

This week, we premiere a brand new story that Larry recently shot in his hometown of Winfield.

I never dreamed this would become what it was.

It was just kind of a kind of a hobby.

You know, when we first started.

The local roller rink has been a hot spot in Winfield for generations.

We'll take a look back and then look to the future.

As longtime owners Duane and Jean Peacock pass the torch to a new generation.

Also.

I've been in some circumstances where several hundreds of bees have come after me.

An invasion of killer African bees in the 1980s had Americans on alert.

See how this University of Kansas professor was investigating the threat and possible solutions?

Also.

It's been a very emotional, long, heart wrenching decision.

After 80 years, this family business in a tiny Kansas town was in jeopardy of closing.

What made it so special and what ended up happening?

You'll find out coming up.

Plus times, I think we've probably been to hell and back for what really happened.

Makes you think you been reincarnated.

Dick Cunningham lost his house, then lost his job.

His life seemed hopeless.

Then he got an idea and got busy.

You'll see how he turned his life around.

Hello, I'm Susan Peters.

And I'm Larry Hatteberg.

Great to have you with us.

Those stories and more, including the new one that Larry just finished, are coming up right now on Hattebergs People.

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.

We'll bring you the premiere of Larry's new story in just a few minutes.

But first, this story from 1985, prompted by a concern that was sweeping the nation.

The United States was invaded by swarms of dangerous African bees.

And that gave me reason to visit Kansas's foremost bee expert or late Taylor to find out more about these mysterious creatures and what could be done.

There's a great deal of satisfaction that comes from working with insects as close as this.

I can probably be said that I have generally enjoyed my profession a lot more since I really got back into working with honey bees.

Early in his career, or Lee Taylor, professor of entomology at the University of Kansas, was into butterflies, not bees, but an allergic reaction to a substance in butterfly wings caused him to change his specialty.

It's very challenging to bees are always doing something different, something that you hadn't expected, and something that you have to adjust your practices for.

For scientists like Taylor, the challenge is not the common European honeybee like these, but the African bee that is so aggressive.

It's now known as the killer bee, as this film by the U.S. Department of Agriculture points out.

The Carnegie is holding as a common experiment used to measure bee stinging response.

Like most honey bees, the Africans prefer the dark spot.

But the Africans response is many times more intense than our own domestic honey bee.

I've been in some circumstances where several hundreds of bees have come after me and when I haven't been well protected, I've had to retreat three or 400 yards before you lose most of the bees.

They are aggressive, scientists believe, because that's the only way they could survive in Africa.

To us, it means swarms of thousands of bees having the ability to attack and kill animals as large as horses in South America.

Taylor estimates 500 people have already been killed by these bees.

Can they be stopped?

Yes.

With qualifications.

Working in his tiny office on the Lawrence campus, Taylor believes that through genetics, the African bees can be bred with European honeybee queens stripping the African bees of their aggressive nature.

But the government's research program is almost nonexistent, and that fact makes Taylor unhappy, especially since he's funded some of his research with his own money.

I'm used to this by now, but it's really frustrating to see a country like ours that has the potential resources to deal with a problem like this.

Simply ignore it.

Taylor says working with insects like these European honeybees is relaxing.

The hard part, he says, is working with people.

I think people are a lot harder to work with, and insects are.

They're always a lot more difficult.

There are a lot less predictable than insects are there.

We're dealing with something that's a little bit simpler, has a simpler social organization, and it becomes quite a bit more predictable.

And people are.

Now in the years since, the African bees have established themselves in several southern and western states.

However, they never became as widespread as scientists feared.

Meanwhile, Audley Taylor revived his interest in butterflies.

He recently celebrated the 30th anniversary of his nonprofit called Monarch Watch.

Now that organization spreads awareness and encourages average citizens to do what they can to reverse the decline of those monarch butterflies.

Dr. Taylor, now 85 years old and a professor emeritus at Kew.

Boy, you know, the research that he's done and the work that he's done really is incredible.

And it would be fun work.

Oh, my gosh.

Fun.

What I love about this.

He's still like.

You.

Yeah.

And you still doing research?

Yeah.

I'm encouraging people to work with the monarch butterfly.

I love that.

Yeah, it's great.

A guy doing what?

He was just made to do that.

Absolutely.

And people love these updates.

They love to know what people are doing now.

So we're so happy to report that he's still alive and well and still doing his work with bugs, whether they're bees or butterflies.

Congratulations to him.

All right.

Life is always changing.

And so it was in 2005.

At a store in Hamilton, Kansas.

Now, at that time, the granddaughter of the store's original owner was forced to make a life changing decision.

Come on in, Mary Ellen.

Everybody likes a place that knows your name.

Coffee here?

They do.

I thought you were bowling today.

Hamilton, Kansas, in Greenwood County, is home to 350 people.

Middle America in every way.

At home, sundry in Hamilton.

Denise Stewart is a third generation owner of this little place.

You've got to make an order today.

It's an old fashioned, original 1920s soda fountain.

It was built in the mid twenties.

Much of the things in here are still original.

Denise's grandmother, Hazel Holmes, started this little business over 50 years ago.

Had a different.

And then Denise's mother, Donita Edwards, took over the little store.

Then after her grandmother and mother died, the running of the business fell to Denise, its family.

Because most of these people here knew me when I was little, I knew my parents and my grandparents.

And it's just an extension of home, you know, like where people.

Talk to you and visit with you don't know.

You.

Without it, we wouldn't.

Have much of anything.

Okay.

Right?

Yeah.

Life to me.

But time is sometimes cruel for these little family businesses.

Denise found that running the store and helping her husband operate his business was just too much for one person.

And now she has decided to sell it or close it.

It's been a very emotional, long heart wrenching decision, and that has been the hardest part is making that decision.

That's the.

Biggest hurdle.

It's just an all around good.

Place to just hate to see it shut down.

For now, the coffee is still hot and the jewelry still shines.

And friends like Tammy Ratcliff are always there.

It's very tough.

This is Hamilton.

This is.

This is the fabric of the town.

So if by May, if the store isn't sold, it will close.

Denise doesn't want that to happen.

She's hoping a buyer will appear.

The hard part is remembering the good times when her mom and grandma greeted each customer.

But nothing ever stays the same.

You have to move on.

Well, we are happy to report that store never did close.

Sheila and Randy Smith bought it and they've been running it now for 16 years and still call the homes sundries and will soon be celebrating 100 years in business.

I did two stories at the Home Sundry in Hamilton, Kansas.

Great place, kind of very rural.

But it's wonderful that that community still has that story because it's a gathering place, kind of like a little community book.

I love it.

We're two for two now.

We are that that tradition has carried on through those stories.

And one of your stories was done in 85.

One 2005.

And they both kind of still exist.

They do.

I love that.

I love that.

So does the store.

All right.

This is the new story.

The premiere of Larry's new story coming up in just a few minutes.

But first, a story, another one from 1985.

Dick Cunningham had just been through the wringer.

Illness and unemployment or a gut wrenching one two punch for this soft spoken Wichita.

But Dick found a way to turn things around.

Originally in the beginning, I was real happy.

Everything was fine.

And this and overnight discovered I had an illness and lost my job.

Dick Cunningham of rural Marion has been on life's mountains and felt the loneliness of her valleys.

Now he's on top again.

He started his own business of creating almost anything out of Styrofoam graphics figures, replicas of postage stamps, signs, and about anything else you can imagine.

I've never depended on anyone else.

And all my life I've I've always worked very hard and long hours and accomplished everything that I could.

He does the cutting with equipment he built himself.

And business is good.

But 18 months ago, Dick Cunningham's life was miserable.

It's times I think we've probably been to hell and back for what really happened.

Makes you think you been reincarnated.

Dick had a good job, well thought of.

And then his illness off work for a long period of time.

And then no job.

No job anywhere.

People just shun me.

You're really not a person.

You just.

You're nothing.

Recovering from his illness, he found his life in turmoil.

Your mind's just not right.

You got too much on it and too much thinking.

And of all the bad and nothing of the good.

And then once I got my mind occupied in the business and doing something.

Why?

It just changed the whole life.

These phone letters were the beginning of a new life for Dick Cunningham.

Well, it brought me back into reality.

What amounted to get me back to giving a lot of thought to something else besides all of the bad things that happened.

His wife, Marie, paints the Styrofoam to accommodate the orders.

It is a family business, a business that was created from the seeds of despair.

I feel real good about it.

I feel like I've accomplished something.

I know I have a I've done a lot in a in a very short time, really.

Dick Cunningham did this story because there may be other people out there who might be facing illness, the loss of a job or both.

Dick's been there and has some advice.

Just stay in there and give it some thought than what happened to you.

Try to occupy your mind and get done doing the other things.

Things you've thought about and wanted to do.

Do go for it.

Well, Dick found success and that and some other businesses as well through the years.

He was a Navy World War Two veteran, and he passed away in 2014 at age 87.

Guy who never gave up, who always found something to do and something to create.

And we thank him and all our other veterans for their service along the way.

With November being Veteran's Day.

Yes, sir.

Now to a brand new story that Larry shot in his hometown of Winfield.

Any reason to go back to Winfield?

Right.

Main Street Skate had its grand opening on North Main Street recently.

Jacob McGuire and his wife, Sarah Berry, are the new owners, but they stand on the shoulders of two people who for decades ran the same rink, then called the Peacock Roller Rink.

If you lived in Kelley County, you skated here in the early fifties.

Dwight Eisenhower was president and Elvis had his first hit, and the peacocks of Winfield decided skating was their future business.

It was just something that we knew how to do.

It was kind of just really kind of dropped in our left.

For years, the peacock roller rink on North Main in Winfield was the place to be.

I think because we were both roller skaters had roller skated.

She roller skating before I met her and I, I did the same thing.

They originally began their careers in this converted old barracks known as the glass roller rink on Winfield's East Side.

This was the floor being repaired and once finished.

That's Jean Peacock on the right skating in 1952.

And Dwayne and their son Richard.

We worked evenings, Saturdays and Sundays and holidays, and that's not an ideal time to work.

The place had no bathrooms, no drinking fountains, so moving, it was paramount.

They found this old John Deere building had caught their eye despite a flood or two.

But I never remember regretting having to come to the rink.

Now converted to a roller rink, it opened in 1952.

Duane and Jean operated it since 1956, buying out his parents, who they had partnered with.

So really the only entertainment for young people, young kids and things.

I remember the rink because my then girlfriend skated there.

Now I didn't skate because I couldn't keep upright.

So really, the only entertainment for young people, young kids and things.

Generations of Kelley County kids remember this place.

And our memories are good.

I never dreamed this would become what it was.

It was just kind of a kind of a hobby.

You know, when we first started.

Duane and Jean worked hard to make it a safe place and a fun place for old generations.

I always thought Duane had good rapport with the young boys.

These boys, young boys, would come up and talk to him.

And I always felt like they were kids that probably didn't have a real good relationship with their father.

They provided all night skate costume parties, skate athon, sock hops with local bands and private parties for community organizations and churches.

It was fun for the people who came, but it was a serious business for us.

Now, Jean had two jobs, one as a nurse at the Winfield Correctional Facility and at the same time worked with Duane at the rink.

And for 34 years, they rolled on skating with each new generation and providing memories.

I'm thankful that I'm able to do what I'm able to do.

In the late eighties, the peacocks decided to sell the business, but not the building.

They leased it to several operators over the years, but after a few years, each one left the rink.

Duane and Jean kept up the building and looked for a new owner.

In 2022, they found Jacob McGuire and his business partner, wife, Sara Berry.

McGuire owns another business in Winfield and felt the skating rink was a good fit.

We love bringing activities to the youth and giving them.

Something to do, something to be passionate about.

And because no one else.

Was more excited to focus on skating.

But also, you know, what else can we do and what else can we provide?

You know, provide more opportunities for, you know, our kiddos.

You'll see them running around here and you know, everybody else too.

I think if we were still operating again and we skated last night and sold it today, I think I think we would have missed it.

But we quit operating in 1985, which was 30 some years ago.

So we've kind of eased out of it in a way.

Now toasting to a new beginning.

The handoff is complete.

For the first time since the 1950s, Sara and Jacob McGuire are the sole owners of everything building at all, and the peacocks now skate into a well-earned place in Winfield history.

I love that that skating rink is still open.

And you you during the story Larry was telling me and not another little tidbit about that skating rink.

Well, the skating rink and congratulations to the new owners.

Congratulations to the peacock for all those years, they made a difference for all the kids in Winfield.

It was a block from my dad's bakery.

No.

Yeah.

And my girlfriend, now, my wife would skate down there and I would go down and watch her skate, and I couldn't skate.

Yeah, I couldn't, you know.

So you just watched Judy.

Just watched Judy skate with other guys.

That was the bad part.

Okay.

The main thing people are going to remember about this story is that, number one, the skating rink is still in existence.

And thank you very much for keeping it up.

And number two, Valeri went there to watch his wife skate with other guys.

I didn't go to see the other guy.

I went to see my wife.

I love it and I love that the rink still exists.

Congratulations to the new owners and may many more years to come.

Yeah, one feels lucky to have it still going.

All right.

Not many.

Remember the days when steam locomotives were ruled the rails, but Lloyd Stegner did.

Yeah.

Lloyd was a prolific writer about those old steam engines.

And when I visited him in 2006, he just couldn't stop remembering.

They got to be fired up to whistle blowing, the bell ringing and from 60 miles an hour.

That's when Lloyd Stegner gets interested.

Yes, that's very true.

I'd say that's true.

You know.

Lloyd is probably written more books on steam locomotives than anyone else.

At least 27 that he can remember.

Well, I guess there's a certain amount of satisfaction you will wear and say, well, I wrote this book and so forth.

The fact that you're doing something you like to do, I guess, is the primary thing.

I think when someone retires, you ought to have something to do.

And instead of going fishing or hunting, well, it's worth to.

Many across the world.

And of course, children find these old steam engines marvels of engineering.

We love watching these giant wheels turn the smoke pouring from the stack.

And as kids, we would all love to sit behind a throttle of these iron monsters.

At least just once.

I like them and admired the guys that did it, but to me it was not that good to live for, especially if they had a family.

Lloyd worked for the railroad all his life, but never as an engineer.

He always worked in the stations, but he was fascinated about these old steamers and had a knack for writing.

And that was the beginning of his book career.

Quite often where people would call me or write me or something or me, they get something.

So I do spend some time helping them out.

In Newton, Lloyd sometimes visits the static display of one historic steam locomotive.

And while he's glad it's there, it's seeing them in action.

That's his forte.

Well, I guess I have to feeling you say it.

It isn't run anymore.

And thankfully that's been preserved.

As the old Santa Fe railroad clock takes off the minutes of our lives in Lloyd's office.

He's content pounding out the history of these giants of the rails.

They are of another time.

And for Lloyd, these days ended much.

Much too soon.

Times change.

And.

Railroads changed too.

Now, his obituary from 2008 says Lloyd was working on his 32nd book about trains.

Imagine that.

Unfortunately, during that work, he suffered a heart attack.

He was 84 years old, but he died doing what he loved to do salutes, trains and all of that history around.

32 books.

Isn't that amazing?

We are all the more wiser.

Yes, we are.

And his books, another place where history is recorded.

Your local cemetery.

And in 1984, a very young Larry had over and got some lessons in life from W.D.

Tabor, who took care of the graveyard in Pretty Prairie.

A few years back, a lyricist in writing the words to a popular song wrote When You're Born is really when you start to die.

You know, for a lot of people, that's very depressing, but for others, it doesn't bother them in the least.

Take, for instance, a man named W.D.

Taber of Rural Pretty Prairie.

For him, cemeteries aren't a symbol of death.

They have been his life.

If you're a Christian, there's no reason to be depressed.

It's just one of God's things in life.

And we're in death all the time.

That's W.D.

Tabor, the caretaker of the Lone Star Cemetery near Pretty Prairie.

This cemetery is really a testament, a tombstone testament to the man who's nurtured and cared for it for the past 40 years.

Well, of course, I've always had a they said I had a green thumb, whatever that is.

That thumb has made this country cemetery an oasis of marble grass and flowers.

A beauty mark on the face of the prairie.

Oh, yeah.

And when it's nice weather and not too hot, they like to come out from town, mosey around out here cause they like it.

It's a peaceful community.

You don't have to hurry about it.

And that's a nice thing about it.

Do you please want to go fishing?

You go.

Recently, Taber has had to take it a little easier than he likes because of a health problem.

At 82, he says he should have retired years ago.

It's your heart.

Let somebody else do it.

When something to be done, I'll himself.

Yeah, but I guess when you get old, you have to change.

I never dreamed I'd ever get this old.

But I am.

Taber manicures every inch of his cemetery, a dropping water table and a hot summer day have been his enemies.

And it's his sweat, his labor and his time that keeps it beautiful.

And he has little patience for the people who don't check with him before they plant their flowers.

And they've learned it pretty well once.

And finally, you have somebody from Wichita Hutchison or someplace a way off somewhere because it's country cemetery.

They think they can come out here and do things and they find to their sorrow they can't.

Taber has his rules and his regulations and his moments, moments when he's had to bury a friend.

His attitude, though, is that of a realist, a man who doesn't dwell on sorrow.

Very glad to bring their dead.

Got to get rhythm somewhere and going to hurt anybody to living folks that you got to get along with.

Well, I remember Taber well because he would just spout these homespun stories and things to learn from.

And he was like a philosopher.

And he wrote this old moor for a while around the cemetery and everything.

But he was really like a cemetery philosopher for.

And I learned a lot.

Isn't that cool?

Yeah.

And you never know where you're going to meet these people.

You dont, but you find them.

Well, I'm fortunate.

People can learn lessons from, Larry finds them.

Well, and for that, we're lucky to have you.

Thank you.

No problem.

That's a wrap for this week.

We hope you enjoyed these stories.

I know I did once again.

Thank you, Larry.

Oh, it's always my pleasure.

And remember, if you have a question or comment, please send it off to hattebergspeople@kpts.org.

We appreciate hearing from you.

And until next time.

I'm Larry Hatteberg.

I'm Susan Peters.

Thank you for watching.

We'll see you again soon.