For the last few weeks, I’ve been working on the first chapters of the book about the downtown explosion.  For this writer, the first pages of anything — essay, screenplay, book — those are the hardest.  It’s about figuring out not simply what the story is, but how to tell it, what point of view to use, what voice, all those tools that writers employ.  And, to tell the story about the explosion, there is also a sense that getting it right is deeply important. 

Here’s why.  I have talked to dozens and dozens of people over the last year about their experiences on April 6, 1968.  I’ve met people in my office, over coffee in restaurants, and in their own living rooms and kitchens; I’ve talked to people on the phone, by email, even corresponded by the wonderful, old-fashioned method of letter-writing.  Every time I have heard someone tell their memories of being downtown, or losing someone close, or witnessing the fires, that black smoke, and the terror of that day, I feel profoundly grateful and humbled to be in the presence of these stories.  Because it’s very clear that walking through those memories is hard. 

And yet so many people have offered their memories because they want two things: other people to know what really happened, and to be sure the loved ones who are gone are never forgotten.

So, thank you to all who have talked with me, and our production crew, both on camera or off.  Your memories will not be forgotten.

JH

I spent a few hours this morning with Linda Hollingsworth and Debbie Smith, both daughters of Eunice Clevenger, who was killed in the Richmond explosion.  At the time of the explosion, Linda was 19, married and living in Muncie; Debbie was 11, at the State Theater that afternoon with her sister and two brothers.  Linda and Debbie talked about what they remembered from that day, and the days that followed.  They also talked about their mom, and what they remembered of her. 

As I heard about Eunice Clevenger this morning, I could see her: coal black hair, Debbie said.  Linda nodded.  Yes, and red lipstick and red fingernail polish. And she was a wonderful cook, they both said.  Meatloaf (with a special ingredient, to be revealed in the book…), chicken and dumplings, and mayonnaise cake — her specialties.  She loved to laugh, to play bingo (and she always won), and every Saturday, without fail, she went to Virginia’s Beauty Shop to have her hair done, always by Virginia herself.  Debbie and Linda talked about their memories of their mother with love and with sadness. 

“I can’t believe it’s almost forty years,” Linda said. 

As I listened, I remembered a friend’s words about the work we are doing on the explosion — making a documentary film, writing a book.  My friend said, of these efforts, “You’re building a memory.”  I think so.   That is why we are doing both projects — film and book — now.  While the memories are still here, while we can capture them on film and in words, we will build a memory, detailed, and lasting.  It will be, I hope, a memorial to all of those who were taken, for all those who remain. 

Great thanks to Linda and Debbie for your time this morning.

JH

Today, I will be taping a half hour segment for WCTV on the making of the film 1:47.  The segment will consist of a narration (that’s what I’m taping today) of behind the scenes photographs taken by Richard Rodgers about the work we’ve been doing on 1:47.     You’ll be able to see images of all the people we’ve interviewed so far, how we do the set up for the interviews, and also you can get a look at the people who have been working on the film thus far. 

To find out when this segment will run, check back to this site, or you can also check the WCTV schedule: LINK.

- JH

This past weekend the production team for “1:47″ spent two days filming interviews with people who were involved in the downtown explosion in Richmond in 1968. We heard from several people who had been in the State Theater, that day, children at the time, out for an afternoon matinee: Stay Away Joe. We heard the stories of George and Mary Marinakes, and his sister Mary Mitchell, all of whom worked downtown to help keep the hundreds of volunteers fed, late into the night.

We heard the experience of Jack Bales, who was in Marting Arms when the explosion happened. Jack spoke about this experience, and also his great friendship with Greg Oler, who was standing right next to him, and was killed. Jack and his wife drove 1300 miles from their home in Colorado to Richmond to be filmed on camera. When I asked him what motivated him to come so far, he said this: it is time the story was told in full, for people to hear what happened, and most of all to make sure we remember those who were killed by something which — and this is the refrain we heard again and again — something which never should have happened.

After Jack, we interviewed Jo Trimble, who spoke about losing her husband Jim Trimble. On April 6, 1968, Jo had taken their four children to a dentist’s appointment an hour or so away. When they returned to Richmond that afternoon, they soon learned that their entire world had changed. Then, we interviewed former State Trooper Bob Cline, who was able to shed light on the precise details of how the explosion happened. Bob worked with experts from the FBI, Indiana University, the state police, and others, all of whom came to the scene immediately following the explosion. These professionals gathered enormous amounts of evidence and testimony, through which the sequence of events leading up to the explosion could be reconstructed.

Then we filmed an interview with Joe Kirkland. Joe too came from far away to tell his story, flying in from Florida, and his story was deeply moving, as he articulated his memories from April 6, 1968, when he was only seven, and lost his mother and two sisters to the explosion. Joe also was able to shed light on the mystery of how a young girl got from the beauty shop which his mother owned, to the roof of that building, where she was later rescued. I’ll keep the details of this story for the film, but it should be said that Joe’s mother probably saved this young girl’s life, even as she lost her own. I’ll never forget Joe’s face as he told that story. You could see him imagining what was likely his mother’s last act: helping someone else to safety. A real act of heroism and love.

The production crew then went to Sixth and Main with Joe, where he pointed out where things used to be, what he remembered on this block where he spent so much time at his mother’s shop: Virginia’s House of Beauty. As Joe spoke, you could see his mom’s beauty shop again, Marting Arms on the corner, the little coffee shop a block away — Mack and Hazel’s. There was Vigran’s, the Hoosier Store, the Optical shop, Specialty Records — the world as it used to be in 1968.

Joe’s stories and the gentle grace with which he told them will resonate in my head for a long long time. Especially his oft-repeated phrase about the explosion: “I thought everyone forgot but me.”

The last interview of the day was with Sandy Clark, whose brother Greg Oler was killed. Sandy told us many stories of Greg — his energy, his love of horses, his role in her life as the big brother who pushed her to be, always, a better person. Sandy painted a picture, in words, of her brother, which underscored a remarkable life, cut much too short.

Our thanks go out to all who came to the WCTV studios on Saturday, to all of the people who came to be interviewed, their generosity, and their belief in the importance of telling the story of the explosion. Thank you.

*****

Next weekend we will be filming “on site” in various locations around Richmond.