(Editor’s Note: Today– December 13 — marks the 48th anniversary of the plane crash that killed the entire University of Evansville basketball team. Three players from Southern Illinois — Mike Duff and Kevin Kingston, of Eldorado and Greg Smith, of West Frankfort — died in that crash.

In 2007, as publisher of Southern Illinois Sports Connection Magazine, I wrote a story about the 30th anniversary of that rainy, dreary and tragic day in 1977, the 30th anniversary of the Evansville disaster. I spent more time and more effort on that story than anything I’ve ever written, mainly because there were so many people that had to be interviewed and so many story lines to weave together. To honor those who died in the crash, and to educate a younger generation about this event so it is never forgotten, this is the story in its entirety. – Jim Muir)
December 13, 1977 – A Day of tragedy and tears

By Jim Muir

There are moments in life that are so shocking and so surreal that they are forever etched in our minds and seared in our conscience. The memories of those events are so vivid that we can pinpoint exactly where we were at, who we were with and in some instances even what clothing we were wearing.

Think of the assassination of President John F. Kennedy, the explosion of the space shuttle Challenger and in more recent times the 9-11 terror attacks.

The same can be said, particularly for area sports fans, about the date Dec. 13, 1977 – the day that the entire University of Evansville basketball team died in a fiery plane crash less than two minutes after take-off from Dress Regional Airport, in Evansville. In all 29 people died in the crash including 14 players, head coach Bobby Watson, one trainer, two team managers, the school’s sports information director, a longtime radio sportscaster, the assistant athletic director, three crew members and two airline officials.

Three members of that team – Mike Duff, Kevin Kingston and Greg Smith – were Southern Illinois high school basketball standouts that had thrilled fans with their athletic abilities. All of Southern Illinois was proud that the three area players had taken their considerable skills to Evansville, who had just made the move to Division I basketball.

Following news of the crash the sense of loss and the grief throughout Southern Illinois during that Christmas season was immeasurable. On the 30th anniversary of that event and to honor those who died Southern Illinois Sports Connection looks back at that fateful, foggy night through the eyes of six people that were intimately entwined in the lives of those who perished.

A Young Reporter and the Story of a Lifetime

On the night of Dec. 13, 1977 Rich Davis reported to work at the Evansville Courier & Press expecting it to be a typical Tuesday night.

Davis had worked at the newspaper for four years covering hard news stories but said nothing had prepared him for what he would experience that December night.

Davis, now 58, still works at the newspaper and recently recalled the events of that night three decades ago. Davis remembered that word was received in the newsroom shortly after 7:30 p.m. that a plane had gone down near the airport.

“The first indication was that it was a commercial flight,” said Davis. “Nobody even suspected it was the Aces because they were supposed to fly out at about 4 p.m. but we didn’t know then that the foggy conditions had prevented their charter flight from arriving from Indianapolis. Even when we got to the sight and started making our way toward the wreckage we didn’t have any idea.”

The plane had taxied down the runway at 7:21 p.m. and less than 90 seconds later crashed in a hard-to-reach area east of the main runway near Melody Hills subdivision. Davis and two other reporters headed to the scene. He described the weather conditions as “miserable, just terrible.”

“I really don’t remember it being that cold but it was just a misting rain all day long and very foggy, a pea-soup kind of night,” Davis said.

The three reporters traveled as far as they could by car until they encountered a dead-end street. At that point they exited the vehicle and what Davis described as “an odd event” took place.

“We were standing there trying to figure out how to get to the crash site and by then there was security everywhere and from out of nowhere this kid walks up to me, he couldn’t have been more than 10 years old, and says ‘Mister, I can get you down there, I know how to get there.’ So we start following this little boy through brush and thicket and woods and there was mud everywhere,” Davis recalled. “When we got down there the plane had actually crashed in a ravine by a railroad track. As we got closer I could see the tail of the plane up on this ridge above us and there were still some small fires. When we arrived they had already started trying to recover the bodies.”

Even as he made his way to the wreckage Davis still believed the crash was a commercial jet.

“When we got close enough I saw a bunch of Aces’ duffel bags and tennis shoes scattered everywhere,” recalled Davis. “It would have been horrible regardless, but when I realized it was the Aces I just had this overwhelming feeling of grief.”

Davis explained that the 1977-78 basketball season was a milestone for the Evansville program as they made the jump to Division I for the first time. He said the Aces enjoyed unrivaled stature in the community due in large part to winning five Division II national championships during a 12 year span under legendary Coach Arad McCutchan.

Davis said one particular moment stood out that night during the recovery of bodies.

“Because of where the crash took place the only way to get the bodies out was to bring a train in,” said Davis. “It was very foggy and I still remember the light of that train cutting through the fog and the misting rain and when they blew the whistle I remember how mournful it sounded. They transported the bodies from there downtown to a makeshift morgue.”

Davis said on a national scale the grief associated across the nation with the 9-11 attacks was comparable but regionally he has never encountered – and he doesn’t expect he ever will – any story as devastating as the plane crash.

“As the horror of what happened took hold the entire community was just absolutely devastated,” said Davis. “That night I was so caught up in it that I didn’t have time to even think about what had happened. It was just surreal. The grief was everywhere because people just couldn’t comprehend something of this magnitude. I mean, in one horrible moment this city lost something very, very special. The coach, the team … everything was just wiped out that night.”

Diamond Avenue and U.S. Route 41

Marie Kothe was a senior at the University of Evansville on that tragic night 30 years ago. Kothe, who ironically works at Evansville Regional Airport (formerly Dress Regional Airport), said the details of the plane crash are just as fresh today as they were in 1977.

“I had just gotten out of a night class, it was a nutrition class, and was driving home when I heard on the radio that the Aces’ plane had crashed,” said Kothe. “I remember that I was sitting at a red light at the corner of Diamond Avenue and Route 41. I was immediately in a state of shock. I remember looking over in the direction of the airport and it was cold and rainy and dreary. I drove on home but I don’t remember the drive. I remember staying up all night watching television.”

Much the way reporter Rich Davis remembered it, Kothe said the grim reality of what had happened and what had been lost didn’t sink in for a few days.

“When they started announcing names and I could put a connection with the names it was worse,” said Kothe. “The word that comes to mind when you talk about the community as a whole is stunned, I just think the entire city was walking around stunned about what had happened. I don’t think I even cried for a couple of days and then all of a sudden it hit me about what had happened.”

Kothe has worked at the airport for four years and noted that the plane crash was on her mind even when she applied for the position.

“I mean you can just look across the field there,” said Kothe pointing in the direction of the crash site, “and you automatically remember what happened. The people that were here in Evansville will never forget that night.”

A Coach Remembers

Aside from family members perhaps nobody had more connection to the three Southern Illinois athletes that died in the Evansville plane crash than Bob Brown.

A legendary high school player at West Frankfort in the late 1950s and early 1960s Brown played college basketball at the University of Illinois. He still holds the single game scoring record at West Frankfort, a 52-point explosion against Herrin where he scored 29 points in the fourth quarter.

Brown took over as head coach at Eldorado during the 1972-73 season and coached at the Saline County school for five years, compiling an impressive overall record of 121-30. During that span Brown coached Kevin Kingston two years and coached Mike Duff three years. That five year span included two unbeaten regular seasons and three trips to the Elite Eight, played in Champaign during that era. In 1975 the Eagles finished fourth, were beaten in the quarter-finals in 1976 and then returned in 1977 to finish in third place.

“Every year I was at Eldorado was very special,” Brown said. “Those kids worked so hard for me, they were just warriors.”

Brown’s oldest son, Mike, was born during his coaching days in Eldorado and was named after Duff, he said.

“I loved the kid (Duff),” Brown said. “All three of these young men were the kind of guy you’d want in a foxhole with you.”

Along with his association with Duff and Kingston Brown, because he is a native of West Frankfort had known Greg Smith also and was even instrumental in helping him secure a basketball scholarship to Evansville. Smith had already committed to attend Millikan University but changed his mind after Brown lobbied Evansville Coach Bobby Watson to give the West Frankfort standout a scholarship.

“I’ve thought about that often,” said Brown. “I had a part in him (Smith) going to Evansville. That was tough to take.”

Following the 1976-77 season Brown left Eldorado and took a coaching job at West Frankfort. Like all those involved in the tragedy he remembers distinctly where he was at when he heard the news about the plane crash.

“I was still living in Eldorado and when I was driving home that evening, I never will forget, I was driving through Galatia I heard something about a plane crash on the radio, just bits and pieces, there was no real details,” said Brown. “When I pulled into my driveway my wife ran out to the car and I knew something serious had happened. I immediately started making phone calls to see if anybody had survived. It was difficult to get all the details. You have to remember that in 1977 it wasn’t like it is now with cell phones and cable television.”

Even 30 years after the plane crash Brown still gets emotional when discussing the death of Duff, Kingston and Smith.

“I’ve never in my life experienced something as devastating as this,” said Brown. “It took a lot out of me and to be honest I was never quite the same afterwards. I mean these were kids that were hard workers, disciplined, intelligent and they had their entire life in front of them. It was just hard to believe that something like this could happen. The absolute toughest thing I’ve ever had to do in my life was go to those three wakes that week.”

A wake for Duff and Kingston was held at the Eldorado High School gymnasium (later named Duff-Kingston Gymnasium), Brown recalled. He said it was a fitting tribute that the two players be memorialized together but he also found it to be a cruel irony.

“Here are these two caskets on the same basketball floor where we had all these wonderful moments and memories,” said Brown. “I just remember that the grief was unbearable.”

Brown said all three funerals were held on the Friday following the Tuesday plane crash. He said his West Frankfort team had a game scheduled with Harrisburg on the night of the funeral and after consulting with the Smith family it was decided to play the game.

“We were not very good and hadn’t won a game at that point in the season,” said Brown. “I showed up and I tried to talk to my team but I just couldn’t do it. We ended up winning the game, I don’t know how, but we did somehow. I can honestly say that coaching just wasn’t the same for me after that plane crash.”

Brown said he often thinks of Duff, Kingston and Smith, and not just near the anniversary of their deaths, and even has a portrait of the three players in his living room. Brown said he believes all three would have been successful as adults.

“I think Duff would have played in the NBA, he was that good,” said Brown. “I believe Kevin would have been a high school coach and with his work ethic would have been a great coach. And as intelligent as Greg was, he could have done anything he wanted to do.”

A Phone Call from the Airport

In her words Kay Barrow remembers the details of Dec. 13, 1977 “just like it was yesterday.

Barrow, the mother of Mike Duff, was working in the Eldorado office of her husband, Dr. John Barrow, a well-known orthopedic surgeon. She said she remembers a late afternoon phone call from Duff, the last time she and her son would ever talk.

“Mostly I remember that he was happy that afternoon,” Barrow said. “He called to see if we were going to make it to the game the next night and he also told me that their flight had been delayed because of the weather. It was just a typical conversation but the main thing I remember is that the last time I talked with him he was happy.”

Barrow said she heard the news about the crash while listening to an Eldorado basketball game that night.

“It was just one of those moments in life when you just don’t want to believe what you just heard,” she said. “We started calling people we knew in Evansville trying to find out the details, looking back it was just surreal. It was just a short time after we heard the news that people started coming to the house trying to be with us and to help take care of us. That night and that entire week were just like a blur to me, we went around in a daze.”

Barrow said the years have helped lessen the grief but she said that December remains a difficult month even three decades after the plane crash.

“December is always a tough month and it always will be,” Barrow said. “I do anything I can, frantically clean house, put up Christmas decorations, just anything to keep my mind off of it. Christmas has never been quite the same for me.”

Barrow said there are also little, unexpected things that create a flood of emotions.

“Before the plane crash I had ordered Mike a down-filled coat for Christmas, I ordered it from an L.L. Bean catalog,” said Barrow. “The other day we got an L.L. Bean catalog in the mail and I automatically thought about that December in 1977. And it’s not just that, there are little things all the time that make you remember.”

Noting that he would now be 48 years old, Barrow said she often wonders what kind of man her son would have made. Saying that “Mike will always be 18” she said she has watched his classmates at Eldorado grow into middle age and that always rekindles memories of her son.

Duff played only four games for Evansville prior to the plane crash and the final game he played was against Indiana State, who was led by Larry Bird. Duff scored 23 against Bird in his last game, prompting Evansville Coach Bobby Watson to say after the game that Duff would be as good as Bird, who was two years older. Barrow said she and her husband met Bird a couple of years ago and the former NBA great told them that he remembered that particular game. She said they also met Magic Johnson, who Duff played with in an all-star game before entering college. Barrow said Magic also told the couple he remembered playing against their son.

“Little things like that means a lot,” she said.

Barrow said she recently had an unexpected emotional moment when she heard a story concerning Sam Clancy, a friend Mike had met while playing in an all-star game in Pittsburg the summer before he died.

“I just heard recently where Sam Clancy’s son is playing basketball at UCLA,” she said. “It’s just little things like that that brings it all back.”

A Last Lunch Date

Donald Kingston was working as an assistant basketball coach at Eldorado High School in December 1977 and his son Kevin was in his senior season at the University of Evansville. Given the rigors of both their schedules opportunities for the Kingstons to get together were few and far between.

Looking back three decades Donald Kingston said he recalls the details of Dec. 11 that year as well as he does Dec. 13 – the day his only son was killed in the plane crash. Kingston traveled to Evansville on the Sunday prior to the Tuesday plane crash to have lunch with Kevin – a lunch date that included a heart-to-heart talk. The elder Kingston still cherishes that conversation.

“Kevin worked hard for everything he had achieved, he just outworked other people his entire career,” said Kingston. “And that day we ate at Red Lobster and I told him I loved him and how proud I was of him for all the hard work and for all that he had accomplished. That was the last time I ever talked to him.”

On that fateful Tuesday night Kingston was with the Eldorado basketball team at a game at Norris City. Kingston did not ride the bus that night, instead driving his car to the game. On the return trip to Eldorado he and his wife heard news of the plane crash on the radio.

“Think about this, I was driving along and I heard the announcer come on and say that the Aces’ plane had crashed and that Kevin Kingston was dead.” said Kingston. “I’ll never forget that, you’re hoping that what you just heard isn’t true but deep down you know that it is.”

Kingston said his daughter (four years younger than Kevin) was a cheerleader for Eldorado and was on the bus. He said the players and cheerleaders also heard the news en route back to Eldorado.

“We still had to go to the gym to pick her up and she was just devastated,” Kingston said.

Kingston said instead of dwelling on the crash that took his son’s life he has instead tried to keep his focus on the outstanding career his son had, particularly the great teams at Eldorado.

“Bob Brown was a great coach, those kids would do anything for him,” said Kingston. “Those were very special times in Eldorado. Mike Duff was a great player and I believe he would have played professional basketball. Kevin didn’t have the God-given talent that some players have but he just worked so hard. He was always the best defensive player on every team he played on.”

Kingston said he also thinks often about what the future would have held for his son.

“I really think Kevin would have been a coach and I think he would have been a good one,” said Kingston. “He was a senior at Evansville and he had already agreed to stay on and work as a grad assistant the next year. He always said that he wanted to come back to Eldorado and coach. I think about that a lot.”

‘It’s with you all the time’

On a trip to Evansville in early December of 1977 to see their son Greg play basketball Art and Carolyn Smith decided to do some Christmas shopping. The Smiths bought several gifts, mostly clothing for Greg, a freshman point guard for the Aces.

Carolyn said the clothes she painstakingly picked out for Greg during that shopping trip were never wrapped.

“We ended up burying Greg in those clothes,” she said. “I think about that every single December.”

Smith was a 1977 graduate of West Frankfort High School where he was a three-year starter and standout for the Redbirds. After graduation he signed to go to Millikan University but then later changed his mind and was awarded a scholarship to play at Evansville.

“Greg was so excited about going to Evansville,” said Art. “He loved basketball, he studied the game and he worked really hard to become a better player. Greg was having the time of his life at Evansville. He was more excited about getting that scholarship to Evansville than I had ever seen him.”

In 1977 the Smiths were the majority owner of WFRX radio in West Frankfort and it was a call from the station that first alerted him that something might be wrong. Asked where he was at when he learned about the plane crash Art answered immediately.

“I was right here in this room,” he said waving his arm in a circular motion around the family room. “I received a call about 8 p.m. that there had been a plane crash near Evansville but I didn’t think for a second that it was the Aces because I knew they were supposed to fly out at 4 p.m. so I figured that they were already in Nashville.”

Smith said a second phone call moments later confirmed that it was the Evansville team and within seconds Gail Borton, principal at the high school and Harold Hood, the high school coach showed up. Borton volunteered to drive the Smiths to Evansville.

“We found out where they had the morgue set up and we went there first,” Art recalled. “After we arrived, the assistant coach who was not on the plane came running over and told us that Greg was still alive and had been taken to Deaconess Hospital. We went straight there and the doctor came out just as soon as we arrived and said that Greg had died five minutes before we got there.”

Art said identifying his son’s body is the hardest thing he’s ever had to do. He also noted that it was the first time Greg had ever flown.

“They told me I could stay with him as long as I wanted and I stayed with him for quite a while. I didn’t want Carolyn to go,” said Art. “I remember after that we went down to the little chapel at the hospital and just sat there and stared at each other and never said a word. What can you say at a time like that?”

The Smiths said the loss of their son shook their once-strong faith to the core.

“We were active in church and we just quit going, we quit for 20 years,” said Art. “The church was good to us and the pastor was good, but we were angry. Thoughts of ‘why’ ran through my mind a lot. I don’t know how we would have gotten through it if it hadn’t been for our other two children. They were involved in other activities and we had to go on … I think they gave us the will to go on.

The Aces had played only four games prior to the plane crash and Greg got to see action in only the Indiana State game – the last game the 1977-78 team ever played. In all, Greg’s collegiate career spanned three minutes. Yet Art recalled him being in a great mood the last time they talked.

“He had gotten in to a game for the first time against Indiana State with about three minutes left,” Art said. “It just so happened that when he came in the game Larry Bird came out of the game. He said, ‘I guess they didn’t want me to embarrass him.’ He was laughing about that, he was in good spirits the last time we talked.”

Art and Carolyn agreed that every memory of Greg is a good one – something that has helped sustain them through the years.

“He was just such a good boy,” said Carolyn. “I can never remember one time ever that I had to get on him about anything. He tried so hard to please, he was an excellent student. He was just the type of person you wanted to be around.”

The Smiths said that the loss of their oldest son has never really lessened throughout the years.

“Even after 30 years … it’s with you all the time,” said Art. “But, it’s worse in December because all those memories come back every year.”

_____________________________________________

Did the NBA lose a future star?

How good could Mike Duff have been if he had not lost his life in the Evansville plane crash? The answer to that question from all who watched him play was that he would have someday made a living playing basketball in the NBA.

On the final game of his life, Dec. 10, 1977 Duff, only a freshman, scored 23 in a loss to highly-ranked Indiana State and Larry Bird. An excerpt from a story in the Evansville Courier & Press following the Indiana State game shows that Duff had already caught the attention of Evansville Coach Bobby Watson.

The story read in part:

“Watson, not one to give out accolades, said following the loss to Indiana State that freshman Mike Duff would “be as good as Larry Bird in a couple of years.”

Duff’s high school coach Bob Brown also believes he would not only have played, but starred in the NBA.

“There’s no question about it,” Brown said. “He was 6’7” or 6’8” and he could go inside, come outside and shoot the mid-range jumper. He was quick and smart and he would have just kept getting better. He hadn’t come close to realizing his full potential yet.”

Duff’s high school statistics are eye-popping by any standard and he still holds virtually every Eldorado scoring record.

Duff records include:

Game – 47 points

Season – 1,097 points

Career – 2,558 points

Points per game – 32.3

Rebounds game – 28

Rebounds season — 515

Career

Points per game – 25.8 (over three years)

Rebounds – 1,287

Don Kingston, whose son Kevin was also killed in the plane crash, echoed Brown’s words. Kingston was an assistant coach at Eldorado during Duff’s glory days when he led the Eagles to three straight Elite Eight appearances in Champaign.

“He had greatness all over him,” said Kingston. “I don’t think there is any question that he would have played professional basketball. I mean think about that, as a freshman in his fourth collegiate game he scored 23 against Larry Bird and Indiana State. He had all the physical skills and plus he had the determination. Yeah, I believe he would’ve played professionally.”

— Jim Muir —

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Fate Played a Role that December

In any tragedy fate always seems to play a role but in the Dec. 13, 1977 plane crash that claimed the lives of the Evansville Aces there were several ironies that can’t be overlooked.

* McLeansboro native and current Utah Jazz Coach Jerry Sloan, who led Evansville to a pair of Division II national titles, was hired as the head coach at Evansville prior to the start of the 1977-78 season, but abruptly resigned the position three weeks later. Bobby Watson, an assistant at Oral Roberts, was hired to replace Sloan and died in the crash.

* David Lee, a teammate of Sloan at McLeansboro, had agreed to work as an assistant with Sloan at Evansville during the 1977-78 season. After Sloan resigned the position was not available to Lee, who later went on to lead McLeansboro to a Class A state title in 1984. The Foxes compiled a perfect 35-0 record and were led by Brian Sloan – Jerry’s son.

* West Frankfort standout Greg Smith had signed to play for Joe Ramsey at Millikan University and was already on campus when he was asked to try out for one open scholarship at Evansville. Smith beat out more than 20 others and won the full-ride scholarship. Smith then transferred to Evansville and died in the crash less than three months later.

* Mike Duff was recruited by virtually every college in the nation including Kentucky, Duke, North Carolina, Illinois and UCLA. Duff signed a letter-of-intent to attend Missouri and play for legendary Coach Norm Stewart but later changed his mind and opted out of the contract to attend Evansville. The fact Evansville was making the move to Division I that year allowed Duff to get out of the contract with Missouri. Like Smith, Duff would die less than three months later.

* Tom Collins, a reporter with the Evansville Courier, was scheduled to travel with the team to Nashville on Dec. 13, 1977 to cover the game against Middle Tennessee State, but his assignment was changed by his editor at the last minute and he remained in Evansville. Collins had planned to drive to Nashville the following day to cover the Dec. 14 game against Middle Tennessee State – a game that was never played.

* David Furr was a star basketball player at Olney High School and had a scholarship to play at Millikan University. Instead he opted to go to Evansville and walk on. Furr injured his ankle while trying out for the Aces but Coach Bobby Watson said that he had like what he saw from Furr and asked him to stay with the team and try out again after his ankle healed. While his ankle was on the mend Furr became the team statistician, working home games but not traveling with the team. So, Furr was lucky he wasn’t on the doomed plane that night in December 1977 and actually became the only team member to survive.

But, fate was still not through during that cruel December because Furr and his brother Byron were both killed in a two-car crash while they were driving home from a holiday basketball tournament in Charleston. David Furr was driving and lost control of the vehicle and crossed the centerline striking a utility truck head on. The accident took place on Dec. 27 – exactly two weeks to the day after the plane crash.

— Jim Muir —

When it comes to profanity, I’m not a prude, in fact far from it. I also want to add that my ears will not wilt and my eyes won’t melt if I hear or read a curse word.

I worked 20 years in the coal industry and spent time daily around men who, as my late mother Geraldine would say, ‘could cuss a blue streak.’ Admittedly, I’ve also uttered my fair share of curse words.

But, lately I see a change in the way people talk that troubles me. While my detractors will say I’m just old, I believe it goes hand-in-hand with the world we live in where everything is right and nothing is wrong, everybody wins and nobody loses and some people feel compelled, liberated or they’re just plain old stupid enough to believe they can say or write anything, anywhere, anytime – and that includes the F-bomb.

In recent months I’ve witnessed, in restaurants, at convenience stores, at ballgames, people who seem to believe that it’s their right to fill the air with expletives even when children are within earshot. I grew up in an era when men were often warned to ‘watch their language’ in front of women and children. These days some of the women and children need to have a bar of Lifebuoy shoved in their mouth.

One of the most glaring areas involving profanity involves social media. I recently read a post on Facebook where a young teenage girl that I know made a post, obviously trying to make a point. And there for all the World Wide Web to see was the F-bomb used over and over again. Unlike the iron-heads dropping the F-word in mixed company inside businesses this example just made me sad.

My first reaction when I read the post was to go on a rant that I often see on Facebook’ and threaten to remove all those who post inappropriate comments. After thinking about that for about three seconds I realized that would be a self-righteous, holier-than-thou move on my part. And given my life-list of mistakes and personal failings I clearly and definitely have no reason to put myself on a judgmental pedestal. So, instead of ascending to my Ivory Tower and ridding myself of all social media potty-mouths, I decided instead to offer some advice.

First, I want to note that on social media I see more young people than older folks posting inappropriate things. It also seems that athletes, elected officials and other people in prominent positions are filling the air with expletives. Why? I’m not at all impressed when I hear this, and to the contrary, I think it makes you look like a fool! So, regardless of age or occupation I want to point out that going on a profanity-laced tirade is not cool, impressive or a way to show your intelligence. But, in all fairness to youth and the trials of growing up, let me offer a challenge. The English language is a wonderful, marvelous, fun and challenging thing to learn and expand. And there is no greater satisfaction that being able to get your point across than by displaying a vocabulary that does not include a single expletive.

On the other hand, trying to make a point with a string of curse words is juvenile, childish and weak. It’s also just downright boring. So, my advice for young folks on social media is expand your vocabulary, learn a new word and what it means every day. It also would be a good idea to install a speed-bump between your brain and your keyboard. These instances of people dropping the F-bomb in public places reminded me of an incident I witnessed many years ago while working in the coal industry. There was a group of guys underground at the ‘dinner-hole’ and one miner was on a rant telling a story and every other word was an F-word or an MF-word with an assortment of other salty curse words sprinkled in for good measure.

When he finally finished an old miner who had quietly listened asked the ‘cusser’ a simple question: ‘Do you know the definition of profanity?’ With a dull look on his face the man who had filled the air with curse words said ‘#@$%# no.’
The old miner told him, ‘profanity … is ignorance made audible.’ And again with a dull look, the cusser said ‘I don’t get it. Showing the power of words, the old miner simply said, ‘of course you don’t.’

Obviously, since I still remember that definition 40 years later, those five simple words left a lasting impression on me. Oh, the power of words!

While I hold on to the belief that there is hope for young people to learn that social media is not the best place to air their dirty laundry in a curse-filled tantrum, there will always be those, for shock value or pure stupidity, who will continue to fill the air – regardless of where they are or who they are around – with foul language.

To that group, I simply say again that ‘profanity is ignorance made audible.’

(Editor’s Note: I wrote this story 24 years ago, on September 13, 2001, only two days after the September 11 terrorist attacks on New York and Washington, DC. In the upside-down days following those horrific attacks, Dave Severin called and told me this story and I knew I had to write about it. This story was published in the Southern Illinoisan, where I was working at that time. The Associated Press picked up the story and it was re-printed nationally. I was contacted and did four or five talk shows on national radio, telling this story over and over. Everybody that heard this story was amazed and it still give me goose-bumps nearly 25 years later. Most things in life have an explanation, but this story doesn’t. I hope you enjoy and I hope that none of us ever forget September 11, 2001.)

By Jim Muir

BENTON–There are things that happen in life, even though hard to explain, that can be passed off as coincidence. And then there are other things, regardless of how much a person tries to reason, that simply have no explanation. Such was the case recently in Benton when a simple phone call produced a chain of events that could only be described as eerie.

The odyssey began Thursday when Benton High School athletic director Don Smith contacted Benton businessman David Severin looking for 40 small flags to place at Tabor Field for Friday night’s football game, in honor of those who lost their lives in the September 11 terrorist attacks.

Severin explained to Smith that he also had been trying to locate flags for his store, All Stars n’ Stitches, that’s located on the Benton square. Severin told Smith, in the aftermath of what had taken place in New York City and Washington D.C., everybody was sold out of flags.

Here’s where the story begins to take some unreal twists. Approximately 30 minutes after the phone call from Smith, Severin received another call, this time from his mother.

“The very first thing she asked me was if I knew anybody that might be looking for some flags,” Severin said. “I asked her how many flags she had and she told me she had 40.”

Severin explained that his mother had been going through the personal belongings of his father, the Rev. George Severin, who passed away two months ago, and came upon the flags that had never been unwrapped.

Severin immediately traveled to his mother’s home and what he saw, in his words, gave him “goose bumps.”

“My dad loved to decorate with flags so it wasn’t uncommon that he’d ordered them,” Severin said. “But when I looked at the sales ticket I noticed that he had ordered the flags more than 30 years ago.”

The flags were shipped, Severin said, from New York City on Sept. 11, 1970 – exactly 31 years to the day that New York City was attacked by terrorists.

“Totally unbelievable,” Severin said. “When I saw the date and where the flags were shipped from … I couldn’t believe it – what’s the chances?”
And if that’s not enough for any skeptics in the audience who want to say ‘merely a coincidence’ there’s one final piece to this puzzle.
According to the sales ticket the flags were shipped to the house where the Rev. George Severin lived in 1970 – the address is 337 South Main Street in Benton — which happens to be the same house where Don Smith, the person that made the original phone call about the flags, currently lives.

Roger Bennett and Mike Stewart share an unlikely and remarkable story about the horror of war and an unbreakable friendship.

By Jim Muir

Earlier this year, two men sat across the table from each other in the kitchen of a beautiful home nestled on the serene shore of Lake Moses, located northeast of Benton, IL.

To an outside observer this could have been two old friends, reminiscing over a cup of coffee or maybe just talking about sports, politics or life in general. But, this day, this meeting, this discussion went much, much deeper than casual conversation.

This day – May 8 – was a red-letter anniversary date that forever linked these two men – Roger Bennett, of Benton, and Mike Stewart, of Tacoma, Washington – together forever. It’s also a life-changing date that is seared in their minds forever. In 1968 the population of the United States was 200 million, and from that number Bennett, from the farmlands of the Midwest, and Stewart, from the sun and surf of California, shared a moment in time in the dark jungles of Southeast Asia. It’s a moment that has twists and turns, ups and downs and plenty of uncertainty.

In order to properly tell this story, you must first rewind the calendar back 57 years to May 8, 1968. The location is Vietnam, during the brutal TET Offensive, at perhaps the height of conflict that all total claimed the lives of 58,000 American soldiers. Ironically, Bennett and Stewart had taken completely opposite paths that led them to this fateful afternoon on this scorching hot May afternoon. Bennett, a 1965 graduate of Benton High School, was working as an apprentice iron worker in St. Louis in 1966 when he was drafted into the U.S. Army. He turned 19 in September that year and was drafted the next month.

Bennett did his basic training at Fort Carson, Colorado and was then sent back there for tank training.

“I spent a year total (including basic training) at Fort Carson and I was drafted for two years,” Bennett said. “After a year had passed, I started thinking I might not go to Vietnam, and that would have been fine with me. And then two weeks later we got notice and they sent our entire outfit there.”
Stewart enlisted in the Navy in 1963 at the age of 17 and was discharged at age 20.

Stewart said he left the Navy because they wouldn’t send him to Vietnam. So, after his discharge from the Navy he enlisted in the Army and shortly thereafter found himself in Vietnam in the same unit with Bennett.

“I wanted to go to Vietnam,” he said. “It was going on at the time and I felt like I had to go and see what it was all about.”
When the conversation shifted to the importance of the meeting between Bennett and Stewart on the specific date of May 8, both men became emotional, stopping often to regain their composure and wipe away tears. Clearly, for both men the emotions of that fateful day nearly six decades ago are still very close to the surface.

On the afternoon of May 8, 1968 Bennett and Stewart were given instruction to respond to help another unit that was hunkered down and under sniper fire. The plan was to take a tank into the area to give the other unit cover so they could escape the enemy fire.

Stewart was the tank commander and Bennett was at the controls and there was an infantry unit traveling on foot behind them. Bennett said he had a “bad feeling” that “something wasn’t right” when the tank didn’t encounter any enemy fire, even after moving deep into the area.

What Bennett and the rest of his unit didn’t know is that the Viet Cong were waiting until the tank got in range of a rocket-propelled-grenade (RPG) to open fire.

“All total, we were hit five times by RPG and the last one is the one that got Mike,” said Bennett. “It came in through the turret and it really did some damage.”

A turret on a tank, is best described as the rotatable structure mounted on top of the hull, that houses the main gun and the crew responsible for operating it. It allows the gun to be aimed and fired in any direction without needing to move the entire tank.

“I looked and saw that Mike was covered in blood, there was blood everywhere,” said Bennett. “I knew we had an infantry unit behind us, but I just threw it in reverse and floored it.”

After behind hit in numerous places from the RPG, Stewart recalled those harrowing moments before he lost consciousness.

“I just remember that I was trying to talk…and couldn’t…and I was trying to move my arms…and couldn’t,” he said. “I thought I was either dying or I was already dead.”

In all, Stewart received wounds in the armpit area under both arms, in the back, the stomach and the crotch area. Stewart spent four months in the hospital, the first six weeks in and out of consciousness and near death. He had more than 40 inches of scars to close the wounds. After being released from the hospital, Stewart was sent home and received his discharge from the Army in 1970.

Because communication in 1968 was nearly non-existent based on 2025 standards, Bennett’s attempts to find out how badly his tank commander had been injured were limited.

“I asked one of the medics how “Stew” was and his reply while he shook his head side-to-side was, “not good,” Bennett remembered. “That was usually the response we got when somebody didn’t make it. I saw them putting him in a body bag, so I thought he was dead.”

Bennett emphasized that his reaction to what he thought had happened to Stewart was not calloused, but simply the only way to deal with his current surroundings.
“You couldn’t dwell on anything or be distracted because we had people trying to kill us every day,” said Bennett. “Everybody’s goal was to try and stay alive another day.”

After his discharge Bennett tried unsuccessfully a few times to find out any information about Stewart and for more than 50 years believed that the tall, curly-haired tank commander had been killed right in front of him.

In all, Stewart received the Silver Star, Bronze Star and three Purple Hearts because of his actions that day and the wounds received. Bennett received a Purple Heart and the Medal of Valor for climbing into the burning tank and getting Stewart out. Ironically, it was the honors Stewart received that opened the door for Bennett to begin the task of trying again to find Stewart. During a conversation in 2018 with another veteran from his unit, Bennett was told about the Silver Star award and mentioned the name of Mike Stewart. Still not certain it was the same one, Bennett was able to obtain an address and promptly fired off a letter with the information he was looking for and he included his phone number.

Bennett said he received a phone call from Stewart a few weeks later and even during the early minutes of the call he was not certain that the person he was talking to was the same person he had served with during his days in Vietnam. He said there was an amusing exchange during the early minutes.

“He asked me what the guy named Mike Stewart he served with looked like,” said Bennett. “I told him he was tall and curly-headed and a nice-looking guy,” said Bennett. “When I said that, he said ‘and he’s still a nice-looking guy.’ When I told him the guy I served with had been in the Navy before enlisting in the Army, we pinned it down that he was in fact that same guy.”

Bennett said it was a surreal moment to go from believing Stewart had been dead for 50 years to talking to him on the phone.

“When I found out “Stew” was alive I was thrilled,” Bennett said. “I thought he was dead for 50 years. We were only together for a short time but he was the tank commander and he kept us alive. So, when I found out he was alive the first thing I wanted to do was get in contact with him and make a plan to get together.”

Stewart said he and Bennett talked on the phone a couple times a year during the past seven years – always on May 8 – but decided this past year to hold a reunion. Stewart and his wife Karen traveled by train from Tacoma to Benton to spend a few days with Bennett and his wife Robin.

While Bennett and Stewart took different paths to get to Vietnam, they also took very different paths after they were discharged from the military. Bennett worked 10 years for Best Buy in sales and then took a job in sales with Reader’s Digest, where he became one of the top salespersons in the nation. Roger and Robin are the parents of two children, Christian and Courtney.

For Stewart, the path was not as easy and putting Vietnam and his near-death experience behind him became a daily battle.

“You can’t block out what happened to you,” Stewart said, his voice cracking with emotion. “I can drop back into that time in a moment. I would get very angry, very easily. People would say, ‘why don’t you just forget that war?’ It wasn’t quite that easy. You came home and we were looked down on because we had been in Vietnam. We were never debriefed. I went to Vietnam by myself and I came home by myself. They didn’t send you in units like they do now, they sent you one person at a time. I couldn’t turn it loose.”

And from those emotions came other battles as Stewart fought drug addiction, which eventually led to a 42-month stint in federal prison for drug trafficking. He was released in 1977 and has had no issues since.

Bennett said he also had difficulties making the adjustment back to civilian life.

“I was angry when I got home and I became angrier when I learned that the war was more political than anything else,” said Bennett. “I tried to put it behind me as best I could. I remember when I came home, I was walking on the Benton Public Square and a car backfired and I hit the ground. I remember walking through the airport in San Diego and somebody shouted “baby killer” at me. There was certainly no warm welcome when we got home.”

Bennett said he also has experienced issues through the years about the “why” question of how he survived Vietnam.
“There was 12 of us that went to Vietnam together and only two of us came back home,” he said. “These were guys I had been with every day for a year and they got killed over there. I see their faces every single day. Why did I come back and they didn’t? You can’t get those thoughts out of your mind, no matter how hard you try.”
Through a trembling voice, Bennett then recited the last names of all those killed. “Yeah, let’s just erase it and forget about it…you can’t.”

Stewart said finally reconnecting with Bennett after nearly 60 years has been a “wonderful blessing.”

“It’s bringing back a lot of memories but also establishing a friendship I never did get to follow through with,” said Stewart. “What Roger has given me by this meeting is something I really needed and it’s something very special. His actions that day saved my life and is the reason I am here today.”

Bennett said when the entire story is put together, the reunion of two old Vietnam veterans is “nothing short of remarkable.”

“You have to keep in mind that I spend almost my entire life thinking “Stew” was dead, the last time I saw him they were putting him in a body bag,” Bennett said. “And then to get to meet him and share stories and memories is a tremendous blessing.”

A combined 394 years old, the Laird Sisters continue to be a force of nature

By Jim Muir

It’s always a unique, entertaining and interesting story to hear of an individual that lives a long, full life into their late 90s or even beyond to the 100-year-old mark. When considering the Laird sisters – Fanny, Mitzie, Mary and Wanda – multiply unique, entertaining and interesting by four.
The four sisters are the daughters of Joe and Mary Ann Laird, who raised five children in a single-level frame home located at 612 West Reed Street, in Benton, Illinois. It was the last house on the street, where West Reed intersects with North Du Quoin Street. Joe was a coal miner and Mary Ann was a homemaker. After marrying in 1919, Joe and Mary Ann had five children in rapid succession. James Fred, was born in 1920, Fanny May, was born in 1921, Mitzie, was born in 1924, Mary, was born in 1927 and the baby of the family, Wanda, was born in 1930.

James Fred was born deaf and, as was the custom in that era, he was sent to a school for the hearing-impaired in Jacksonville, Illinois. James Fred lived to be 89 years old and died in 2009.

The four sisters lived their lives in Benton, attending school and graduating from Benton High School, during or shortly after World War II. Here’s where the stories for Fanny, Mitzie, Mary and Wanda takes on all those adjectives (and several more) that were mentioned earlier.
First, and the most amazing aspect of this story, is that all four sisters are still alive. That’s a combined 394 years of living for the Laird sisters. Fanny is 103 and resides in a nursing facility in Kentucky, Mitzie, who is 100 years old, lives in Florissant, Missouri with her son, Mary, at age 97, lives by herself in the same house in rural Sesser, Illinois that she has called home for the past 76 years. And only a short distance down the country road, Wanda, who is the “youngster” of the four Laird sisters at age 94, also lives alone in the same house she has resided in for 75 years.

While Fanny’s health has deteriorated some in the past year, the other three sisters are bright, charming and, as the old-saying states, “sharp as a tack.”
One of the interesting and unique anecdotes about the two youngest sisters (Mary and Wanda) is that they married brothers, Tom and Walter Newbury, who both operated successful farming operations northeast of Sesser. Mary and Wanda have lived and raised their respective families, as the crow flies, about two miles apart for more than seven decades. And the fact that Mary and Tom Newbury had four children and Wanda and Walter Newbury had two children, means that there are literally dozens and dozens of double-cousins and double-second and third cousins that were created from the two Laird sisters meeting the two Newbury brothers back in the 1940s.
In an effort to tell the story of the Laird sisters, an interview was arranged with Mary and Wanda. Several family members attended the interview to listen to Mary and Wanda recall dates of births, deaths and weddings with uncanny accuracy from decades past. In all, there were children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren involved in the interview, making it a four-generation event. Mitzie was later interviewed by phone from St. Louis.

Family members pointed out that what the sisters don’t have stored in their sharp memory, they have documented in handwritten notes on calendars and in journals that have been kept through the decades.

As one family member stated: “If something newsworthy happened it’s written down. It might take a while to figure out which calendar or which volume its in, but if we look long enough, we can find it.”

Mary said she recalled her life in Benton growing up as “good, but we were very poor.” All the sisters attended Lincoln Grade School, a neighborhood school that was located only a few blocks from the Laird family home. All four sisters also attended Benton High School, located on East Main Street. All four walked to school every day. Mary said her dad worked at Orient No. 2 Mine, in West Frankfort, Illinois, but noted that during that era the mining industry was not considered steady employment during that era. She also remembered that her dad was working at Orient 2 when it was the site of one of the worst mining disasters in the nation. On December 21, 1951, 119 miners were killed when a methane-fueled explosion ripped through the mine. Joe Laird was on a different shift and was not at work that fateful night.

Mary described her family life growing up as “great” but also very mundane.

“Our big outing every week was going to church,” Mary recalled. “We were there every time the doors were open. We went on Sunday morning, Sunday night and again on Wednesday night. We never missed church.”

She said the family attended the Benton Church of God, which she believed was “located off of Bailey Lane to the south near the railroad tracks.”
As an illustration and life lesson that one contact can change a life, Mary related the sequence of events that led to her meeting her future husband, Tom Newbury, which of course, led to Wanda meeting Walter Newbury.

“There was a man at the church that was a manager at FS Grain, in Benton, and he was looking for a bookkeeper and he offered me a job,” she said. “I graduated high school on a Friday night and I started working at FS on Saturday morning.”

And since local farmers frequented FS Grain on a regular basis, it was there that she met her future husband, Tom Newbury. And seven months after that initial first date, the couple were married on August 21, 1948 standing in the front yard of the Laird residence at 612 West Reed Street, in Benton. From that union, Tom and Mary had four children, Mary Jane (Gee), who passed away two years ago, Tom, Jr., Janice (Page) and Janine (Kelley). Tom, Sr. and Mary were married for 62 years until his death in 2010 at the age of 86.

Tom, Jr. said his dad remained proud of that “front yard wedding” his entire life.

‘He used to talk about people that would spend thousands of dollars on a wedding and then the marriage wouldn’t last,” Tom, Jr. said. “He used to say, ‘they don’t have any sticking power. Then he would say, ‘after all the years…our front yard wedding is still holding.’”

Mary said she found great pride that her life had primarily consisted of raising and taking care of her family and helping on the farm. When posed with a question about regrets in her life, or doing things differently, Mary gave a poignant answer.

“I honestly don’t have any regrets at all,” she said. “I can’t think of one thing that I would do differently. I’ve lived a good and a full life.”

Actually, Mary accepting a job at FS didn’t change just two lives, it changed four. After Mary met Tom Newbury and began dating, it doesn’t take much imagination to figure out how Mary’s younger sister Wanda and Tom’s older brother Walter got together. Four months after Tom and Mary said their “I do’s” Walter and Wanda were married on December 25, 1948. So, within a matter of four months’ time in 1948, Mary and Wanda, after spending their entire lives on West Reed Street, in Benton, moved to rural Sesser and began life as the wives of busy farmers.

Wanda and Walter had three children, James Walter, who passed away shortly after birth, then David (1952) and Barb (1954) were born. Walter passed away in 2021 at the age of 98. At the time of his death, Wanda and Walter had been married for 73 years.

Wanda recalled that Walter made her a promise before marriage – a promise that he kept over and over through the decades.

“He told me that he would provide for our family and he would work hard and take care of us,” Wanda said. “And he did that his entire life.”

Wanda recalled a harrowing story about a fateful day on the farm when she feared for the lives of herself and her children, David and Barb. On April 5, 1958, a tornado originated in Perry County, traveled east and damaged and destroyed scores of homes in Sesser and then continued east toward the still-standing Horse Prairie Church. Walter and Wanda’s home was just a short distance east of the church. Walter was at a grain bin a few miles north of the home and saw the tornado approaching and actually saw a silo blow away, but didn’t have enough time to get back to the family residence. Wanda recalled in great detail and emotion, those few frantic minutes of that spring day nearly 70 years ago.

“I had just walked out the back door to feed the chickens and I saw the tornado approaching from the west,” she said, her voice cracking with emotion. “I ran back in the house and grabbed my babies (David was six years old and Barb was three years old) and we made a run for the basement. Just as we got down the stairs, the entire house was just gone, it just blew away, there was nothing left.”

Wanda said she “cried out to God” as she headed down the basement stairs.

“I just prayed, ‘God take it all…but save me and these babies,” she said. “And I believe God was watching over us and protected us during that tornado.”

Almost 67 years later, David still remembers those moments.

“We (David and Barb) were standing in the front window and we saw the black cloud, but we didn’t know what it was and mom grabbed us and just as we got to the basement the house was just gone. I can still remember looking up and it was just pouring down rain on us. And I can remember some family members coming and pulling us out of the basement. They always talk about the noise that a tornado creates, I still remember that noise, it’s something you never forget.”

Wanda added that they had just had the house remodeled and the carpenters had finished the day before the tornado.

“We hadn’t even paid the carpenters or the lumber yard yet and it was all gone,” she said.

She said the family rebuilt at the same site in the house that she continues to live in today.

Since attending church had been such an integral part of both Mary’s and Wanda’s lives, they continued that practice when they made the move to rural Sesser, and since Horse Prairie Baptist Church was only a short distance away, that became the home church for both families through the decades. While neither Mary or Wanda are able to attend church now because of mobility issues, both still rely on their upbringing and emphasized that prayer and reading their bible is a daily practice.

“It’s the first thing I do in the morning, I read scriptures from the bible,” said Mary. “It’s the best way possible that I could start my day.”
Family members who attended the interview pointed out that Wanda began decades ago, at the request of her husband, reading the biblical account in Luke about the birth of Jesus.

“And I was able to read it again this year,” she said proudly, “so I am thankful for that.”
While Mary and Wanda both left Benton and still reside in Benton more than 75 years later, older sister Mitzie, also a Benton High School graduate (1943), got married and lived in various locations throughout the Midwest. She currently lives with her only son, Terry and his wife Keryl, in Florissant, Missouri. Mitzie, will turn 101 on June 5.

During a phone interview, Mitzie’s voice was strong and clear and she answered questions concisely and without hesitation.

The church the family attended also played an integral role in Mitzie’s life – it’s also where she met her husband.

“I met my husband Gene at church,” Mitzie recalled. “He was from West Frankfort and he was in the Army at the time. When he got out of the service we got married and moved to Paducah, Kentucky.”

Mitzie recalled that through the years her and Gene, and one son Terry, would live in Missouri and then moved to different locations in Indiana, including Kokomo, Hammond and Highland.

Mitzie’s life has not been without tragedy, her husband was killed in a car crash in 1984, when a young driver ran a red light and collided with her husband’s vehicle broadside at an intersection. Gene Harris was only 58 years old, and Mitzie never remarried.
Mitzie called it a “tremendous family blessing” that all four sisters had lived such long and healthy lives.

“We were all raised in a good home, with good parents that were good to us and siblings that loved each other,” Mitzie said. “We’ve all had good marriages and good children. None of our children have never been in any kind of trouble. All of us have been Christians and been active in church work and I think God has really blessed us.”

Mitzie said her health remains good and she is mobile enough to still walk “anywhere I need to go.”

“Sometimes I use a cane to help with my balance and sometimes I don’t,” she said. “Overall, to be 100 years old, I think I’m still in good health.”
Mitzie, just like Wanda and Mary, has attended church all her life and still reads her bible daily, providing a great example of the way they were raised and attended church regularly.

Echoing her sisters, Mitzie said, “I read my bible the first thing every morning.”
Mitzie, who has three grandchildren, said she still communicates with her three sisters regularly.

“I talk on the phone to all of them every week,” Mitzie said. “After all these years I still enjoy talking to them and we still have lots to talk about.”
Mary and Wanda both said they try to stay active so they can continue to get around. Mary has a stationary bike that she rides daily (at age 97) and Wanda has a small device that allows her to sit on the couch or in a chair and pedal and keep her legs active.

When asked about what she attributed her long and healthy life to, Mary gave a touching, but also a surprising and humorous answer.

“I was sickly as a child, I had bronchial trouble and I’ve dealt with that all my life, but I think growing up in a good Christian home is the reason we’ve all lived long lives. But I also think it had something to do with the chocolate cake.”

That answer certainly prompted an explanation about how chocolate cake played into their long lives.

“When we were growing up, my dad left for work at 4 a.m. every day and as soon as he went to work my mom would bake a chocolate cake,” Mary recalled. “When we got up, at 6 a.m. we would have hot chocolate cake right out of the oven, with hot tea. Looking at all the long lives we’ve lived…I believe there had to be something in that chocolate cake.”