It’s one of the things you do when you’re in Winston-Salem. You see the giant coffee pot. You eat some Krispy Kreme Donuts. You take a picture of the big downtown building that looks like a penis. And you stroll around Old Salem, or in our case – given a mom that doesn’t get around like she used to and a still gimpy dog – you drive.
Since we were at the Moravian Graveyard, or God’s Acre, anyway — to place some flowers on the grave of a great aunt — Ace, mom and I decided to cruise around Old Salem, a restored Moravian settlement that, like a smaller scale Williamsburg, features old-time craftsmen and shops staffed by people in period garb.
Before Winston and Salem became one (in 1913), there was Salem to the south and Winston to the north. After the merger Winston-Salem became, for a while, the most populous city in the state, and enjoyed a major boom powered by tobacco and textiles.
In some ways, it’s still bustling; in some ways it’s sleepy. Its tobacco-based economy has given way, ironically enough, to a health-care based one. Hospitals, it sometime seems, are taking over the town. There’s a thriving arts scene. Still, overall, the pace is slow.
Even though I knew that, even though Old Salem is a pedestrian experience — and I mean that in terms of people walking — I was surprised to see the speed limit that was posted in Old Salem: 2.5 miles per hour.
I’d never seen a speed limit that low, and when I tried to drive 2.5, it was nearly impossible. It’s just a smidge, or a skosh, above being motionless. But, laws being laws, I did my best, creeping along like a snail in my red jeep, traffic gathering behind me, mother beside me and Ace in the back seat wondering, I’d guess, “What is this? Are we stopping or not?”
As we crept along, my mother showed me the house my sister born in, and, nearby, the building at Salem College where she worked in the public relations department. As we left, I insisted on pulling over to take a picture of the speed limit sign, for by then – even though I’m all for playing it safe and slowing down in life — I’d concluded that the the 2.5 mile speed limit was one of the most ridiculous things ever.
It was only then, through the lens of my camera, that I realized the speed limit wasn’t 2.5; it was 25, the dot between the 2 and the 5 being the bolt that affixed the sign to its post.
By that time, I needed a strong cup of coffee, for driving 2.5 makes one sleepy at an amazing speed.
I settled for the coffee pot, just a couple of blocks away and one of Winston-Salem’s best-known landmarks.
The coffee pot is 12 feet high, 16 feet in circumference and was made by tinsmith Julius Mickey in 1858. In the town then known as Salem, Mickey opened a grocery store and, in its loft, a tinsmith shop.
The tin shop turned out to fare far better than the grocery. It was the source of cups, plates, pots, pans, coffee and tea pots, buckets and lanterns and more — items in such demand that a second tinsmith opened just down the street.
To distinguish his shop from it, Mickey built, of tin, an enormous coffee pot, large enough, it is said, to hold 740 gallons of coffee. He placed it on a wooden post in front of his shop on the side of the street -– in a way that it actually extended into the street. Over time it became banged up by horse-drawn buggies that bumped it.
By the time Mickey sold his shop to another tinsmith, L. B. Brickenstein, the pot was considered both a town symbol and a nuisance.
In 1920, a horse and buggy driver struck the pot, knocking it off its wooden post. According to a 1966 article on the coffee pot’s history, published in the Winston-Salem Journal, the pot landed across the sidewalk, and just missed hitting a woman and child who were walking by.
The Winston-Salem board of alderman – the two towns having become one by then — ruled that the pot was a traffic hazard and a violation of a town ordinance regulating advertising signs. The board ordered it taken down. It was stored, but only briefly. After an outcry from those who saw it as an important landmark, it was put back up — just a little further away from the street.
In 1924, the Vogler family bought the old shop, and decided to leave the coffee pot standing, even if it didn’t exactly go with their expanding business — a funeral home.
In the 1950’s progress dictated — and progress does have a way of dictating — that the pot must go. Interstate 40 was coming through town, and the route went right through where the coffee pot stood. Suggestions that the highway be rerouted to skirt the pot were overruled.
Instead, the coffee pot was removed from its location at Belews and Main Street and, early in 1959, relocated to an expanse of grass at the point where the Old Salem bypass enters Main Street.
Coffee pot lore is abundant, some of it possibly even true. One legend has it that the pot served as a mail drop for spies during the Revolutionary War – a little hard to swallow considering it wasn’t built until 1858.
Still percolating as well are accounts that, during the Civil War, the coffee pot, which does have a trap door built into it, once hid a Yankee soldier (caffeinated version), or a Confederate soldier (decaffeinated version).
People do move slower in the south, and I think that’s a good thing.
In my travels with Ace, I’ve found that decreasing one’s pace, avoiding a schedule, allows one to see more, hear more, experience more, meet people more, and make fewer misteaks. (If you didn’t catch that, you’re reading too fast.)
Maybe I’m getting old, or maybe I’m getting southern, but I think we’d all be well served by not trying to do everything so fast — even if it does cut into the profit margin. We’d be better off — and I’d bet the average tinsmith agrees — to do our jobs more slowly and carefully, not to mention walk a little slower, talk a little slower, eat our Krispy Kreme donuts a little slower, even drive a little slower.
I’d highly recommend it — just not 2.5 mph.
Posted by John Woestendiek April 25th, 2011 under Muttsblog.
Tags: cemetery, coffee, coffee pot, dog's country, dogscountry, gods acre, highway, hospitals, interstate, julius mickey, krispy kreme, local, lore, moravian, north carolina, old salem, pace, pot, progress, roadside attraction, salem, salem college, settlement, south, southern, speed limit, system, tinsmith, tobacco, tourist attraction, tradition, travels with ace, winston, winston-salem
Police found two large marijuana plants growing in an Illinois back yard, but the man of the house explained he was only growing the plants to train his dog to detect the substance.
Officers, acting on a tip, showed up at the 31-year-old man’s home in Joliet and saw a marijuana plant growing behind a shed, according to a police report. A woman who lives at the residence, the report said, allowed officers to enter the back yard.
Once inside, a police sergeant performed a field test on the plant that revealed it was cannabis. The officers say they then found a second plant growing in the yard, and a third one that was dead and lying on the ground.
When the officers called the woman’s husband on his mobile phone to inquire about the pot plants, he told them he had “a controlled substance license and was growing the cannabis to train his dog.”
Reached Sunday by the Herald News, the man initially denied having such a license. He did say he was training his dog to detect drugs, but then quickly added that he could not discuss the matter.
When we pointed out the dangers of dogs eating marijuana last month, we didn’t even stop to think about the possibility of this double whammy — dogs eating marijuana brownies.
Renee Morgan says her white standard poodle Saydy did just that last week.
Saydy ate a marijuana brownie someone tossed into Morgan’s back yard in Danville, California, the San Jose Mercury News reports.
Morgan returned home from work to find the two-year-old dog wasn’t “her normal, rambunctious self.” The dog had urinated on herself, couldn’t stand and was shaking.
Morgan scoured the yard looking for something Saydy might have eaten, and collected some vomit for tests at a veterinary emergency center, where Saydy was checked for bee stings and other injuries.
Morgan said that when the veterinarian realized the street Morgan lives on is near a trail, he suggested drug testing. A few hours later, as her dog was recovering overnight at the animal hospital, Morgan was called with the results — Saydy was high on marijuana.
“We would have never thought it was this,” said Morgan, who is a member of the town’s Planning Commission. “I’ve never tried marijuana in my life. We don’t even drink.”
Morgan was told by police officers that hikers sometimes get high on the trail, disposing of their drugs when they see someone coming.
Saydy — despite the toxic combo of chocolate and pot — is fine after $1,500 worth of treatment and medical tests.
Posted by John Woestendiek July 6th, 2009 under Muttsblog.
Tags: brownies, california, canine, chocolate, danville, dog, drugs, grass, health, marijuana, pot, renee morgan, safety, saydy, standard poodle, tests, toxic, warning, weed
A dog owner thinks her 11-year-old Labrador mix, Jack, got sick after accidentally eating marijuana at a Seattle park.
Jack, after being unleashed in Seattle’s Seward Park, wandered off for about three minutes. About three hours later, “his head was rocking back and forth his eyes were glassy,” said his owner, Jen Nestor.
Nestor thinks her dog must have happened upon some marijuana stashed somewhere in the park greenery, the Seattle Post-Intelligencer reported.
According to his medical records, Jack appeared dizzy and disoriented, was staggering and fell over when trying to sit. He also vomited large amounts of plant material and liquid that smelled like marijuana, his owner said.
Police say the story sounds legit, and point out that a wilderness guide playing hide and seek with kids in Seward Park discovered a duffel bag packed with five and a half pounds of marijuana on April 3.
Jack, after $1,500 in medical bills, has recovered from his May 17 experience.
Marijuana can be toxic to dogs and, depending on a dogs’ size and the amount consumed, ingesting it can send them into a coma.
Dogs getting into their owners’ stashes — be they illegal or medically approved — isn’t really as rare an event as you might think. Figuring there are dogs in 43 million U.S. homes, and people who have smoked marijuana in the past year in 25 million homes, there’s got to a multi-million overlap there.
In parts of Northern California, vets face such cases regularly, with some attending to several zonked-out dogs a week, according to a 2005 Los Angeles Times story.
(Photo: Rocky, a Nebraska drug detection dog, sits atop a large haul in 2007, courtesy Douglas County Sheriff’s Department)
Posted by John Woestendiek June 12th, 2009 under Muttsblog.
Tags: animals, coma, consumed, dog, dogs, eat, eating, grass, health, ill, marijuana, park, pets, pot, safety, seattle, sick, weed