Chanute memories

Peggy and Richard Soulen


Memories of Chanute prompted an email from a former Tribune carrier.

“Old men remember the past, and I will be 88 in April,” said Richard N. Soulen, PhD.

He related how his father was the minister of The Methodist Episcopal Church, located at 3rd and Lincoln, from Oct. 1941 to Oct. 1945. 

He lived in Chanute from ages 8 to 12 years and when he was around 10, “I was already in the profession – I began carrying the Chanute Tribune.”

The family moved in 1941 from Argentine, a suburb of Kansas City, and in 1945 moved to Topeka. 

“Life in Chanute during the war years shaped my soul ever since,” said Soulen, who retired to Williamsburg, Va.  

“I speak of this formative experience in podcasts at entitled, Letters to the Inquiring Mind on Theology and Scripture,” he said.

“My brother (now with COVID-19; former chair of the Chemistry Dept. of Southwestern University, Georgetown, Texas, former member of the board of directors of the American Chemical Society and a Fellow of the Society) and I cherish our years in Chanute. We think it was the perfect place to live in wartime, given our ages.”

One of his podcasts shared two memories of being a paperboy: 

“D-Day, 1944: I was one month into my 11th year. The Tribune published an ‘Extra,’ and being at first a bit shy in yelling out, ‘Extra, Extra, read all about it,’ I soon was caught up in the excitement of Main Street, people running about, shouting, etc. So, I, too, began to yell out those words at the top of my youthful voice in good New York newsboy fashion, just as I had seen them do down at the Main Street theater.”

He said that now, a resident of Virginia since 1964, he knows that 16 boys from Bedford, Va. lost their lives that day. They were among the first wave at Normandy Beach.

The second memory is of the day of FDR’s death: 

“With D-Day under my belt, I thought I should yell out the news as before. An ‘elderly’ woman, dressed in a simple house dress, sweeping the front porch of her small bungalow, called out to me: ‘What did you say?’ she asked. And I responded, ‘The President is dead!’ She immediately burst into tears, and I was ashamed. I realized I had not grasped the gravity of the moment. As you know, to many Roosevelt was a savior, a father figure, without whom they would have been lost.”

Retiring from the pastorate of the Methodist Church in 1995, he said he and his wife, Peggy, found a wonderful place to retire, given the site of Jamestown and, of course, Colonial Williamsburg. 

“To our surprise, not previously thinking of ‘roots,’ we discovered ancestry going back to the 17th century, with my wife (an Arizona girl) having a family (not a blood) relationship to the Pocahontas line. Three of our grandchildren attended William and Mary College here, as did our son and daughter-in-law.”

And through his life, the years residing in Chanute made an impact.     

“My brother and I have, over the years, fondly recalled our years in Chanute, including our adventures carrying the Chanute Tribune, often not earning a dime after a week of delivering the paper. That’s a memory you don’t forget.”  


Eating at Noon causes confusion


It was a simple Facebook post by Susie Holcomb:

“Ate lunch at Noon in Humboldt today. Absolutely delicious sandwiches. Y’all need to try it!! There [sic] so close to Chanute.”

But for some reason it led to 88 comments and some confusion, with a little humor thrown in.

OK, here’s the deal. Noon is a new restaurant serving sandwiches, located on the north side of the Humboldt square.

Here’s how the banter started. 

Q: Where in Humboldt?

A: North side of the square. 

Q: Does anyone know what this great restaurant is called by chance?

Q: Where?

A: North side of the square. 

Q: Stacy Cakes?

A: No it’s where Floyd’s was.

Q: Where?

A: North side of the square. 

Q: Where

A: North side of square, Humboldt. 

Q: And it’s called Noon?

Q: Any info on the name of the place?

A: Noon, north side of square Humboldt

Q: Don’t really care what time you ate there, I just want to know the name of the restaurant

Q: I’m still unsure about what time you had lunch ...

Q: Is it open at noon by chance?

Q: Where?

A: Old Floyd’s place, people.

Q: Who’s Old Floyd, and why did he leave?

A: I bet Floyd doesn’t like to be called old.

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