Del Massey’s longer-than-lifetime legacy

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Massey depot
Del Massey, Marshfield’s only black resident at the time of his death, bequeathed much of his property to the children of Marshfield. Here he’s shown in 1955. (Courtesy of the Webster County Historical Society — WCHS)

MARSHFIELD – Two young boys, aglow with Friday afternoon freedom, play in Massey Park as if they own the place. And, even though these youngsters likely don’t realize it, they do.

Because when Del Massey, a longtime local resident died in 1959, he willed most of estate to the town’s children. That donation eventually became a park: But before that, it was national news, garnering attention in newspapers across the country.

“Folks in Marshfield, Mo., a little town in the heart of Missouri’s south-central Ozarks, weren’t much surprised with Del Massey willed pretty much all he had to the town’s children,” reported the Chicago Daily News in 1959. But while the newspaper stated that few locals were shocked, it also noted that outsiders might have been.

That’s because in a town of approximately 2,000 people, he was the only black resident: As Massey used to put it, he was “the only black horse left in the patch.”

But the town loved him, and he loved them — especially the children. “He was very much a part of our community,” says Lib Sims, who grew up knowing Massey.

While Massey was loved by many, his life took place in a different time. And although perhaps even he didn’t think negatively of the way things were — his entire life had been that way — Marshfield wasn’t a colorblind utopia.

“I think he was a great man,” recalls Judy Flacke, who also grew up in Marshfield. “I think he put up with an awful lot. I do think people were kind to him, and good to him, but not as good as they could’ve been.”

Massey the child

Massey kid

Del Massey’s talent with horses was well known. Here he’s shown with other Marshfield children around 1910. (Courtesy of the WCHS)

 Little is known about Massey’s own childhood. He was born in Marshfield around 1901, a time when blacks accounted for approximately 13 percent of the town’s population. Many of those residents were the descendants of former slaves, just as Massey was.

According to “The History of Webster County,” there were 120 slaves in the county in 1860, and many of them stayed after emancipation. The occupations of those residents were varied: Some cooked for families, others did washing and ironing, and several worked as shoe-shiners at local barber shops.

PicMonkey Collage Massey

From left: Flora Smith and Betty Shieley in 1936; Mrs. Wm. H. James and Ellen Goodall Family in 1900; Ellen Goodall (Courtesy WCHS)

There were two black churches — A.M.E. and African Presbyterian — and a school, which operated through 1918. But by all accounts, Massey couldn’t read or write, so perhaps time in the classroom wasn’t something he did much of.

As time passed, the majority of that minority group moved away.

“After World War I, people started leaving because there weren’t jobs,” says Sims. “There wasn’t a lot of work that paid well.” Numbers dwindled until only two black residents — Massey and his mother, Rosie Mosby — remained.

But still Massey didn’t leave. “When others would ask why he didn’t move to Springfield or elsewhere like the other colored folks, he would tell them Marshfield was his home, and start telling them how good his white folks were,” reported The Marshfield Mail in October 1959. “They would leave him alone because they couldn’t tell him theirs were better.”

Sports enthusiast

In the 1920s, Massey did have an opportunity to leave town when he embarked on a short-lived, yet promising, career as a boxer. “The Black Cyclone,” as he was called, even fought in front of 3,500 people at Springfield’s White City Park in 1930.

Newspaper fight

Massey was pitted against Tiger Fox in a fight at White City Park on July 8, 1930.

 “One of the outstanding attractions on the card is the five-rounder between Tiger Jack Fox of Wichita, holder of the negro heavyweight championship of the southwest, and Del Massey of Marshfield for the title now held by Fox,” reported The Springfield Leader on July 8 of the fight. “Massey, a ponderous slugger, won the right to meet Fox by knocking out “Goat Starks” of Springfield two weeks ago but in the Wichita veteran he meets one of the smartest men in the business.”

Fox was also a good boxer — too good for Massey, who lost the fight and gave up the sport. Besides, “his food habits of candy bars and soda pop contributed little to his training schedule,” recorded an article from a WCHS journal.

Massey and Marshfield’s children

Massey and Moseby

Rosie Mosby and Del Massey circa 1955 (Courtesy of the WCHS)

Despite the generation gap, Sims grew up with both Massey and Mosby, the latter who washed dishes for her parents. “Rosie and Del were the only blacks I grew up knowing,” says Sims. The connection was a warm one, proven by a coffee grinder that was willed to Sims upon Massey’s death. “And it’s still (displayed) in a place of prominence,” she says.

While Sims notes that Mosby “was just wonderful to me,” she also benefited from knowing Massey. Now a gardening enthusiast, she recalls times as a child when he shared his extensive knowledge about plants. “He really knew a lot about growing things,” says Sims. “He really talked about the soil and the importance of earthworms.

“He many never have been educated that much, but he was really good at knowing about the world around him,” says Sims.

But there were cultural differences. Sim recalls that Mosby wouldn’t have lunch with the family, and instead ate alone after the others were done. Looking back, Sims believes that was because it’s what Mosby was comfortable with. “That’s the way (Massey and Mosby) felt they should be behaving,” she says.

That “expected” behavior was also obvious on a walk around Marshfield’s square, when Massey would step aside to let people pass. “He maintained a place, whether it was expected of him or not,” says Neva Schroder, who grew up in Webster County and has researched Massey’s life. “But he was good friends with everybody.”

And he was loved, especially by the children. “He always spoke to all the children and smiled at (them),” says Flacke. The youngsters noticed him, too, perhaps because he looked “different.”

“I’m not sure, maybe his big smile was enough,” she says. “But they noticed him. And he would always be very friendly to them, talk to them, tease with them.”

Massey dogs + goat

Massey was revered as an animal trainer, especially for horses and dogs — and goats. He proved the latter when, one day, he went through town with a goat following at his heels. “The goat heeled, sat down, got up and did everything else Del told him on command,” reported the St. Louis Post-Dispatch. (Courtesy of Randy Clair)

A different time

According to the St. Louis Post-Dispatch, there were two things that Massey always liked: children and animals. “There wasn’t a kid in town that didn’t know him,” reported the paper. “There wasn’t a kid who wouldn’t yell ‘Hi Del’ clear across the public square.”

And he was frequently on the square, oftentimes waiting for work. “People would come by and if they needed work done, they would ask him if he would do it,” says Flacke. “And they would pick him up and take him to their house to work for the day.”

But if he was there at lunchtime, it wasn’t unusual for a group of businessmen to take him to eat. “Just about every day, if they saw Del standing on the square, they would motion to him,” recalls Flacke. “And he would come down to the cafe. And when they went in, one of them would offer to pay for his meal.”

But he didn’t actually eat with them. “Somebody always got the blue plate special for him,” says Flacke. “But it was served to him in the alley.”

Flacke specifically recalls another day when Massey was on the square: A day when her mother left her in the car while she ran in to pay a bill. “He came up to the car and knocked on the window, and waved at me,” says Flacke. “And, you know, was talking to me.”

But when her mother came out and saw the scene, she “yelled at him for doing that,” says Flacke. “Told him to get away from me.”

Flacke doesn’t know if those works were spoken because of racism; she doesn’t recall any other time when she suspected her mother to believe that way. Perhaps the attitude was linked toward what was “proper” in that day and time, evidenced by another encounter Flacke recounts involving Massey and her mother:

“When he came to your house to work for the day, the tradition was that you generally served him lunch. I don’t think he usually brought his own.

And I do distinctly remember a day when my mother was making the sandwiches for lunch, and it was basically bologna and cheese. And she was making my sandwich to come and sit at the kitchen table and eat, and she brought Del’s to the back door. And he took it and sat down on our steps.

And I said to her, ‘Mom, why doesn’t Del come in and eat with me?” And she said, ‘Oh, he wouldn’t be comfortable doing that. He prefers to eat outside.’ And I said, “Then can I take my sandwich and go eat with him?’ And I did that.

And those things made such an impression on me.”

Massey centennial
Massey (and his hat) on Marshfield’s Square in 1955. (Photo courtesy of WCHS)

Flacke wasn’t the only child who questioned Massey’s lunchtime habits. Ed Fillmer was around 8 years old when he would peek into the neighboring yard and see Massey: Hard at work, the man was always dressed in the same “drab, brownish clothing” and a flop hat. “It was like a fedora, but the brim was turned down all the way around,” says Fillmer.

Like Flacke, Fillmer recalls that at lunchtime — when Marshfield’s noon whistle would sound — Massey walked to the house’s back door, took off his hat when the screen door opened, and the woman inside would hand him something to eat. “And he’d turn around and back off and go sit in the shade someplace and eat the plate of food,” says Fillmer.

Fillmer says he never spoke to Massey, but such encounters still made an impact.

“In retrospect, I wish I’d talked to him,” says Fillmer. “I was too shy. He was too mysterious. I think for the children of Marshfield, at least in my circle of friends, he was an object of fascination. ‘Who is he? Why do the adults treat him this way?'”

The end of an era

1959 was a year of great change. Mosby died in January, leaving Massey as Marshfield’s only black resident. And just a few months later, his health was failing.

Schroder was working as a clerk in the Webster County Recorder’s office when she met Massey for the first time. He came in and asked for a description of his land: Although she didn’t know it then, his intent was to create a will. It would be the document that ultimately gave his land to Marshfield’s children.

“He knew he was going to die, and that’s when he did this,” says Schroder. “The amazing thing is that they were all white children. There were no black children.”

By October 1959, Massey was dying: He was admitted to Mercy Hospital in Springfield, but he wasn’t alone.

“His greatest pleasure is for his many friends to come to see him,” reported The Marshfield Mail on Oct. 29, 1959. “It has been a constant amazement to the Hospital staff, Sisters of Mercy, Nurses, aides, the other employees and relatives of other patients as to who Mr. Massey was to have so many distinguished looking white visitors from Marshfield, Springfield and other neighboring towns to come to see him.”

Massey died the next month. “His funeral was huge,” recalls Sims of the crowd, which numbered approximately 600 people. It was so big that people stood outside the funeral home and speakers were brought in so everyone could hear the service.

“Only at Del’s funeral did many people realize how much he was respected and loved by the people of Marshfield and surrounding communities,” wrote Earl Shields, a longtime local pharmacist, years later. “It was one of the largest crowds ever to attend a funeral in Marshfield. The many flowers sent by friends showed the love and admiration they had for Del.”

Massey newspaper

Massey’s donation made headlines nationwide, such as this article from the St. Louis Post-Dispatch on Dec. 26, 1959.  (Courtesy of the WCHS)

A world of difference

Soon after Massey’s death, the Civil Rights Movement ushered in a new era — and even in the small Missouri town, perspectives began to alter. “People’s ability to look at things changed,” says Sims.

One of those enlightened people was Fillmer, who as a child had felt discomfort regarding the way Massey was treated. “I felt that there was something wrong,” he says. “And it wasn’t until the Civil Rights Movement that I realized what it was. It was intrenched racism and much of the Ozarks and much of the South and much of America was in the same boat…”

Fillmer remembers the day when his father heard of Massey’s donation. “He appeared to be dumbfounded,” says Fillmer. “(Massey) surprised him with his grace and his generosity to the children of Marshfield, who looked at him with curiosity and not prejudice.”

Another pair of “opened eyes” belonged to Flacke’s mother. In the early ’60s, she brought up the time when she yelled at Massey — and confessed to her daughter how embarrassed she was by her actions.

“I think she realized what was going on in the world,” says Flacke. “That was the time when people were making noise all over the country about the way black people were being treated. And she knew that. She saw that, and she read it. She realized that was how she felt about it, too.”

The development of Massey Park


A marker commemorates Del Massey’s story at his namesake park, which is located on Buffalo Street in Marshfield.

Just as it took time to change attitudes, transforming Massey’s land was a challenge. There were the legal ramifications of his bequest, although it was eventually decided that the land would be used as a park. Several adjoining lots were purchased to enlarge the space, and local civic organizations collaborated to bring the park to reality. “It was an instance where the community totally worked together to develop every inch of the park,” recalls Schroder.

The park was dedicated in June 1974. More than 500 people attended the ceremony, which was highlighted by a speech from Dr. Arthur Mallory, who was state commissioner of education at the time. He spoke of men like Massey; ordinary people who lived their lives in extraordinary ways.

Park kids

After years of vandalism, Massey Park saw major updates in recent years due to the work of Neva Schroder. “I saw the park as Del’s legacy, and was determined to restore the park to include everyone, handicapped and whomever, just as Del included everyone,” says Schroder. It is now handicap accessible, and features a basketball court, playground equipment, a large pavilion, picnic tables, a grill and additional trees.

A portion of the Webster County Historical Museum is filled with information about Massey’s life. 

Today, Flacke still thinks of Massey. “When I see other things going on, I remember how things were back then, and I always think of him,” she says. “And I guess it’s obvious because he was my first encounter with a black person.

“Although (those recollections) were tinged with the scars of racism in those days, they were still beautiful memories because I saw him as strong and friendly and, you know, somebody who didn’t deserve the way his life turned out,” she says. “But he was happy. He was always very content.”

Just as those kids playing in the park are today. Every time they run, jump, scream and giggle, they benefit from Massey’s love of the town’s children — even ones he never knew.

Want to learn more?

The Webster County Historical Museum (219 S. Clay St., Marshfield) has information about Massey’s life. It is open Monday – Friday from 1 – 4 p.m. For more information, call 417-468-7407.

16 thoughts on “Del Massey’s longer-than-lifetime legacy

  1. Thank you so much. What a wonderful story of a very generous man. It really encourages me to take a good look at my own life and hope to be a better person like Mr. Massey.

  2. Thank you, Kathlyn, for helping preserve his memory and appreciation for his legacy! I collected stories from people who knew him well when I was raising money to fix up the park in recent years. One of my favorite stories was written by Elson Lowe. I’d like to share it if space allows. Del Massey as remembered by Elston Lowe, 2009

    In 1942, I was 11 years old. My parents, Harbert and Bessie Lowe, left the farm and moved to Marshfield, on what is now Burford Street. At that time, Burford Street was more or less an alley, not blacktopped or named. I stayed on the farm for a few more days and milked the cows (14 head) until the farm owner, Josh Hamilton, could hire a new farm hand.
    Then I rode “Old Mig,” our family saddle mare, to Marshfield from the Hamilton Farm 6 miles east of Niangua, which is now owned by Jim Nunn, to our home in Marshfield, Just across the street from Del Massey and his mother, Rose Mosby. As I rode along, I kept having a hurting just under my ears. Well guess what, the next day Mom examined me and said, “Boy, you got the mumps.” Well finally my little brother Earl and my little sister Mary and I got over the mumps and back to normal again.
    Dad had gone to work at the Benage Milk Plant, which was located near Koster Tire and Annacon’s Automotive. He was the milk weigher. He dumped 10 gallon milk cans from each farm into a vat and recorded their separate milk weights.
    Anyway, we all got acquainted with Del Massey. He was a very outgoing person with a big smile, most of the time. My brother, Earl, and I loved to hear him talk. He talked kinda different from what us old, country, hillbilly boys were used to. He would tell us stories about things that had happened in his life. He made it sound funny, but I’m sure some of it wasn’t funny at the time.
    He told us about his prize fighting career. He said, “I decided I could whop anybody in Marshfield, and I did that.” Then he said, “I decided I could whop anybody in Webster County, and I did that too.” Then he said, “I decided I could whop anybody in the State of Missouri.” Then he said, “I just took in too much territory. Ho! Ho!” This came out as a big husky laugh. It seems as though a big stout guy (his last name was Fox) and Del Massey had a boxing match up near Lebanon. Del was knocked out early in the bout.
    I tried to get Del to teach me how to box, but he said, “No, you don’t need to be gittin’ into that.”
    As time went on us boys would watch Del ride, “Old Judy,” a good saddle mare owned by Earl Shields. Del trained and cared for Old Judy every day. Now and then, I would ride Old Mig, and go along with Del. He had Old Judy trained well. As we would ride along, in a Fox Trot, Del would say, “Judy, wiggle them ears.” And boy, she would.
    Now and then, Del would want to practice Old Judy on roping. He had an old billy goat he used for that. My brother Earl and I would help him with that job. We’d get the biily goat out on what is now Burford Street. I would get on one end of the street and Earl would get on the other end. Del and Old Judy would get behind me and the goat, and I’d start the goat up the street. Del and Judy would take after the goat. If Del didn’t lasso the goat by the time it got to the other end, Earl would catch it and as soon as Del was ready, Earl would send the goat back down the street. After a while, the goat got smart and would duck his head as Del threw the rope. Well, guess what, that meant more catching for us boys.
    I don’t know how familiar you are with the odor of a hot billy goat, but let me tell you it is “Gigundis!” When the roping was over, Mom would have a pan of water and soap and a change of clothes for each of us out on the porch. Instructions were to go to the garage, wash up, and leave the dirty clothes out there until wash day.
    The reason Del wanted to keep Old Judy in shape for roping was, back in his day refrigeration was almost zilch. So men used these Webster County Fox Trotting Horses, because of their easy ride, to go down into Arkansas and drive cattle to the Marshfield rail head, to be shipped to St. Louis for slaughter. When I was 11 years old, the cattle pens were still on both sides of the tracks about where Jim and Wayne’s Service Station stands today. By the time I came along, the cattle pens were no longer in use.
    But Del wanted to keep himself and Old Judy in shape, because now and then someone would have a wild cow or calf they couldn’t catch. Well guess what, a big old grin would come over Del’s face when he would catch a wild one that no one else could catch.
    Not long after Del died in 1959, Fred Fraker, who owned the Ford Tractor Agency in Marshfield, acquired Old Judy. Somewhere around that time, Judy was mated to a Tennessee Walking Stallion owned by Gilbert Smith. A beautiful colt was born. His name was Sugar. We all watched him grow up, doing his natural Fox Trot gait as he ran and played around his mother. My Dad, Harbert Lowe, fell in love with him and purchased him from Mr. Fraker. I helped my dad break and train the youngster. Well, I fell in love with him too. But, he wasn’t for sale, so I went out and bought a beautiful saddle mare that Lloyd Manning had sold to Dave Sell. From her and Old Sugar, I got a beautiful black stallion. To this day, I still own 11 decedents of Old Judy.
    Del liked to hunt too, and was a good dog trainer. He trained Bird Dogs, Fox Hounds and Coon Dogs. I remember a story he told us little boys about a Coon Dog Field Trial. The hunters would wet a coon hide, and then, have Del drag the hide for the young dogs to chase. Del got the dragging job because he was the fastest on foot. Del Jokingly told us boys that he wasn’t really sure which “coon” the dogs were chasing. Then he came out with a big, hearty laugh.
    Del was always full of mischief, I guess. He told us about a time when he was around our age. There was no indoor plumbing. Most families didn’t even have a privy. Well anyhow, his Grandpa went out behind the old log barn, So Del sneaked inside the barn and put a shovel under the logs and under Grandpa, then withdrew the shovel while Grandpa buckled his overalls. Del could see him through a crack. His Grandpa was looking around and appeared to be “really puzzled” until Del ran out of the barn, snickering. Del said he could hear his Grandpa yelling, “Del Massey, I get my hands on you, I’ll hide you good!” Del told us that story just as you read it and never said one dirty word, but he snickered about it again.
    Well time went on, as it always does, then in 1949 my dad no longer worked at Benage Milk Plant. But instead, he managed the Pool Hall on the south side of the square in Marshfield. Us boys would hang out with Dad a lot. One hot summer day, Del Massey rode up on Old Judy, came in the Pool Hall and bought a bottle of soda pop. He went back out and stood by the horse. I noticed Judy push Del in the back with her nose a time or two. Then, when Del got his pop about half drank, he turned around to Judy and offered her the rest of it. He put the neck of the bottle in her mouth, she raised her head high and made quick work of the rest of Del’s soda pop. I had never seen a horse drink from a bottle before.
    A few days later, Del was in the Pool Hall visiting with some friends (Del never played pool at all) when a guy came in “smelling of the keg.” He started in on Del wanting a fight. Being all boozed up, he thought he could “whip Del Massey.” But Del told him to go on his way because he didn’t want to hurt him. The guy, I don’t remember his name, just kept on and on. So finally Del got up and started home. The guy followed along, taunting him as they went across the street toward the Court House. The sheriff, Isam Cunningham, was coming out of the court House at that time. When he saw what was going on, he led the drunk to jail. Boy, was I glad of that. If Del had hit that drunk, the man would have been in a world of hurt for a long, long time. But Del showed himself to be a fine man and a gentleman, as usual.
    On a lighter note, on February 17, 1950, I got married to a beautiful young lady from Seymour, Missouri. Her name was Lelia Ann Randolph. By that time, I ran the Pool Hall when my Dad needed time off. Lelia would bring my lunch, so she was in the Pool Hall while I ate. Well, while I was eating, here comes Del Massey. He was holding something behind him as he came in the door. He walked over to Lelia and gave her a baby’s rattle. She thanked him with a big smile. Del let out a little mischievous laugh. As you may have guessed by now, he had quite a sense of humor.
    In my opinion, he may have been an angel, sent to earth to love and care for little children. He gave all that he had, his land, for a park so that children would have a place to play. His gift is now known as the Massey Park.
    P. S. Lelia saved the baby’s rattle until Danny, or first child, was born on April 4, 1951.
    Elston Lowe

    1. Wow! I wish I had known him! He sounds like a lot of fun! I was born right after he died.

  3. I grew up playing at Massey park but I didn’t know it’s history! Thank you so much!!

  4. Kaitlyn…Thank you for writing his story. You did an awesome job in honor of this man’s life.

    1. Hi Michelle — I always strive to be error-free. What specific typos are you referring to?

  5. Aww gee, what a wonderful story, just to be tagged negatively by the spelling nazi! Good grief! Anyway to the writer, great job, great story!

  6. Thank you for this wonderful essay. I’d bet many of my ancestors walked and talked with Del Massey, and that’s a fine thing. I wish I’d known to visit his park when I was there in November 2015.

  7. What a wonderful story. My family (Both sides Hamilton’s and Young’s) (as a matter of fact my that would be my Uncle Josh earlier mentioned. My grandfather was Lorance Hamilton.) are from Marshfield and spent many years there off and on. I am so sorry that I was never able to meet this beautiful man. Thank you for introducing him to those of us that weren’t fortunate enough to have known him!

  8. I can remember my Grandpa, John Hannah, talking about Del Massey. I’m sure he knew him well as Grandpa was a barber at the Sanitary Barbershop for his lifetime. The barbershop was just off the square.

  9. What a fantastic article regarding an amazing man who must have had tremendous foresight. I really enjoyed your article & plan to continue reading your stories. Thanks for sharing your gift with us & thanks to Del Massey for contributing so much to the Marshfield community & children

  10. I was emotionally touched by your story. It is an excellent example of how we often fail to appreciate somebody until after they are gone. Thank you for writing it.

  11. I remember him because he would be a the crosswalk at the school to help the children cross the street safely.

    I also remember that my dad would not believe that our cow was dying until he had Del look at it. Dad said that the vet was good but Del knew a lot of old ways that would pull and animal through and that they(the animals) knew Del loved them and would respond to that.

    I also was one who stood outside for his funeral and very proud I did.

  12. In 1955 at the Webster County Centennial, my mom took a picture of Del and me standing in front of the old steam engine that was parked on the West side of the square. I was 10 years old and considered it an honor to be in a picture with the only black man I knew at the time. I believe knowing him and having that picture helped form my opinion on race today, which is — “the color of skin is only a surface feature, but love and kindness comes from the heart, and can overshadow anything else”. Thank you for this article which brings back some great memories.

  13. What a beautiful story about a wonderful man, who was loved by so many. I had no idea there was so much interesting history about my friend Del. I was 9 years old when he passed away. I remember my parents talking about what a huge crowd attended his funeral. Some of my fondest memories of him are when he was doing yard work for my Grandparents. I would run across the street calling his name. He would scoop me up in his big strong arms and gently place me in the wheelbarrow. He wheeled me around and around the yard, having as much fun himself as he was creating for me. I recall he really enjoyed sweet treats, especially chocolate. On Christmas Eve my daddy would buy bags of really sweet chocolates. It was my job to give the candy to Del and wish him a “Merry Christmas” from our family. If Del wasn’t at home with his little tiny mother, somehow daddy knew to look for him at the local pool hall. It was the one and only time each year that I was allowed to go inside. I can still see the big smile on his face and hear that low gruffly voice saying “thank you little one.” One of my most memorable childhood moments was the day he placed a horn one of his pet goats had shed, into my little hands. I was 5 or 6 years old, and wow, what a special treasure he had given me. I wouldn’t have been more excited if it had been a 20 dollar bill. In 1956 $20 was a lot of money to a kid. I’ve thought about Del numerous times over the past sixty years. I am so glad I came across the article about his life and the land he left to the children of Marshfield. Although I never knew about it until now, I feel like a true recipient of his gift. I will visit the Del Massey Park the next time I am in town. Thank you Kaitlyn for sharing his remarkable story. It has rekindled many wonderful memories for me, as I’m sure it has for many others as well.

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