UAFS student captures a Southern Literary Festival award

by The City Wire staff ([email protected]) 168 views 

An essay written by a former University of Arkansas at Fort Smith student took first place in competition conducted at the Southern Literary Festival, held this year April 22-24 at Mississippi University for Women.

Tanya Gentry of Fort Smith, who graduated in December with a bachelor’s degree from UA Fort Smith, was recognized for her essay titled "Jenny’s Cafe." It was published in the 2009 edition of Applause, UA Fort Smith’s creative arts magazine. Gentry is also a graduate of Northside High School.

Faculty adviser Carol Westcamp of Muldrow said Gentry’s work was selected by Applause staff members to represent the informal essay category in the competition. Gentry won $100 for taking first place, and her work was published in a collection of all the winners’ works titled "2010 Student Prize Winners Southern Literary Festival."

Attending the conference and accepting the award for Gentry were Bryce Albertson, Amanda Beck, Ashley Eubanks, Nic Richardson and Malinda Sigmon, all of Fort Smith; and Stephanie Miner of Hatfield. The UAFS students participated in workshops and other convention activities and heard special guest speakers during the event.

"This is an excellent opportunity for the students’ hard work to be recognized, but it also provides them with some additional instruction in writing," Westcamp said. "The Applause staff not only gained feedback on their own writing, but also on the design and layout of the magazine."

Following is Gentry’s winning essay.

Jenny’s Café
By Tanya Gentry

Growing cotton and grain in Ellis County Texas has been around about as long as Texas. Production of the crops increased along with the expansion of the Houston and Texas Central Railway that ran from Houston to Red River City. As cotton gins and grain bins began to dot the landscape along the rails, clusters of entrepreneurs set up shops along with them. Eventually, some of these tiny whistle stops became towns. One such town is Palmer, south of Dallas on I-45 just west of exit 259.

Tipping the population scale with more than 1,700 citizens, Palmer is now a comfortable community having survived its humble beginning in 1872 with less than 260 inhabitants. Workers still farm in Palmer or drive to jobs in nearby cities. Children fortunate enough to live nearby can attend all twelve grades where they cheer on the fighting, black and gold, Bulldogs. Families, which at one time had only one place of worship regardless of their denomination, now have nine independent churches to choose from. The morning peacefulness of a small town seems to linger further into the day at Palmer just as the settling of the evening quiet comes sooner. But on Friday night one spot pleasantly pushes against that calm.

Jenny’s Café can be found snuggly pressed between an insurance business and a coin operated laundry mat within the cluster of seven buildings which make up Main Street. The buildings share the same foundation and a step-up sidewalk that would make even a tall Texan groan, so the town has graciously added a shiny new ramp for its patrons. Across from the buildings the paved parking lot, divided north and south by a white gazebo, parallels the train tracks.

One’s first impression of Jenny’s might be apprehension. The building façade certainly could use an update, but as you leave your car and begin the walk across the few dozen steps to the door your senses take over. The smell of delicious food fills your nose and the sound of slightly muffled music reaches your ears. Concern gives way to ease.

“Pull” is scrawled on the white weathered door stile in black magic marker. Once inside finding an empty table might be a problem, but the seated customers are always quick to offer a spot to the newly arrived, because at Jenny’s, Friday night is like a family reunion and everyone is your cousin. Once seated, the character of the place embraces and hugs you close. John Wayne looks down from his spot on the wall and oversees the surplus of other pictures of lesser known cowboys and entertainers. There is a board displaying various horseshoes and one displaying fierce barbed wire. There are signs of posters and posters of signs. But the one item that brings you to a halt is the 7 foot rattle snake skin, complete with rattle.

Possibly using the same marker, the word “SPECIAL” is written on a board that hangs from the door. Ironically, the “SPECIAL” is always the same: catfish, hushpuppies, coleslaw, French fires and brown beans. Perhaps special refers to how it tastes because from the first bite you know the cook can cook. But the food isn’t the only thing that brings people to Jenny’s Café on Friday evenings, many come to enjoy the music.

The Used 2 Bs, an ever changing group of local musicians and singers, obviously love to gather and jam. The genre of the band does not offer anything new or flashy. The members are not spectacular. The players and singers don’t out play or out sing the newest Nashville professionals. But the band has an advantage over many others that cannot be taught or learned, they have a sincere enthusiasm and love for music from the past. The spokesman for the group and one of the regulars is Eddie. He wears a cowboy hat throughout the performance and his hair and full beard are gray. It is difficult to determine his age by his looks, but he often refers to songs from the 40s as, “being popular when [he] was a kid.” Eddie alternates play of several instruments during the evening: the electric guitar, Dobro and steel guitar. Among the other regular singers are Don, who also plays guitar and Betty who grins, but doesn’t pick. Almost every Friday brings a new drummer and a “special singer”, but it is Horace who steals the show.

Horace Bratcher is also known as the “Waxahachie Lady Killer” and although well into his 80s, even the untrained can understand why he was dubbed with this specific moniker. He carries himself with confidence and an air of style that settles into the chinks of your heart. Patiently waiting, Horace sits near the band and leafs through a large three-ring binder overflowing with pages of lyrics, handwritten on well worn scraps of paper. When a selection is finally made he removes the page from the binder and not so silently mouths the words as he prepares for his turn with the microphone ignoring the others as they continue to play. The patrons of the café eagerly applaud when Horace takes center stage. He bounces and pumps his arm as he tries to direct the band to the particular beat he has in his head. Once satisfied they can follow him he begins. Horace prefers 1950s upbeat songs with a pinch of twelve bar blues such as “Kansas City”, and “Shake, Rattle and Roll”. He shouts his way through the lyrics holding the microphone too close to his mouth, but it doesn’t matter the crowd loves him.

The music was added in 2000, six years after Jenny opened the café. She and Kay strap short black aprons around jeans or jean shorts as they wait tables with a quickness that will turn your head. A few times during the evening, Jenny stops serving long enough to join in the singing. “Has Anybody Here Seen Sweet Thing” is one of the crowd pleasers and most people sing along with her on the chorus. She and Don combine to sing “Golden Rings” and then they always add a little country gospel to the bill. Jenny has a great deal of energy and enthusiasm, and it is hard to tell what she enjoys more, the singing or the hostessing.

The patrons hesitate to leave, but by nine o’clock the band is tired and one by one they begin to pack up their belongings. Microphones are gently put away, lyrics binders are tucked into canvas bags and instruments are lovingly packed away in velvet lined cases. Eddie is the last one to pack up and he often plays a solo on the steel guitar as the others prepare to leave.

The staff fills sugar, salt, pepper and napkin holders. The chairs are turned legs up on tables. Jenny’s Café releases the last of her customers from its gentle hold as they file out the door. Now filled with good food and good music, the guests make an unspoken promise to return.