Wichita State University - Parnassus Yearbook (Wichita, KS)

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W! TH' .f fm 1 X S 9-'Zn Q 'Pv' X W tt. E. , I 3 l 5 Q r Ft EM K ! 1' jL54k4 ' '-f,x1..' ,1 .' ,. 4' 1. 1' 2 .' 252 gif' 1 K4 A A. 4? ,k',I:,',i.,'q,g', ??f?'3'ffffTV' i 2' xfxps xi C3 -f'I 'f ? ,x 7 if 1, Y' 'N-. E V.. m QTIEWLEL x CLOCKWISE FROM TOP LEFT: Construction was completed on what was originally the Carey Hotel in 1887. Photo taken circa 1909 remember steam engines, don't you, Pop? Marion Miller of 97-year-old transient C.E. No, I got here on the bus. 2l2f85 staircase leads to the upper stories oc- by hotel co-owner Phil Kasaebaum, perma- nent residents and other uhortfterm guests. 1122185 The 'Eaton' tiles in front of the door were laid dur- ing the 1909 remodeling. ll27!85 Manager Fred Haines nms the show at the Eaton. 212185 Marion Miller lights himself a Winston. l!28l85 French art nouveau lamps replace the original fix- tures at the bottom ofthe stairs. ll22f85 ,. .. . gfgg ,, ., 1 !,li liaise 5,1 , 14131 2.1 .. 1 ,1,1 1, :,1 'dii il'1 1',?5,i.f4.14.l1Qr7.I . I rr 1 ': wr 1 , UL . 1- I ,1 photos by Madeline McCullough kmruu 'Gig ' in-xnxx 7

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h 0 cour en 0 the Wichita Hi orica! Museum Eccentric Hotel Is The Heart Of Old Town Fred R. Haines was busy unloading a dozen cases of canned orange juice he had just bought for the hotel. He had read in the paper about the freeze in Florida and knew prices would be raised. 'Last time fa freezel happened, we didn't think to do anything about it, he said. 'The price went from 35 to 45 cents. Most of these people, they can't really afford it when prices jump like that.' Haines has been with the Eaton for 11 years. He started as a maintenance worker and is now the manager. He said he enjoys his job, that often he will stay late, talking with some of the residents. 'Most people hate to go to work, I love it. I can't wait to get here. Pm tickled to death to have found a job I like and get paid for it.' The lobby is well maintained. Many of the residents spend their days sitting on worn naugahyde couches next to floor ashtrays, looking out the plate glass windows. Some of the residents are permanent, others are temporary, having been sent there by service organizations like the Red Cross, and still others are just passing through. The Eaton has long held a reputation as a hang out for derelicts and society's casualties. Haines said that view is not necessarily true. The residents themselves frown on someone being publicly drunk. 'There is some drinking going on,' Haines said, 'but we won't allow any troublemakersf' Haines has evicted residents. One man was told to leave after he continually got drunk, invited his 'buddies' up to stay the night, and set a mattress on fire, probably by a cigarette. 'But he'd just received his welfare check, so I didn't feel bad about it.' Most of the permanent residents are content to spend their time liv- ing from day to day, establishing a routine, and letting stories build up around them. For example, scraggly Ben Cooper is said to be an ex- editor of the Wichita Eagle, or a college professor, or a capitalist with enormous wealth. He won't talk about himself, in- stead, answering sharply and full of curses should anyone address him, but he constantly mutters. He does not have a drinking problem but may have emotional problems. He walks all over dowtown and is nicknamed Walkie-Taikie by some of the other locals. The Eaton stands in the heart of what is known as Old Town, running along Douglas Ave. from Washington to Topeka streets. The Old Town Association asked the city last summer to designate the area a Local Historical District to help development. Developers, city officials and people with a love for the area feel the hotel could be the crux of Old Town's future. The hotel, first named the Carey Hotel after john Carey, its original owner, opened on New Year's Eve, 1887, right at the end of the city's boom period. It was a first-class establishment, but was near the railroad station where a notorious red-light district thrived. Ben Eaton took over the hotel in 1899, a year before six-foot, 185-pound Carrie Nation smashed the hotel's bar, using a cane, weighted with an iron ring, and stones hidden in her umbrella. In 1909 the hotel was refurbished and in 1910 renamed the Eaton. its glory waned some during the Depression but it was in the late 1950s when the place really started to fade. The railroad men and truckers quit staying there, and the hotel resorted to a haven for elder- lyresidents and people on the burn, usually with a drinking problem. Haines said a lot of colorful characters have resided at the Eaton over the years but it was never full of wines. The stigma is due in part to Naftzger Park - called Wino Park by some -- which is where the street people hang out. The park is direct- ly across the street, and on hot or cold days, the street people will drift over to the Eaton seeking relief. 'lid tell John Naftzger. 'Why don't you put in a goddamn drinking fountain? ' said Gus Gossard who managed the hotel for 28 years before Haines took over. Fd get tired of them coming in the east door and the only way to stop them is to station a guy in a red velvet jacket theref' The people trying to upgrade the area feel that part of the problem with getting people down to Old Town is the image the transients pre- sent. By improving the Eaton it ishoped the transients will no longer stay around. Lynda Tousley, city liason for Old Town, said that as the area develops, some will be forced out by the activity newer businesses bring. But Ron Fischer of the department of Social and Rehabilitation Services doubts whether those peo- ple will move out. He said the street people will relish having a better class of people from whom to panhandle spare change. Gossard doubts whether the Eaton will be refur- bished soon. The owners will wait and see what new business moves in before investing. 'It's sort of the chicken and the egg type of thingf' And that still leaves the question unresolved about what will hap- pen to the residents of the Eaton who are caught between a false image and new urban frontiers. 'They have no place else to go, Haines said. I think we help out those people who are struggling and trying.

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' -.1.l..l 5 ' X tru Photo courtesy of the Wichita Historical Museum Bringing Together The Old Town People The people who live in Old Town run the gamut of humanity. While their backgrounds and social classes are different, the word that kept popping up when they talked about the area was 'familyf' There was a real sense of pride with the variety Old Town had to offer. Some of the residents of Old Town aren't pretentious about where they live. 'This is skid road, this is bum's alley, said Chicago. He was living at the Eaton Hotel until his leg healed. He said he had fallen off a roof in Grand junction, Colo., while trying to retrieve a frisbee for a small boy. He had been on crutches for eight months, had ll casts, and had six months to go. Because he couldn't get any benefits in Col- orado, he ended up in Kansas. Chicago was a biker from the '60s which is when he got hooked on drugs and alcohol. His face is younger than his 43 years except for his eyes, which show the drain of countless alcohol-induced amnesiac nights. Tatooed underneath his left eye are four tears. 'One for each year I spent in the pen that time. He'd been in and out of jail, he said, but was not a habitual offender. His family is well-off, he said, but they don't try to keep in contact with him because of his addictions. B.G. Estill, who has lived at the Eaton Hotel for years, turned 94 on Feb. 17. He does not have a drinking problem, although he was once arrested and fined S12 for betting on horses. Each morning he walks to j.R. Meades for a breakfast of scrambled eggs and then returns to sit in the lobby of the Eaton, looking out the large picture windows. 'I look for accidents, it's abit of excitementf' he said. 'There are a few, jaywalkers and the liken' On most afternoons he walks downtown to the library. On Sundays he often walks the 26 blr H 't Us 'Lund Ui JM Methodist Church. 'I can't hear what the preacher says but I like the singing theref' Estill has held steady work for most of his life and enjoys the freedom of being on his own. He makes for a dapper ap- pearance, sitting in the lobby's wicker chair he has claimed as his own. 'I like it here. They have a sprinkler system. A lot of people burn up in fires, so I looked for thatf' His social security gives him just enough to provide for his needs, including bingo, the only gambling he does anymore. He does not plan on leaving the Eaton. 'I don't have too many years left in me.' Rickey Baker lives in a refurbished apartment building on East Douglas. He came to Wichita because of a relationship which has since gone sour. He ended up in Old Town after he was 'asked to leave' his lover's place. 'When I tell people I live downtown near the Eaton, they think I live in a little hole-in-the-wall, rundown, rat-eaten place. They don't even realize what's here. I can go to Brandon's, or walk the streets on Douglas - I don't hang around down here all that much but I am aware of what's going on. I know some of the winos by face. For me, I don't see the winos Cas a probleml. Having lived in Chicago, l've seen things far worse than anything here. The problem with the area, he said, is the same problem with the entire city -- businesses are afraid to take a chance. He said a friend of his has often said, 'The bars are tardy, tardy, tardyf' He listed Bran- don's as an example of businesses refusing to acknowldge certain facts of life. Half their clientele is gay there and the owner has said, 'If this place goes gay I'll close it down.' I have a friend who's gone in full makeup, the Boy George look, and wasn't hassled. I went semi- leathered and had no problemsf' 'I'll never forget living here because this building is filled with good memories, because of the people I've met. They're more than people, ' 'c ': ' I M lm 'N' I M ' put on airs. I think that has to do with Old Town. Everyone living here is doing so because they're getting a second chance or are being who they want.' Jack Baldwin, who leases the parking lot between Rosen Bros. and Leben Bros. pawn shops, has seen a lot of sad, peculiar things over