Each week we’ll take a step back into the history of Great Bend through the eyes of reporters past. We’ll reacquaint you with what went into creating the Great Bend of today, and do our best to update you on what “the rest of the story” turned out to be.

On Oct. 25, 1938, an Associated Press report on the front page of the Great Bend Tribune, “Fog blankets London,” alerted readers to an event that would be a precursor to a groundbreaking law aimed at fighting air pollution in London, England.

“Londoners groped their way to work today in fog so thick that even dogs got lost. 

“Road, rail sea and air traffic was slowed to a crawl or stopped in grimy darkness that blanketed a 40-mile circle around the capital.

“Six greyhounds racing at the North London track lost their way on a far curve and kennel boys had to go out and find them.” 

The fog was made from coal smoke that sat over the city, building in intensity, when a period of cool, windless weather sent Londoners to their coal-fired furnaces seeking relief from the cold. This event was not nearly as severe as the 1952 event that became known as The Great Smog. It is estimated that 4,000 people died during that event, with many more dying in the weeks and months following due to resulting infections and illnesses. In 1956, London’s Clean Air Act was passed.  The event was a central plot line in the episode “An Act of God” (season 1, episode 4) of the Netflix series The Crown (released in November 2016).

The Tribune report did not include photos, but we found a few at Getty Images. 

There was also a one-sentence notice of ominous activity in Germany. 

“About 250,000 Jews and non-Aryans still live in Berlin despite the drive of Nazis to “Aryanize the German capital completely.” 

By the end of the week, Halloween arrived, along with another event that went down in history. In “Flee Homes Over Radio Broadcast,” the Associated Press reported a wave of “Mass hysteria” following the dramatization of “The War of the Worlds.” 

‘Thousands of terror-stricken radio listeners throughout the country fled from their homes last night when they tuned in on a series of synthetic news broadcasts which depicted the beginning of an interplanetary war.

“Explanatory announcements during the program, between 8 and 9 p.m. (EST) were overlooked by thousands who were led to believe a poison gas expedition had arrived from Mars and was spreading death and destruction over the New York metropolitan area.”

While the report went on to outline actions proposed by various elected officials around the country, people in Great Bend weren’t panicked, as a local report noted, “No hysteria here.”

“A dramatization of H.G. Wells’ imaginative “War of the Worlds” that was broadcast by the Columbia Broadcasting System last night, failed to create any undue excitement here, a survey made by Tribune reporters disclosed today. 

“Many Great Benders heard the program and said there were some hair-raising incidents in the broadcast but they failed to lose control of their faculties. One man, however, said he arrived at his home just as his wife and daughter, who were listening to the program, were on the point of calling him.”

Heads in the clouds if not in the stars

That’s not to say everyone in Great Bend was so level-headed and clear thinking, as these brief anecdotes reveal:

“It is an old story about the plumber not making necessary repairs in his own home, so it must be the same about filling station owners. Anyway, Mrs. Pete Russell ran out of gas on Main Street Thursday evening. Larry Hughes, state trooper, did his good deed for the day and went to the Texaco station where her husband is employed, and brought back a can of gas.”

“Buddy Lewis is another person having an embarrassing moment this week. He took his car to a local garage for repairs and was loaned a coupe to drive in the interim. He stopped at the Elks club for a minute on business and drove off in a coupe of like make and year belonging to Charley Wesley. In about 15 minutes he was back with a sheepish grin and apologies.”

“Then, there was the comely matron who gave Frank Brinkman’s coat sleeve a tug in the ABC drug store with a request for money with which to make a magazine purchase, only to blush and exclaim, “Pardon me, my husband just came in here and he has a gray suit just like yours.”  

Hallowe’en fun?

Throughout the week, the Tribune made a point of informing readers that a seemingly harmless prank was not so harmless. 

“Soap on plate glass windows is next to impossible to get off and invariably leaves a mark. 

There was also an effort of provide remedies: “The porter at the Davis-Child garage has for the past few years been smearing something on the windows of the garage a few days before Hallowe’en. He refuses to divulge the compound, but it is oily like in appearance and prevents the soap from sticking. Hot water removes the ingredient after Hallowe’en. One person reports that coal oil with a very small amount of light lubricating oil will make writing on windows with soap impossible.”

Still, the Nov. 1 paper reported, “About the usual amount of window soaping occurred and many automobiles were seen on the streets today that had suffered from general soapings last night and the night previous.” 

There were other pranks-- outhouses tipped over, windows broken, manhole lids dumped on porches. Two stand out: 

“A white goat seen wandering the uptown streets this morning had just been released from 1606 Williams avenue where it had been tethered on Chief of Police Houdyshell’s front porch all night.” 

“County officers today were questioning nine boys from Great Bend between the ages of 16 and 18 years of age, in regard to property damage east of town. The bell at district No. 15 schoolhouse was removed from its mounting and dropped several feet to a concrete sidewalk, cracking the slab and virtually destroying it. Just what happened to the bell was not known today for the pranksters evidently took it with them.” 

Small change

A few weeks ago, a reader noted it would be interesting to learn what grocery prices were back in the year we report each year. Interestingly, back in 1938, Great Bend had several neighborhood markets, and each took our sizeable adds in the newspaper as they competed for their market share. This week, the Kroger market offered a 3-lb bag of coffee for 39 cents, and a 1-lb box of “crisp, flake style soda crackers” for 13 cents. With the purchase of $1 worth of groceries, a Jean Allen lovely glass bowl and spoon could be purchased for 15 cents. 

At the Triangle Grocery, Market and Bakery, cake or glazed donuts “for those Hallowe’en Parties,” could be bought for 15 cents a dozen. A 2-lb jar of peanut butter cost between 19 cents and 29 cents, depending on the brand. One pound of Swift Premium Bacon cost 29 cents, and beef roast cost 17 1/2 cents per pound. 

The shopper of 1938 would certainly choke if presented with today’s prices. Today, that pound of bacon could range in price from $3 to $6 a pound depending on brand, cut and seasoning. And peanut butter today costs 17 to 20 cents an ounce, not a pound. 

Today, Great Bend is home to two Dillon’s grocery stores, Walmart and two Dollar General stores and a Walgreens store where a limited amount of groceries are sold. And those grocery ads are no longer printed in the paper, but preprinted inserts are added to the paper here on site before circulation delivers the paper to your home in the morning. 

The items sold by individual readers then are a bit different than what we commonly see today too. Other items advertised for sale in 1938’s classified section included: a “well-broke” saddle pony (at Becker’s service station), chickens - fries or roasters, weaning pigs, an E-flat alto sax, a 22-volt wind charger and batteries, a South Bend malleable range, circulating gas heater, used or new concrete blocks, lump coal, a coal heater, and purebred Leghorn single comb white cockerels for $1 each.