Memories of Festivals Past

In honor or the 25th anniversary of the Arkansas Scottish Festival, we invite you to submit your favorite photo, story, or experience from a past games

Paul Hinson - Oakland, IL

In 1982, the games were held in the autumn...October I believe. I  remember there were 2 bands...John Ford Highlanders from St. Louis and the college band (only about 7 or 8 members). When massed bands rolled around, there were more solo players in massed bands than there were actual band members. If I remember correctly, as the soloists were from about half dozen states, someone suggested we call ourselves "Earth and District Pipe Band". The games took place on the football field. It rained that day so the clans and vendors were set up in the fieldhouse.  I don't know who was running the show. Russ Spaulding was hired the next year or the year after that. Judges were Tom Weithers and Ian Swinton (piping) and Jim Sim (drumming...I think). The only Piobaireachd event was "Amateur" so there was a real "Scottish" feel to it with people of all grades competing in the same event.

I  almost left out the most bizarre part of the games...the Kilted Mile. Evidently to win, the runner must cross the finish line with kilt on. Anyway, the Kilted Mile race started (about the time the Piobaireachd competition started if I remember correctly). This guy jumps out to a big lead but by the second of the four laps around the track, he had not had the buckles and straps hooked together right as the kilt gradually began to come off. When he finally crossed the finish line (in first place), the he was kilted in name only as he had the bottom front apron pinned to his waist with one hand and arm as the rest flew behind him in the breeze like a flag...luckily the guy had running shorts on.

Stuart Meyer - Arkansas

In the early 80's, shortly after marrying, my dear father-in-law invited me to the Festival at Arkansas College. I was eager to accept. I had learned a little about my Scottish heritage from great-grandmother (Glasgow) and my grandmother (McIntosh). I was keen to learn so much more about the land of my family. Dear sweet papa-in-law had other plans.

Now to tell the truth I was a fair athlete but paled in comparison to the exploits of dear old pappy-in-law. He was quite thrilled at the prospect of showing me up with a wee bit of competition at Highland Heavy Athletics. I was concerned about not having a kilt. He, of course, assured me it was quite acceptable....this time. Under the guise of encouragement, all the while giggling and laughing behind my back, the sweet old white beard gave me all his vast expertise in helping me master this new sport.

Let me see. I drop the stone on my foot (he "accidentally" hit my arm). Stepped on the pitchfork (hmm.. wonder how it got left there). The head of the 16#hammer came off while attempting to throw (again I'm sure a coincidence). I almost got hit in the head with my weight for height (ok that was my fault but nobody told me to move). But the final blow was yet to come. THE CABER.

I actually found that I had a little talent here. I could lift and balance with ease. Turning the log was a little more difficult but I managed to turn the qualifying caber for the finals. As we progressed slowly through the larger of the cabers, the difficulty increased but I was able to keep pace right to the end. My dear, sweet, ancient, doddering pops-in-law was finally able to get the last caber over. Ugly, but over. The crowd roared and cheered.

Wow. Seems all of the festival was watching this event. Now's my turn to finally get even. The dear old fellow walked the caber up. Gave me false words of encouragement, and I settled into the caber. Taking my time, maintaining balance, shoulder set, lower, lower...now ready, bend, lift and RIIIPPPPPPP!!! The absolute entire crotch of my breeches tore apart.

Unlike the previous story about the kilted mile, I had no shorts on! I dropped the caber immediately and didn't even have the fore thought to fake a muscle pull. It wouldn't have worked anyway everyone had already seen! Now for those of you who think Dick Lucas of The Scottish Armoury was a nice fellow I hope this illustrates otherwise. The rest of us know better. I still love him though.

Stuart Meyer

Check out some scanned images made from an 82 program Paul sent us.  Thanks Paul.

Please send your favorite memory of a past ASF to kadler@lyon.edu