"Village Elders" provide link to past

REARDAN - In many small towns, old codgers wake up early just so they can sit in a circle with their cronies, drink coffee and talk. Here, the R-Store is where the self-proclaimed "Village Elders" gather each weekday "around sixish" for what Fred Fleming calls "self-evaluation and peer counseling."

Town councilman Clay Soliday, along with Ed Brommer, Ken Morrison, John Serrana and Richard Rinker joined Fleming at a gathering Friday, April 14.

Ed Gray and Dick Turner, both mainstays, were conspicuously absent. Occasionally, school superintendent Eric Sobotta drops by, as does FFA advisor Rick Perleberg.

When he does, "It's awesome," members said.

The "Village Elders," most of whom are in their 70s, are carrying on the tradition their fathers started in the 1950s when they formed the Reardan Agricultural Executive Committee that met at the Ranch House Café to discuss the issues of their day.

According to Fleming, each meeting begins with a discussion about the weather. Each of the attendees reports the temperature at their residence when they left home, after which he and Soliday argue about whose weather app is reporting the correct temperature.

"We then discuss our latest surgeries, strokes, heart problems and any diabetic issues we might have," Fleming said.

Public Works director Bob Winn dropped in to help himself to one of their donuts and announced, "Here we have the meeting of the Village Elders, or as Vickie Fleming calls them, 'the village idiots.'"

The 52-year-old Winn sheepishly admitted that although he's a youngster compared to the others in the group "he was an Elder in training."

He said that on Mondays the men tell him how to do his job and on Fridays they rate his performance for the week.

The 85-year-old Brommer, the eldest Elder, insisted Winn's priority for the week be the removal of a small mound of gravel Winn left in front of his house while operating the town's snowplow earlier in the winter.

"Since I'm the oldest one here, I guess I'm the go-to man for wisdom," Brommer said.

"That's a good indication of what's wrong with this group," Soliday quipped.

"If they ask a question, that means they don't know the answer so I can tell them anything," Brommer said.

After Winn mentioned the word "sewer," the men jumped on the opportunity to discuss the town's history of indoor plumbing, electricity and telephone service.

Soliday, whose father was the superintendent of Long Lake Dam, explained that in the early 1960s all workers who lived in government housing at the dam could only call direct to each other.

If someone wanted to call Reardan, they would place a call to the dam who would relay the message to Washington Power Company headquarters in Spokane, who would then call the high school to relay the message.

Conversation naturally turned to the subject of basketball and the Indians' glory years of the 1960s.

Morrison's only memory of Fleming, who played on two state championship teams, was that he "was thick-headed and had sharp elbows."

Fleming recounted that several of the older women in town kept their own score books at basketball games and if there was a question about the official score, "the referees would go to the grandmas in the stands to correct the mistake."

Discussion turned to the bank robbery that occurred in 1963 while Reardan was playing in the state basketball tournament in Spokane.

Richard Rinker said his mother Lillian was the bank teller on duty when robbers armed with sawed-off shotguns stole $13,000 from the vault and then locked her inside. Because the entire town was at the tournament, it took one hour before a customer came into the bank and discovered her inside the vault.

Rinker then heaped praise on Morrison, the quietest member at the coffee klatch.

"Kenny here once installed two engines in separate combines on the same day," Rinker said, with a look of admiration.

The 64-year-old Serrana, who moved to Reardan four years ago, was honored to be accepted into the group.

"If I want to know anything about the history of the town, I talk to these men," he said. "They know everything."

As the newcomer, Serrana has been on the receiving end of more than one of the group's jokes. This winter, while refereeing a high school basketball game, a young boy approached him and asked, "Are you a rodeo clown?"

Serrana suspected the kid acted on a dare. His hunch was confirmed when the boy walked over to Fleming, hand outstretched, to collect a $1 bill.

After one hour, the elders glanced at their watches and took one last look into their empty Styrofoam cups.

Without exchanging pleasantries, one-by-one they stood up and headed for the door.

"What is said in here never leaves this room," Fleming said.

"That's only because nobody will remember what we talked about," Brommer quipped.

The following Monday, the "Village Elders" would return to the R-Store to talk about the weather, their aches and pains, and to reminisce about the people they know and the town that they love.

Just like their fathers did.