Each week, we’ll bring you a selection of notable stories that happened this week in Dayton history, chronicled by the same newspaper that continues to serve the community today.
Here are some headlines from the week of March 15-21, 1976.
March 15, 1976: Male beauties picked: Cross-eyed Cricket a wow, but Bounty Hunter tops in swimsuit
There was an abundance of body hair, an occasional hint of beer breath, satin ribbons draped across pot bellies, and a lot of tripping as contestants stepped on stage in the Barefoot Buccaneer’s Citizens Band Radio Club’s First Annual Men’s Beauty Pageant in 1976.
The contestants called themselves things like Hustlin’ Hunky, Bent Bumper, Corn Husker and Running Bare — the “handles” or CB call names of radio operators from various clubs and neighborhoods in the Dayton area.
A capacity crowd of more than 475 people filled the Bavarian room of the Imperial House North motel to watch the men compete for prizes in four categories: legs, bathing suits, talent and best-looking man.
The entry blank for the contest stated, “Contestants must be alive or at least have a pulse of 10,” and talent must be “original and of a comical nature.”
Winner of the legs competition and a golden garter was Teen Angel of CB Channel 7, who wore his dark hair slicked back in ’50s style. His legs merited the attention of a majority of the women in the audience who did the voting.
The talent contest winner was Charmin, also identified as Mr. Whipple of Vandalia. His winning feat was to musically play a package of toilet paper of the same name while seated on a rocking toilet chair.
The bathing suit competition was won by Bounty Hunter, looking like a cigarette commercial cowboy in a black wide-brimmed hat and white boots.
For the bathing suit event, Cross-eyed Cricket wore white satin trunks and matching socks with red hearts; Lumber Jack sported muscle and dimples; Cool Ghoul showed a bit of rib and a beaded choker, and Coon Hunter wore light blue trunks and an orange hunting cap.
Bondo Bullet, whose name ribbon said “Kissy, Kissy” on the back, was named Best Looking Man in a very close vote. First and second runners up were Bounty Hunter and Teen Angel.
The Huber Heights Barefoot Buccaneers CB club put on the beauty pageant to provide an opportunity for CBers in the Dayton area and their families to meet each other and socialize. The club met twice a month at the Forty & Eight Legion Hall on Powell Rd.
March 15, 1976: St. Petersburg beckons, Troy cyclists to hit open road again
Harold Lantz balanced his 80-pound bicycle, with its 10 mirrors on chrome bars, four lights, two carriage bells, four horns, a radio and a compass alongside County Rd. 25-A and in 1976, said:
“If everybody would buy one reflector for 50 cents, the factory would have to go into more production. A little thing like that could put people back to work.”
Lantz, 54, and his wife, Mary, 43, were pedaling their bikes back to Troy from Piqua where they had been visiting friends.
Lantz, who was retired from a variety of jobs including running a pool hall, had done his part to help the economy.
It was difficult to argue economics with a man and his wife who pedaled 1,531 miles from St. Petersburg, Fla., to Troy, “tenting down” along the roadside to avoid motel costs and steering clear of high-priced restaurant food.
The couple, married 14 years at the time, said they left St. Pete on Aug. 2, and reached Ohio on Sept. 6.
“We didn’t have nothin’ else to do except take off and come up here to spend the winter,” Lantz, a Troy native, said.
Mrs. Lantz, who rode a three-wheeler, said, “After riding our bikes up here, it’s awful hard to stay inside all winter, although I did enjoy the ice storm.”
They had plans to hit the open road again in May, riding into Indiana and turning south to Alabama “to bypass the mountains,” Lantz said.
It is 1,600 miles and the riders figured on taking 40 days to make the trip.
They carried bedding and spare clothing in basket saddles mounted over the rear wheel. Lantz had a homemade plastic shelter for each bike to protect them from rain.
They munched on apples and cookies and stopped at filling stations or grocery stores to buy sandwiches and soft drinks.
The riders planned their route so they would stay overnight either in a community park or at a truck stop.
Sometimes they tented down by the road.
“We like to ride early in the morning as the sun comes up,” said Lantz.
March 16, 1976: Baseball needs a salvage job
Spring training was on hold in 1976, as players and owners clashed during a labor dispute and lockout.
“We’re trying to salvage this game of baseball,” said Cincinnati Reds President Bob Howsam. “Some people may not think that is true, but they had better look at it that way.”
Howsam, a member of the baseball owners negotiating team, said that he went along with a proposal to the Major League Players Association “because we tried to come up with something the players will accept.”
The Reds, meanwhile, continued workouts in Tampa, despite the recommendation of the MLPA against it.
Sheldon Bender, Reds director of player personnel, said three of four players still unsigned received pay cuts under previous rules.
They were pitcher Don Gullett, pitcher Will McEnaney, first baseman Tony Perez and short-stop Dave Concepcion. All were then considered in their “option years.” McEnaney, who made the minimum $16,000 in 1975, could not be cut.
Howsam said the compromise agreement on the reserve clause, to be considered by the players, could result in a “field day for agents or attorneys. They could conceivably talk players into playing out their options because they can make a buck from it.
We now find ourselves in a position where we have to reconstruct the system so it is workable for management and acceptable to the players’ association. That has been a major job.”
Howsam said he believed the players would accept the proposal. He added that the players “better realize they may not have salaries” if some settlement doesn’t result soon. “Isn’t it better to try and salvage a great game than to scuttle it? There are a great many pitfalls in this proposal and this situation can destroy the game. But we have to try and save it. That is why I agreed to this proposal.”
Gullett, the Reds’ most effective pitcher the previous season, even though he missed six weeks with a broken thumb, was believed to be demanding more than $100,000.
A deal was later reached that laid the groundwork for modern free agency.
March 16, 1976: Police ‘Ambassadors’ take to gospel singing for off-duty pleasures
A group of men huddled around a piano and their voices blended into the harmony of a gospel song. Strapped to the drummer’s hip, however, was a .38-caliber pistol, and some of the singers had silver badges clipped to their belts.
Four of the group’s six members were present or former policemen.
The group of four singers and two musicians—a piano player and a drummer—called itself the Dayton Ambassadors. Although the group traveled the country singing the “good news,” its members got more attention for being policemen rather than for being gospel singers.
Its members avoided preaching any denomination’s doctrine, according to Tom Lawson, one of the police members. “We just sing good gospel music for Christ.”
Occasionally, the officers encountered people at their performances whom they had met in their regular police jobs.
Dale Hartley, who sang tenor and retired from the force after 27 years, recalled the woman minister he met at one performance. Earlier, he had denied her admission to the jail because she did not have proper identification, he said.
“She sure let me know in a hurry who she was,” he said.
Hartley recalled another time when he met a man he had arrested several years earlier for grand larceny.
“The second time I met him he had been saved,” Hartley said. “He had come to Jesus. You don’t know how good I felt that night. You wonder about what happens to many of the people you come into contact with, what they are doing. Are they still in jail? Do they still lead a life of crime?”
The group had recorded three albums. They had also made several out-of-town tours and averaged about 84 personal appearances during the previous three years.
“We’ve sung at the state fair and before several senior citizens groups,” he said. “They’re our favorite.”
The officers say they all worked the day shift, so they could make night appearances. All of them were off duty on the weekends, allowing for trips outside Dayton.
The group had recently purchased a passenger bus (nicknamed the Glory-bound Grand) for the long trips. The group gave its concerts for free. A collection plate was passed, however, to help cover expenses.
The Ambassadors said they got their name from II Corinthians, 5:20 which says: “So we are ambassadors for Christ, be reconciled to God.”
March 17, 1976: Miamisburg’s Hamburger Wagon
Ronald McDonald, eat your heart out. The Miamisburg Hamburger Wagon has a secret recipe.
The late Cocky Porter built the wagon at the buggy works where he worked in Miamisburg. Copied after a milk delivery wagon, the hamburger wagon has been parked on Market Square six days a week since he built it in 1913.
Porter became famous for his booming: “Pickle in the middle and onion on top — makes your belly go flippity-flop.”
The operator in 1976 was Clyde Justice, who describes himself as a runaway from the Frigidaire plant.
“I love it,” Justice said at the time. “It’s my life.” He said his twin brother, Claude, bought the antique wagon eight years prior but he ran it.
The menu was simple. Just 35-cent hamburgers. Today, a single costs $1.75 and a double is $3.25.
But what hamburgers. They are a secret blend of meat and spices topped with pickles, onions, salt and pepper.
What was the secret?
Justice winked. “Some say there’s sausage in them.”
Justice declined to say how much money he brought in on the burgers, but estimates ran as high as several thousand dollars a month.
“You’ve never seen them fried like this before,” he said, pointing to a grill full of meat balls sizzling. At just the right time he flattens them out with his spatula.
Toni Munici, Justice’s helper, said it was not uncommon to get orders for 20 and 30 of them to go at once.
There was a bench near the wagon for those who care to eat on the spot, but many folks drove up to the sidewalk and carried them off by the sackful.
Justice remembered Porter from the time he was young. “He was a great guy,” Justice said of Porter. When Justice couldn’t afford a hamburger, “he’d put onions or something like that on a bun for me.”
March 21, 1976: Vita-Fluff stars in Dayton version of ‘West Side Story’
“We might well be described as the new ‘West Side Story,’ and we are proud to be part of the scene,” said O. Michael Onesty Jr., president of Vita-Fluff products in 1976.
Vita-Fluff had just completed a major expansion and modernization of its old manufacturing plant at 1352 N. Gettysburg Ave. Administration had been moved from Needmore Rd. into the Gettysburg facility, and the move had been accompanied by a change of name from the old Duon, Inc.
The business was founded in Dayton, but during most of its history, its offices and sales facility were in Florida. But by this time, all operations had been moved to Dayton.
The company did a lot of soul-searching before it decided to spend a lot of money turning the dowdy West Side plant into a modern manufacturing and office complex.
The company had been making shampoo and personal care products under the Vita-Fluff name for 43 years and distributing them in the United States and abroad. The shampoo came in seven types of cream, seven types of liquid and seven types of concentrate, and in quantities ranging from an 8-ounce bottle to the commercial-size 5-gallon drum.
“We’re doing very well. We’re pleased,” Onesty said at the time. Sales during the first six months of fiscal 1976 were 31 per cent higher than the total for the same period in 1975. “In spite of a fluctuating economy...this increase tends to reflect that people are demanding more and expect to receive it in the form of first-class products,” Onesty said.
About the Author
