by Tori Chasey Edwards
I was asked to write an article about a significant figure in Palmetto’s history: my paternal great-grandfather, Hal Chasey. Generally, these histories are informational, objective, third-person narratives. I’ve always liked story-telling (which I first experienced at the knee of an old man tangled in a half-finished cast-net) but I never felt comfortable narrating without using first-person; I can’t be objective about something as deeply personal as my family. While academia generally implies that history “should be” impersonal and objective, the truth is that history has always been personal to the people involved. All of the stories Grandpa ever told me were from his own perspective and that is the approach I’m using in this article. Plus, there are more than enough of the dull, fact-based histories that the academics approve of; the study of history is (as Grandpa would say) “ass-deep” in those kind of boring articles. Instead, I’m just going to ramble on for awhile, discussing both my memories of my great-grandfather and the things I’ve learned while researching for this article…
So you should probably go ahead and prepare yourself to read a different kind of history: in this piece I’m sure I’ll sometimes slip back into calling him Grandpa (or even Grandpa Chasey) as I always have. As a general rule, whenever I call him Hal or Mr. Chasey, you can probably assume I gathered that data from an outside source; because in my memories as well as those of my family, Hal Chasey, pillar of the community, is just known as “Grandpa”.
One of my first clear memories is of my dad waking me before even the sun was up, to head over to Grandpa and Grandma’s house for breakfast. I remember on the drive over thinking that the whole town was still asleep, until I noticed the lights blazing and the hustle and bustle going on in Grandma’s (Marjory) kitchen. Every time my aunt Linda would visit from Michigan, we made a point of going to Grandma and Grandpa Chasey’s house for a breakfast that was so extensive their dining room table groaned under the weight. It was on one of these occasions that I had my first taste of quail, and I distinctly remember wandering through Grandpa’s backyard to the kennel to thank his hunting dogs for helping to catch my breakfast. Many of the stories I remember Grandpa telling had to do with either hunting or fishing. I’m not sure if this trend reflects Hal’s active lifestyle or if he just assumed (and rightly so) that he could hold his great-grandkids attention longer if he chose fun stories that were set outside. There is also the possibility that he told us less exciting stories, but I just don’t remember them.
I definitely recall Grandpa bragging that he and his brother owned the first and only car to be parked in their highschool lot. Not even the principal drove a car to school, so how did a self-described poor farm boy get a car? In true country style, Hal won a singing contest at the Indiana State Fair. The song that earned him the glory (and the cash to buy the car) was an old WWI ballad called “Long Boy”. The opening lyrics might have been written for Grandpa: “I was just a long, lean country gink…”
Hal Chasey played half-back on Purdue University’s only undefeated (as of 1995) football team and also lettered in track. He graduated with a degree in Dairy Husbandry and his first real job was on a dairy farm. During this time he met my great-grandmother Marjory Rae (a middle name we share), and married her two months later. Considering the whirlwind timeframe of their courtship, there must have been something about Hal in his football uniform that won Marjory over: from what I’ve heard, she was accustomed to getting what she wanted. Grandma Chasey grew up seriously indulged by wealthy parents. The family story goes that her father bought her a car when she was thirteen years old. Being much too young to handle such a responsibility (possibly compounded by the fact that she could barely see over the steering wheel!), Marjory unsurprisingly wreaked her shiny-new vehicle. Her super-generous father bought her a new one the very next day.
Though Grandma was arguable spoiled, she shared her good fortune by driving football players to away games. It was on the drive home from such a game that Hal proposed to Marjory, and insisted on stopping that night to buy her a ring. In what I can only believe was an attempt to keep his new fiancé in the lavish style to which she was accustomed, Grandpa bought Grandma the most expensive ring in the whole town… for a grand total of five dollars!
When they married, Hal was unable to take any time off of his work at the dairy farm to honeymoon. So at 1:30 am on his wedding night, Grandpa had to leave his new wife and warm bed to deliver a calf. When the farm closed, Hal took a job at his father-in-law’s movie theater doing janitorial work and taking tickets for twenty-five dollars a week. Later he worked his way up in the farm department of Montgomery-Ward. It was then that Hal Chasey, at 37 years old, volunteered for the Navy. Years later, he explained to his grandson, John (my dad) that he felt ashamed to be an able-bodied man living among only women, children and old men, so he became a Naval Officer. Probably due to his experience at Montgomery-Ward, Grandpa served our country during WWII by handling supplies and accounting for the whole pacific theater. Honestly, when I started researching for this article, I was aware that Grandpa had had a respectable military career, but I had no idea just how much responsibility he carried during the war. Also, I had never really done the math to realize just how late in life he served.
After the war, Hal went back to work for Montgomery-Ward. After eighteen years with that company, Grandpa realized that there was only one future for him there: to get fired. He had climbed as high as he could go within the corporation. In 1954, an opportunity presented itself to become a part owner of Slaughter & Taylor Hardware & Feed store. Grandpa and Grandma must have been ready for a change; they packed-up and moved, fully immersing themselves in the community of Palmetto.
Hal Chasey was always very civic-minded and felt that everyone had a responsibility to their community. One of his favorite sayings was: “A man and his family are the most important thing, then the job, and then the community—in that order.” Grandpa was especially passionate about the Palmetto Boy’s Club. In a Sarasota Herald-Tribune article published in 1974, Bob Wynn (Palmetto Boy’s Club coach) says of Hal: “He knows the community’s youth better than anyone in the community. I have seen more young people come to him than anyone.” Hal was also instrumental in getting the new football and track stadium built for the Palmetto Tigers. Even by the time I went to high school, he could be found more often than not on the night of home football games sitting at the fifty-yard-line, cheering for the tigers. Grandpa’s ceaseless support and enthusiasm for youth in the community is one of the traits that I believe has been passed down through the generations.
Later, Hal Chasey helped found the County Bank and was its first president. I’ve been told that Grandpa was the face, the personality of the County Bank; his desk was even set up so that he was the first person to greet you when you walked through the door. Getting Hal’s opinion was an integral step when deciding if someone who needed a loan would be a good investment; Grandpa’s judgment of a person’s character held more weight than a credit score ever could (in Palmetto at least). It was Hal Chasey that bank personnel would seek when they needed someone to smooth things over with customers. Grandpa was the PR representative before the term “public relations” was even coined. He is credited with telling a reporter that banking is no different than selling anything: you sell friendliness, service and accuracy.
Another cause that was near and dear to Hal Chasey’s heart was the Manatee Junior College, especially their fledgling athletic program. Bob Wynn (who also happened to be the Athletic Director at MJC) had this to say about Grandpa: “No one single person in the community has helped me develop our athletic program any more than Hal Chasey. He has helped me with problems, given me needed advice and has always been 100 per cent ready to help. He has been an active supporter of baseball, basketball and track and a big brother to me. He has been the somebody in the community that I can talk to about anything. He will tell you if you are wrong, and support you if you are right. He has been my man to lean on over the years without a doubt.”
Hal Chasey received much recognition for community service in his life, including receiving a Distinguished Citizen Award from the Manatee County Fair as well as having the MJC Gymnasium named in his honor (I find it particularly gratifying to see that the Hal Chasey Gymnasium has carried his name for so many years considering the number of name changes that the college itself has undergone). Despite all these accolades, I believe the greatest legacy Grandpa has left to me and my family is something that is much harder to put your finger on. Hal Chasey’s values may have been old-fashioned and simplistic, but they laid the groundwork for the moral fiber of the whole Chasey clan. Maybe it had to do with being raised on a farm, maybe it was due to his conservative Quaker faith (Hal’s mother, Laura Harris, was a member of the “Friends Church”) or maybe Grandpa was just born with an iron-clad sense of integrity; whatever the cause, Hal Chasey was the type of man you could look up to and depend upon: family-centered, with a respect for the land, the community, and hard work.
While researching this article, I had a mini-epiphany about the legacy my family has received in the form of Grandpa’s attitude and worldview. Looking at my own branch of the family tree, I see those values reflected in mine and my sibling’s career choices: my sister has recently begun work as a social worker, advocating for the community’s youth; my brother, ever the outdoorsman, is a marine biologist conducting field work for the Audubon Society; instead of looking for a high-paying corporate job, I dreamed of preserving the past and keeping the small-town sense of community alive in an increasingly crowded, yet isolated world.
Though recent generations of the Chasey family may not share a drop of blood with Hal (both of his sons, including my grandfather, were adopted), Grandpa’s values and his belief in family and community are the heritage he left to us. I can’t imagine a more valuable legacy to inherit.
After the first edition of this article was published, I received an email from a man named Thomas Kibler (who had met Hal after being elected to the County Bank Board of Directors) telling me of how the article brought back a lot of good memories of Grandpa hauling his cook stove out to Tom’s ranch and frying up mullet for the crew while they worked the cattle. Tom also sent me a copy of a photo Hal had taken of “Lettuce Lake,” a particularly beautiful spot on Tom’s property. Scrawled on the back of the photo was the following note:
6-7-89
Dear Tom:
If I were asked to title this picture, I believe I would entitle it “Lettuce Lake Therapy.” For here there are no broken fences, dried-up water holes, sterile bulls, barren cows, telephones, poor cattle markets, etc. there is only the quiet and serenity of the past hundreds of years. So, join me in letting the memory of Lettuce Lake ease all our frustrations.
Thank you for letting me enjoy your land and above all Lettuce Lake,
Hal Chasey
“Lettuce Lake Therapy” by Hal Chasey
