Some people

Oct. 21, 2010

Dear Patty,

I was living in California and elsewhere when the notorious SPANK parties were held here from the late '70s through the '80s. On visits home, those who had attended one spoke of debauchery and live music and party games remembered as if in a dream.

SPANK stood for Some People Are Naturally Kind. The parties were uninhibited exemplars of their day where beer trucks with the spigots never on OFF, a water truck enabled mud wrestling and hundreds of people threw yolk missiles at once in an egg toss. One relay race positioned the woman on the shoulders of the man, except facing backward. The men also had to run backward.

Trophies were awarded, including one for the person best at falling down.

SPANK had just a whiff of respectability. Many of the region's most upstanding citizens could be found falling down at SPANK parties. SPANK had not-for-profit status, and many local companies chipped in goods and services. The admission charged went to charity. That added up to many thousands over the decade, including more than $4,000 to the Humane Society one year.

SPANK parties eventually were held three times a year, including Halloween, when large appliance boxes were available for costume changes. A bean field near Oriole was the usual outdoor location, and later a family farm near Fruitland. In the spring, the rule was minimum clothing for maximum fun, Don Greenwood recalls.

Our arts council recently exhibited posters and T-shirts that Don, Cape Girardeau's Toulouse-Lautrec, has created over the years, including those for SPANK. Don, one of the SPANK founders, is also a musician, an editorial cartoonist, a teller of ribald stories and the creator of the bar napkin art at Port Cape restaurant. He's also sometimes known as the Rev. Don Greenwood because he's certified to marry people. Every town needs a Don Greenwood.

Every town also needs a pot stirrer like SPANK's godfather, John Lewis. He sold handmade jewelry downtown for a time. Soon after he and friends started SPANK, Lewis opened a nightclub called the Mule Lip Saloon, which became the epicenter of the city's nightlife. Lewis eventually moved to St. Louis and won an Emmy as a videographer.

The SPANK party migrated from Oriole to land near Fruitland, which became known as Ruesler's Gulch. As many as 1,000 people began showing up at noon and some didn't leave until the next day. The best area rock 'n' roll bands entertained. "People brought in large livestock and roasted it," Greenwood says.

Bikers, hippies and college kids staked out their turf. Greenwood's most indelible memory is the sight of a rotund biker and his zaftig partner riding a three-wheeled police motorcycle naked around the rim of the canyon.

The SPANK parties ended at the end of the 1980s when the organizers had too many problems stopping underage kids from sneaking in and trying to drink. It's difficult to imagine anyone staging anything of the kind today. "It was the right place at the right time," Greenwood concludes.

Before moving to California, I attended the very first SPANK party without knowing it was a SPANK party. The location was Trail of Tears State Park. Hazily I remember loud music and a girl I didn't know walking up and kissing me. The party was never held at the state park again. "They uninvited us to come back," Greenwood says.

Love, Sam

Sam Blackwell is a former reporter for the Southeast Missourian.