At Weeks End
As a young boy, Trine Ysusi and his family came north in the 1930s by way of an old Ford roadster, first cousin of jalopies that coughed and sputtered their way to California as pilgrims escaped Grapes of Wrath middle America. A crate of clucking chickens was roped to the back of the vehicle as they headed out from Marquez, Texas to Chanute.
Driving along South Sante Fe Street, they stopped at Little Mexico, a Hispanic enclave.
As a teenager, Trine and his buddies went to Katy Park to watch KOM League games yes, he did see Mickey Mantle play and taped up broken bats they received after games. They played in ancient uniforms dug up by Bill Brennam, Chanutes fire chief.
One of those uniforms has a bittersweet story. At some point, Trine noticed a name stitched in the waistband: Tris Speaker. Years later, when he was getting rid of some boyhood things, he burned the uniform. Hall-of-Famer Tris Speaker hit .345 from 1907 to 1928, and owns the major league record of doubles struck, 792. The uniform today would fetch a kings ransom.
A YEAR AFTER graduating from Chanute High in 1954, he and wife Lorenza were married. Now, 63 years later, they are constant companions, he cooking and cleaning and watching after the love of his life, somewhat slowed by advancing years.
His first bread-winning job paid $35 week at a Self Service grocery in Fredonia, making things tight for the newlyweds. I had to find something else, he said and took on with Monarch Cement.
Since then the Ysusis have called Humboldt home. He never had doubts about his future security, Monarchs pay and benefits being so good. He retired in 1990.
Trine, now 83, figured the remainder of his life would be on cruise control … until, at the suggestion of a teacher who knew his helpful nature, he took a custodial position at Humboldt Elementary. That led to 10 more years of workaday life, and a bit after when his replacement didnt measure up.
Eventually, he was free to fish to his hearts content, including once in the dead of winter along the Neosho, where he hooked a nice-sized channel cat of 7 or 8 pounds. Trine was willing to bid the channel adios, knowing his line wasnt strong enough to pull it up the steep bank. Bob Boyd, his fishing buddy, insisted on sliding down to retrieve the fish.
When I got my name in the paper for catching that channel, Bob told me, Yeah, and this boy got wet getting it up the bank and didnt get mentioned at all. They laughed about that for years.
Once he and Sam Wheeler, who had lost a leg and hunted on crutches, were driving near Moran one of Sams haunts where he and I often hunted when they saw a tight float of mallards in a little stream. Trine downed two, his first ducks ever, with blasts from his Model 97 Winchester. He fired off a long shot at a third; it fell dead. Heck of a long shot, Sam said a generous compliment from the old hunter, who often claimed there wasnt a semi trailer large enough to haul all the game he had taken.
OUR VISIT carried on much of Tuesday afternoon.
Trines central theme of story after story: I always was trying to help someone.
Though he held a supervisory position his last few years at Monarch, Trine always was one of the guys. A high point he remembers is winning a contest Walter Wulf Sr. held to name the company newspaper, The Monarch Pride.
It was like a big family at Monarch. When someones roof needed replaced or house needed painted, wed all get together and get it done.
