SPARK PLUG OF THE MONTH


| November/December 1971



Angereau McConnell and his 2 HP

Courtesy of Joe Fahnestock, Union City, Indiana 47390.

Joe Fahnestock

Dayton Daily News & Radio's 'Joe's Journal'

'That fellow was born with wheels in his head,' so they said. But there are others who might have said, 'He was born with a Boyscout compass and hatchet in each hand, and a knapsack on his back.' Still there are those who might claim he has steam and gas in his blood with a strong yearning to sail the seven seas running rife through his veins. All who know him (and that's about everyone) revere him as a leader in the community while every boy who ever belonged to Scout Troop 27 respects him as though he wore an invisible halo o'er his head. An anthropologist, analyzing his weather-lined countenance, might deem him a man of the soil, while a genealogist, upon trying to spell his name, could well acclaim him of most honorable French descent.

That's Angereau--spell it if you can-- Angereau McConnell of Danville, Kentucky, hard by Atoka, just up Perryville Road a little.

'Yes--we all know Angereau McConnell' they all say. 'Lives over by 'Toka Store, he does. And a mighty fine fellow he is.'

To a man with steam engine oil in his blood, a ride with Angereau on his paddlewheel steam boat up Herrington Lake might well convince him he's a died-in-the-wool Iron Man with real-for-sure coal dirt and firebox soot on his hands and brow. But a confirmed gas engine bug, foraging through his barns and sheds, could just as well dub him a Spark Plug--and that's where we aim to nail him. At least till someone comes along and buys a superb piece of his artistic wrought-iron work and calls him a blacksmith.

At any rate, before we get any further entangled in the intricacies of this man's diverse talents and character traits, we'll stop right here and call him Spark Plug Angereau McConnell. At least we're on safe grounds here, even if we can't fathom the broad perspectives of the entire man. And if you're lucky enough to be invited into his home, you don't have to be an anthropologist, a genealogist, or even an apologist to analyze that good old-fashioned southern Kentucky hospitality which befuddles the brains of 'us northerners'.