The Jail Picture

The special part of this photo for me isn't the jail - it's that little white frame house under the trees to the far right.  That's my Grandparent's house, where my Dad grew up.

Dad loved to tell the story about the time he sold rocks to the prisoners in the jail.  He was a small boy at the time, and the prisoner would lower a tin can on a string with a nickel.  Dad would put rocks in the can, and got to keep the nickel.  The prisoner used the rocks with a pea shooter to aggravate the jailer.  The jailer never knew how the prisoner was getting rocks.

My grandfather was the sheriff at the time.