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Marshall Sohl, Jr. (Island View)

When he tells you the old stories of Vashon-Maury Island, he tells them to you with his eyes closed. Perhaps he sees them played out in his mind’s eye, as he sifts through hundreds of local facts and folk he’s discovered in his research and knows by heart.

Since the 1970s, 82-year-old Marshall Sohl has burned island history into wood storyboards. Many of these golden plaques are adorned with an arc of red, white and blue rays emanating from a sunrise over Mt. Rainier and the words “The Dawn of History on Vashon Maury Isles.”

“Art for history’s sake,” he said.

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Hog Butcher to the World (Ohio Magazine)

The day the bull got loose in Camp Washington, Yvonne Burt was wearing a red coat. Yvonne was eleven, and with her best friends, Cookie Lyons and Ruth Long, she did what everyone else in the neighborhood was doing that evening—they went out looking.

Twenty years ago, loose stock was not uncommon in the "Camp," as the residents have always called it. The neighborhood had been the center of the Cincinnati meatpacking industry for nearly a century, and if the occasional cow or pig escaped its fate for a few hours to roam the streets, the residents of the Camp liked the diversion.

That night, the girls stopped for a breather outside the block-long Kluener slaughterhouse. Ruth saw him first. "Here comes the bull," she said as calmly as she could manage. Neither Yvonne nor Cookie fell for that one.

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The Barbers (Cincinnati Magazine)

"I got lots of stories to tell," says Johnny Fisch, 72 years old. "Been here on Eastern Avenue for fifty-four years and I've seen a lot going on from inside this shop."

Fisch tries his best now to remember to hang his American flag out in front of his barbershop. The red, white and blue symbol of America proudly flies next to his barber pole striped in the same patriotic colors.

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Cleone Lyvonne (Common Ground Magazine)

Cleone Lyvonne leaned toward the mirror as she patted white makeup on her face.

She examined her pores, then continued to pat her face with her hands. She had been in front of the mirror for about thirty minutes doing this. "I am so fussy with my white," she said. "I've got to look good."

The pall of her face was unearthly, whiter than the whites of her eyes.

In the world of the clown, applying white makeup meant putting your "self" to death.

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Rev. Susan O'Shea (Downtown Source)

You can sometimes see them shouting with a bible open in their hands at Yesler and First, or holding a church service in the parking lot at Second and Pike. Or, if you are up early in the morning, you may see Episcopalian priest Susan O'Shea swiftly gliding in a motorized wheelchair around Pike Place Market. O'Shea and others "spread the word" of their particular ministry and make themselves available to the homeless on the streets in downtown Seattle. Whose word? Usually Jesus Christ, but some, like O'Shea, also tell their own stories.

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