Turkey Races & Other Firsts

by Deb Moken

It took some serious sleuthing—but I am reasonably certain that Pukwana’s “First Annual Pukwana Turkey Race” was held in 1974. And I was there.

Just shy of my 13th birthday, I went with my cousin Kristy and her dad, Uncle Marvin, a bricklayer working on a job in Chamberlain. Chamberlain—an exotic town on the Missouri River 200 miles from my home—which boasted a stock dam capable of swelling to possibly an entire acre. Bodies of water were novelties. Recreation destinations.

So, when presented with the opportunity to spend the workweek in a camper at a park on the river—exploring the thriving East-Meets-West Gateway Metropolis—12-year-old me jumped at the chance. Can you imagine? Two young girls, 12 and 14, left to their own devices 200 miles from home? Me neither! But that’s what we did.

One evening we went to the State Theater on Main and saw American Graffiti. The second highlight was attending the aforementioned festivities a dozen miles away in Pukwana.

There weren’t too many “first annual” attendees. This I know because the 3.5-foot, vertically challenged me enjoyed a panoramic view of the entire affair—which, incidentally, struck me as both unimpressive and highly unlikely to actually have subsequent annuals. Nothing too memorable surrounding the festivities apart from watching a lady sprinkle salt into her beer, and one of us West River three (possibly even me) won a frozen turkey far too large for the camper’s fridge. We ended up bequeathing the prize to the malt-beverage flavor-enhancer.

I was wrong. Apparently, 12-year-old me didn’t have her finger on the pulse of a wacky idea’s draw or its ability to become ensconced as a mid-American annual tradition. A year ago, I caught a blip advertising the tradition’s half-century run! And I was there—at its inauguration. Who knew? I doubt any of year one’s handful of attendees thought they were participating in a historic kickoff.

On September 9th (9/9), I’ll be attending another “First Annual” event—one I hope has a half-century run while praying the reason for its inception is eradicated decades sooner: the Tee-Up for Treasured Lives Charity Golf Tournament, helping to end sex trafficking. This event is dedicated to raising awareness and funds to support survivors.

I hope you’ll be among the relative few who, 50 years from now, will be able to say, “I was there!  The first annual Tee-Up for Treasured Lives 9/9 golf tournament.”