The Perfect Song: The True Story of Arthur Lee Crume, Sr. of the Soul Stirrers

The Perfect Song

The True Story of Arthur Lee Crume, Sr.

of the Soul Stirrers

Donna J. Bosn

Arthur Lee Crume, Sr.

iUniverse, Inc.

Bloomington

The Perfect Song

The True Story of Arthur Lee Crume, Sr. of the Soul Stirrers

Copyright © 2010, 2012 Donna J. Bosn and Arthur Lee Crume, Sr.

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Bible translation used by permission: The Holy Bible, King James Version

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ISBN: 978-1-4697-4517-6 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4697-4521-3 (e)

Printed in the United States of America

iUniverse rev. date: 1/18/2012

Contents

Introduction

Chapter One White Gold

Chapter Two University of Adversity

Chapter Three Wisdom Like Fine-spun Cotton

Chapter Four Stopping on a Dime

Chapter Five Affliction and Segregation

Chapter Six Looking to Do Harm

Chapter Seven Tornado Alley

Chapter Eight Whole Lot of Shaking Going On

Chapter Nine God is Colorblind

Chapter Ten The Chosen One

Chapter Eleven Grandma Courtland

Chapter Twelve Haunted House

Chapter Thirteen House on Fire

Chapter Fourteen Train Ride

Chapter Fifteen Chicago

Chapter Sixteen Mama’s Present

Chapter Seventeen North Side of Chicago

Chapter Eighteen The Golden Gloves

Chapter Nineteen Doris

Chapter Twenty It’s a Boy

Chapter Twenty-One Lost and Found

Chapter Twenty-Two Crume’s Grocery Store

Chapter Twenty-Three First Notes

Chapter Twenty-Four Music Schools

Chapter Twenty-Five Sam Cooke

Chapter Twenty-Six Manager

Chapter Twenty-Seven Behind the Scenes

Chapter Twenty-Eight Martin Luther King

Chapter Twenty-Nine Brotherly Love

Chapter Thirty Susie

Chapter Thirty-One Old Man Dies

Chapter Thirty-Two Going Global

Chapter Thirty-Three But Not There Yet

Chapter Thirty-Four Jeanette

Chapter Thirty-Five The Wedding

Chapter Thirty-Six Life Breathed In

Chapter Thirty-Seven Rufus

Chapter Thirty-Eight Okmulgee Indian Mounds

Chapter Thirty-Nine The Beat Goes On

Chapter Fourty Adopted Into The Family Of God

Chapter Forty-One Soul Stirrers’s Reunion

Chapter Forty-Two Connecting the Dots

Chapter Forty-Three The Promises of God

Chapter Forty-Four To My Children With Love

Interview

Fun Facts

About The Authors

Dedication

With all of our love, we dedicate this book to

Jesus Christ and to each of our children.

Introduction

Legends are said to be those individuals who soar above the limitations of the average human experience. These special souls leave eternal footprints in the hearts of even the casual observer, and their message remains timeless. History books are full of stories about these remarkable people. While some of these dynamic leaders affect only their generation, others are birthed for the purposes of eternity. Arthur Lee Crume, Sr. is such a man.

Arthur is the owner, manager and longest active member of the widely acclaimed Soul Stirrers’ Gospel Quartet. Historians herald this group as the greatest quartet in the history of gospel music. Arthur’s musical talents catapulted and held him at the top of his field for several decades. Although he enjoyed all the attention and accolades he received, he had one serious problem. Arthur did not have a personal relationship with the God he was singing about. All the notoriety and fame stroked his already inflated ego and caused him to become even more self-absorbed. His poor choices and fleshly appetites scarred the lives of those who loved him the most, leaving broken hearts littered along life’s highway. But God, who is rich in mercy, never gave up on Arthur.

But God commendeth his love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.

Romans 5:8

Arthur was born and raised in the cotton fields of Missouri. Just as Jesus taught His followers through parables—earthly stories with heavenly meanings—the cotton plant held a spiritual truth for Arthur. This bush-like plant mirrored his life. If properly nourished, both housed the necessary components to eventually produce mature fruit. Just like the cottonseed, a miracle had to take place so the darkness would be banished and the seedling could break through the hard soil and reach toward the light. After bursting through the soil, the tender plant would be exposed to the high winds and blowing sand. Mirrored within Arthur’s life struggles is a picture of Israel’s eventual redemption. Arthur faced his own fierce storms. The Holy Spirit whispered into the depths of his battered and weary soul, and at the age of sixty-eight, he responded to the Spirit’s wooing. He accepted the Light of the World into his darkened heart, and Arthur Lee Crume, Sr. would never be the same again. He was a new creature in Christ. True to Bible promises, God put a new song in his heart. No longer an outcast, he was a child of the King. He finally had a personal relationship with the One he had been singing about for decades.

And he hath put a new song in my mouth, even praise unto our God; many shall see it, and fear, and shall trust in the LORD.

Psalm 40:3

Sometimes the past must live so the lessons of history are not forgotten. Long after growing up in the cotton fields, Arthur would reflect on the endless changing seasons and the beginning of new ones. Personal memories, both good and bad, were like snapshots randomly engraved in his mind’s eye, fanning the embers of what used to be. As he leafed through the tattered images of his life, he sensed that he must tell his story—a story not unlike that of Israel. He wanted others to hear the perfect song, a melody that took nearly eighty years to compose. God opened doors and allowed Arthur to experience many divine appointments to prove to him that He was in charge of the musical arrangement.

Personal testimonies are people’s stories of how God came to rescue them when they couldn’t help themselves. There are those who don’t give honor to the Lord but think their own grit and ingenuity delivered them. They want to be seen as clever and charming. But our desire should be to glorify Jesus, to celebrate Him alone. When a man is truly at the end of himself, his testimony will reflect what he could not do for himself—and what Jesus did. Such is the testimony of Arthur Lee Crume, Sr.

Brethren, I count not myself to have apprehended; but this one thing I do, forgetting those things which are behind, and reaching forth unto those things which are before, I press toward the mark for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus.

Philippians 3:13-14

Arthur Lee Crume, Sr. birth certificate

Chapter One

White Gold

Old Man, has your wife had her baby yet?

Dillard Crume, Sr., affectionately known as Old Man, shook his head. Not yet, but I know the Good Lord has a perfect day for our child to be born.

A few days later, on July 6, 1929, Arthur Lee Crume, the sixth child of Dillard and Lonia Crume, was delivered by a midwife in Swift, Missouri, a small town nestled among forested hills brimming with acres of cotton fields.

Mama cradled her newborn son in her arms. All five of her other children circled her bed to welcome their baby brother. Anna was the first to speak. Mama, he’s so cute!

That’s because he looks just like your daddy, Mama teased as she gave Old Man a quick wink.

Bernice, who was two, clutched Arthur’s hand against her ebony cheek and then kissed it. She studied his tiny face and cooed, Honey!

Mary, the oldest child, placed her hands on her hips. Mama, did you hear that? Bernice already has a nickname for him. She called him, ‘Honey!’

The nickname stuck. Close family members still refer to Arthur Crume as Honey.

During harvest, the fields were covered for miles and miles with white fluffy cotton balls. This major cash crop was often dubbed as white gold by sharecroppers and landowners. Arthur’s father was a sharecropper. Every year he requested at least forty acres to plow, plant and harvest. His two main crops were cotton and corn. Arthur’s mother was not enthusiastic about working the large plot of land. She understood the sacrifice and realized her children would be required to work long hours in the unbearable heat and humidity of the scorching Missouri sun. Her mother’s heart would break when the little ones came home from the cotton field with festered and bleeding fingertips, as well as tired feet peppered with thorns from the thistles and sandburs that pervaded the soil.

Spider mites and numerous biting insects also lurked in the fields. They had needlelike piercing mouthparts and were smaller than a pinhead, but their bites caused significant red itchy bumps to break out all over their victims’ bodies, making it difficult to sleep at night.

Mama, do we have to wear shoes today? Amos, Arthur’s older brother, gave an exaggerated sigh.

You know the rules, little man. Mama nodded and leaned against her elbows. We wear shoes every day, and when Sunday comes we shine our shoes real good and wear our clean shiny shoes to the Lord’s House.

Doesn’t seem right that we have to wear shoes to church, Amos grumbled as he grabbed his shoes. He told Moses to take his shoes off.

A wide smile spread across Mama’s face. Your daddy’s preaching today, and he wants all his children on the front pew with their shoes on.

Old Man worked hard sharecropping during the week, but when Sunday came, he was a powerful preacher. People walked for miles to the old church house to hear his sermons. His heart would burst with pride when he spotted his children sitting together on the front pew. If Arthur and his siblings became a little rowdy, their father would give them an occasional thump on the head to help settle them down.

Arthur’s father was respected throughout the community. His friends, neighbors and family admired him for his honesty. Although he never walked on water, most of his life he walked on land with integrity and honor. His influence would extend into the adult lives of each of his children.

Money was scarce. Even though Arthur’s parents were the poorest of the poor, they tried to provide for their family the best they could. The children never realized the depth of their poverty because they grew up with their basic needs met, and all of them knew they were deeply loved.

During this era, many poor families became discouraged and lost their moral compass, but Arthur’s father was a man grounded in God’s Word. He was secure and knew who he was in Christ.

The family wore secondhand clothes and the children’s shoes were passed down from the older children to the younger ones. They wore their shoes most of the time, occasionally taking them off to go barefoot.

Mama, these shoes pinch my toes, Amos complained.

Your feet have probably grown, Mama replied. Just take them off, and we’ll give them to Rayfield. His feet are a little smaller than yours. They should fit him just fine.

The children were very comfortable with their one size fits all way of life.

Life on the farm was never boring. There was always work to be done. Besides feeding the livestock and tending to the cotton and cornfields, Arthur’s father would cut the wood during previous winter months so the logs were seasoned and ready to burn when cold weather arrived. The older children helped him split the wood and arrange a neat pile near the house.

Smoke from the chimney hung thick and heavy when they burned green wood, but when the wood was dry, it sent up a majestic spiraling cloud of purplish gray smoke with a hint of crimson. On a cold day, this welcome sight could be seen for miles.

Inside Arthur’s childhood home, the old wood stove, covered with charcoal and soot, blazed toward the ceiling while random ashes floated freely in the air. Arthur’s father would stoke the fire, and the family gathered around to warm their hands and feet. The children squealed with delight when they spotted a warm kettle of Mama’s homemade chicken soup steaming on the back of the stove. This familiar sight was sure to elicit thoughts of master storytelling and comfortable evenings together. It had always been a place to gather for relief from cold days, but the old wood stove would soon be remembered for a tragedy that would haunt the family for the rest of their lives.

One fall day in 1929, Daddy and Mama were tending to the hogs just a few yards from the main house when Arthur’s two-year-old sister, Bernice, and his older brother Amos began to play a friendly game of hide-and-seek. They were running around the house giggling when Bernice decided to go inside to warm herself by the fire. Shivering from the cold, she dropped her tattered coat on the floor and walked near the stove. She stood in her cotton dress with her long black hair draped across her tiny shoulders and stared at the fire. The sight and sound of the hot embers crackling and popping mesmerized her. Sunbeams splashed on them making them look like tiny crimson feathers floating effortlessly across rays of gold light. The little girl failed to notice some of the sparks had landed on her clothes, catching her dress on fire. Within seconds, she began to scream in a shrill pitch, running wildly in circles. In a panic, Bernice pushed the front door open and ran hysterically across the old wooden porch to the dirt yard. She zigzagged back and forth, yelping every step of the way as blazing hot flames trailed behind her.

Startled, Daddy and Mama quickly emerged from the hog shed. Like a nightmare, the scene unfolded before their eyes. They raced toward their darling daughter, trying to catch her and snuff out the flames, but their attempts were in vain. Almost deliriously, she continued to run shrieking around the house. It didn’t matter how fast or what direction they ran, chaos prevailed. By the time they caught her and put the fire out, over ninety percent of her delicate frame was severely burned. Her vital organs were visible through the melted flesh and none of her long black hair remained.

The only medical help available was an old country doctor who lived miles away. Arthur’s father hitched the mules to the old wagon and sped frantically down the dirt road to fetch him. When they returned and the doctor examined Bernice, Daddy and Mama were devastated to learn nothing could be done to save their little girl. Her wounds were as incurable as their grief. Two days later Bernice died.

Mama’s face was wet with tears when she quietly dressed Bernice’s tiny form in a white batiste dress with tiny pin tucks. She kissed her baby girl for the last time and laid her in a little wooden box. As the family stood solemnly over the pine casket, they began to sing Bernice’s favorite song—I’m Gonna Lay Down My Burdens Down by the Riverside.

Heads bobbed and bodies swayed as they sang. One of Mama’s friends said, I’m sure going to miss Bernice’s beautiful voice singing in church on Sunday.

Me too, several voices echoed through the crowd.

She’s singing with the angels now. Mama dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief.

As was customary for many black families of that time, Bernice was buried in the backyard. Daddy and Mama wept as they watched the tiny coffin being lowered into the ground, but they took comfort in the hope of being reunited with Bernice in heaven.

Brothers, we do not want you to be ignorant about those who fall asleep, or to grieve like the rest of men, who have no hope. We believe that Jesus died and rose again and so we believe that God will bring with Jesus those who have fallen asleep in him.

1 Thessalonians 4:13-14

Death is never convenient, and life goes on. The cotton fields were ripe and needed to be picked, and Daddy and Mama didn’t have time to grieve. They gathered all of their children and headed back out to the fields. Methodically, they moved down the cotton rows. The smaller children were too little to pull an eight-foot sack, so their father tied up half of the sack, creating just the right size for them. When they filled their bag, they emptied it onto a wagon. As they worked, the cotton could be seen from a distance as it piled higher and higher on the wagon.

Arthur and his family weren’t the only ones performing this grueling task. Cotton was being picked throughout the South by millions of heavily burdened blacks and ill-fated whites living as sharecroppers and tenant farmers. It was common to hear them singing the Negro spiritual Swing Low, Sweet Chariot as they labored. Daddy and Mama had sung it many times before, but after Bernice’s tragic death, the timeless melody seemed to soothe their grieving hearts and give them strength to go on.

Swing low, sweet chariot,

Coming for to carry me home,

Swing low, sweet chariot,

Coming for to carry me home.

I looked over Jordan, and what did I see?

(Coming for to carry me home)

A band of angels coming after me.

(Coming for to carry me home)

If you get there before I do.

(Coming for to carry me home)

Tell all my friends I’m coming, too.

(Coming for to carry me home)

I’m sometimes up and sometimes down.

(Coming for to carry me home)

But still my soul feels heavenly bound.

(Coming for to carry me home)

The brightest day that I can say.

(Coming for to carry me home)

When Jesus washed my sins away.

(Coming for to carry me home.)

Written by Wallace Willis sometime before 1862[1]

For a few weeks after Bernice’s death, little Arthur would toddle into his dead sister’s room. Mama knew he was looking for her and missed all the attention Bernice had showered on him. Seeing Arthur’s sad expression reopened Mama’s wound of grief.

Mama, Arthur is playing in Bernice’s room again. Mary placed a bowl of cooked greens on the table.

Does he seem upset? Mama asked.

No, he’s giggling. Mary stood by the doorway and watched Arthur. He started to clap his hands and squeal. Mama, I think God just let Arthur know Bernice likes her new home.

Tears trickled down Mamma’s cheeks. When she scooped Arthur up into her arms, his smiling face helped mend her broken heart. I think you’re right, Mary. God is using Arthur to let us know He’s taking good care of Bernice.

I wonder if Jesus has a rocking chair in Heaven, Mary asked.

The Good Book doesn’t say anything about a rocking chair, Mama answered. But I know there’s nothing better than to be in His arms.

Arthur never looked for Bernice after that day. God used him to bring comfort and healing to a grieving family.

….and a little child shall lead them.

Isaiah 11:6

Chapter Two

University of Adversity

The year Arthur was born, the Great Depression began. Life had been difficult enough for the Crume family, but when the economy crumbled before their eyes, they found themselves in some of the most disheartening conditions in the history of the United States. The muddied fields, unpainted shacks and straggled fences were a constant reminder of their impoverished conditions. Like the Israelites in Egypt, they longed to be free from their crippling poverty.

American blacks were laid bare by being the last to be considered for employment and the first to be let go when a white person needed a job. Despite these bleak circumstances, Arthur was receiving a quality education through the University of Adversity. His wise heavenly Father wanted Arthur to be intimately acquainted with grief so he could empathize with others who were suffering. Seeds of mercy and compassion were being sown in his youthful heart while he labored in suffering fields. It would take several decades before Arthur’s life would produce a bountiful harvest, but his Father was patient and continued to work behind the scenes on his behalf.

"When I grow up, I’m

going to be a singer!"

Every morning except Sunday, Arthur’s family rose early, headed out to the cotton fields and worked until sunset. Like Joseph in the Old Testament, Arthur was a dreamer. His daydreams of living in the big city one day brought him some relief as he toiled in the unmerciful sweltering heat.

Mama! Arthur wiped the perspiration from his brow.

His mother continued to pick the cotton balls and stuff them in her sack. Yes, Arthur.

When I grow up, I’m going to be a singer! the young boy announced.

A grin tugged on the corners of Mama’s lips. Is that right?

Arthur looked down at the cotton balls still in his hands. Yep, and I’m going to sing the perfect song.

Mama stood and stretched her aching back. You must be going to sing for the Lord then, because only His songs are perfect.

When Arthur wasn’t singing, he was humming. It didn’t matter whether he was in church or in the cotton field. Music was in every fiber of his being. He sang until he developed a smooth, rich resonance to his voice. His dreaming continued, and he couldn’t wait for the day when preparation would meet opportunity, and his musical legacy would go down in history.

Arthur! Mama hollered from the end of the cotton row. Stop your dreaming. There’s work to do.

Yes, Mama! Arthur inhaled, as if he was about to say something and then started humming again.

Before the family could call it a day and go home for supper, Arthur’s father would hitch the mule team up to the wagon, loaded to the brim with cotton. They’d all climb on the wagon and head over to the cotton gin. It was customary for Amos and Rayfield to take turns driving the mules while Arthur sat on top of the freshly picked harvest, making sure none of the cotton blew off. When they arrived at the loading station, the gin worker turned the engine on, and the cotton was sucked out of the wagon through a long wide cylinder. The cotton gin separated the cotton fibers from the seedpods and sticky seeds, rendering it ready to be made into cloth or home furnishings or to be used for industrial purposes. Settling the day’s pay was the last thing they did, signaling the end of the day’s work.

Although picking cotton was wearisome and exhausting work, over time it proved to instill a strong work ethic in Arthur. God didn’t waste the young man’s trials. He took the stumbling blocks of his life and transformed them into stepping-stones. Amid poverty and merciless working conditions, Arthur’s character was being formed. God was tending to the small things that would teach him to stand strong against both present and future adversity. Daily God was instilling iron in Arthur’s soul, piece-by-piece, thought-by-thought, deed-by-deed and trial-by-trial. The eternal Songwriter was arranging His notes through the events and experiences of each day because He had dreams of His own for this gifted lad.

For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, saith the LORD, thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you an expected end. Jeremiah 29:11

Like fine-spun cotton, wisdom was being spun into Arthur’s life through trials and tribulation. As time passed, there would be consequences for his mistakes. But he would also learn that if we bring our sin to the cross, God is able to do a good work in and through us, despite our glaring failures.

Boys, hurry up now. We’ve got a special minister speaking at the church house tonight, Arthur’s father yelled from the wagon. Go wash up and get ready to go.

Yes, sir! Rayfield’s eyebrows stood at attention. Daddy says Arthur and Willie Peter got to sit on the mourner’s bench tonight.

Willie Peter scrunched his face. What’s a mourner’s bench?

Amos puffed out his chest. It’s something sinners sit on while the preacher preaches.

Why can’t we sit on the front pew with you, Amos? Arthur asked.

’Cause Daddy says it’s time you two get converted. Amos gave a confident nod.

What’s converted? Willie Peter frowned.

Oh, never mind. Amos shook his head and muttered. You’ll find out soon enough.

Just as Rayfield had warned them, the two young boys sat with several other children on the long bench. The preacher started to speak softly, but every few minutes his volume increased until he bellowed, All of eternity hinges on how you answer this question. Have you repented of all your sins?

Arthur’s palms were wet with sweat, and his heart beat wildly in his chest.

The preacher continued, If you do believe in Him, you need to declare it by coming on up here, shaking my hand and following the Lord in baptism.

The congregation swayed and shouted, Yes, Lord! Amen! Hallelujah!

If you feel something stirring within you, I want you to come up here right now and take my hand.

Willie Peter and a couple other children sprang off the bench and darted toward the visiting minister. Seven-year-old Arthur was determined he wouldn’t be left behind. His shoes clattered as he leaped off the bench.

A few weeks later, Daddy baptized Arthur and Willie Peter in a nearby bayou. As they were being baptized, a warm breeze was blowing through the drooping willows, making the slender branches rock gently back and forth. In the distance, fishermen were casting their lines in the still water along the bank.

Daddy liked to do things in groups and bunches, a little like gathering cotton into bales. Before he immersed his sons in water, he prayed, Lord God, make Arthur and Willie Peter fishers-of-men for Your honor and glory!

Later that night as Arthur lay quietly on his cot, he overheard Daddy chatting with Mama. I’m just not sure Arthur understood his decision.

Time will tell, Mama whispered in low tones. Time will tell.

What did Daddy mean? What don’t I understand? Confusing thoughts swirled around in Arthur’s head as he drifted off to sleep. Nearly a lifetime would pass before Arthur would enter into a genuine personal relationship with his Savior.

Even though Arthur was young, he continued his higher education in the University of Adversity. Just as God trained and prepared Moses forty years in the wilderness, the Missouri cotton fields would prove to be the ideal place for God to work on him. If Arthur hadn’t experienced his own wilderness journey, he could never have become strong enough to mirror God’s Word in his daily life. The Lord has to put some people through a knothole to straighten them out. Arthur was one of those people. He would have to be brought to his knees through life’s circumstances before reaching the point where there would be no other way to turn but to the Lord. Somewhere beyond the cotton fields lay a relationship with Jesus Christ that would one day become both personal and powerful.

Chapter Three

Wisdom Like Fine-spun Cotton

Mama, do you have to scrub my ears so hard? Arthur whined.

Hold still! Mama scolded and scrubbed harder.

Arthur hugged his knees close to his chest and squeezed his eyes tightly shut. I just hope I can still hear after you’ve rubbed my ears off.

Mama’s belly shook with laughter, and she almost dropped the homemade bar of lye soap on the floor. Maybe you’ll obey me a lot faster now because you can finally hear me.

Arthur’s childhood home didn’t have any electricity or running water. Every evening they took a spit bath with a warm soapy piece of sackcloth. On Saturday night, each family member took turns climbing in a large metal washtub for his or her weekly bath. Water had to be hauled up to the house, heated on the woodstove and then poured into the tub. The multipurpose lye soap was used for bathing, scrubbing floors and washing clothes.

How does that soap get those stains out of our clothes? Arthur asked.

I don’t know, but it does. Mama rubbed a little shirt back and forth on the wooden washboard. Kind of like what Jesus’ blood does for the stains in our hearts.

Instantly, Mama and Daddy’s previous conversation replayed in Arthur’s head. I’m just not sure Arthur understood his decision.

Arthur wondered why he had followed his little brother rather than deciding on his own to follow Jesus. He wished he knew for sure his sins were washed away. Mama, can I ask you something?

Not now, Arthur! I’ve got too much work to do. We’ll have to talk later. Mama waved her arms. Here’s a piece of cornbread before you go to bed. I just baked a fresh skillet full.

Sure hope there’s some buttermilk left to pour over it. Arthur helped himself to the cornbread.

In the evening, Arthur’s father would sit in his pine rocking chair and lean back with his arms behind his head. Sometimes, after a long day’s work, he’d rub an old dirty handkerchief back and forth across his throbbing temples. Then he’d place it on the side table. When Mama spied the dirty rag, she would lecture him for soiling her neatly pressed doilies. Delicate luxuries were hard to come by, and Mama prided herself in taking good care of the gifts God had given.

The newspaper wasn’t delivered out in the country where Arthur’s family lived. If they were lucky enough to have a copy, they knew someone had brought it from town. During the Depression, people relied on the paper for most of their news. Some newspapers even published quilt patterns so the women could sew their own blankets and save money. When the Lindbergh baby was kidnapped, everyone scrambled to buy a paper. Other times, instead of reading the paper, the family would gather around their father’s Philco radio and listen attentively to President Roosevelt’s Fireside Chats.

During the Great Depression, the Sears catalog was also a treasured item. They ran this memorable slogan that reflected the economic times: Thrift is the spirit of the day. Reckless spending is a thing of the past. Sears issued a special edition at Christmastime. It was loaded with toys and other merchandise and was commonly referred to as the wish book. The catalog offered everything from dolls and home appliances to clothing and even fur coats. Arthur’s mother used to flip through