The Greenville News from Greenville, South Carolina • Page 9

Section hi i ill CALLISTER Tuesday, May 1 5, 1 984 A There9 no beef about barbecue I expect you'll be reading a right smart about barbecue here in the next couple of days. Folks have axes to grind. I've even heard from a couple of Texicans. These Texicans have always claimed to know a lot about barbecue. But the truth is, as we all know, that no living Texican has ever tasted real barbecue.

-J In' C4' A mi a ar Si Afl fe2 2 ti. ijj MA ft Ernest Capell of Greenville is a man who has seen the light. He agrees with Craig Claiborne and me and almost everybody else that the best barbecue is found in Lexington, N.C. He says he agrees with everything said i0 i 'I saw the paratroopers jump, saw groundfire, (he smiles) and that was about the vtnt of what I ACT' I 4 ftt saw. It was the jam 3S R5 (K ..1 source of NBC's bragging of the first eyewitness account I didn't know about the effects (of the invasion) on mankind, but I knew the effects success or failure would have on the Wright Bryan -I wK1 hi i to do, is listen.

He chuckles, laughs frequently, as he speaks. The seriousness of the long ago moment faded somewhat with the passage of time. Absent is any pretense or pomp that might be expected of someone who lived, worked and experienced so much in such an important time in world history. Bryan was on a plane in the lead squadron which carried paratroopers who were to land behind the lines on the French mainland. It was the initial By Jimmy Cornelison The News Style staff Forty years ago anticipation filled the foggy spring air over Great Britain.

No one knew the exact day it was coming, but hundreds of thousands of troops, tons of supplies and armaments were amassed. It was just a matter of time before the second front would be opened on the European mainland. Just a matter of time. Since Hitler had first launched attacks into the heart of Russia, Stalin had been pressuring the Allies to open another front to take the heat off his embattled country. But the Americans were fighting a war in two theaters Europe and the Pacific and England had her hands full merely trying to survive.

By 1944, however, the time was right, and the buildup began for what was to become known as D-Day, on which occurred the largest amphibious assault in the history of man, in the history of war. When the day came, Wright Bryan was there. And it was his accounts broadcast live back to the States that first told of the initial moves which would lead to the fall of Germany and the end of the second war to end all wars. I WM about Lexington barbecue. "I have been traveling North and South Carolina and Virginias for years and I thought almost everyone knew about Lexington Barbecue." When he capitalizes Barbecue he is referring to a restaurant on the highway in Lexington that is known as Lexington Barbecue.

That is the mecca. Timing is important "If you get there about noon you would swear that everyone else did, too," he says. "And if you think about stopping off about 12:30 forget it. You will be swamped by all the high school kids from up the road a piece. You might have a chance again about 1:30.

1 very seldom have a problem getting there early enough my car automatically heads that way after about 11 a.m. when I'm in the area." Ernie agree that The New York Times could have saved itself a whole lot of trouble if they had called him or me before going to the expense of sending Craig Claiborne down here. "They could have asked any hundreds of us traveling salesmen for information about Lexington and other barbecue emporiums in the Carolinas. In fact, it's practically an unwritten rule that if any salesman in a new territory doesn't know the best places to eat after two trips into the area, he should turn in his keys. At any rate, it's refreshing to find one JVew York Times writer that I can believe, on barbecue anyway (since I already knew the facts), after his trip down this way." About the slaw Now about the slaw.

Every barbecue lover wants to talk about the slaw. "There are as many variations of slaw as there are barbecue establishments," Ernie goes on. "But one I am sure you would enjoy is Bob Melton's in Rocky Mount, N.C. They serve a big bowl of slaw along with your order and just keep on refilling. They also serve an excellent Brunswick stew (the ingredients of which might take up another page) as does Bulloch's in Durham.

Both of them serve the eastern North Carolina style barbecue and are favorites of mine as well as Stamey's in Greensboro, N.C." I agree with you on Stamey's, Ernie. Craig Claiborne himself went to Stamey's and declared it to be excellent. Stamey's, by the way, is very easy to find. If you're ever in Greensboro, you won't have to look too hard to find Stamey's. It is right across the street from the huge Greensboro Coliseum.

I worked in Greensboro for many years and my buddy Jerry Bledsoe and I used to be practically permanent residents of Stamey's. Hold the mayo? At this point in the story, Ernie and I have a little parting of the ways. He brings up the issue of mayonnaise in slaw. As far as I'm concerned, there ain't no real issue. You do not I mean, you do not put mayonnaise in slaw.

Ever. There should be some special punishment for the first person who put mayonnaise in slaw. But Ernie says: "I differ with you about mayonnaise on slaw. After all, I grew up in Greenville on Duke's mayonnaise. However, my favorite of all slaw is served at the little restaurant at the Mona Lisa Motel in Camden, S.C.

They serve it as an appetizer and then I get two more orders with the rest of the meal. This is not a barbecue place, but I am sure you would enjoy it. "Now you'll have to pardon me. After writing this letter I'm so hungry that I'll have to go out and get something to eat." That's OK, Ernie. Go light on the mayonnaise.

Letters, phone calls You can write Jim McAllister, The Greenville Sews, P.O. Box 1688, Greenville 29601 Call him at 298-4297. i i I 1 In 1947, Gen. Dwight D. Eisenhower presented Bryan with Medal of Freedom for his services as war correspondent ryan sits at a sterile, angular Bryan phase of the invasion.

Two in the morning, dark, the noise of the engines, of enemy fire, the jump and it had begun. "I saw the paratroopers jump, saw groundfire, (he smiles) and that was about the extent of what I saw. It was the source of NBC's bragging of the first eyewitness account." There were correspondents with the ground forces, but they had no communications. In little more than an hour, Bryan's plane was back in England. He penned his account and was soon broadcasting back to New York.

Americans heard his account of the beginnings of the day "where we cracked the German nut" at 2 a.m. The anticipation was over. Everyone knew when. Now the free world waited anxiously for the outcome. In retrospect, Bryan confesses, "I didn't know about the effects (of the invasion) on mankind, but I knew the effects success or failure would have on the war." conference table within the confines of one of those geometrical structures of the expanding Clemson University campus.

He is preparing to tape a Public Broadcasting Service radio program to be aired for the 40th anniversary of the Normandy invasion. He comments to the narrator that he was raised in a clapboard house on the very spot where he is sitting. The functional, wood-laden conference room would have to be a sharp contrast to the old home place, but a simple contrast compared with the technological changes in broadcasting since the days when Bryan was in the business. A technician works with wires, with a small, tie-clasp mike, with a tape deck, "Don't worry if we run over a little," Bryan is told. "We'll edit for time." Things certainly are different from the days when there were no tapings, when the broadcasts were live, when the interviewer edited for time himself, when any recording was placed on discs and any attempt at clasping your mike on your tie would have been futile.

As the taping begins, however, it is as though Bryan never left his element. His voice is clear, distinctive. He laughs later and says, "When I first started I had the darndest, cornfield voice you've ever heard." Now, he is articulate, factual, full of anecdotes and all you can do, all you want sion he began stringing for NBC. He also built up a good rapport with the military. It was logical that when a correspondent was chosen to fly with that first squadron, he got his "lucky break." By accepting the flight, however, he lost his place in the correspondents' line to join the land forces.

Three weeks passed before he could actually set foot on French soil. Once he did, he moved freely with the Allied forces and was with them when they entered Paris. Bryan was in the back seat of a jeep when they entered. Another reporter was in the front, "So I was the second correspondent into Paris," he jokes. Bryan stayed with the troops in Europe, his live broadcasts relaying the events of the time.

One day word came that 40,000 Germans were going to surrender. He and two other correspondents hopped into a jeep and headed for the site. They made a wrong turn they found themselves at a German roadblock. "Instead of covering the surrender of 40.000 German troops," he laughs. "I covered the surrender of three journalists." See D-Day, Page 2B began his journalism career with the school newspaper.

When he turned professional, it was with the Greenville Piedmont. Over the course of his career he has been editor of the Atlanta Journal and the Cleveland Plain-Dealer and an administrative vice president at his alma mater. With respect to all he has accomplished in his lifetime, however, he will always be known as the person who broadcast the first eyewitness account of the Normandy invasion, which was merely the result of being at the right place at the right time. Bryan was an editor at the Journal in those days, and hosted a weekly news commentary show on WSB, a radio subsidiary of the paper. He was sent to England in this capacity to see firsthand what was going on, to educate himself as it pertained to his work.

In the first months he was there, most of this education centered around flying, stories on pilots and flights into the mainland, and their return. "But anybody with eyes could see the buildup," he said. And any journalist worth his ink or mike knew what was coming and that there was only one place to be if you were a war correspondent England. Bryan asked to stay on. During those months leading up to the inva right Brvan was born in At lanta at the home of grandparents.

He came to Clemson one month later and grew up there, which he muses "might qualify me as a native." His father taught at Clemson. He received his college education there, and he.