Art Dufelmier, an athlete, a veteran, a coach

When I was 10 years I met Art Dufelmier. My dad had picked up a discarded pole from the local power company and took a board from Lauder’s junk yard and put a basketball rim on it. He said, “It did not need a net, you just have to put the ball through the rim.”

We had a dirt basketball court in our back yard, one of only four basketball dirt courts in Beardstown. Mr. Doyle, the local druggist, had two sons, Jim and John, and he had a poured concrete driveway with a store-bought goal.

Art only lived three blocks from me, if you cut through a few yards, and Art, Pat, and Bill Cowen Homer Rohn, Howard Osmer, Willard Howe, and their friends would gather to play basketball every evening and Saturday and Sunday. Art was the youngest and the fastest. In the fall, he would come over, because I owned a football, and the two of us would play a passing game in the street or go over to the football field and I would run out after his passes in the time we had before practice started. &nbsp;&nbsp;<ahref=""><spanstyl... 13px; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">To view more, please log in or subscribe to the digital edition.</span></a></p>