Arkansas at War: The Forgotten Bunkers of Maumelle

            Over the years, I’ve come to realize that some of Arkansas’s most meaningful history doesn’t announce itself with a marker or a museum sign. Instead, it settles quietly into the landscape, so well hidden in plain sight that you can pass it a dozen times without ever realizing what you’re looking at. In Maumelle (Pulaski County), just a short drive from Little Rock (Pulaski County), that history rises from the ground in the form of a few aging concrete bunkers.

            At first glance, they don’t seem like much. Low and rounded, partially buried in the earth, their gray surfaces worn by decades of sun and rain, they look more like something you might find on an old farm or tucked away on forgotten property. But these structures are not relics of agriculture or simple storage sheds. They are remnants of war.

            During World War II, this area was home to the Maumelle Ordnance Works, a sprawling federal facility built almost overnight as the United States mobilized for global conflict. At its peak, the plant covered thousands of acres and employed hundreds of workers producing explosive materials for artillery shells and bombs. Arkansas, far from the front lines, became part of what historians would later call the Arsenal of Democracy.

            The bunkers played a critical role in that operation. Designed as storage magazines for volatile chemicals, they were built with safety in mind. Thick concrete walls, reinforced roofs, and layers of earth were meant to contain the unthinkable. If one bunker exploded, the others might survive. That was the idea, at least.

            There were twenty-one of them originally, spaced carefully across the property. Today, only three remain.

            The most notable is Bunker No. 4, which still stands as a largely intact example of these wartime structures. It is a quiet survivor, one of the few tangible links to a time when this peaceful stretch of central Arkansas played a direct role in a global war effort.

            What makes the story even more striking is what surrounds these bunkers now. The land that once housed a high-security explosives operation has been transformed into neighborhoods, parks, and walking trails. Near Lake Willastein Park, families gather for picnics, children play, and joggers pass by without a second thought. One bunker has even been adapted for public use, its original purpose largely forgotten by those who use the space today.

            It’s a reminder of how quickly a place can change. In the 1940s, this was a site defined by urgency and danger, where the work carried immediate and serious stakes. By the 1970s, it had begun its transformation into the Maumelle we know today—a planned community of quiet streets and everyday routines. And yet, the bunkers remain.

            They are not grand monuments. There are no crowds, no long lines of visitors waiting to step inside. They don’t dominate the skyline or demand attention. Instead, they sit quietly, their purpose long fulfilled and their presence easy to overlook. Perhaps that is exactly what makes them worth noticing.

            In a state as rich in history as Arkansas, it is often the smaller, less obvious places that tell the most compelling stories. The bunkers in Maumelle are more than concrete structures. They are reminders of a time when even the most unassuming corners of the state were connected to events unfolding across the world.

            If you find yourself near Lake Willastein in Maumelle, it might be worth slowing down for a moment. Take a closer look at those low, rounded mounds of concrete and earth. Beneath their weathered surfaces is a story of industry, urgency, and a state doing its part in a global struggle.

            It’s a story that hasn’t disappeared. It’s simply waiting to be remembered. And maybe that’s the point of this column each week—to make sure those quiet stories don’t slip away into oblivion.

The Story of Rimrock Records

            There are places in Arkansas that do not look like much as you pass them on the highway. But every so often, one of those places carries a story large enough to travel far beyond the state line. Rimrock Records was one of those places, a small recording business that managed to leave a surprisingly loud mark on the music industry.

            Founded in 1961 by Wayne Raney and his son, Zyndall, Rimrock was not located in a big city known for music studios such as Nashville, Memphis, or Los Angeles. Instead, it was located in the small town of Concord (Cleburne County) near Greers Ferry Lake. It wasn’t where most people would expect to find a record company, yet for more than a decade, that’s exactly what existed there.

            Rimrock Records was more than a record label. It was a place where music was recorded, pressed onto vinyl, and distributed across the country under one roof. At a time when most small labels had to send recordings elsewhere to be pressed, Rimrock handled the entire process in a small building in rural Arkansas. It stood as a rare example of what determination and creativity could build, even far from the industry’s usual centers, and it did so with a distinctly independent spirit.

            Inside those walls, country, gospel, and rockabilly artists found opportunity. Some were regional performers hoping to put their music on vinyl for the first time, while others were more established names who found their way to Concord for their own reasons. The sound that came out of Rimrock was not as polished as productions from Los Angeles or Nashville, but that was part of its appeal. There was something authentic in it, music that reflected the place it came from. And then, of course, there are the stories.

            Over the years, it has been said that even major artists passed through Rimrock’s doors. Names like Elvis Presley and Ike & Tina Turner have been linked to the studio, with stories suggesting they recorded to get away from public attention. Whether they came for convenience, curiosity, or simply the privacy a small town like Concord could offer, their rumored connection has only added to the legend and mystique that still surrounds the place to this day.

            Rimrock’s run, like many other record companies, did not last long. In 1974, the pressing plant was sold to the legendary Stax Records and moved to Memphis, bringing an end to Concord’s unlikely chapter in the recording industry. It was a reminder of how quickly things can change, especially in a business that rarely stands still. Even so, the legacy of Rimrock did not simply disappear when the equipment was moved.

            Today, Rimrock records, those original 45s and LPs, have become pieces of history. They turn up in collections, flea markets, and antique stores, valued not only for the music they carry but for the story behind them. A quick search online shows several albums still circulating, typically priced anywhere from around eleven dollars to fifty or more depending on condition. Each one serves as a quiet reminder that meaningful things do not always come from major cities or famous studios. Sometimes they begin in places few people think to notice, and that may be the lasting lesson of Rimrock Records.

            The Natural State has long held a deep musical tradition, even if it does not always receive the recognition it deserves. However, hidden within its hills and small towns are stories like the one of Rimrock Records, shaped by ambition, creativity, and the belief that something worthwhile can be built anywhere, even far from the bright lights of big cities.

            Sometimes all it takes is ingenuity, determination, and a company such as Rimrock Records, situated in a wide spot along an Arkansas road, to prove just how far a small place can reach.

Walton's 5 & 10

            

             This past weekend, my wife and I traveled to Bentonville (Benton County) to celebrate her birthday at a Brazilian steakhouse she had been talking about for months. The evening delivered exactly what she’d hoped, an endless parade of perfectly cooked meats carved right at our table, a wonderful ambience, and the kind of meal that feels less like dinner and more like an event. Still, in Bentonville, a good meal is often just the beginning. Before heading home the following day, we made one more stop, a place that tells a much different story but one just as memorable, Walton’s 5 & 10, now preserved as The Walmart Museum.

             Located on Bentonville’s historic town square, the building looks nearly identical as it did when Sam Walton opened the doors in 1950--modest, practical, and unassuming. But what appears to be a simple storefront reveals itself as the starting point of a retail transformation that would stretch not only across the Natural State, but across the country and even parts of the world.

            Inside, the museum strikes a careful balance between remembering and teaching. The front section has been restored to reflect the look and feel of a classic five-and-dime store, stocked with items that would have once filled its shelves decades ago. It’s not hard to picture shoppers wandering the aisles, picking up everyday necessities without any sense that they were standing in what would later be called the birthplace of Walmart. There’s a certain humility in that realization, a reminder that something enormous can grow out of something remarkably simple.

            Further inside the museum area, the story of what became Walmart begins to unfold in fuller detail. Through old photographs, preserved artifacts, and thoughtfully designed exhibits, visitors get a closer look at Walton’s approach to business. His focus on keeping prices low, his attention to customer experience, and his willingness to try ideas others might have dismissed all come into focus. Pieces of his life, including his Ford F-150 pickup truck, early store materials and signage, and even his office, help bridge the gap between legend and reality.

            Through the exhibits, Walton is not portrayed as a distant figurehead, but as someone deeply rooted in his community, someone who believed in treating customers like neighbors. That philosophy still feels at home on the Bentonville square, where the pace is slower, and the sense of place is strong.

            Also located inside the museum is an old-fashioned soda fountain, which adds a touch of nostalgia that’s hard to resist. It invites you to sit for a moment, enjoy something simple, and take in the atmosphere. With an ice cream cone in hand, it’s easy to think about the passage of time and how much the world of retail has changed throughout the years.

            The museum’s appeal stretches well beyond business enthusiasts. It speaks to anyone curious about history, to those who appreciate Arkansas’s heritage, and to visitors who simply enjoy stepping into a preserved piece of the past. For locals, especially, there’s a quiet pride in seeing how a hometown venture grew into something recognized across the globe, all while maintaining a connection to its roots.

            If you ever find yourself passing through Bentonville, it’s worth the stop. You may arrive out of curiosity, but you’ll leave with a deeper understanding of how one small storefront helped shape a retail giant and how its story is still very much alive today. It’s the kind of place that doesn’t just tell history, it lets you feel it, in the quiet details and familiar surroundings. And in a town that continues to grow and change, it stands as a strong reminder of where it all began.

            For information on days and hours of operation, check out The Walmart Museum’s website at www.walmartmuseum.com, or give them a call at (479) 273-1329.

From Arkansas to the Squared Circle: The Legacy of Sid Eudy

  

            I’ve been a professional wrestling fan for as long as I can remember—the kind who grew up glued to the television on Saturday mornings and late nights alike. For those of us here in Arkansas, that fandom has always carried a special sense of pride. One of the most imposing and unforgettable figures to ever step inside the squared circle came from our own backyard. That man is Sidney Raymond Eudy, better known to wrestling fans around the world as Sycho Sid, Sid Justice, and Sid Vicious. Later this month, Eudy will be posthumously inducted into the World Wrestling Entertainment (WWE) Hall of Fame during WrestleMania weekend in Las Vegas.

            Born in Moses Lake, Washington, on December 16, 1960, but raised in Marion (Crittenden County), just across the river from Memphis, Eudy’s rise to wrestling stardom felt almost inevitable. At 6-foot-9, with a chiseled frame and an intensity that couldn’t be taught, he looked every bit like the larger-than-life figures who defined wrestling’s boom years of the late 1980s and 1990s. But Sid was more than just an impressive physique, he also had undeniable presence. The moment his music hit, and he stepped into an arena, fans knew something serious was about to unfold.

           Sid first gained national attention in the late 1980s, but it was his runs in World Championship Wrestling (WCW) and the World Wrestling Federation (WWF) that cemented his legacy. In WCW, wrestling as Sid Vicious, he quickly established himself as a dominant force. He initially found success as part of the powerhouse tag team The Skyscrapers before rising to singles prominence and capturing the WCW World Heavyweight Championship twice. His hard-hitting, power-based style and no-nonsense demeanor made him a natural fit at the top during one of wrestling’s most competitive eras.

            When Sid arrived in the WWF as Sid Justice, he was immediately placed in the spotlight. He served as the special guest referee for the main event of WrestleMania VIII, sharing the ring with legends like Hulk Hogan and “The Nature Boy” Ric Flair—a clear sign of the company’s confidence in him. It wasn’t long before he transitioned from enforcer to one of the promotion’s most feared competitors.

             By the mid-1990s, reintroduced as Sycho Sid, he reached the peak of his WWF career. During this run, he captured the WWF World Heavyweight Championship twice, defeating some of the biggest stars of the era. His first title victory came in 1996 when he defeated Shawn Michaels at Madison Square Garden in New York City in one of the decade’s most memorable title changes. He would reclaim the championship again in early 1997, firmly establishing himself among wrestling’s elite.

            What truly set Sid apart, however, wasn’t just his size or his accolades—it was his unpredictability. Fans never quite knew what they were going to get, and that edge made him must-watch television. Whether delivering his devastating powerbomb or unleashing intense, sometimes unscripted promos, Sid commanded attention in a way few others could.

             Across both major promotions, his résumé speaks for itself: a two-time WWF World Heavyweight Champion and a two-time WCW World Heavyweight Champion. Those accomplishments alone would secure his place in wrestling history, but they only scratch the surface. Sid was a central figure during one of the industry’s most iconic periods, sharing the ring with legends and holding his own every step of the way.

            Sadly, Eudy passed away in his hometown of Marion on August 26, 2024, of non-Hodgkin's lymphoma at the age of 63. That night, a video package paying tribute to Eudy aired at the beginning of WWE’s flagship TV show, Monday Night Raw, on the USA Network.

            His induction into the WWE Hall of Fame is more than a recognition of championships and marquee matches, but rather a celebration of a career that left a lasting mark on the industry and on fans like me who grew up watching him. It’s also a reminder that greatness can come from anywhere, even a small town in eastern Arkansas.

            This month, as Sid Eudy takes his rightful place among wrestling’s immortals, fans across the Natural State have every reason to be proud. From Marion to the main event, Eudy’s journey is one worth remembering, and now, one forever etched in the annals of professional wrestling history.