During the Great Depression, Carter Drygoods and Haberdashery had hit on hard times. The bank had gone under (with the business's money), and the Tallapoosa store was going with it.

George and Cora Carter, like millions of other Americans, faced the challenge of how to make money in a world where nobody seemed to have an extra dime to spend. As they pondered how to feed their two young sons, Wailes and Loren, a new Model T rolled up in front of the store, and a customer who apparently owed them quite a bit of money got out.

"I can't pay you the money I owe you. Please, take my car instead," he said, and headed for home, apparently on foot. George gratefully accepted the car and prepared to move the family to Columbiana, Ala., where his brother Wash ran a grocery store that had survived. As they were unloading in their new home, a neighborhood kid walked over to Loren and stuck out his hand. "I'm Bully Fowler," he said.

Thus began Loren's new life in a new state, and it seemed to be a harbinger of what kind of life it would be. Bully grew up to become Shelby County's long-time probate judge, Conrad Fowler. More importantly, he acted as a check on the corrupt sheriff, Red Walker. (Years later, I played a minor role in this longtime drama as the Birmingham News reporter covering Shelby County. By that time, Fowler been replaced by Tommy Snowden, but Walker was still in office and not particularly friendly to me. But that's part of my story, not Dad's.)

L.K. had a knack for making and keeping lifelong friends, and gaining people's trust. His parents eventually were able to move back to Georgia, settling in Douglasville, a western suburb of Atlanta, where George operated a meat market. He got drafted during World War II but managed to avoid overseas duty by becoming an M.P. So while others were storming Normandy, he was guarding the women's stockade at Fort McPherson in Atlanta, so he was home every weekend. 

After a visit to Birmingham (Thelma's home town), they decided to make it their home. He wanted to become a streetcar driver but weighed less than the required 150 pounds, so he went on a steady diet of bananas and ice cream seeking to gain the weight. After several tries, the examiner decided that even though he was still too light,he had worked hard enough to earn the job. Eventually, he became the Birmingham Transit Company's research director, responsible for routing and scheduling. This put him in the middle of Birmingham's civil rights struggle (he was on the wrong side), and Bull Connor, the infamous Birmingham police commissioner who was famous for setting fire hoses and dogs on civil rights marchers, regularly called him because he "couldn't believe what these other people were telling him." 

If he had a public legacy, it was his introduction of the turn lane to Birmingham. His close friend Ben Robinson, the City of Birmingham traffic engineer, had never heard of turning lanes, so L.K. took him to Nashville so he could see for himself how they permitted cars (and buses) to make left turns without holding up traffic. Within a week or two, Robinson began installing them on Birmingham streets. Years later, when I was a reporter, I had the opportunity to interview Robinson, who confirmed the story.

During the 1960s, L.K. entered an ill-fated venture by purchasing a muffler manufacturing plant in Gadsden. He drove an hour each way for about a year, trying to make the business successful, but the seller had removed machinery key to the success of the business, and it failed. He chose to walk away from the business the very week Thelma died of cancer at age 50. I was 12 at the time, and we had some pretty lean times for a while.

Eventually, he left the transit company and eventually found his way to John's Photo Service, which had been founded by family friend John Urquhart. After Urquhart died in 1972, L.K. became general manager of the company and continued in that capacity until his retirement.

He retired to Cullman and died Dec. 16, 2000.