HomeMy WebLinkAboutRemnantsCOLLEGE STATION 1949-1959
REMNANTS
by Lucile Gould Bridges
Edited by Kathryn Gould Lindsay
It was 1949 when we rolled in to our leased house in College Station. Our daughters
knew only their Arizona desert. Kathryn, 75 was astounded that English was spoken in a
place named "Texas," Mary was ready for first grade, and luckily assigned to Mrs.
Sloop, whose method of teaching reading became famous. Janet, only two, immediately
learned that the color red was really "mawoon,"' and to lustily chant the A&M
Consolidated school cheers her sisters brought home, such as "...toot your horn, `tep on
the gas, get outta way let the Tigers pass."
Dr. Frank W. Gould was appointed associate professor in Range and Forestry
department, barely two years old, and curator of the museum. Although Frank's title
made him curator of the museum, his main responsibility was for the S.M. Tracy
Herbarium dried plant collection housed there. During his 31 -year tenure he built the
herbarium into an internationally respected source of plant taxonomy material. (Since
1979, Stephen Hatch, PhD, one of Frank's graduate students, has been curator of the
Tracy Herbarium.)
The museum was a depository for all sorts of artifacts, though, including the 4,000 -yr. -
old mummy, a 17 -ft. python skin displayed high across the wall facing the front door, an
extensive collection of African masks, labeled by tribe, mammal fossils from the Brazos
River area, and --perhaps most valuable --Dr. Francis Ball's fossil leaf collection. The
building was a sturdy one-story, yellow brick structure (once used for pig research),
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located diagonally behind the Systems Administration building, in the present
architecture building area.
A friend had leased a large house on Montclair Ave. for us, as rental opportunities
were few. Several staff families were still housed on campus (as all had once been).
The year before this house had literally been cut down the middle of the wide hallway
and carted off campus down to the end of Montclair. It was rumored to once have had a
rabid fox in the attic. One night we came home, snapped on the light, and saw over the
door at the end of the hall the beady -eyed head of a medium-sized rodent. We stayed
there about six months. Some twenty years later a retired professor fell in love with it and
restored the Montclair house to its original impressive state. Where it remains.
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In an effort to match the associate professor annual salary of $470, we bought a two-
bedroom cottage on Kyle Ave -win a section later leveled to make George Bush Dr. East,
off TX Avenue. We lived happily there for about two years in a neighborhood cluster
that included 22 school children. The students walked to Consolidated, the late
Community Center on George Bush Dr. Their straightaway path down Jersey (George
Bush Dr.), bordered Dominik's farm pasture (as in "Dominik Dr."), and the edge of
town.
As our girls kept growing and we needed more space, we found an expanded cottage
on Park Place and Pershing Ave. with TWO bathrooms. The house had been owned by
Col. Christian, formerly on the military staff' at A&M, who moved to California. He had
added a marvelous, screened -in porch on concrete, for the full length of the house in the
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back; a wonderful, large party space which the military (and later my girls) enjoyed
using. The 30' back lawn had 20'standards with flood lights at each corner. This back
yard and all others on Park Place from Glade to Dexter, had once been the Schwartz
farm.
Our home was big enough to house Aggie dates during the spring ball season. As hotels
were non-existent, Aggies would look to the community to house their dates for a few
dollars. We usually had one or two girls, and our girls loved to watch the excitement,
seeing the pretty dresses and all. The Cotton Ball was sponsored by the Agronomy
Department annually, with a queen chosen from duchesses chosen by various local clubs
and societies. Kathryn was a duchess representing Pan American Round Table in 1959. I
don't remember her escort, but I certainly recollect every seam of her ball gown. It was
the very best I'd ever made, past, present, or future. It is still around — a vintage ball
gown of cobalt blue tapestry, a huge, beautiful bow on the back.
From our arrival we were interested in the sports program, attending basketball games
at DeWare Field House, just NW of Kyle Field. A season ticket to the football games
would get you entry to baseketball AND base ball games! What a deal.
In the summer Art Adamson opend the Downs Natatorium, an indoor Olympic -sized
swimming pool adjacent to DeWare Field House. Adamson had been an Olympic
swimmer for his native Australia. He was demanding, booming, unique character. His
students worshipped him. His competitive teams always brought honors. Classes were in
the morning; afternoons were open swimming. He taught a noontime class for wives and
mothers of faculty. I took just one semester and although I had struggled through several
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YWCA courses and never progressed beyond the breathing point, by the end of that
summer I had a pretty fair American Crawl stroke, and felt confident I could tread water
in an emergency. Competence in the water in any situation was the goal Art Adamson
hammered into every student.
A&M Consolidated was active in sports events in Class AA, as I remember it. All three
boys our girls married--classmates—took part in sports. The girls played in the band and
were majorettes during football season. Janet was a Bengal Belle of the sixties.
On January 1 of 1959 our house at Park Place and Pershing burned to the sub flooring.
It was a Saturday afternoon. Frank was at his office a mile across the east end of the
campus, working on his research. Two girls and I were in Bryan shopping, and Mary,
16, was at home. She heard crackling, thought it was the cat playing with the Christmas
tree, then remembered we had taken the tree down that morning. Investigating, she saw
smoke around the disappearing stairway to the attic, pulled it open, and the flames roared
down. She and a neighbor called the fire department. When the fire truck finally arrived,
they said they had trouble finding the nearest fire hydrant --then they found it was across
the street. Two cars drove over the hose, they said, before water went on to the house.
The girls and I missed the excitement. By the time we drove down Pershing, it was all
over. A brick chimney was all we saw against the sky.
Red Cashion, our Anco Insurance agent, had no trouble declaring it a total loss. That
night the five of us slept in the homes of various friends. We were cared for and gained
much more than we lost. We always remember the overwhelming response of our
community that day.
In the early `50s, the retired Aggie Band director, Colonel Richard J. Dunn, composer of
"The Spirit of Aggieland,"donated his talent and passion to forming an orchestra and
band at Consolidated schools. He began with fifth grade through jr. high; a very few. But
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A&M Consolidated owes the beginning of their music program to Col. Dunn. And we
owe the development of all the fine arts at A&M Consolidated schools to Mable Barger,
Frank Coulter, and Bob Boone.
Robert L. Boone, fresh out of Navy, took up the baton and the music program, in the
early `50s, including all levels of vocal and instrumental, exposing students to skills and
competitions they had never known of before. He had a special rapport with students of
all ages. He voice was baritone, and his performances legendary. He is the same R. L.
Boone who took over the Singing Cadets at A&M in 1958 and on to the White House and
Europe. After the school year, he directed Rogers and Hammerstein, and Gilbert and
Sullivan musicals in the summer at the Grove outdoor theater on campus, with younger
students in the orchestra, older kids on stage, even using college students. People flocked
to these full -costumed productions. The Grove was an open air theater just across the
railroad tracks. Traditionally, an evening train would pass noisily through at some part of
the operetta, or movie being shown on other nights. There was always popcorn.
The most beautiful building on campus, bar none, was of course, Guion Hall. All
through the fifties Mr. Puddy, the manager, let school kids of all grades pass out fliers of
upcoming movies there, for free tickets. Saturday morning movies were either a dime or
a quarter, I don't remember. Mr. Puddy had four beautiful daughters, but he seemed like
a caretaker of all the kids in town. The Cotton Pageant was held across its magnificent
stage each year, as well as theatricals. When Guion was destroyed to make way for
Rudder auditorium, the wrecking crew said it was built stronger and was more difficult
to bring down than any building they had encountered.