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HomeMy WebLinkAboutReflections/Remarks on the Campus Kids Project Reflections /Remarks on the Campus Kids Project 1. Remarks by Frank G. Anderson Jr. (April 8, 1988) 2 2. Growing up on the Texas A &M Campus by Lee Adcock Hunnell (February 1998) 4 3. Remarks by Ruth Williams Lawrence (attachment to Campus Kids #6) 10 REMARKS BY FRANK G. ANDERSON, JR. AT THE DEDICATION OF A TEXAS HISTORICAL MARKER COMMEMORATING FACULTY AND STAFF HOUSING ON THE CAMPUS OF TEXAS A &M COLLEGE APRIL 8, 1988 I am sure that many who lived in faculty and staff housing on campus join me in thanking Doctor Van Riper, the Brazos County Historical Commission and the City of College Station for working to preserve this aspect of the history of the Agricultural and Mechanical College of Texas. The institution was more isolated and much smaller than it is today. Because of the isolation many services were provided on campus — groceries at a college store, dairy products at F &B and the creamery, frozen food storage at the Animal Husbandry building, laundry service at the college laundry, ice at the college power plant, swimming at Downs natatorium, riding classes at the stables. Campus children could receive education from the first grade through high school at Pfeiffer Hall and another building. A number of children were born in the faculty houses as the college physician was allowed a private practice for a number of these years. The environment was not limited socially, recreationally or culturally. The campus houses provided the setting for many of these activities. Dinner parties were more frequent and often more formal than today — men wore tails in the teens, tuxes in the twenties and suits in the thirties. Bridge parties, music practice and performance, poetry composition, painting, discussions and visiting were significant parts of life in many of these houses. In earlier years visitors to A &M not infrequently were guests in these houses. The campus was not without eccentrics. Doctor Asberry may have held the record in this regard. His house was surrounded with multiple rows of oil rig —like towers and trellises on which climbing roses grew. His intent apparently was to develop a black rose. Although Doctor Asberry became deaf he continued to have several pianos which he enjoyed having played in unison. His bathroom is said to have had paintings on the ceiling. From the viewpoint of a child the campus was a great place to grow up. The environment was safe, generally houses were left unlocked even in the absence of the occupants. Our elders were on the whole tolerant of most of our behavior and we coexisted with the Aggies without any major problems. 2 The upper level high school and college age daughters of the faculty dated Aggies and not a few became the bride of a young A & &M graduate. A &M provided many interesting events from the viewpoint of a child as well as an adult. A visit by Franklin Roosevelt, a national champion football team whose games we watched from 25 -cent seats in the Knot Hole Gang section in the U of the stadium and cavalry charges at the Cadet Corps reviews as well as a variety of demonstrations and discussions were stimulating experiences. We played touch football outside the walls of Guion Hall and watched movies inside that visually impressive edifice. Our bicycles carried us with jolts and bumps over the terraced sidewalks in front of the New Administration building and our feet carried us through mazes of shrubbery in games of hide - and -seek and chase. About the third grade when I finally accepted the fact that the educational process also applied to me I began reading books actively. First I read the books in our library and then that of the Gammons and then ventured the four blocks down Houston Street to the Waltons. Mrs. Walton usually rewarded me with an elaborate cool soft drink. I would like to tell two stories about the children of our next door neighbors. I will preface the first by saying that Mary Leland, a member of the Brazos Symphony, is the younger sister of one of the subjects. Tom, her brother, demonstrated an affinity for chemistry even before becoming a teenager — having a lab in part of the Leland's garage. I once asked too many questions about the contents of his bottles. He replied one was Deuteronomy and another was Leviticus. I retained these names long enough until the Sunday school experience in the basements of Guion Hall and the Assembly Hall gave me new insights into their meaning. Tom later became the head of the Chemical Engineering department at Rice University. Clod fights, acorn fights and firecracker cannon battles were a major activity for the campus boys of the 1930s. Once Billy Gammon and I held off the rest of the neighborhood from the workshop behind the Gammons house. Our opponents were marshaled behind a piece of plywood which Sam Rae, Billy's brother, supported upright with the aid of one finger exposed to our view. A direct hit on that finger by an acorn fired from our firecracker cannon resulted in the complete collapse of our opponents fixed instillation. This event may have pointed Sam Rae toward diplomacy. Before his state department retirement he had become an ambassador. In thinking back about these years from an adult's perspective I can remember only two faculty members who lived on the two blocks where my parents lived who left A &M for reasons other than retirement. One went to Iowa State where he became president and the other some years after the general exodus off campus moved on to a position as a member of the United States Federal Reserve Board. I believe this says something about the quality of life in the campus community in those years. 3 GROWING UP ON THE TEXAS A &M CAMPUS 1940 - 1942; 1946 - 1948 by Lee Adcock Hunnell Reflections of Early Childhood Mother was singing Saw the Varsity's Horns Off and Daddy sawed away, shortening the legs of my crib. It is my earliest memory. We were then new to College Station. My father was career military, 1929 graduate of West Point, USMA, Corps of Engineers. In 1939 he was assigned to duty at Texas A &M as PMS /T. That year A &M's "Fighting Texas Aggies" were number one in the nation. We were proud to be Aggies and proud to be Texans. In her enthusiasm for our new home, Mother bought us cowboy boots -- boots since worn by my children and grandchildren. There were no quarters on campus for us that fall, so for a few months we rented Dr. Mayo's house in North Oakwood. I was only 2 '/2 but my brother Tommy, 4'/2, and I were free to roam the woods and ravines around our house. In those days Mother was reading to us about Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn, and the wooded gullies with little islands in them were perfect for reenactment of our bedtime stories, Several civilian professors lived in nearby houses; the Middletons were my favorite. Although their only child, Oracle, was away at college, they were very good to us. In his chemistry lab, Dr. Middleton made marvelous glass straws with loops and wiggles for us; one could go cross -eyed watching red Kool -Ade wind through them. When my parents brought us "calling" on Sunday afternoons, Dr. Middleton would relieve the boredom of our having to sit quietly by hiding pennies in the living room for us to find; also he saved us the comics that were printed on the little cardboard sheets that separated his shredded wheat biscuits. We played with the other professors' children who lived nearby: the Blanks (Tina and Dicky) and the Pemberthys (Wally, Jean, and Beth). They had a big red dog, probably a setter. Although we lived off campus that first year or so, there were frequent occasions when we visited the campus. A big attraction was the free movies on Sundays at Guion Hall. I was fascinated by the fountain in front of Sbisa Hall; sometimes it had colored lights on it. I also 4 liked to visit the building with the dome (the Academic Building) and look at the contents of the glass case in the rotunda. Once my parents showed me that the Aggies had acquired a fine stuffed owl, "borrowed" from a rival college in Houston. On my next visit, shortly thereafter, I saw a shattered trophy case, and an empty shelf where the repossessed Rice Owl had once, briefly perched. Sometime in 1940 we were able to move on campus. Our first home on campus, the "Thorton house," was on a very short side street off Lubbock (now Joe Routt Boulevard) and near Kyle Field - -G. Rolly White Field House sits there now. Only one other house was left on the street; our neighbors were Dr. and Mrs. P. W. Burns, and sons Curtis (9) and Jack (2). Our families, four generations now instead of two, remain friends to this day. We were soon introduced to the culinary advantages of living at an agricultural college: we ate tender calves' liver and drank sweet raw milk with cream on top -- unpasteurized, unhomogenized- -just like we loved on Granddaddy's farm in Kentucky. There was a wild persimmon tree in our yard. I have had a yen for persimmons ever since. We did not get to live in that house a long time before a building project required that both houses on the street be removed. The Burns family moved to College Hills; we were assigned quarters just a block east on Lubbock. Our home, known as the "E. L. Williams house," was right behind Dean and Mrs. Bolton whose house faced Throckmorton. The houses across Lubbock from us backed up to Guion Hall. My brother and I were sitting on the floor of the living room of that house when news of Pearl Harbor came over the radio. I had no idea what had happened, but I knew it was very, very bad, and I should probably cry about it, so I did. My childhood was not the same after that day for a long, long time. The War Years Daddy soon left for "the War." We were allowed to live in the Williams house for a few weeks; I don't know why; perhaps it was until Daddy's orders came through. We were still in the house for my fifth birthday, in May 1942. I came down with the mumps, and Mother had to leave me to go to Louisiana to say goodbye to Daddy. Dr. Andres came to the house and gave me a quarter because it was my birthday and I was so sick, I liked living on campus. One could go everywhere on smooth sidewalks by tricycle, and there were always clean cut young men around that were nice to little kids. Perhaps those young men made life interesting for the "`KK's" (the Campus Cops), but the military families in those days probably provided very little excitement. Once, while we lived in the Williams house, our dog, Clementine, disappeared. Clem was a Boston terrier with an affectionate nature but unblessed by beauty, highly valued only by our family. I was inconsolable until the KK's put me in the sidecar of a motorcycle and drove me around the neighborhood. Clear up near the commando course, we rode, looking and calling for Clementine. By the time we returned, dog - less, Clem had been found close to home; she had wound her leash around one of the foundation pillars supporting Coach Norton's house and was stuck up under there. 5 Sometime in 1942 we moved off campus and into the little red brick house that still is numbered 211 Fairview in College Park. We rode out the war there, a blue star in the window. Military discipline in the home continued despite Daddy's absence. We polished our shoes every Saturday night, read our Sunday school lesson every Sunday morning before we were allowed to read the funnies, walked to St. Thomas' Episcopal Chapel on Jersey Avenue, and wrote to Daddy every Sunday before we could go out to play. We hid in the dark of the center hall during air raid warnings, rejoiced when Daddy called home, and looked for his wonderful packages of German helmets and ammunition boxes. Once Daddy even sent a German doll he found in a bombed out toy store (I named her "Buzzbomb ") and wooden shoes from Holland. Campus was still only a few blocks away and we were very much a part of its daily life. The commando course was a great place to play with rope swings over a mud pit and other obstacles to challenge the brave hearted. Mother wrote to Daddy every single night and went daily to pick up our mail at Box 4777 at the little post office near the New Men's Dorms. We all mourned when Reveille died. I thought it was particularly tragic that he was buried on the birthday of the man for whom I was named. History should reflect that the funeral (not the death) of the first famous dog was on Robert E. Lee's birthday, January 19, 1943 or 1944. St. Thomas' Episcopal Chapel, across from the drill field, played an important part in the life of the Adcock family. Mother was active in many capacities; Tommy and I were charter members of the Sunday school. Other than my parents, no other adult did more to frame my character than did my beloved Sunday school teacher, Mrs. F. L. Thomas. I adored her. In fact, when I was very young, I thought she was named "Mrs. St. Thomas." She was a renowned collector of children's books and a champion story teller. To this day, I can hear her rich tones echoing in my ears and conscience. Each Christmas she would give me a book, which she would sign. I have every one and still read them to my grandchildren. Once Mrs. Thomas asked the members of our class to memorize her favorite prayer, the Prayer for Grace. To my surprise, I was the only child who did. Mrs. Thomas rewarded me by allowing me to be in a movie with her that was filmed by the forestry department. Mrs. Thomas emphasized the importance of knowing the Ten Commandments. For some reason I was always called upon to recite the third. Later in life I realized why she liked my rendition; a version that would only have been appreciated by the long time residents of A &M: Thou shall not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain for the Lord will not hold him Glicrest who taketh his name in vain, After the War May 1946, Daddy finally came home and was reassigned at Texas A &M. We got to 6 move into our third home on the campus, 244 Lubbock. It was by far the biggest house I had lived in and was ideally situated for adventure. From our front yard we could see the band march by; we could even sell Cokes for a dime to the football crowd. Because we were just across the street from the basketball games, we went to most of them. And we swam regularly in the huge indoor pool; at night we could just put on our pajamas after a swim and wear them across the street going home. As students at A &M Consolidated, we could join the Knothole Club and go the Aggie football games for only a quarter. Only the quarter was never necessary because we knew which of the wrought iron bars near the Kyle Field entrance were just a little farther apart that the others, and we could slip through, which we did regularly. Off season, we loved to ride our wagons down the steep cement ramps. In the spring we used the huge expanses of concrete between the stadium gates and Lubbock to draw gigantic hopscotch games which we played in the cool hours before school. Col. Frank Swoger was our neighbor then and his children our playmates. We rode our bikes to school in those days, along the sidewalks of Lubbock and Throckmorton, then across the drill field by Duncan Hall over to Jersey. The absolute best weekend of the year to live on campus was Mother's Day weekend, and although the parade was exciting, the really fun part was the Saturday before the parade, Engineer Day. The most marvelous exhibits were on display all over campus. We ran from one wonder to the next. In one we saw a faucet suspended by a string with water coming out of it. Mr. Fleming had free samples of wood working in the shop. Another year they stamped out aluminum ashtrays that had the Texas A &M emblem on them. And in the chemistry lab they gave away free popsicles, made in test tubes. I really miss being a child, free to wander on Engineer Day. I recall one spectacular birthday while I lived on campus in the house on Lubbock. On May 26, 1948, I had a slumber party, at which no one slept but me. In the morning I learned that one of my guests had become sick at her stomach during the night, and two more walked her home in their pajamas then walked over and sat on the steps of (Guion Hall to see what it looked like by moonlight. In the morning Mother fixed us all breakfast, then we went to a special 10:00 Saturday morning movie at Guion Hall. It was just about the best movie I had ever seen: Mickey Rooney played young Thomas Edison and grew up to be Spencer Tracy. It was wonderful! And it was free! Fall was another exciting time to live on campus. Day by day, we could watch the bonfire being assembled. Finally the big night would come; the band would march in and the fire would be lit; and we would all run around in the sparks, and a spark would always burn a hole in my brother's jacket, and Mother would be really angry, and Tommy would do it all again the next year. I wonder if little boys are still getting spark holes burned in their jackets at the Aggie bonfire. 7 It was easy to become a connoisseur of fine climbing trees on the A &M campus; there were so many and one could be fearless, knowing an Aggie would rescue you if you became afraid of the leafy heights. One of the finest trees was in the front lawn of the commandant, Col. Welty (later the residence of Major Norman Parsons and his six children and later Col. Boatner, who became a general in the Korean War). The ancient oak was supported by a brace under one huge limb that ran like an elevated sidewalk parallel to the lawn below. Another even grander climbing tree was in the center of our block in a parking lot. We built a fortress up in it in the summer of 1947 or 1948. We spent hours climbing higher and higher in that magnificent oak and none of us was ever hurt. But it was a sad day for us when it was bulldozed to build the Memorial Student Center. My brother walked up its huge fallen trunk then jumped off and broke his foot. The skating rink, later known as the Grove, was another campus site etched in childhood's memory. It was the scene of birthday parties by day and free Tuesday night movies in the summer. Once a sudden summer shower caught my brother and me at the theater. Like everyone else there, we sought shelter under the projection booth. Two Aggies were concerned about me, wrapped me in their raincoats, and ran to my home, carrying me. And on another evening, we were waiting for the Tuesday movie when the curtain came down, suddenly, on my idyllic life as a child on the campus. Eager to get prime seats, Tommy and I had bolted from the supper table that July evening and gone to the Grove before its gates were even unlocked. We simply crawled under the fence and staked a claim to even more seats than we had friends. Then, just before the movie began Dr. Burns - -the neighbor from 1941 -- and our minister, The Rev. Orin Helvey, appeared at the little open air theater. They said Mother wanted us at home. Strangely, they had brought a car to drive us the short three blocks to our house. Home was strangly still. The quiet street we had left only an hour before was lined with cars, their occupants all seemed to be in our living room, stony faced or crying. In a few moments, Mr. Helvey told me why. My father had been killed that day in a military training accident at Ft. Belvoir, Virginia, while on summer maneuvers with the engineering students from the corps of cadets. Mother elected to stay in College Station. Although our nearest relatives were nearly 1000 miles away, she reasoned that the community was "a wholesome place to raise children." But, once again we had to move off campus. In doing so, I had the unique experience of watching our old, rambling quarters at 244 Lubbock being cut in two. The house had been sold; it had to be moved to build the new Memorial Student Center, but it was too wide to pass through the live oak lined streets. I saw a carpenter take an axe, create a hole in the floor of my bedroom, then take a hand saw and saw across the floor. I still wonder if he could have sawed all the way around the room, up the walls and across the ceiling. Whatever he did was eventually reconstructed because the house stands today just north of North Gate and my bedroom is whole again. We had two more good years in the community; even off campus we never lost the 8 feeling that we were as much a part of A &M as any of the cadets. I would ride my bicycle over for Engineer Day and attend the Mother's Day parade and watch as an award in honor of my father was presented to the cadet with the highest average in engineering in the junior class. Twice I was allowed to present the award. The persimmon tree is gone, the B. L Williams house is now a parking lot, Guion Hall was torn down years ago, and I pace the halls of the MSC wondering about where my old sawed - in -two bedroom would have been. Of my childhood on the campus of Texas A& M, only the friendships and countless happy memories remain. Lee Adcock Hunnell February 1998 9 Remarks by RUTH WILLIAMS LAWRENCE (Attachment to Campus Kids Group #6) Born in 1926; lived on campus from birth until marriage in 1949; Parents were David Willard Williams and Madge Rees Williams. During his years at A &M, Dad was Head of the Animal Husbandry Department, Vice President, then Vice Chancellor for Agriculture of the A &M system, and Acting President of the University. Mother's devotion to the college and to the community earned her the title of Woman of the Year in Brazos County. Both were active participants and contributors to life in College Station. We lived in three campus houses during my life there: the first was on the road that runs from the old drill field to dead end at the entrance to Kyle Field. It was only one block long. We lived there until the summer before my fifth grade in school. We moved to the street that bordered the drill field. That house was torn down to build the Memorial Student Center - I was in college by then, Our next house was over next to the Chancellor's home, near where the new dorms and mess hall, the corps area, were built. Certainly they are not new now since that was fifty years ago. I think the name of the street was either Throckmorton or Lamar. I was married in that house after graduating from Texas University — girls could not attend A & M at that time, much to my sorrow. Growing up on the Texas A &M Campus My brother, sister, and I often comment on the fact that we had ideal childhoods. We felt completely safe physically, had freedom to roam at will in a place where everyone kept a friendly eye on our well- being, and where we knew we belonged. We were Aggies and the college permeated almost every facet of our lives. My memories of growing up and what I did vary of course by my age at the time so I'll just jot down my strongest impressions and hope it will help form a picture of life at that time and place a la stream of consciousness. Because of the differences in our ages, my sister and my brother should be able to widen the range of view to include both older and later times. The bands marched down our street to the stadium for all the big games: fans came on trains for the Rice and SMIJ games and walked from the railroad station down our street to the stadium. This was big excitement and I HATED them and their sissy bands. I was an AGGIE! I was also about five years old. The entire student body was in the corps in those days and the Aggie band was my idea of perfection, I still prefer it to all other marching bands. 10 Most of the children in the neighborhood of our- first house were older than I and they were an unusually active and creative group. They ranged from four to seven years older than I, with my sister a true member of that group. I was their satellite, errand girl, shadow a great deal of the time. For example: One of the big activities was having sales between neighborhoods — more or less garage sales for children — about every six weeks — our next door neighbor wore rouge and her empty vanity oases were highly prized as merchandise. The job assigned to me was to get her to give them to me for our sales. I haunted the poor woman. As I recall the currency used to purchase each others' garbage at the sales was straight pins. At other times the Gang would put on carnivals or shows down in the ravine — a place where Luke and Charlie, who owned the local grocery store, held wonderful Easter Egg hunts each year. I ran errands for the performers until I was worn out and didn't see the show or carnival. However, I felt an important part of the action. The adults on the campus were professors, administrators, coaches, and their families. They all knew each other and all the children. On the whole they were amazingly interested in and tolerant of us. I spent many hours going around visiting with these adults when I was too young to join in the Gang's ball games or other activities. Clubs were formed almost weekly by the Gang. One of the most notable one was the D.O.D.A. - the Dear Old Detective Agency — which was based in our backyard in the wash /chicken house. Everyone was fingerprinted in candle wax and the walls were covered with pictures of such notorious criminals as Baby Face Nelson, John Dillinger, and others of that time. All the Detectives had to have a desk (wooden crate or box) to be a full fledged member. Of course, I could never be a Detective but I would be tolerated as a janitor if I could get desk boxes for the detectives. Our next door neighbor, Dr. Taubenhaus, was shy as I was and I spent a great deal of time watching him perform his experiments with plants and flowers. He gave me a bunch of sweet peas every year on my birthday. His children were older and with my sister and her friends were D.O.D.A. members. My job was to procure boxes for the detectives from Dr. T. — he wouldn't give them to the other, older children, even his own. I suffered over having to ask for them. He reluctantly supplied them, one at a time. I still find it difficult to ask for things. Climbing trees was my passion and after I learned to read I spent hours up in various trees reading. Mrs. Bagley's trees were best and it didn't seem to faze her that a child made free use of her property. 11 My hobby was sending off for samples. I would cut out coupons for such things as Absorbine Jr., Pertussin Cough Syrup, Hot Dan the Mustard Man spoons, etc., and paste them on penny post cards that I walked to the post office at the train station to purchase. While at the train station, I would visit the college dairy before walking home through the cedar grove (later the Grove where summer dances were held) and the neighbors' back yards. The Hensels had a rope tied to a tall tree you could climb up and swing way out on. Since you had to climb the tree to get to it this was a favorite activity of many of us. The biggest deal ever was when the college built the new swimming pool - -the natatorium. It was close to our house and was regarded by all the kids as Oz. The tilers would give us the tiles that were stained by concrete. We took them home, counted them, sorted them by color, fondled them, then dug holes in our back yard, coated the holes with concrete and lined them with the tiles. All of us were involved in this magical project. We hoped to be able to dig a hole clear to China to see if the Chinese would be standing on their heads or their feet, and to line the hole with tiles for easy access to China, At least, that was my aim. Probably the others were unaware of my plan since I never told them. The swimming pool when it was completed continued to be a big part of all of our lives. College families could go and use it from 3:00 to 5:00 each weekday afternoon, and, I think, from 7:00 to 9:00 at night, I am not sure of the evening hours since I went in the afternoon. Swimming and diving lessons were a part of our lives from then on— taught by members of the Aggie swim team and their coaches. Lessons were ever present in our lives— horseback riding every Saturday morning at 8:00 at the cavalry stables, piano lessons, little symphony orchestra lessons, dancing lessons... And paper dolls. The older neighborhood girls spent hours drawing and painting paper dolls a la today's Barbie dolls— and designing and drawing elaborate outfits for them to wear. They were painted with water colors and outlined with India ink. I drew and painted in imitation of their work, and wouldn't trade anything for the experience, but my work never approached theirs. Impressions of the dominating atmosphere of life on campus: The 8:00, 12:00, 1:00, and 5:00 whistle that regulated our lives and everyone else's on the campus. 12 The bugle calls from the circular stand between the YMCA and the drill field — taps, reveille, etc., but not silver taps were played daily. 1 went to sleep to taps — very comforting. The milk from A &M's F. and B. {Fertilizing and Breeding} station was delivered daily —had thick cream on top —so good. We were all disappointed when it was deemed necessary to homogenize milk and the selling of unpasteurized milk was banned. The ice wagon which delivered ice weekly and the chances—rare--of getting a ride on the wagon or a sliver of ice to eat from the driver. The laundry done at the college laundry with the sheets starched and ironed and, oh, so cool when you stretched your feet out on a cold night. The drill field with all its activities - parades, drill practice, the band marching, the music, big reviews, the trees with their granite dedication markers -1 can't even begin to tell how often I went around and read each one. The bonfire —part of our lives for weeks each year —not for just one night. In early years we had to be sure we left nothing out on the yard that we wanted because it could easily become part of the fire. The dairy barn, down by the railroad station, where you could go buy ice cream and also just wander around looking. And there were the pig farm, cow barns, rodeo arena, and horse barns, all located near the animal science building, which housed the meat labs and slaughtering plant. Many places to explore. Only you needed to be sure you didn't wear any red or the bulls might charge you —or so I thought. The YMCA where we went to the Union Sunday School and to Casey's Confectionery for sodas, frozen malts, and to check on the possibility of getting an empty cigar box. Harry' s barber shop was also at the Y and had a shoe shine stand where you could sit and watch all the activity. The Y had a lobby with big chairs and the Sunday funny papers from all the state papers, and it had a ledge that ran all around the building at the second level. About every three months 1 felt it obligatory to crawl out on it and, standing up, edge myself all the way around the building. Why 1 don't know but probably because it scared me so much. Also in the basement of the Y was a heated swimming pool where 1 had swimming lessons when I was about six. Later it was covered over and became a bowling alley. 13 All the sidewalks on the campus where we felt free to ride our scooters and later our bikes, and to skate. The ramps at Kyle Field also were utilized in this manner. The ramp rides could be dangerous because they emptied on to a cinder track and a fall could leave you with black speckles of cinders under your skin. It took about a year for the cinders to work their way out as I can attest after a spectacular slide from a scooter fall. The movies and programs at the Assembly hall —I was grown before I realized that not everyone answered the actors on the screen and whistled throughout the movie. I thought it was fun to listen to the students —I was oblivious to anything that might have been out of line. I truly believe that the children raised on the campus were the most innocent in the world. The Aggieland Inn was the place to go to on special occasions. It was not an everyday occurrence. Nor were the programs at Guion Hall. This was where the opera singers, famed actors, symphony orchestras, and other really outstanding concerts and programs were held. We went to all of them and learned appreciation for excellence at an early age. I can remember how the visiting artists appreciated the genuine enthusiasm exhibited by the Aggie students. Games —games were a major source of entertainment solo or in groups, at home or at school. Among the favorites were Red Rover, Giant Stride, Go In and Out the Window, Farmer in the Dell, Jacks, Marbles, Sling the Statue, King of the Hill, card games (except on Sunday), Tag and Gotcha Last, Hop Scotch, Jump Rope, and various ball games. Our front yard and the sidewalks were the sites for these activities. After supper on summer nights the word would go out that there would be a playout that evening. Everyone would show up and Hide and Seek would be the culminating game, not starting until it began to be dark —so it would be scary. Both front and backyards were utilized for playouts. Monopoly became popular after it was put on the market and the games of it were like marathons, going on for days. Checkers and dominoes were rainy day activities. Sports — All the sports the College students played were eagerly followed by the kids —both as spectators and as practitioners. Tennis balls were hit endlessly against garage doors; basketball hoops were hung in and out of the houses. My young brother used the main hall in our house for an endless game of basketball. He played both teams —A &M vs. some other school. A &M somehow always managed to eke by and win in these games. Since the telephone was also in the same hall, talking to your friends and dates on it was a real hazard; a basketball could, and did, hit you in the head if you were unwary. (It was always the other team that hit you - -not the Aggies.) 14 As spectators we attended all the Aggie games as part of the Knothole Gang. We sat in the end zone at the football games. I still like that view of the game. The band and Reveille — including the original black one, the yell leaders, the colors, the yells, the War Hymn and The Spirit of Aggieland —we glowed or suffered along with the other Aggies. Football signs would hang from every dormitory, usually painted on sheets. And yell practices in front of the Y and even midnight yell practices were all part of football weekends. At the basketball games we usually sat on the first row where you felt a part of the game. The high spot when I was little was halftime and the college tumbling team performed. At baseball games the bags of peanuts in their shells and the freshman band members being forced to chew tobacco by the upperclassmen are my primary memories. Why this stands out so, I don't know. Eventually such hazing was stopped and the game itself became very important. The stars were our heroes. The echoing sounds in the Natatorium at the swim meets is my primary impression of those. We knew all the swimmers and divers and seldom missed one of the races. This was not true of tennis because the tennis courts were often off limits because some of the players —not necessarily the students —used bad language (damn being the biggie.) Dances: Growing up and going to the dances at Sbisa Hall (beginning the junior year in High School) has to be a memory that cannot be topped. There were so many boys that you rarely took as many as three steps with one before you were cut in on. The dances were well chaperoned, the music was excellent, the dancers were friendly, the dresses were formal and felt wonderful and it all seemed magical. When I look back on the orchestras we danced to, I find it hard to believe how many of the really top big bands came to the A &M campus. For any Campus Kid of the feminine gender the dances have to be an outstanding memory. I'm sorry my children didn't get to experience them when they went to A &M. I feel like the song IF THEY ASKED ME I COULD WRITE A BOOK. I hope it is apparent that my memories of being a Campus Kid are very happy ones. I loved the people, the students, the place, then and now. Now if only we could do something about winning important football games on a regular basis. MAYBE NEXT YEAR .... 15