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HomeMy WebLinkAboutBryan Legends and LegaciesBryan Legends and Legacies A Collection Edited by Betty Clements Foster To Celebrate the 125th Birthday of Bryan, Texas (1871 -1996) Published by The City of Bryan, Texas Bryan Legends and Legacies All Copyrights rest with the contributors to this collection. No work in this collection can be reproduced without the consent of the indi- vidual author. Underwriting for production costs provided by the City of Bryan, Texas. Book Design by Von Gonten Communications. Printed by Lang Printing Co. Bryan, Texas January 1996 Bryan Legends and Legacies Celebrate Bryan On November 29, 1871, the State of Texas ratified the articles of incoporation, which formally established Bryan as a City. In 1996, Bryan celebrates its 125th birthday. The goal of the year -long celebration is to offer citizens the opportu- nity to explore and understand the customs and contributions of those who founded the city, and those who have worked to make it what it is today. Few cities can claim contributions from so many ethnicities. Bryan's 125th birthday offers an opportunity to discover and celebrate the richness of our cultural heritage. This book is a shining example of the spirit of cooperation that exists among residents of Bryan and its neighboring communities. Many people contributed in a variety of ways to its creation. The major credit, however, must be given to editor Betty Foster who nurtured this project from the beginning and without whose creative ability it would not have been com- pleted. Our hope is that you will be entertained and learn more about the people who lived, worked, and raised their families in Bryan during the past 125 years. After reading this book, share your knowledge with others and Cel- ebrate Bryan! Happy reading! Kandy Rose City of Bryan Councilmember Chair of Celebrate Bryan Bryan Legends and Legacies Table of Contents Chapter One - The Early Days Who Went, by Harry M. Alter 2 Beloved Texas, Tree, and Man, by Mary Bingaman 3 The Woottons of Brazos County, by Jeanette E. Winslow Canavespi and Joyce Ellen Winslow 5 Keeping Up With The Joneses, by Jeanette E. Winslow Canavespi and Joyce Ellen Winslow 9 The Boss of Boonville, by Jeff Carroll 14 Boonville Stone, by Diane Church 17 Bryan Born Through Clever Land Deal, by Jim Dozier 18 Legacy of the Bryan Bryans, by Paul P. Van Riper 19 The Founding of First Presbyterian Church, by Haskell Monroe 22 James H. Astin 25 Family Letters of Wesley Clark Dodson and Sarah Ann Moffitt Dodson 26 Texas A &M and Bryan: Legend and Facts, by Chiquita Lofgren 33 The First Juneteenth, by Sunny Nash 39 The Founding of a People, by Sunny Nash 41 Grandpa George and Grandma Rose, by Sunny Nash 42 History in Focus, by Sunny Nash 43 Brazos County Italians, by Paul McKay 45 One of Bryan's First Physicians, by Frances Kimbrough 47 The John Merka Family, by Margaret Beauchamp Bland 48 Can You Solve This Mystery? by Myrl Sims 50 Bida Means Hard Times, by Alvin J. Stetz 51 Golden Wedding 52 The Houses That Charlie Jenkins Built, by Colleen J. Batchelor 54 Twilight Zone, by Eleanor Hanover Nance 56 Togetherness, by Mary Ellen Vincent 57 Bryan Legends and Legacies Chapter Two - 1901 to 1928 Last Visit Home, by Geraldine Drumwright 64 A Letter to Granddaughter, Wesa, by Harvey Mitchell 65 School Days, by Mildred Collett 67 Ah, Those Were...(Sigh) the Days, by Phyllis Dozier 69 Cotton Pickin' in the Brazos Bottom (Recalled by Frank and Mary DeGelia), by Frances X. DeGelia 70 John Palasota - Sicilian Carpenter (Recalled by Vancie Todaro), by Frances X. DeGelia 71 A Survivor Tells of the 1913 Flood 72 Ethel Gelber, by Elizabeth R. Gelber 74 I Saw Halley's Comet, by Merle Hudson 79 Living on South Bryan Avenue During World War I, by Shirlireed Walker 80 When Cotton Was King, by Shirlireed Walker 86 White Magic, by Peggy Hope 90 The Price Came Down and the Whiskey Went Up, by Phyllis Dozier 91 Bryan in the 1920s, by W. T. McDonald, Sr. 92 Romance Italian Style, by Paul McKay 96 Prairie People, Outlaws, Gunslingers, and Drifters, by Sunny Nash 97 Toots and P.V. in Old Bryan Town, by Helen F. Sheffield 98 Jesse Hensarling, Bryan Merchant, by Olive Ruth Hensarling Nabors 103 History of Allen Academy, by Mrs. R. O. Allen 106 Dave's Place (W.D. Bunting Remembers Bryan, 1913 - 1925), by Dorothy Bunting 107 Chapter Three - 1929 to 1949 Patchwork Quilt, by Nancy Mertz Roberts 122 School Days in the Italian Community (As Recalled by Janie Ricca DeGelia), by Frances X. 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Many people responded with enthusiasm and hard work demonstrating that the City of Bryan has many friends. Many of them grew up in Bryan or still live here and some are from College Station. Others are old- timers, recent arrivals, and former residents. These contributors represent a variety of ethnic back- grounds and economic levels. Thanks to them, Bryan Legends and Lega- cies celebrates the rich diversity of Bryan, both in its contributors and in its content. This book would not have come into being without the help and en- couragement of my husband, Bill Foster. In spite of this year's major health problems, he has borne with my preoccupation of this project. He calmed me when computer glitches set off my temper and gave me love and prac- tical help. He spent the last weekend before his surgery entering copy and adding corrections. During recovery, he continued working at the com- puter. He hired household help and kept the homemade bread coming. Except for formatting and printing, all of the work on Bryan Legends and Legacies has been provided by volunteers. Here are the other people who brought this book into being. If you know them or meet them - -give them a friendly greeting and a hearty thanks for their gift to the commu- nity. Kandy Rose originated the idea for Celebrate Bryan! and envisioned a book of enjoyable stories that people would read. She was always available and willing to listen, encourage, advise, and find helpers. Her presentations to the City Council secured their support for this project. Kay Kazmir sounded the alarm that brought our planning group to- gether. Her insight into problems and her insistence on a strong focus pulled the project out of the ditch. Other planners were Mildred Collett, Jason Pointer, Mark Sykes, and Vicki Martin. Wendy Nelson, a recent arrival to Bryan, volunteered many hours and her professional abilities to do a large amount of revision and editing. Rhonda Brinkman of Wordsmith donated her professional expertise Bryan Legends and Legacies to revise, edit, and offer technical advice, besides writing several stories. Robert Borden of the Bryan- College Station Eagle and Ron Crozier of KYLE also revised and edited. Blocker Trant, Vicki Martin, and Myrl Sims entered material. Jeanette Canavespi entered, edited, and filed. Lou Ellen Ruesink did the copy editing and prepared copy for for- matting. Debbie Partain with the help of Richard Cole began the formatting. Edna Smith proofread the entire manuscript at two different stages, saving us from many embarrassments. I am deeply grateful to the following organizations: The City of Bryan supported the project by underwriting the printing costs. Special thanks go to Joe Brown, Public Information Officer, for se- curing publicity opportunities. The Bryan Independent School District provided a meeting room for the harvest meetings, publicity, and a printing of the first proof copy. Special thanks go to Sarah Ashburn and Publications Director Becky Nugent. The Brazos Genealogical Association helped with publicity, research, and archiving of extra material. Special thanks to Peggy Basenfelder, Bill Paige, Janis Hunt, and Mary Vaughn. The International Association of Business Communicators publi- cized our meetings and several of their members volunteered their help. The Bryan - College Station Eagle and our two local magazines, Insite and Discover, allowed the use of articles from their issues. Brazos Writers gave a tremendous amount of support to this project. All of the initial planners came from this group. They provided publicity through their newsletter, through news releases, fliers, and media appear- ances. Special thanks go to President Helen Sheffield and to Rhonda Brinkmann. x 4 1 Bryan Legends and Legacies A Note to Readers Inspired by Kandy Rose's idea for an anecdotal history, several of us from Brazos Writers planned ways to gather and organize material. In the spring of 1995, word went out through the media and interested people came to "Harvest Meetings" with stories to share or an interest in interviewing and writing. Others submitted manuscripts by mail. Some manuscripts came from experienced writers, complete and ready to publish. Others were passed on to volunteers who converted them to typed copy ready for revision and editing. Some of the material was roughly written or merely collected, so experienced editors reshaped it. Articles, poems, stories, and short pieces filled in six eras from the early days to recent times. We created one section titled "Timeless Stories" for pieces that represented generations of a family, the contributions of an organization, or a long lifetime. Some of the material that should have been in the book didn't make it. Sometimes a volunteer took an assignment and could not follow through, or rough material and collections of clip- pings came in when no one was available to help shape them. Other stories came too late. And sadly, there were cherished citizens with wonderful stories who died before we could talk with them. So what you will find in these pages is a mere sample of the rich his- torical material that abounds in this community. Like the patchwork quilt in the poem by Nancy Mertz Roberts, this book provides a "treasured ka- leidoscope" drawn from the material of real people's lives. In the first two sections, you will discover who came to live in Bryan, why they came, and how they got here. You will experience their adven- tures and hardships. Note how threads introduced in early stories reappear later. Paul McKay tells about Italian immigrants who came from Corleone, Sicily. Later, we read about the grandfather of Mary and Frank DeGelia and how he came from Corleone to work in the cotton fields of the Brazos Bottom. The rich interrelationship between Bryan, College Station, Texas A &M University, and nearby rural communities is revealed by the stories and the people who tell them. xi Bryan Legends and Legacies You will read about leaders and ordinary people. You will find material from several ethnic groups and economic levels, and you will see how they have come together to create a unique culture. Bryan, like much of Texas, has reflected diverse origins from the beginning. The contents of this book have come from people who responded to a call. If you feel that an important person or group was left out, perhaps you can supply that information if there should be another project similar to this one. We have already seen good side - effects from this project. Many con- tributors have begun to value and organize their family information. Others have developed an interest in an organization or an unsung hero. Some have discovered older people who need to share their memories. We hope that many of you will be inspired to value your artifacts and archives and to write down your memories, so that many histories will result. Why not "Celebrate Bryan" during this birthday year by compiling a historical col- lection of your own? Perhaps churches and civic groups will create or up- date their histories this year. What people think and feel and do and say does not become history unless it is recorded and shared with future gen- erations. I believe that as you read this book, you will become aware of two needs in this community. First, we need a museum that deals with the history of this part of Texas. At our harvest meetings, people brought boxes of photos, a family cradle, saloon tokens, medical equipment, and walking canes. The archives and displays at the old Carnegie Library are a start, but more space is needed if we are to preserve much of our heritage. Second, we need a continuing historical writing program, not totally dependent on volunteers, to mine and refine the treasures that have not been collected. Perhaps this book will inspire some of you to design and finance other volumes like this one, or a periodical to gather in the rich crop of historical material that will be lost if it is not harvested. xii Betty Clements Foster ONE The Early Days Who Went Harry M. Alter The migrant tide that moved from East to West Swept slowly over mountain and the plain, Searching for a place that would be best For them to stop and not move on again. Young couples who had yet to settle down; The hardship of the trail meant naught to them. The future had a smile and not a frown Each day to them was just another game. The frontier always found the women there, Sunbonnets hung on every cabin wall. What was it made these women care Enough to heed the siren frontier call? And when the wagon train was circled round As many women as men were found. Photo Credit: George and Rose Wilson, 1866, From the Marie Henderson Collection, Photograph reproduction by Sunny Nash The Early Days Beloved Texas, Tree, and Man Mary Bingaman Aye, twice kneel down to kiss the earth. Once on return to Texas after a prolonged absence, and again when you stand and look at the great old cedar tree transplanted from the yard of Joseph Ferguson at Ferguson Springs to the site of the present Brazos County Courthouse in Bryan. Take time to read the commemorative plaque that tells of early Texas, a tree, and a man. Joseph Ferguson's family emigrated to North Carolina from Scotland, then moved to South Carolina, where Joseph was born on November 19, 1786, at King's Mountain. His family must have handed down to him a bit of the lore and whimsy of poets Robert Burns and Robert Ferguson and some of the superstitions and beliefs of ancient times. One of the Christian prayers of the people of Scotland went like this: Frae witches and warlocks, and worrilows; Frae ghoulies and ghosties, and longleggedty beasties; And frae things that go 'bump' in the night, Guid Lord, deliver us! When Joseph was twenty -six years old, he enlisted as a first sergeant in the War of 1812 in the Volunteer Company of Kentucky Mounted Rifle- men, under the command of Captain Dudley Williams. From Kentucky he moved to Illinois, where his oldest daughter, Rebecca Ann, was born in 1828. In November 1833, he came to Texas with his third wife, Hannah, his children, and Robert Martin Ferguson, who was either a son or a brother. Joseph was given a land grant in November 1834. Because he was a married man, he was entitled to more land than if he had been single. His grant was for one league and one labor, which was roughly 4,400 acres. He also received other land grants for his service in the Texas Rangers and the Texas Militia, defending against Indian attacks. Robert, because he was single, received a lesser land grant. The proper- ties of the two Fergusons were spread throughout what are now Robertson, Brazos, Limestone, Travis, Freestone, Leon, Navasota, and Washington counties. From an interview with Kay Armstrong Bryan Legends and Legacies Joseph and Robert established homes for their families in what was then Navasota County. Their community, Ferguson Springs, was located near Ferguson's Crossing on the Navasota River. When Navasota County was divided and Brazos County was established, it was decreed that a district court for the new county would be held at the home of Joseph Ferguson until a new county seat could be established. The first district court for the new county was held at Joseph's home in March 1841 with every settlement represented and Judge R. E. B. Baylor in charge of the proceedings. A grand jury was selected; the jury decided that no crimes had been committed, and court was adjourned. Five men were chosen to pick the new county seat: Joseph Ferguson, Mordecai Boone (Daniel Boone's grandson), John Millican, John H. Jones, and E. Seale. These men selected Boonville, and there the county seat re- mained until 1866, when Bryan was established on the railroad. The new county was named Brazos in 1842. Joseph Ferguson died in 1875, at the age of eighty-nine. He and his wife, Hannah, are buried in Limestone County in Ferguson's Cemetery on his land called Ferguson's Prairie near Oletha and Seale. Their youngest child, Melissa Desdemona, was born in 1857 when Jo- seph was seventy -one years old. She was his twenty- eighth child. Melissa's great- great - great - grandchildren are Kay Armstrong and her brother, Vernon Gomez, who furnished the background information for this story. If you talk to Kay, you will get the feeling that Joseph Ferguson lives on in her because her life is filled with his history. Perhaps when the Fergusons came from Scotland, a wee druid came along with them and chose a tree for a home and intermingled the roots of the tree, the man, and the state into a bond that unites us all. 4 40 1 The Early Days The Woottons of Brazos County Jeanette E. Winslow Canavespi and Joyce Ellen Winslow After nearly five months at sea of Discomfort and Mishaps on the memo- rable 13th. day of May 1607 the Ships Susan Constant, the Goodspeed and the Discovery were moored to the trees in Six Fathoms of water, before what was soon to be Jamestown. Dysentery laid them low. The grim twins, Ague and Fever, fell upon them, setting their teeth chattering, their limbs quaking with cold, then burn- ing and parching their flesh with maddening heat and racking their bones with aching, and finally leaving them weak of body and will, dispirited, and miserable and without nourishment or restoratives. The kind Physician, Dr. Thomas Wootton, and the godly Minister, Rev- erend Robert Hunt, did all in their power to relieve and comfort them, but their huts, hastily put up of green timber thatched with reeds from the swamps, became houses of torture and of death. God (being angrie with us), says Captain Smith, "Plagued us with such famine and sickness that the living scarce able to bury the dead." (Excerpt from Colonial Virginia, its People and Customs.) John Wootton, Sr., born in 1319 in England, was the ancestor of the first Wootton in America, Thomas Wootton, who served as the doctor on Cap- tain John Smith's ship, the Goodspeed. Dr. Wootton was the first doctor in the first English Settlement in North America. He arrived in Virginia on April 26, 1607, eighteen days before Jamestown, Virginia was established. In Captain John Smith's list of the first settlers at Jamestown Island, there appears Thomas Wootton, Chirurg (doctor). According to family legend, this Jamestown physician was the ancestor of Dr. Thomas Jeffress Wootton, Sr., the first physician in Brazos County and possibly in Texas. If legend is true, Dr. Thomas Jeffress Wootton, Sr. was the seventh gen- eration of Woottons born in Prince Edward County, Virginia. Born in 1792, he was one of eight children descended from Jessee Wootton, Sr., who mar- ried Jane Jeffress. During the War of 1812, Thomas served as a private in the company of Captain D. Richardson, 6th Regiment, Virginia Artillery, 5 Bryan Legends and Legacies near Fort Norfolk and at Crany Island, Virginia. On August 28, 1816, in Henry County, Virginia, Thomas married Polina D. Trent, daughter of Dr. John Blake Trent and Patty Mitchell Trent of Amherst County, Virginia. Sometime before December 1827, Thomas and Polina, along with their five children, moved to Bedford County, Tennessee. On September 15, 1830 in Bedford County, this same Thomas Wootton signed an emigration contract with Sterling C. Robertson for 1000 acres of land and a town lot, which would be located in a new town to be built in Texas called Nashville. According to the contract, Dr. Wootton promised to practice "phisick in sd." Grant in return for the town lot. The land for Robertson's Colony was granted on April 15, 1825, and in 1835 Sterling C. Robertson did, indeed, establish a new settlement on the Brazos River in present day Milam County and named it Nashville in honor of his birth- place in Tennessee. Leaving Tennessee, nine families totaling about fifty people, which in- cluded Robertson's partner, Alexander Thomson, and Dr. Thomas Jeffress Wootton, his wife and, by then, their six children, began their journey to Texas. The route would take them through Louisiana, Nacogdoches, and on to what would become Robertson's Colony. By the time they arrived in Nacogdoches on November 10, 1830, the Mexican government had begun to enforce the infamous law of April 6, 1830, which would bar any new colonies in Texas. Robertson and his group were denied entrance into the country by Colonel Jose De Las Piedras for lack of proper papers. Robert- son and his families were ordered to return to Rancho Del Carrizo, a camp near Nacogdoches. Colonel Piedras gave permission to five men in Robertson's group, one of whom was Thomas Wootton, to join Stephen F. Austin's colony at San Felipe Villa, on the condition that they would leave their families behind at the camp. If Austin refused to accept the colonists, the men would have to return to Rancho Del Carrizo for their families and go back to the United States. Instead of obeying the Colonel's orders, the men gathered their families and fled under cover of night toward San Felipe. When Piedras learned of their departure, he became furious. He immediately wrote to Stephen F. Austin complaining of the flight of the nine families. For ten months letters 6 The Early Days flew back and forth between Austin and the Mexican authorities, with Mexico demanding that the colonists leave Texas and Austin pleading for permis- sion for them to remain. Fortunately, the families were allowed to stay in Austin's Colony at San Felipe until the situation was resolved. On Decem- ber 30, 1831, Thomas Jeffress Wootton, Sr. took his Oath to Texas. Thomas Wootton never received his 1000 acres and town lot, but he did receive a league of land from Austin on the Brazos River in Washington County. The Wootton tract adjoined and ran parallel to John H. Jones' land. He received another 4,428 acres of land in Robertson's Colony in Robert- son County near the present town of Benchley. Thomas and his wife, Polina, had eight children: Martha Jane, Catherine Ann (Kittie), Greenville Trent, Columbus S., Polina, John Blake, Thomas Jeffress, Jr., and George Washington. George Washington Wootton married Rhoda Ann Teal; Columbus died before 1850; Polina married James McCarty and had two children; John Blake married Sarah Ann Walker and had six children. Thomas Jeffress, Jr. married Mary Ann Brakefield and had ten children. From census records it appears that Greenville was mar- ried three times: first to Eliza Vernon, then to a Sarah E., and lastly to a Nancy E. He had two children with Eliza and two children with Sarah. On June 24, 1832, the marriage of the Wootton's eldest daughter, Martha Jane, to John Henry Jones united two families who would greatly influence pioneer life and the future of Brazos County. Between the two families they would own 13,895 acres of land in Brazos and Robertson Counties. On January 13, 1841, Thomas Wootton's son, Greenville, and Wootton's son -in -law, John H. Jones, acting as citizens of Washington County, were among a group of men petitioning the Congress of the Republic of Texas for the creation of a new county out of the established Washington County. The petition was approved, and a portion of Washington became Navasota County for about a year. Greenville and John were again signers of a petition on November 25, 1841 asking the Congress to establish a post office in Nava- sota County. Thomas Jeffress Wootton, Sr. died sometime in 1839. Wootton's will named his son -in -law, John Henry Jones, executor of the Wootton estate. Wootton was buried on his land near Jones Road in Brazos County. There is 7 Bryan Legends and Legacies no marker denoting the burial site. Wootton's wife, Polina, died in Febru- ary of 1863 in Milam County. No one knows where she is buried. Greenville Wootton served as a private in the Ranging Service and was discharged on September 24, 1836. He was Postmaster at Boonville in 1846 and 1847. Greenville moved around a lot, and on the 1860 census for Leon County under "occupation," he is described as "Saddler" and a "Pauper "; his wife, Sarah, is listed as "Foolish." In 1879 Greenville applied for an Indigent Pensioner's Land Certificate in Medina County, but he apparently never received the land. On January 18, 1882, he was appointed Postmaster of Siesta Dara in Medina County. Thomas Jeffress Wootton, Jr. served as a clerk for the county clerk's office of Brazos County from 1862 through 1864. He also applied for and received a number of liquor licenses from February 1858 through Novem- ber of 1866. He moved to Kerr County in 1876, where, in due time, he became the county judge. Through the line of Martha Jane Wootton and John Henry Jones, Sr. came John Henry Jones, Jr. who married Martha Elizabeth Johnson; and through John, Jr. and Martha came Horace Otto Jones who married Agnes Elizabeth Kubicek. Horace and Agnes had two children, a son, Horace Weldon, and a daughter, Winnie Elizabeth, who married Ben J. Winslow. Winnie and Ben had two daughters, Jeanette Elizabeth, who is married to Victor Canavespi, and Joyce Ellen. Twenty generations removed from John Wootton, Sr. of England are the descendants of Jeanette Elizabeth Winslow: Richard Gordon Boswell, Tammy Renee Boswell, who is married to Ken- neth Charles Kosub, and Shannon Lea Boggess. The great - grandchildren of Horace Weldon Jones are twenty -one generations removed from the Wootton born in 1319. An enormous amount of gratitude is owed to Lewis Boswell of Elgin whose wife, Shirley, if legend proves correct, is a descendant of old John Wootton. The Early Days Keeping Up With The Joneses Jeanette E. Winslow Canavespi and Joyce Ellen Winslow The Saga of John Henry Jones, Sr. John Henry Jones, Sr. was born November 11, 1797, in Jefferson County, East Tennessee. His parents' names are unknown, but old letters from the mid 1800s show that he had four sisters: Lucinda, Malinda, Mary, and Eliza. John Henry arrived in Texas in February 1829 as one of Stephen F Austin's colonists. In Stephen F. Austin's Register of Families, it states, "John H. Jones, single man, wants a place below the tract where John Wil- liams lives adjoining Spears tract and the tract granted to William Raleigh, and as he is an entire stranger, I have required him to produce satisfactory evidence of his moral conduct." It was not until Jones married Martha Jane Wootton, daughter of Dr. Thomas Jeffress and Polina Trent Wootton of Henry County, Virginia on June 24, 1832, in Washington County that he received his league and labor from a Spanish land grant. Jones and his wife settled along the Brazos River in Washington County, which would later become the southwest portion of Brazos County. Their first home, located on the banks of the Brazos River, was called Jones Bluff; and what is now Highway 60 is still known to many Brazos County natives as Jones Bridge Road. The present Jones Road that is north of Highway 60 once led to the second home of John and Martha. Two of the old barns still stand on a high hill, overlooking the Jones- Roberts family cemetery and Turkey Creek. The land, being on the east side of the Brazos, was filled with trees and heavy brush. It was not ideal crop land, but they did manage to raise several hundred head of cattle and enough crops to care for their large family. In an article in the Bryan Daily Eagle on January 5, 1927, a Mr. Griffin spoke of a conversation with Martha Jones many years after John's death. She told him of living high on the bluff where she and her family could see buffalo, deer, and often Indians. Martha spoke of the times that she and Bryan Legends and Legacies John would ride over their land on horseback, both carrying guns and both good shots, to tend their cattle. She added that many nights she and her entire family would hide in the corn fields for fear of an Indian attack. John and Martha had nine children. They were Wesley Watson, John Henry, Jr., Albert Thomas, Eliza Ann, Mary Ann Isibelah, Columbus Pierce, Samuel Houston, Martha Ann, and Medora. A daughter, Missouri, was born to Martha on January 19, 1852, two years after Jones' death and over one year before her second marriage. Family lore tells that someone made a derogatory remark about Martha and Missouri to Martha's son, John Henry, Jr., who allegedly cut the man's throat, leaving him to bleed to death. Jones was arrested for murder and stood trial, but was found not guilty because evidence pointed to a right - handed murderer. As far as the judge and jury knew, Jones was left- handed. At the time, only John, Jr.'s family knew he was ambidextrous. Although the lore of John defending his mother's honor has never been proven, there are existing records of another incident. In the old State Docket Records of 1859 for the District Court of Brazos County is an indictment filed against John H. Jones, Jr. for assault with intent to commit murder. No particulars have been found for this indictment, but in the spring of 1860, the charge was reduced to simple assault and Jones was fined $25. Jones, Sr. was one of the original settlers of Brazos County. John H. Jones, Mordecai Boone, Joseph Ferguson, Eli Seale, and William T. Milli - can served as a committee of five assigned to locate the county seat of Boonville. The historical marker in the Boonville Cemetery commemorates this event. He also enlisted in the Ranging Service in October of 1836, serving under Captain William W. Hill. John Henry, who was called Choctaw Jones, and his fellow Rangers would scour the countryside, chasing law- breakers and hunting Indians who made raids on settlements. These Rang- ers were the law and order of Texas. On November 18, 1837, Jones was discharged and received a Bounty Warrant for an additional 320 acres of land for his time with the Rangers. Family legend passed down to JoBeth Stutts and Mary Esther Burton, great -great granddaughters of John Henry and Martha Wootton Jones, tells of the Runaway Scrape when Wesley, John, Jr., Martha, and a slave set out 10 The Early Days for the fort at Nacogdoches in an ox cart, with Jones riding alongside on horseback. After fording the Trinity River on the Old San Antonio Road, they were told of Sam Houston's victory over Santa Anna at San Jacinto and were ordered to return home. As they recrossed the flooded Trinity, baby Wesley fell from the cart into the turbulent river. Jones leapt from his horse and rescued his oldest son from the raging waters. John Henry Jones, Sr. died on November 11, 1850 from, according to some family members, a liver ailment. He is buried at Jones - Roberts Cem- etery in Brazos County, along with many other family members. Upon his death, a heartbreaking letter was received by Martha from John's sister, Mary Jones Wilson. It was copied and transcribed by Mary Esther Burton from the original and reads as follows: Paducah, Kentucky, March 8, 1850 I sit down for the first time to ad- dress you a few lines and hope that they find you enjoying good health. 0 God, the last time I wrote there it was to my long lost beloved brother of mine. But he is gone and I do not even have the sad gratification of viewing the place where his beloved tho cold remains now lay. I can see him no more here, but I hope that we will meet again. But the shadow of the past oftentimes fleets in my vision and brings to mind the scene of our child- hood and my imagination often pictures that truly beloved and long lost brother of mine Yes I loved him better than my soul. When I think of being in Texas with you all it seems like a dream. But, oh God, it is a fearful reality. But when I realize my great loss I sustained while there, the dream passes. Would to God that I could not realize it. Would that it could always appear like a dream. Dear Sister, I often think of you all and ever shall perhaps. Mr. Wilson and I may come there next fall. I can't write anymore now. I hardly know how to write. If it was not for my children and my husband this world would be a blank to me. Write to me as soon as you get this. The family all sends their love to you. Excuse this if you please. Noth- ing more at the present, but I remain your affectionate sister till death. Kiss the baby for me and give all the rest my love. Mrs. Mary S. Wilson In that same cemetery lie the remains of Mary A. I. Jones. According to the Brazos Genealogical Association, her stone is the oldest identifiable gravestone in the county. She was Mary Ann Isibelah Jones, infant daughter of John Henry, Sr. and Martha Wootton Jones, born January 19, 1842 and 11 Bryan Legends and Legacies died January 21, 1842. Martha Jane Wootton Jones' second husband was Jabez M. Roberts, whom she married on September 22, 1853. Sometime after her second mar- riage, Martha and Jabez built a new house on the Wootton land on Skull Prairie Road (later renamed Leonard Road) near the old Leonard school house, leaving Jones Bluff to her second son, John Henry Jones, Jr. Martha and Jabez had three children: Ellen, Jeff, and Polina. Records show that Jabez served in the Confederate Army, and died September 13, 1873, but very little is known of the three children. Martha lived until February 6, 1891. She is also buried at Jones - Roberts beside her second husband, Jabez. John Henry, Jr.'s Story The second son of John Henry and Martha Wootton Jones, John Henry Jones, Jr., married Martha Elizabeth Johnson in Boonville on July 22, 1858. She was the daughter of Thomas Blassingame Johnson and Partenia Rec- tor Johnson of Coffeyville, Yallobusha County, Mississippi. Leaving be- hind his wife and two small sons, John, Jr. joined the Texas Confederate Army at Alto, Texas. He was discharged because of illness but soon reen- listed and was stationed in the Commissary Department at Boonville. He was fully discharged on June 24, 1865. John, Jr. and Martha Elizabeth settled on his parents' original homesite on Jones Bluff and started a ferry service known as Jones Ferry. The old ferry was located just below the bluff on the edge of the Brazos River. A cable secured it on both sides of the river and the wheel was turned by hand. Fifteen cents would ferry a wagon and team of oxen across the Bra- zos. Many years later a bridge was built at the ferry crossing site and called Jones Bridge. Today a new bridge which has long since replaced the old one crosses the Brazos a few hundred yards down river, but the old piers from the original bridge still stand as sentinels over the muddy Brazos. Upholding family tradition, John, Jr. and Martha Elizabeth Jones had ten children: Thomas Jeffress, Albert M., Theodocia (called Dossie), John Henry III, Lee H., Martha Edna, Horace Otto, Winnie E., Minnie E. (twin girls), and Zenas. Thomas married Lavania Hill Gentry; Albert, Winnie 12 The Early Days and Lee apparently died in childhood; John Henry III moved to Portland, Oregon and married Margaret Wiseman; Martha Edna married Mark T. Malone; and Minnie married J. W. "Will" Hagins. Theodocia married Wil- liam B. McGregor. The seventh child, Horace Otto, married Agnes Eliza- beth Kubicek. Zenas, the youngest child, had four children with Minnie Haveron Jones and five children with his wife, Hallie Boxley. At age 19, Myrtle Jones, the oldest daughter of Zenas and Minnie, and her cousin, Pearl Kubicek, tragically drowned in 1921 in the Brazos River, just a few miles south of Jones Bridge, while attempting to save Pearl's younger brother. John Henry Jones, Jr. died on April 19, 1886 and was buried in Jones- Roberts Cemetery. Martha assumed the burden of rearing the children and caring for her own needs. Because education was important to the Jones men and women, Martha took in washing to send her son Horace to Texas A &M. Martha Elizabeth Johnson Jones died June 25, 1911 and lies beside her husband at Jones - Roberts. Horace Otto Jones Horace Otto Jones attended Texas A &M, and became a teacher. One of Horace's many students at Goodwin School was a young girl named Agnes Kubicek, twenty -one years his junior. Horace and Agnes did not get along. Horace often corrected the speech of young Agnes, who spoke with a heavy Czech accent. He was particularly agitated when Agnes would say "dam" for "them." One day Horace told Agnes that she would have to stay after school and couldn't leave until she learned to pronounce "them" correctly. Agnes replied, "I don't care; you'll have to stay as long as I do." Years later, when Agnes had grown into a very pretty young lady, she saw Horace again at a cemetery during a funeral. But instead of fighting as before, they fell in love and were married on September 12, 1917. Agnes never did learn to pronounce "them" with an American accent. Soon after their marriage, Horace gave up teaching and went to work for Law Henderson and the county. He worked as a lawyer, district clerk, abstractor, and surveyor. The present day maps of Brazos County are based 13 Bryan Legends and Legacies on his original surveys. Many of the originals can be found in the Archives at Texas A &M University. Horace and Agnes had three sons who died as infants. But on Novem- ber 11, 1921, a son, Horace Weldon, was born, followed by a daughter, Winnie Elizabeth, on April 10, 1923. Horace was known as a good and kind man, many times offering his help to those less fortunate. During the great flood of December 5, 1913, when the unpredictable Brazos rose so high that it destroyed large portions of the levee built on the west side of the river, Jones saved many lives. Horace died from tuberculosis on May 12, 1924. He was buried beside his infant sons at Newsom Cemetery, near Jones Bridge and the home where he was raised. Winnie Elizabeth Jones married Ben J. Winslow on September 20, 1941. They had two daughters, Jeanette Elizabeth, who is married to Victor Canavespi, and Joyce Ellen. Ben died on October 25, 1968, and is buried in Bryan City Cemetery. Jeanette had three children: Richard Gordon Boswell, Tammy Renee Boswell, who is married to Kenneth Charles Kosub, and Shannon Lea Boggess. Six generations of the Jones family have lived in Brazos County since 1929. Winnie Elizabeth Jones Winslow, her children, and two grandchil- dren live here today. still celebrating rich family history. The Boss of Boonville Jeff Carroll As the population of Texas grew in its first years of statehood, there was a need for an expansion of local governments. Travel was still difficult over almost nonexistent roads and people who needed a spot to transact official business regularly petitioned for the creation of new counties and county seats of government. Sometimes there was bitter rivalry between existing towns for the honor and business advantages, associated with being the seat of county government. Sometimes counties were formed where no town existed and so, to meet the need, a new town was brought to life. 14 The Early Days If you go there today, the only thing you'll find is a well kept cemetery. If you know where to look, and don't mind crawling through a fence, you can see a big oak tree that once grew on the courthouse square. Part of the old town is a new subdivision, and part is a new car dealership. Two high- ways now cross it and, in the middle, is a 50 some -odd acre pasture, includ- ing the tree with faded "for sale" signs. That's all that is left of Boonville, the first county seat of Brazos County. There is more than a passing association between Boonville and both Texas and American history. Daniel Boone, who led settlers into the area we now call Kentucky and then on to Missouri had a large family. When he was 22 years old he married seventeen - year -old Rebecca Bryan. That tied the Bryans and the Boones together. Moses Austin had three children, Stephen F, Emily, and James Emily Austin married James Bryan, con- nected in that way with the Boones, and so came to Texas by way of Ken- tucky, Missouri, Mississippi, and Arkansas. Each one of these states, plus California, has a Boonville in honor of Daniel and other members of the family. Here in Texas there were four Boone names on the petition that led to the creation of Brazos County, and the new county seat took that name in honor of Mordecai Boone, Sr. although few people actually lived there. But, Boones, Austins, and Bryans weren't alone in making the new town. In 1839, at the age of eighteen, Harvey Mitchell came to Texas with his family. While some of his brothers fought Indians and the Mexican army, Harvey taught school. It's not that Harvey was afraid of duty, he just wasn't the woodsman that his brothers were and spent his time building the com- munity. His one attempt at deer hunting was a fiasco and he vowed to NEVER try to DO THAT again. But, when the new county was formed in 1842, Harvey was there. Since the newly elected county clerk lacked certain re- finements in penmanship, Harvey became the deputy clerk and kept all of the books and records. Although Boonville was the county seat, it lacked population. Most county residents lived on surrounding farms and plantations. Town lots were auctioned, but less than twenty were sold and few buyers occupied them. Harvey bought more town lots than anyone else, six for a grand total of $30. The county jail, called "The Dungeon" because it was mostly located 15 Bryan Legends and Legacies under ground, was the first official structure. It took a year to build, and during its 25 year life -span it housed mostly fleas and lice. The county courthouse was next. Twenty men built the one -room floorless and win- dowless log structure in one day in order for it to be ready for the first sitting of the county court. This magnificent edifice left a bit to be desired and was abandoned after three or four court sessions in favor of open air and, later, a building built for a store that was never occupied. Since Boonville residents were few, most of the official duties fell to one man, Harvey Mitchell. He was chief justice of the county, and also justice of the peace. He served as county clerk, county treasurer, and sher- iff. Most of the time he also acted as postmaster and, in addition, operated the blacksmith shop, the only store, the gristmill and the only hotel. At times he convened a one -man commissioner's court and was said to argue both sides of any question. Although others came and went, for all practical purposes, Harvey Mitchell was both Boonville and Brazos County and the rest of the folks were happy to leave it that way. An old family story indicates the extent of Harvey's activities. It seems that, in 1852, there were only two families living in Boonville when a young couple arrived one evening at Harvey's store and asked for lodging. Harvey said, "I can handle that," and took them to his home where his wife oper- ated a boarding house to meet the needs of folks who came to the county seat on business. One of the young couple's horses needed a new shoe and Harvey said, "I can handle that," and led the horse to his blacksmith shop and fired up the forge. When Harvey returned, the young man asked for the county clerk and Harvey said, "I am your man," and took him back to the store which also served as the clerk's office. Then it transpired that the couple wasn't married but wanted to change the situation. So, Harvey, in his role as county clerk, sold them a license. Then, in the role of justice of the peace, he took their affidavits and conducted the ceremony with the two families of Boonville as witnesses. The wedding dinner was held in Harvey's hotel. After the departure of the newlyweds the next day, Harvey, in the role of deputy sheriff, reported on the proceedings and encouraged an irate father -of -the -bride to take his armed band of friends and neighbors back home. 16 The Early Days When the railroad right -of -way bypassed Boonville in the late 1850s, William Joel Bryan, nephew of Stephen F Austin, donated a tract of land for a new town about three miles away and Bryan officially became the new county seat. Harvey Mitchell kept right on going, however, and through his efforts as a contractor, built the first courthouse in Bryan. Then, in 1872, Harvey led the delegation that was instrumental in bringing Texas A &M College to the Bryan area. If you stop by the Boonville Cemetery, pay a visit to old Harvey, "the boss of Boonville." If dead men could speak he could sure tell you a thing or two. Boonville Stone Diane Church A stone, a simple monument to life Was found beneath a cemetery oak. One had to stoop to read the words. They spoke, Though faintly through a heavy moss, of strife; Of violent times when discontent was rife Throughout the land; and of a war that broke Some mother's heart, that left behind a cloak Stained with the shade of blood and sweat and smoke. Who was this man that saddled up his steed, Then rode away from home that day to be One of many dead in southern gray? Upon a Boonville stone one can still read: "W. J. Terry, Company G, The 24th Cavalry, C.S.A." 17 Bryan Legends and Legacies Bryan Born Through Clever Land Deal Jim Dozier Stephen F. Austin, the father of Texas, had no wife nor children and died intestate. The Supreme Court of Texas divided his estate, and William Joel Bryan, a nephew, got as a part of his share about 9,000 acres in Brazos County. Bryan, who was from Missouri, traveled to Houston and boarded the Houston & Texas Central Railroad to locate his landed legacy. He hopped off the train at Millican, the end of the railway line and the hot spot of these parts because of its many saloons and houses of ill repute. The record doesn't show if Bryan lingered, but he did rent a horse and set off to find his land known as S. F. Austin Leagues 9 and 10, about 20 miles northwest. He found acres of bald prairie and scrub oak. Being resourceful and knowing the value of a dollar, Bryan returned to Houston and sought out Groesbeck and Baker, trustees, who controlled the H &TC railroad, and who, along with a third party, owned a private land speculation firm. The land company had a great business edge. It could buy right -of -way land and then sell the land to the railroad. This "can't miss" arrangement gave ole W. J. a pregnant idea that gave birth to the city of Bryan. William Joel made a deal with Groesbeck and his partners whereby Bryan would buy the right -of -way from Millican to his new property and convey it to the land company. He would also lay out an original town site one square mile, 640 acres, subdivided into 275 blocks, most of which had two tiers of five lots divided by an alley, and a downtown district. He would also give or sell the firm some choice lots. The company would sell the land to the railroad and, as trustees, Groesbeck and Baker would extend the line to the new town of Bryan. W. J. Bryan had a surveyor lay out and stake the town site; he bought the right -of -way; he deeded the land to the company and it sold the land to the trustees for the railroad; so the trustees brought the trains to Bryan. W. J. laid out Main Street wide enough so four span of oxen with wagon could 18 The Early Days turn around without the oxen tromping mud on the wooden sidewalks. Old - timers will remember Main Street before the esplanade halved it. Some people say that an epidemic wiped out Millican, but the fatal blow was the extension of the railroad to Bryan. The saloons and sporting houses followed the rails, and the people followed the action. Did the Groesbeck Land Company make a profit? Well, their third part- ner was William Marsh Rice, and he made enough money during his life to establish and endow Rice University. Dozier's column was derived mainly from recorded documents in the Brazos County Clerk's Office and appeared in the Bryan- College Station Eagle, Sunday, February 3, 1991, as part of a series of articles on the City of Bryan. Legacy of the Bryan Bryans Paul P. Van Riper "If I hadn't been programmed for banking," Travis B. Bryan, local banker said recently, "I would have liked to have been a professional golfer." In 1942, when he was twenty, young Bryan not only set a new course record on what is today the Bryan Municipal Golf Course but was also in the finals of the State Junior Golf Tournament. But professional golf didn't pay much then and a war was on. So he joined the navy as a radioman for the duration of World War II. He then completed his degree at Texas A &M in three years, took two months off for golf, and joined his family's First National Bank on August 12, 1949, where he has remained ever since, becoming first its president and then chairman of the board. Among Brazos Valley's earliest settlers, Travis' family, the Bryan Bryans, derives from the marriage of Emily Austin, the nineteen - year -old sister of Stephen F. Austin, to James Bryan (1790 -1822) of Missouri in 1814. There were three children from this marriage. After James Bryan's death, Emily married James E Perry in 1824 and brought the family to Texas in 1831 to join her brother. The Penys developed an enormous plantation near Freeport, known as Durazno, long a showplace in the area. This also became Stephen F. Austin's headquarters during the last years of his life. Many of the Bryan 19 Bryan Legends and Legacies family are buried near there at the Peach Point Cemetery, as was Austin himself before his body was later moved to the city named for him. The three sons of Emily Austin and James Bryan became prominent citizens of Texas and two left their mark on Bryan. The oldest, William Joel Bryan (1815- 1903), had large land holdings in Brazos County and sold a square mile to the Houston & Central Texas Railroad for a new townsite, which was named Bryan in his honor. Its future was assured when the railroad was extended north from Millican through Bryan after the Civil War. The first train steamed into Bryan on August 19, 1867, and it is re- ported that William Joel rode in on that train perched on the cowcatcher. The second son, Moses Austin Bryan (1817 - 1895), was named for Emily Austin's father. Fluent in Spanish, Moses first distinguished himself as an interpreter for General Sam Houston when he parleyed with Santa Anna after the battle of San Jacinto. The third son, Guy Morrison Bryan (1821- 1901), who had volunteered for Texas army service at fifteen, inherited much of the family estate in and around Brazoria County and became promi- nent in Texas politics. He served ten years in the Texas House of Represen- tatives between 1846 and 1856. After the Civil War, he returned to the Texas House and served as its Speaker between 1874 and 1876, during negotiations over the funding of Texas' new land grant college, now Texas A &M University. After that, he served twice more in the House, 1878 -80 and 1888 -90. In the second generation there were two brothers, sons of William Joel. The oldest, Guy Morrison Bryan, Jr. (1843- 1921), was named for his uncle, though technically he should have been Guy H. This Guy established the family banking tradition, loaning money as early as 1873. With partners, he chartered the First National Bank of Bryan in 1886, one of the earliest in Texas, and the first in the nation to provide a night depository. Bryan's present Bryan family is descended from William Joel's second son, Erin Ernest Bryan (1854- 1910), a rancher and farmer who lived near Giddings, Texas. He had three children, the youngest of whom was Travis Bell Bryan (1892 - 1964), father of the present Travis B., Jr. Both of Travis, Sr.'s parents died suddenly within a month of each other in 1910, and he 20 The Early Days was left as a teenager to make it on his own. Mainly self - educated, he nevertheless soon managed to become the first employee of the brand new Texas Agricultural Extension Service and remained with it for nearly two years, until he applied for a job at the First National Bank. Before long he married the bank president's daughter, Ruth Boatwright, and eventually became president and chairman of the board. Travis, Jr. came by golf naturally. His father was a main figure in the development of the Bryan Country Club in 1919, now known as the Bryan Municipal Golf Course. When the Bryan air base closed in 1945, Bryan, Sr. fought to have it reopened. This came in 1951, preceded by a personal phone call from President Truman to notify Bryan of his success. Bryan was playing golf and the call was received by Travis, Jr. Advised that the senior Bryan was golfing, the President said he was not surprised, but told young Bryan to go get his father right away and have him call the President back. Bryan was also instrumental in bringing Class C professional baseball to Bryan, for which he developed the Travis Park ball field. The team folded in 1953, but Bryan gave several of the park's twenty seven acres to the city to help guarantee the establishment of the present U. S. Army Reserve Cen- ter on Carson Street. He sold the rest to the city for only enough to pay off a debt on the land of $23,000. His last main endeavor was to spearhead a campaign to bring the newly created Air Force Academy to Bryan. The city ended on the short list of five possibilities, but President Eisenhower chose Colorado Springs. This was Bryan, Sr.'s greatest disappointment, his son has said. The Travis, Jr. family has continued in this civic tradition. He served on the Bryan Planning Commission from 1958 to 1962, with Texas Avenue his choice to rename the central thoroughfare. A few years later he arranged a loan with Chase Manhattan Bank of New York to finance a golf course as the centerpiece of the Briarcrest County Club development. In 1971, he was elected a member of the board of the newly formed Bryan Independent School District that had just been separated from the city, and he served for twenty years. He and his wife, Norma Bess Norman, a high school class- mate, were among the founders of the Bryan Heritage Society. Norma be- 21 Bryan Legends and Legacies came its first president and Travis its first treasurer. Travis B. Bryan III is a local attorney and Timothy Norman Bryan has followed in the family tra- dition as president of the First National Bank. From an interview with Travis B. Bryan, Jr. in 1995. The Founding of First Presbyterian Church Haskell Monroe The Year of Our Lord eighteen hundred and sixty -seven was a precarious time for the people of the southern section of the United States of America. President Andrew Johnson faced a Congress dominated by powerful men intent on wreaking vengeance on the defeated states, which had attempted to secede from the Union a few years earlier. In the region south of Mason and Dixon's Line, the citizens attempted to scrape a bare subsistence out of the ashes of defeat. Many of the finest fathers and sons of Dixie had not come home from the battlefront, for the casualty rate had been pathetically high in the gray regiments. Yet those valiant men who did come home brought with them a spark of religious fervor far deeper than most veterans. The Confederate Army, like few masses of fighting men before them, had expe- rienced profound religious revivals during the struggle. As a result, count- less thousands of men brought a deep spiritual concern back from four years of agonizing struggle. When they reached home, often they found few of the pleasures of life left to their now poor families. Such deprived circumstances only deepened the concern of these people for the Gospel - -the belief that only God could bring the warmth and comfort which they sought so fer- vently- -into their lives. In Texas, most communities had been spared the effects of battle, but all suffered the sadness of injury and death to loved ones. Also, the economy of the region had been shattered by the effects of war, defeat, and disloca- tion. As an example of the impact of the war, the work on the railroad to link Houston and Dallas had been suspended in 1861. This line, the Hous- 22 The Early Days ton & Texas Central, was planned to run from the junction of the Houston to Austin tract at Hempstead, northward to Dallas, and perhaps even be- yond the Red River in some distant year. By 1860, the tract had been completed to the village of Millican, a few miles north of Navasota. The roadbed was in varying stages of readiness for some distance beyond that railhead. As soon as peace returned to the region, owners of the line began the work again and soon were laying the rails northward. This renewed activity helped to revive trade in the area, previously notable primarily for its rich cotton and corn crops. The pay of the workmen stirred businesses, and small towns along the railroad began to look forward to more prosperous times. In Brazos County, the land between the Navasota and Brazos Rivers south of the Old San Antonio Road, the coming of the railroad had changed the way of life sharply. Perhaps the most visible proof of this change was the movement of residents and businesses from Boonville, the county seat and principal town, toward the railroad to the northwest. These people now settled in the newly- surveyed townsite of Bryan City, as the new railroad depot was called for some years. The movement to the location along the railroad was so swift that the economy of Boonville was disrupted as sud- denly as that of Bryan City was increased. Soon, the county commission- ers decided to move the courthouse location to land adjacent to the depot. These men also received many requests to license new businesses, and the county clerk recorded many transfers of land titles. Into this modest little boom town a number of religious - minded folk came, determined to pre- vent the growth of vice and irreligion which so often had accompanied sudden growth in other locations. Both Methodist and Southern Baptist congregations were well on their path to stability by 1867, the year in which Presbyterian and Episcopalian home missionaries came to the new town. The railroad had made it possible for the Reverend John Russell Hutchinson to come to Brazos County. This native of Pennsylvania, who had studied at Jefferson College before com- pleting his theological training at Princeton Theological Seminary, had pre- viously served congregations in Mississippi and Louisiana. On the eve of the Civil War, this diligent Presbyterian divine had moved to Houston, where 23 Bryan Legends and Legacies he preached at the First Presbyterian Church and taught at a boys' school throughout the period of conflict. By the end of that awesome struggle, he recorded that he had become "deeply concerned as to my duty in reference to the spiritual desolations of the villages and churches within the bounds of Brazos Presbytery, and accessible by railroads." After corresponding with ministerial colleagues who gave him their enthusiastic encourage- ment, he began to prepare to serve as a sort of "railroad evangelist," preach- ing in the towns along the new lines radiating northwestward from Hous- ton. Hutchinson's work in Bryan City began with the small number of Cal- vinists already living in Brazos County. In his reports to Brazos Presbytery, . the denominational judicatory which included the southeastern portion of Texas, he noted the rising interest in the area. His work soon culminated on the fourth Sabbath in November 1867, when he and the Reverend James Wilson officially constituted the new congregation. The twenty -four char- ter members of the flock came primarily on transfer of letter from congrega- tions elsewhere, but a few made professions of faith in order to be a part of this enlargement of the Kingdom. Without a sanctuary of their own, the little group met twice each month to hear Hutchinson's fervent sermons in a warehouse owned by Guy M. Bryan, near the railroad. This arrangement continued for more than three years, while members looked forward to pur- chasing land and erection of a building. Finally, this goal was attained on April 10, 1871, when the trustees of the congregation, J. P. Mitchell, Isaac Fulkerson, A. Allen, Charles I. Evans, and J. M. Stockton, purchased Lot 1 in Block 5 in the little city that was becoming known more simply as Bryan. The lot had cost $200 and the congregation, although short on funds, pro- ceeded with construction of a modest frame sanctuary. Reprinted from A History of the First Presbyterian Church, Bryan, Texas. 1992. 24 The Early Days James H. Astin James H. Astin was a man of unbounded energy, exceptionally fine judg- ment, and effective business methods. He grew wealthy, as he expressed it, "by hard knocks." He was a fine Southern gentleman who dispensed hospi- tality for which he became famous. Astin was born in Marion County, Alabama, in November 1833. He came to Texas in 1854 and shortly after that went to California, where he followed the life of a miner until 1859. He returned to Texas and entered the Confederate Army at the opening of the War Between the States as a soldier in Company I, Fourth Texas Cavalry, Hood's Brigade, with which he served until severely wounded at the battle of Chickamauga. Following the war, he settled in Navarro County where he married Miss Celia Allsbrook in 1864. A year later he moved to Bryan and engaged in various occupations for two or three years before he rented a piece of land and moved into the Brazos Bottom with his wife and baby. His sole earthly possessions were a wagon and team and ten dollars. Astin rented for ten years, then in 1877 made his first purchase. He bought land from time to time until he owned 7,000 acres - -6,000 of which were cultivated. He raised about 5,000 bales of cotton annually and was considered one of the wealthiest planters in this section of the state. His wife died in December 1874, leaving Astin with four sons: James Robert became an attorney in Dallas; William E. was a planter in Robert- son County; John E. farmed with his father, and Joseph P. was a book- keeper in the Hearne National Bank. After his first wife died, he married Miss Ona Ward. They had three children: Irwin, Daisy, and Roger Q. While feeling a deep interest in the cause of popular government and all that affects the destiny of mankind, Astin never sought public office. He was content to follow out the lines of his life that he had laid down for himself. He was one of the original projectors of the Hearne & Brazos Valley Railroad and was a stockholder in the company. Charitable, gener- ous, and public - spirited, he served as a factor for good in this section of the state. Adapted from The Indian Wars and Pioneers of Texas, by J. H. Brown (L. E. Daniel, publisher, Austin, Texas) and contributed by Mrs. Ona Astin Barwise Penn. 25 up. Bryan Legends and Legacies Family Letters of Wesley Clark Dodson and Sarah Ann Moffitt Dodson Wesley and Sarah Dodson came to Texas in February 1866 from Livingston, Alabama. At that time, they had lost two small sons; their remaining chil- dren were Frank and Mary Elizabeth. They called Mary Elizabeth "Molly," "Mollie," or "Mollie Bet." This was soon after the end of the Civil War, and the South was in a shambles. Wesley and Sarah came to Texas because they had family already established here, and it was to this area that they came to make a new start. Apparently, work was scarce in Bryan, so Wesley left his wife, whom he affectionately called "Tay," and Frank and Mollie in a boarding house in Bryan while he went to Galveston to find work. The following letters are those exchanged by Wesley and Sarah before and during that time. He planned to return to Bryan the middle of June or the first of July. According to her tombstone, Sarah died on June 6, 1867, so it is not known if Wesley was still away when she died or if she realized her wish to see him again. Bryan Station Sept 19th 1866 My dear wife: I arrived here safely the next evening after I left you; and just got here in time, for it began to rain and rained a week every day, so much so, as to hinder me about my work a great deal. I am getting along very well with my business, and if the weather will remain clear, will soon have the dwelling I should have written to you sooner, but there is no Post Office here yet, and I would have to send a letter to Boonville to mail, and then they tell me it will go to Houston before it turns to Centerville. If you write to me, direct it to Boonville Brazos Co. Texas. I have been trying to get a boarding house for us, but so far have not found one that I would carry my family to. The Hotels here are not fit...and the citizens build their houses so small that they have no room. The society here is bad, and I have not met with a religious man in the place. Their drunkenness and profaneness is the reason I would not board with them. There is one man who has not given me an answer yet, who is poor, but they are a moral people, good sort of people, and every person speaks 26 The Early Days well of them. I can not get any land and build our shanty on it yet, for I don't think I will be able to do so yet, nor do I think you will like the place any more than I do. As far as the country and locality are con- cerned, they do very well, but no church, or society, nor anything, but Groceries, swearers, drunkards, and gamblers, these are nine tenths of Bryan. There will be society here after a while, but it will be a long time before their influence is felt. As to schools, there is no use of talking about them. If you recollect T. Kemp Eads who killed a man at the springs and run away, you know where the teacher is here. He goes there by the name of Crittenden. I want to see you so much that I am perfectly restless, and I must have you with me just as soon as I can get a place to board. All that I live for is my family, and to live away from them without an actual necessity, I can not do. I have been uneasy about your health, but I do trust you to have recov- ered it again. I changed Molly's shoes, but they would not exchange your dress, and I left them there to be sent to you. I could not get you any bitters. Give my love to my dear little Frank and Molly, and kiss them for me. I want to see them so much. And Precious Tay, what shall I say to you; all I can say is that your Wesley wants to see you, and give you a thousand kisses. My darling wife I wish I could write something satisfactory to you, but what I have written is the best I can do. When I see you, and we can confer together, we may understand better what to do. A thousand salutations to you and my dear children, with a heart full of love for each. God bless you, and keep you till you see Your own Wesley This is a copy of the letter written by Mrs. Sarah A. Dodson to relatives in Alabama after coming to Brazos County from Livingston, Alabama. Reference is made in this letter to the organization of the First Baptist Church in Bryan on the Sunday prior to the date of the letter November 21, 1866. 27 Bryan Legends and Legacies Bryan Station, Brazos County, Texas November 21, 1866 My dear Friend: I fear you will not appreciate this letter, I have been so long in writing it; and I cannot blame you, for I know, I promised to write as soon as I reached Texas. I should have done so, if there had been any mail when I first came; for I felt as joyous as a bird, and desirous of giving vent to every emotion; but soon, a reaction took place; I found myself disappointed in everything except finding my friends alive and well; and I knew you would detect it in every line I wrote. My spirits have been somewhat recovered and though I do not like Texas yet, I am better satisfied with it, than at first. I cannot tell you all my experiences, but I will commence at the beginning, and tell you all I can. We left Livingston on the third of February, and reached my father's the fourteenth. We had a delightful trip, most of the way, and enjoyed it very much. We went to Demopholis, Saturday morning, expecting to take the "St. Nicholas" at noon for Mobile; but soon learned that contrary to her usual practice, she had passed down the night before. We were greatly disappointed, but soon had the occasion to rejoyce, for the "St. Nicho- las" sunk on her way down and most of her passengers took the first boat which was going up, and went back to their homes. We were fully con- vinced our hinderance was a Providential one, and felt truly greatful for it. Monday morning, we took passage on the "Virginia," a nice little boat with good accommodations. Molly was the only little child on board, and soon became a universal pet. Her father introduced her to a Mr. Goin, who coming into the cabin shortly afterwards, asked her his name. "Walking," she replied. "No." "Runnin." "No, but that is most in goin." "Oh! yes, Goin, Goin all the time." You never heard such a laugh as followed. The child knew his name expressed motion, but she had for- gotten the particular kind. She entered into a play -- "The Ship has ar- rived, laden with what ?" Every answer must begin with the same letter, for instance corn, cotton, calico. She played for half an hour without making a single mistake, obeying every signal, and replying to every question with a rapidity, that astonished everyone of the group. Wednes- day, we took the steamer "Frances" for New Orleans and feasted on more good things than I had seen before in twelve years. We stopped at the "St. James" and spent a day in shopping, visiting the cathedral and Jackson Square. Friday morning, we took passage on board the fine steamship "Morgan" for Galveston. We enjoyed the scenery on the Mis- 28 The Early Days sissippi to the fullest extent. Fine residences, orange groves, and sugar plantations on either side as far as the eye could reach. We entered the gulf about the middle of the afternoon and enjoyed the "wild tastes of waters," and the "glorious sunset" with a zest unknown to common ob- servers. After supper, we all grew seasick except for Mollie. I went to bed, and never rose again, or ate a mouthful, until we reached Galveston, a period of forty hours! Sunday afternoon, we took the "Rob Roy" for Houston. She was crowded with theatre actors and actresses, big headed babies, and white African Negroes, but managed to get up Buffalo Bayou without accident. That is a narrow, shallow, dirty, sluggish stream, and did not give me a favorable impression of Texas. Neither did Houston, for that place is small, ugly and muddy. Monday, we took the cars from Navasota, put up that night at a very indifferent hotel, hired a hack next morning, and started for the interior. We traveled all day through a beau- tiful country, diversified by hill and dale. At night, stopped at another very indifferent house; a few feathers on some dry cow hides, formed our bed! I could not help thinking of the "Irishman" with his "one feather on a rock." Next morning there blew up a terrible "Northern" increasing in violence every moment, but we traveled on, and just before dark, reached sister's, nearly frozen to death. At first I thought we would stay there all night, but after talking with her a while, and getting a little warm, I grew so anxious to see the rest of the family, I could not wait; so I borrowed a blanket, put the children in the bottom of the carriage, covered them up "head and ears" and rolled on two miles farther. Home, "sweet home" gained at last! I was almost crazy with excitement, but I will leave you to imagine the joyous meeting. I cannot describe it. Pa and Ma look very little older than they did thirteen years before; and wore the happiest expression on their faces, I ever saw. Sister has faded a great deal, but is still a very pretty woman. She has an excellent hus- band, three noble looking boys, and is doing well. My brothers are the finest looking young men, I have seen in Texas. Pa is still very active, rides almost night and day, and sits as erect in the saddle as a youth of sixteen! I think he is the most graceful rider I ever saw. Mother is very active, too, and frequently walks two miles and back again the same afternoon without complaining of the least fatigue. We remained with them until the first of the month; and would gladly have done so always, had it been possible. But we felt that it would be criminal in us to bring up our children in such a place; not a church in the neighborhood, and but one in the county! Drinking, swearing, Sabbath 29 Bryan Legends and Legacies breaking, and every other vice is practiced by the majority of the people, and the others smile at it, instead of frowning it down. The children where I have been grow up like weeds, without a particle of culture of any kind, Brazos County is superior to Leon- -the one I have been de- scribing--in some respects, but the moral atmosphere is bad here. Stores are kept open on the Sabbath; country people come in and buy the same as other days; wagons loaded with cotton and goods, are passing and repassing all the time; drinking, gambling, stealing, shooting, and horse racing fill up the picture. But I hope a better day is dawning, for last Sabbath, a Baptist Church was organized here, and sixteen members united in it. If we have churches, schools and good society, Bryan would be a very pleasant little village, for it is situated in the edge of a beauti- ful, high, rolling prairie, dotted here and there with clumps of trees, and abounding with cattle, horses, sheep and goats as far as the eye can reach. Occasionally, a mule eared rabbit crosses your path, a bird of paradise, a wild goose, or blue crane flies over your head. At every step curious pebbles and pieces of petrified wood meet your gaze. We came too late in the season to find any flowers. The town is six miles west of the Brazos River, and one hundred north of the city of Houston. We will only stay here until Mr. Dodson completes the building of two houses. Waco, I presume will be our permanent home. That is a fine flourishing place, with good churches, good schools, and as good society as is to be found in the State. I hope we will find it congenial to our taste. Pa and Ma regretted our leaving Leon very much, as they had plenty of land and stock to give us, and thought we could do better there, in a pecuni- ary point view, than any where else; but we could not reconcile it to our consciences "for what is a man profited if he shall gain the whole world and lose his own soul ?" It is very sickly there too, we were all afflicted with sores and boils, coughs and colds, chills and fever the whole summer. I weigh twenty seven pounds less, than when I first came to Texas. This is a very healthy place, and the main reason why we came here. Cholera is in various parts of the county, but has not reached here yet. We are boarding at a hotel at fifty dollars a month, including everything except washing. Frank and Mollie are getting on finely and are a great comfort to me. They have not forgotten you, but speak of you often, and send a great deal of love to you. Mr. Dodson sends his best respects. I will not weary your patience any more, at present, but request you to be forgiving, and reply to this at your earliest convenience. Direct to Boonville, Brazos County, 30 The Early Days With much love to yourself. Mr. Rockwell, and dear Etta. I remain as ever your friend. S. A. Dodson Bryan, Texas March 10th 1867 My dear Father I wish to see you very much and hope that we will meet again some time. Mr. Crittenden is dead he got to drinking and he lay out under Mr. Barkleys house one night and was taken with pneumonia and died on Tues- day fifth and left his family almost naked. Uncle Chaif has moved to Mr. Johnsons and so has Mr. Woodruff. Sister and I are getting along very well. Sissy got a ticket Fryday evening in her reading and will get another Mon- day in her spelling if she does not get turned down. There was a show here Saturday night in Mr. Stephens store house but I did not go. I have been ahunting several times and killed a few birds. I have been carrying water for the merchants here and have made a few dimes. There are a few little houses going up but they are all boxed. All the tanks have broke and there is hardly any water in them at all. Ma and Sister and aunt send their love to you. We are all well, I have not been sick a day since you left. Your son Frank Bryan, Texas, March 17th 1867 My dear Husband, I have received your letter of the 10th and am very sorry to hear of your bad health, but hope you are better before this. Be not discouraged, per- haps you are as well there, as you would be at home. We have had bad weather here, nearly ever since you left; and for the last five days, the worst weather I ever saw any where in March. Wednesday, about daylight, it com- menced sleeting, and in a few minutes my bed and room were covered with it. It came down so fast, and in such quantities, I was obliged to retreat into Mrs. Steven's room. It continued all day. Of course I could not teach. Thurs- day and Friday were so cold, I did not teach. Angie is not well, but able to be up. She is very well pleased with her new boarding house. We are all well at present, but Frank made a mistake when he wrote you last Sunday. He said he had not "been sick a day since you left." He had a chill that afternoon, and another one last Tuesday. However, I think they will leave him before long. 31 Bryan Legends and Legacies Mr. Stevens will see Judge Davis the first time he comes into town. He says he will give us half an acre, if we will settle on it. The land is near Mr. Johnstons, who lives at the edge of the grove back of Mr. Hill. He will commence building as soon as he raises means to buy lumber. Mollie says "give papa my love and tell him I talk about him every day." Franks sends his love too, and wished to see you very much. I want to see you too, but know it is useless to repine. I wish you to give Galveston a fair trial, and if it suits, let us all go there, and if not let us stay in Bryan. There is no use spending so much money hunting the "good place ". With much love, I remain your devoted wife. Tay Sunday Evening, March 24th 1867 My dear Father, I had a chill this morning, but feel better now, and want to tell you how glad I was, the other morning, to get a nice letter from you, with my own name on it. I was sorry to hear you were sick, and had no good, warm fire in your room. I have got four tickets, and am at the head of my spelling class now. Mr. Jones gave me a dime and I have given it to Buddy for his slate. He is going to get him a new one. I can make figures, and add them up too. Mrs. Barkley came to see Ma yesterday, and I went home with her to see the baby. It is the sweetest little thing! I gave it a heap of kisses. Mrs. Barkley is a mighty nice woman, and dresses mighty pretty. She gave me some pictures to look at, and some tea cakes to eat. I love to go there very much. Buddy gave Ma a pretty bottle of cologne for a birthday present, and I gave her some glass marbles, my little slipper, and a new comb. I want to see you very much, and will give you a birthday present, if you are at home, and I can get anything you will have. Buddy and I send our best love. Your affectionate little daughter. Mollie Bet Dodson 32 i i Contributed by Mary Alice Hall. The Early Days In spite of Sister Angie's ill health, she took over the care of Mollie. It is not known what happened to Frank. A few years after Sarah's death, Wesley married a widow, Mrs. Watson, from Wheelock, with whom he raised a second family. They settled in Waco, where Wesley became a suc- cessful architect. Texas A &M and Bryan: Legend and Facts Chiquita Lofgren The Beginnings This is a tale of the origins of the Agricultural and Mechanical College of Texas and its relation to a little town called Bryan, which so staunchly sup- ported the school's establishment. Legends and lore abound concerning events of the 1870s, but when facts are added it becomes a true tale. The histories of Bryan, incorporated in 1871, and of the College, estab- lished by the Texas Legislature in the same year, have been intertwined for at least 125 years, but never more so than during that June when a three - man Texas legislative commission was seeking a site for the state's first public institution of higher learning. A prominent Bryan citizen was more than instrumental in getting the new college located in Brazos County. Harvey Mitchell: The Promoter The entrepreneur and promoter, Harvey Mitchell, qualifies as the leading legend in the beginnings of the College. Mitchell, always an enterprising fellow, journeyed to Texas from his native Tennessee in 1839 at the age of 18 and joined the frontier forces of the Republic of Texas in Robertson County. In 1841, he was hired as a part -time school teacher in Boonville, which was, the following year, to become the county seat of the newly 33 Bryan Legends and Legacies organized Brazos County. Mitchell was appointed a deputy in the county clerk's office and during the Civil War was county assessor for the Confed- erate Texas state government. He became a prosperous merchant as well. This man of vision was active in county politics and involved in many promotional activities, most notable of which was getting the Agricultural and Mechanical College of Texas located in Brazos County. He foresaw that having the new college close to Bryan would be beneficial. Residents had voted to move the county seat from Boonville to Bryan in 1866 in anticipation of the coming of the Houston & Texas Central Railroad. Tracts were completed northwest through Bryan in 1867, and the community became the commercial center for the region. The City in the 1870s The Bryan of the early 1870s has been characterized as a raw frontier town, an enterprising little city, a bustling boom town, and a lawless community. Shootings and lynchings were not unheard of. The city's 1871 charter granted the government the right to pass ordinances regulating bawdy houses, houses of ill fame or prostitution, and to license or abate the same. In 1870, Bryan had no less than forty buildings under construction. There were some eighty stores, most of which stayed open on Sundays. Among them were numerous saloons which, it was said, encouraged drinking, gam- bling, and gun play. Like most frontier towns of the time, Bryan had no paved streets, no electric lights, and no sidewalks. Consideration of the moral as well as the physical environment proved to be important to the three legislative commissioners seeking a site for the college. They visited several possible locations that spring of 1871, includ- ing Austin, Galveston, Waco, San Marcos, Tehuacana and Kellum Springs, and Piedmont Springs in Grimes County. On June 13, after an inspection tour in Brazos County, they dined in Bryan at Mrs. Shaw's Hotel, also called the Bowman House. Harvey Mitchell and other progressive Bryan citizens hosted the event. The Bryan folks intimated they would give $20,000 to $30,000 for the new college, should it be located near their city. That same week, soon after the commissioners had left, local citizens 34 The Early Days called a public meeting to decide on further action. Harvey Mitchell, Will - iam A. Saylor and Judge Spencer Ford were elected to attend an official meeting of the commissioners in Houston on June 20th, to formally present Bryan's petition for the site of the college. Mitchell and Saylor went to Houston a few days before the meeting; Ford did not go at all. Saylor departed before the official meeting began. Left by himself, Mitchell re- portedly wired the Bryan mayor for instructions but received none. Un- daunted by competitors at the meeting, and in typical entrepreneurial style, Mitchell, acting entirely on his own, pledged 2,250 acres of land as a dona- tion for the college if the commissioners would locate it in Brazos County. They accepted on the condition that clear title to the land be delivered to them within forty -eight hours, a feat which Mitchell accomplished with remarkable speed. The Poker Game What is surely the most lasting legend concerning the location of the col- lege in Brazos County arose from these transactions between Mitchell and the commissioners. For one hundred and twenty -five years the story has persisted that Harvey Mitchell 'won' the location of the Agricultural and Mechanical College of Texas in a poker game. Although no concrete evi- dence exists to confirm this fable, certain known facts give it some cre- dence. Saylor and Mitchell went to Houston several days before the formal meeting. Saylor subsequently left before the meeting occurred. The com- missioners' forty -eight hour, clear -title contingency on Bryan's offer may have been made so that if Mitchell failed to deliver on his promise, the site location could be made elsewhere. One of the commissioners, Senator John G. Bell, was most eager for the new college to be located in his home com- munity of Bellville. A close look at the dates of the incidents involved may also be enlight- ening. The official commissioners' meeting was set for June 20th in Hous- ton. After Bryan's bid was accepted, Mitchell hurried back to town to get the necessary land titles. Assisted by two other leading Bryan citizens, Mitchell got the money for the needed parcels of land, secured the deeds, 35 Bryan Legends and Legacies and returned to Houston the next day, June 21, 1871. On that date the lands were officially "granted, bargained, sold, and released" to the college, in a transaction duly witnessed by an assistant U. S. marshal and by Saylor who had returned to Houston. Ostensibly, Mitchell took only about twenty - four of his allotted forty -eight hours to complete the legal details and re- turn to Houston; that is, if the forty -eight hour period began on June 20th. Perhaps the contingency period began sometime earlier, possibly after the legendary poker game. Perhaps Mitchell made his swift round trip via the Houston & Central Texas Railroad. Certainly, he could expedite legal de- tails on three of the five parcels of land involved because he owned them, a total of 980 acres. J. Frederick Cox owned another tract of 1,226 acres and Mrs. Rebecca Rector and her husband, Nelson W. Rector, had a plot of 210 acres. Thus, Bryan made a total grant of 2,416 acres. This was more than twice what was required by law for the bid, but, at a value of $22,000, was the lowest bid among the contenders, another curious fact highlighted by critics of these transactions. The Financial Dealings From this point, the financial dealings become even more complex. After Mitchell and Saylor returned to Houston with the clear titles, the commis- sioners advanced the two of them $12,000 from a $75,000 fund appropri- ated by the Legislature for the college. Mitchell and Saylor signed notes for the repayment of the money and in August of 1871, Brazos County resi- dents had a special election where they approved a $22,000 bond issue to cover the purchase price of the lands donated for the college. In that way, all the tax paying citizens of Brazos County paid for the land donation. These transactions and the ensuing efforts to actually construct the first buildings and open the new college were conducted during the political, economic and social upheaval of Reconstruction. Radical Republican Gov- ernor Edmund J. Davis had appointed the first three -man commission and changed its membership frequently during the next two years. The various commissioners had spent $36,000 of the original $75,000 College Endow- ment and had little to show for these expenditures. In July of 1873, the 36 The Early Days sitting commissioners appointed the third in a succession of architects for the building, and in the fall of that year a new foundation was completed (the previous one having been condemned as defective) on the site of the present Academic Building. The Site escriptions of the land on which the Agricultural and Mechanical College of Texas was to be established varied according to whether the speaker was friend or foe of the new school. There is no doubt that the site was located on an immense prairie con- taining a scattering of post oak trees. Only 30 acres of the entire site had ever been cultivated, but its proponents declared it was all good land. It was well drained but lacked a fresh water source, a disadvantage the initial architect said could be easily overcome by tanks, pools, and a cistern sys- tem. The first building was to be located on the highest summit of the region, visible for miles around and especially to passers -by on the train. One en- thusiast wrote that it was a site "so strikingly picturesque and romantic, it will provoke the pencil of every tourist." The site plan provoked some people. Several charged that the land was the poorest in the county; others were more vitriolic. They said if the stu- dents ever learned to grow anything at all on the notoriously infertile acres, they'd surely be able to raise corn in the West Texas deserts and cotton in the salt water marshes along the Gulf of Mexico! The Longhorns and Wolves The site for the new college had previously been a gathering place for cattle drives that took Texas beef to markets in Dodge City. Wild longhorns and mustangs still occasionally roamed the area. It was also populated by horned toads, scorpions, rabbits, deer, and wolves. One early campus resident said that it wasn't uncommon to "see a pack of wolves leap out in front of us from the tall weeds that encompassed the campus grounds." The story is 37 Bryan Legends and Legacies told of a young boy who came to enroll at the institution only to be attacked by wolves during the day in full sight of the main building. Another early student was jumped by a hungry pack as he left the dining hall. Several years after the opening of the school, a professor reported that a wolf pack would assemble just beyond the faculty residences and howl 'til the wee hours of the morning. Among the advantages of the site was that Bryan folks wanted the school and worked hard for it to be there. It was located near the population center of the state and along a railroad, which provided excellent transpor- tation for those times. San Antonio and Austin were still linked only by stage. Charges that the school was "isolated" persisted well into the 20th century. Some did not consider this a disadvantage apparently, including that first three -man commission. It is recounted that those early colons looked at a site two and a half miles south of Bryan but considered it too near the evil influences of the city with its saloons on every corner. They went on south, two miles further, until they came to a spot thick with dew- berries. According to legend, they stuck a stake in the ground and said, "Here we'll build the college." Despite all the difficulties, the A &M College of Texas finally opened - on October 4, 1876 with about fifty students. Cadet Temple Lea Houston, son of General Sam Houston, attended that year with the first class. The Legacy The above story has depicted legends and lore, but what about the legacy? The following are some examples. Texas A &M University has become a world leader in teaching, research, and public service. Within its ten colleges, the university offers one hun- dred and fifty -one fields of undergraduate study, one hundred and forty - eight at the master's level, one hundred and five at the doctoral level and two professional degrees...Doctor of Medicine and Doctor of Veterinary Medicine. Texas A &M has awarded more than two hundred thousand aca- demic degrees, including some fifty thousand graduate and professional 38 The Early Days degrees. At Some other superlatives are • Enrollment of more than 43,000 (including Galveston Campus), third largest in the nation • Students representing every state and 115 foreign countries • First in the nation in undergraduate agriculture enrollment • In the top five schools awarding undergraduate engineering degrees • 2,500 member faculty includes two Nobel laureates, seven mem- bers of the National Academy of Sciences, and 13 members of the National Academy of Engineering • Physical plant of 5,200 acres, one of the largest in the nation; val- ued at more than $1 billion • Direct local economic impact of all TAMU Systems entities lo- cated in Bryan- College Station area - -$562 million annually or $1.4 billion when the standard local 2.5 multiplier effect is applied. This is the legacy of those progressive Bryan residents who had the vigor and the vision to attract the Agricultural and Mechanical College of Texas to their county. The First Juneteenth Sunny Nash "They say the entire countryside went up in one long cheer that first day of freedom," said my grandfather, Joseph Nash. "That same cheer lasted into the night!" He was talking about Juneteenth, a celebration unique to Texas among African Americans, dating back to June 19, 1865, when the news of eman- cipation reached slave quarters and bonded people learned of their free- dom. With the horrors of beatings, torture, loved ones killed, and babies sold from their mothers' bosoms still fresh, hopeful Africans left planta- tions seeking new lives within the context of their recent freedom. "They didn't know they weren't really free," my grandfather explained. "Didn't know the South and the rest of the country was already busy in- 39 Bryan Legends and Legacies venting another kind of slavery." As a child of segregation, I understood what that meant - -going through back doors, sitting in the rear, eating out- side the restaurant, buying clothes without being allowed to try them on first, studying handed -down frayed dirty books with pages missing, and holding the lowest occupations offered by society - -in the words of my grand- mother, "being separated from other human beings at birth." "Only a generation ago, my blood was bonded," my grandfather said. "I don't ever want to forget that. Nineteenth of June reminds me of how strong I must be. How smart I am. How I'm able to stand up straight with the world straddling my back getting a free ride. Some people want us to put slavery behind us," he said. "But I know one day everybody's going to be scrambling to find out about that African blood. And by then, all the old heads who know anything about slavery times will be gone on." The sun pounded the top of my head like a hammer and perspiration poured into my clothes. My cousins and I raked and picked up debris in our grandparents' front yard, readying it for our 1960 Juneteenth celebration. Being politically active landowners, my grandparents hosted a Juneteenth celebration until the early 1960s. Relatives from Bryan and their neighbors in Edge and Wheelock in rural northern Brazos County came to share box lunches, horseback riding, games, gossip, and plenty of cold bottled red soda water. Less than a month before my eleventh birthday, I thought I had better things to do than go to the country and work in the heat on a project about which I knew nothing and cared little. But I was wrong. More popular than the Fourth of July, Thanksgiving, and Christmas among Black Texans, Juneteenth was commemorated with reverence until the middle 1960s, when many African Americans had abandoned the farms, migrated to big -city life, and exchanged elements of their own unique culture for an attempt at American assimilation. 40 The Early Days The Founding of a People Sunny Nash Co otton picker, wet nurse, field hand, and chamber maid were some of the jobs held by Brazos County slaves before many were set free in 1865 to live as refugees and travel in foot caravans from plantations to cities and small towns like Bryan around the state. Crude maps in hand, refugees left plantations with tools that consisted of metal scraps and broken pottery for cutting, and flint rocks to make fires for cooking, warming, and protection. Carrying no supplies or food, plantation refugees lived on small game, edible grasses, nuts, berries, and stream water. After supper, they gathered around campfires to prepare their foot gear for the next day. Accompanied by the sounds of bugs, babies crying, and distant screams of bobcats and packs of wolves, they prayed and sang spirituals under the stars. Shoeless people cushioned their feet by wrapping them in rags and pieces of dis- carded leather lined with weeds. Then they walked, stopping at night to camp along overgrown trails near the Brazos River, where some came into intimate contact with remnant bands of Native Americans still active on the Texas frontier. Their illiteracy prevented them from corresponding with plantation refu- gees who had gone ahead. Communication consisted of sending word with someone traveling in that direction. Disorganized, disoriented, and discour- aged, many refugees gave up and tried to go back. Others died from exhaus- tion, thirst, starvation, poisonous vegetation, animal attacks, contaminated water, and broken hearts. Mistaken for criminals, some were hunted and killed, while others were captured and tortured or used for betting games and illegal pleasures. With vague notions of the locations of their kin, refu- gees landed in Bryan hoping to find a relative or friend. If searches ended without result, they sought anyone to answer questions, give them a lead on work, take them in, or share food. No masters doled out mouthfuls at the end of the day or threw scraps from the back door. There were few woods in Bryan teeming with game, nuts, and berries. And one could not simply walk 41 Bryan Legends and Legacies into a store, take food, and feed it to a baby. The little money they began earning in menial jobs was never enough. Surviving off the garbage others left behind, however, was unsatisfactory to many former slaves, who took their freedom and their citizenship seri- ously. When denied opportunity and human rights, some former slaves fell into a refugee -style hand -to -mouth existence that continues today in some North Bryan households. Other former slaves in Bryan drifted to gam- bling, stealing, and trickery. Others took menial labor, saved and purchased farms. Uncomfortable pretending to be happy with poverty and makeshift freedom, most former slaves in Bryan demanded education, longing to escape the hopelessness of their condition. Grandpa George and Grandma Rose Sunny Nash "I remember playing at my grandparents' house when I was child," said Marie Henderson. "They lived a three- minute walk from us. I saw them nearly every day." Henderson's grandparents, George and Rose Wilson, were married around the end of the Civil War. Henderson believes her grandfather came to Bryan from La Grange. Her grandmother's family already owned prop- erty in northern Brazos County at the time of the Wilson wedding. So, it is likely that Rose was born free, which was not as uncommon in Texas as in other slave states. Landowning free Africans in Texas had become a tradi- tion under Spanish rule, which had prohibited slavery. By the time Texans introduced the enslavement of Africans into the former Spanish territory, a free Black population was already carving out a life on the rugged Texas frontier. After the Wilsons were married, they purchased property of their own, farmed, and raised their children. On Saturdays, the whole family would load up in the wagon and ride into Bryan, where they sold produce, banked, paid taxes, and purchased supplies. Because there was no formal entertain- ment available, Rose and George often hosted weekend gatherings at their 42 III 1 IIIIIII 1 II h o m e . "They said wagons came from all around," Henderson said. "Friends from church, where my grandfather was a deacon, and other friends like the Hines and Gibbs families from Bryan. People brought food and drinks and stayed all day having fun. When I was a little girl, my grandparents were still having those socials. I remember dancing in the yard to a windup pho- nograph. We played ring games and clapping games and sang rhymes like this one, 'I'm going to Italy/I'm going a flying /Going to catch that mule/ And ride him blind. "' She stopped and laughed aloud. "That's all I can remember of it. I hadn't thought of it since I was a child. We played games under the shade trees until nearly sundown. That's when everyone had to start heading home. The game I liked best was the candy match. They'd break peppermint, lemon, and other kinds of stick candy in half and put the halves in a box. The box had a hole cut large enough for a child's hand. Without looking, each child took a turn pulling out a piece of candy. If you didn't match your first piece with your second pull, you had to put both pieces back. And that's how the game went. Everybody wanted some of that candy, and we played it for hours until all the candy had been matched and eaten." The Early Days History in Focus Sunny Nash Pictures became an important part of the lives of African Americans from the time commercial photographers began traveling the back roads. And those photographs prove the affluence and stability of pre- turn -of- the -cen- tury African American families in and around Bryan. Adult males in the family were usually out working, and most often the photographers negoti- ated to shoot pictures of women and children, sometimes settling for a do- nation, a meal, or directions to the next town as payment. Nora Newsome Franklin said photographers traveled during early day- light hours because twilight held the dangers and rural residents were suspi- cious of night visitors. You never knew who might stumble upon your prop- erty at night. For security reasons, parents situated their bedrooms at the 43 Bryan Legends and Legacies front of the house and the children's in back. When someone approache the adults heard and had time to prepare. Because Central Texas was on th American frontier until well after the turn of the century, some photogra phers who came into Bryan played it safe by traveling with medicine me and carnivals. Some shows were off limits to African Americans, and others prohibited the races from attending together, designating separate nights for each of the three racial groups in the area - -in the same fashion that the early public school system in Bryan segregated the three racial groups in separate schools. For these reasons of inconvenience and insult, many African Ameri cans preferred the traveling photographer or chose not to be photographe at all. Well into the twentieth century, photographers risked their lives and equipment documenting life on the Texas frontier. Nora Newsome Franklin's mother, Lucy Newsome, was photographed by a traveling photographer on the front porch of her country home. Mrs. Newsome was born around 1875 and lived on the outskirts of Bryan with her husband, who was probabl working the land away from the house when the photographer arrived. Nora Newsome Franklin's mother -in -law, Mary Richards Franklin, also was pho- tographed by a traveling photographer, around 1898, in her home on the east side of Bryan. Born in 1873, Mrs. Franklin was the wife of a Bryan carpenter and home builder, Eddie Franklin. Their son Ed married Nora Newsome around 1918. Ed and Nora Franklin had a daughter, Buna. With Ira Beverly, Buna had a son, Ira, Jr., and a daughter, Kirsten. Kirsten main- tains and resides in the original Franklin family home in Bryan. 44 "Grandma and Grandpa Rose" was written for this collection. The other three stories by Nash have appeared in the Bryan- College Station Eagle. The Early Days Brazos County Italians Paul McKay Italian Americans are a proud people, and the local of their lot take special pride in their heritage. Take a pencil and a Texas map and draw lines connecting Bryan and Hearne and Caldwell. Within that triangle lies an area settled largely by Italian immigrants. Local phone books include the names of hundreds of their descendants: Lampo, Scarmardo, Todaro, Fazzino, Ruffino, Mauro, Perrone, Morella, Ottea...the list goes on. The membership of Bryan's St. Anthony's Catholic Church, founded by Italians in 1896, today (1982) has 651 families of Italian descent, repre- senting two - thirds of the total membership. The roots of those Italian families can be traced to three farming vil- lages-- Poggioreale, Salapurta, and Corleone - -all located in a region about 40 miles south of Palermo, Sicily. Southern Italians - -and that includes Sicilians - -began in the 1870s what Valentine Belfiglio calls "a chain emigration" to Louisiana and Texas. Belfiglio, professor of history at Texas Women's University, says the unification of Italy in 1861 had proved to be expensive. Southern Italy's contadini, the peasant - farmer class, was already sunk in poverty and social ills when the powers that be strapped it with more and higher taxes. In an article published in 1981 in The Texas Humanist, Belfiglio de- scribed conditions that sent southern Italians streaming to America: "Be- cause of a high birth rate, the region was overpopulated. There were few modern public works, little industry, banditry was common, and less than 10 percent of the adult males could read and write." "In addition, most of the land and wealth were owned by the nobility, professional groups, and the clergy. The class system was rigid, and sons rarely deviated from the professions of their fathers." But the final straw, Belfiglio says, was a tax imposed for use of one thing fundamental to the poor people's sustenance - -the grist mill 45 Bryan Legends and Legacies 46 "It's easy to understand why 80 percent of the Italians who came to the United States between 1870 and 1914 were from southern Italy,' Belfiglio says. "They hoped to provide a higher standard of living for them. selves and their families in America." Belfiglio calls their mass departure a "chain emigration," because one or a few members of a family would go to America, get settled, and then send for the rest of the family. Many of the immigrants sailed to New Orleans. Slaves had been liber- ated and were migrating to the North, leaving Louisiana and other southern states with serious labor shortages. Louisiana officials first tried to attract immigrant labor in 1866. They organized a Bureau of Immigration and distributed pamphlets overseas, touting the state's resources and attractions. The ploy was not very effec- tive. In 1880, the Louisiana Sugar Planters' Association agreed to pay travel and living expenses for new arrivals. The planters preferred Italians over other European labor because Italians were reputed to be thrifty and hard- working. Italians responded to their enticements. Of the 3,878 immigrants who arrived in Louisiana in 1890, 67 percent were from Italy. The S. S. Po was typical of the immigrant ships. The 800 -plus passen- gers aboard the Po in December 1891 arrived at New Orleans with an aver- age of $17 in their pockets; many arrived with only the clothes on their backs, and very few could speak English. Meanwhile, Texas corn and cotton planters were also facing labor short- ages. They offered generous sharecropping terms to Europeans who would come to the state, and Italians in Louisiana poured into Texas in response. Hundreds of them came to the Brazos Valley. Reprinted from the Bryan - College Station Eagle, April 10, 1982 and contributed by John $ Grizzaffi. The Early Days One of Bryan's First Physicians Frances Kimbrough Dr. John H. Webb, the first dean of faculty and a professor at Galveston Medical School, moved his family to Bryan in 1870 to avoid the yellow fever epidemic in Galveston. He practiced medicine above the James Drug- store. Mr. Wipprecht, a neighbor, recalled that Dr. Webb was one of the men who went to Austin to obtain a permit to establish Texas A &M as a land grant college. Webb also was an artist and did medical illustrations. Webb's sons, J. H. (Jimmy) and Robert, established Webb Brothers, a clothing store on Main Street that later became Lester's. His daughter, Hattie, was the organist at the First United Methodist Church in Bryan. She was also an artist, a gardener with her own glass greenhouse, and an expert seamstress for her daughter. Meredith H. James, Hattie's husband, owned the drugstore above which Webb had his medical office at the site of the old First State Bank on Main Street. In 1910, James moved his apothecary to the corner of Bryan and 26th Streets, which in 1996, is the Medical Center Pharmacy. The name, "James Drug Store," can still be seen above the shop. James W. James, Sr., Webb's grandson, kept the main store and expanded the business by open- ing a location on North Main and one on the present University Drive near Loupot's Bookstore. This was the first drugstore in College Station. James was on the Bryan School Board when Fannin School was built, and his name is on the cornerstone now reposing inside the present building. For forty -five years he was on the Administrative Board, the Board of Stew- ards, and an usher at First United Methodist Church (then known as First Methodist Episcopal Church South.) Webb's great - granddaughter, Frances James Kimbrough, was the first officer on the State Board of Texas A &M Mothers' Clubs whose child was a daughter, not a son. This daughter, Frances H. Kimbrough, Ph.D., was one of the first women to attend and graduate from Texas A &M University. Currently a psychologist in private practice in Bryan, she is in the health service field as was Dr. John H. Webb, her ancestor. 47 Bryan Legends and Legacies The John Merka Family Margaret Beauchamp Bland Moravian Origins John Merka was born November 14, 1833 in Hankov, Moravia under rule of the emperor of Austria. He died in Kurten, in Brazos County, on January 31, 1892. His wife, Mary Kopecky, was born March 15, 1842, al in Moravia. She died in February 1901 in the Rye community in Braz County and was buried in Smetana Cemetery. John and Mary had three children in Moravia: John, born October 1866; Rosina, born September 15, 1867; and Paul, born March 12, 187 There were so many political uprisings and struggles in Moravia that group of Moravian families decided to move to America to seek freedo I understand that the men came first and landed in the Port of Galvesto about January 25, 1870. The ship was kept in quarantine for six weeks fore the officials would release the passengers. Stories passed down throu my family tell that these men had to eat mush in troughs like pigs to surviv Several men died, and those who lived became indentured as servants t earlier immigrants to pay for their transportation over here and for the 48 The Early Days and the Reliance community. Eventually my grandfather Joe Merka mar- ried my grandmother Elizabeth Koh, in 1895. She was eighteen; he was twenty -one. They bought a farm in the Rye community near Benchley and had seven children; my mother, Betty Caroline Merka Pratt, was their third. Great - Grandpa John Merka and Great - Grandpa John Kopecky are bur- ied in the Kurten Cemetery, side by side. After Joe Kopecky and Joe Merka both married and moved to the Rye community, the grandmothers became ill and dependent upon their chil- dren. They are buried in Smetana Cemetery. John and Mary's Baby Cradle John Merka and Mary Kopecky came to America in 1870. Their first child to be born in America was a boy, Anton, who was born February 3, 1873 and died January 10, 1874. My grandfather Joseph was born February 3, 1874 and baptized February 5, 1874 at St. John's Catholic Church in Fayetteville, Texas. It was told to me that when our great - grandparents came to America ey brought absolutely nothing with them. Great - Grandpa John hand -carved their baby crib, using pegs instead of nails to hold it together. Joseph was the second baby to sleep in it, followed by all his younger sisters and broth- ers. wives to come over later. The first son, John, was the first to marry and start his family, so the I have not been able to find the date that the women came to America baby crib was passed on to him. His children and their children were rocked but I do know that John and Mary's third son, Paul, was born in Europ1 in this cradle until it became so weathered and worn that it was tossed out - before she came here. side; John's daughter, Albina, rescued it. Albina, who married John Hebert, The Merkas, Kopeckys, Ubonoskies, Hudecs, and several other farm• helped raise her nieces and nephews. Just before her death, about 1975, she lies got as far as Fayette County and settled there. The Merkas moved told my mother about this cradle and asked if I wanted it. I did. My husband around frequently, though, because we traced the births of their other seven and I hand -carved the missing rungs and rocker. The wood had terrible rot. children to several different parishes. Only one was recorded in the court We soaked it in linseed oil for about six months before we started painting house in La Grange. The others were recorded in Catholic churches in it. Then I put about four layers of paint on it to hold it together. several different parishes. They were farmers and sharecroppers. I donated their baby cradle to the Brazos Valley Museum with much From what information I could gather, the Merkas, Kopeckys, and love and in honor of the entire Merka family. Hudecs moved to Brazos County sometime in 1885 and settled in Kurtec By the late '80s the Brazos Valley Museum was not collecting histori- 49 Bryan Legends and Legacies cal items, and Mrs. Bland had no room for the cradle at her home. She ga it to Ruth Peattie who is still keeping it in 1996 in the hope that Braz County will someday have a history museum. Can You Solve This Mystery? Myrl Sims A prized possession in our family is an ebony walking cane with a gold handle. It is engraved as follows: To W. M. James a token presented by Citizens of Bryan For Zeal and Courage As Dist. Attorney April 14, 1888 The story handed down in the family is that W. M. James was instru mental in running cattle rustlers out of the area. We have no documentatio r; on the story--just the cane. He was my maternal great- grandfather. His grand daughter, Eleanor Baker, still resides in Bryan. Our records show that W. M. James' full name was Washington Murra James, born December 29, 1825 in Alabama. He was shown in the 185 census in Crockett, Houston County, Texas, to be living in the home of James H. Collard, a Methodist minister. In 1851, he married Martha Robbins and they had ten children. The seventh child was my grandmother, Martha' James, born in 1865 in Madisonville. The 1860 census showed him still in Madisonville and that he was a hotelkeeper. We have no record beyond that. We do not know when he came to Bryan or when he left. If anyone has more information on James, please contact Myrl Sims. 1603 Barak Lane, Bryan, TX 77802. 50 The Early Days Bida Means Hard Times My grandmother, Magdalena Swrek Stetz, was a Polish immigrant who came to Brazos County in the 1880s. What I remember most about my grandmother was her determination to never to go through Bida again. In Polish, Bida means hard times. She told about planting seed when she and her husband did not own a planter. Pregnant with one child and, carrying the other in her arms, she dropped corn seed in the furrow from her apron as her husband opened the row. She worked very hard all of her life. The word Bida was imprinted on her mind. I never learned to speak or understand Polish, but I do know that word. (I do not know exactly how to spell it.) One Polish family who lived near College Station had a small baby that was nursing. The father and mother hitched up the wagon and went to town to get necessities. They left the baby with the older children. While they were in town a big rain came. On their way home they came upon a rushing, flooded creek. The father wanted to wait to cross until the creek went down, but the mother said she had to go home to nurse the baby and could not wait. When they tried to cross, the powerful water swept the wagon away. The woman drowned. Her body was found later that night downstream from her glistening wedding ring reflecting the moonlight. From about 1880 to the turn of the century, a large number of Polish immigrants moved into Brazos County. Most settled in the rural communi- ties. They continued to live by their old customs and tried hard to learn to speak English. During this time people were ashamed to speak their native language, and it was hard for the younger ones to talk with the older ones. Another family was cleaning their house for Christmas, which was an old Polish custom. Their little girl, who had been given the job of cleaning the windows, accidentally broke a window pane. It was almost impossible to get new glass, and she was sure to get a scolding, so she hid the broken glass in her clothes so no one could see it. Running to discard it in the Pasture, she tripped and fell; a piece of the glass punctured her side badly. Alvin J. Stetz 51 Bryan Legends and Legacies She wrapped the wound up with some old rags so no one would see t bleeding. That night when everyone else was asleep the pain got so bad that sh could not stand it any longer, and she began to scream. Her parents an everyone else in the house woke up. Her mother jerked back the sheet an saw the blood. They hitched up the wagon and took her into town to see th doctor. Golden Wedding Major and Mrs. J. W. Tabor 1844 -1894 Fide et Amore Few are they to whom is accorded the happy privilege of celebrating the golden wedding anniversary. When golden haired youth has turned to gray 'tis sweet to see the gray recrowned in gold and rolling back the scroll of half a century, walk hand in hand along the flowery paths of life's morning, the day dream of courtship, the holy marriage hour, resanctified through the mist of years - -a shining glory at the beginning of life, only surpassed by that greater glory, immortal translation, at its end. At their large and hospitable home in this city yesterday evening Major and Mrs. J. W. Tabor celebrated their fiftieth or golden wedding anniversary with one of the grandest events of its character ever given in Texas. Mr. John W. Tabor and Miss Martha J. Anderson were united in mar- riage at Fern Springs, Winston County, Miss. on July 25, 1844, by Rev. Edwin Pace. Major Tabor was born at Centerville, Bibb County, Ala., Nov. 16, 1822, and is now in his seventy- second year. Mrs. Tabor was born at Pickensville, Pickens County, Ala., Feb. 21, 1827, and is now in her sixty - eighth. They came to Texas in 1859 and settled in Caldwell County. They afterwards moved to Bryan in 1867, building during the same year their present home. Major Tabor's occupation has been mer- chandising and farming, and for about 9 years he was engaged in the livery business. During the war he was a major in the Confederate Army, and belonged to the Seventeenth Texas infantry. Major and Mrs. Tabor have been members of the Baptist church since 1861 and were baptized together. 52 111111 1 IIIII The Early Days Ten children were born of this union, eight boys and two girls, five whom are living. They all reside in Bryan and are Messrs. R. G., 0. John Q., and Dr. Geo. R. Tabor, and Miss Mattie Tabor. There are so fifteen grandchildren and one great grand- daughter, little Martha obertson. Mr. and Mrs. Tabor are both in excellent health. The former weighs ver two hundred pounds and the latter more than one hundred and seventy ve. They may yet celebrate their diamond wedding. When the guests, at least three hundred in number, were assembled, countless lights shed their soft rays upon the beautiful yellow decorations of the rooms, tastefully arranged and relieved here and there by intermin- gling green; other lights in Japanese effects swayed among the boughs of evergreens throughout the grounds where inviting rustic seats were arranged at convenient intervals, while the trio of Mexican singers lent the charm of their music to the fairylike scene. Numerous and costly presents, some of them from the far distance, were displayed in the parlors. Immediately before supper was announced, the attention of the guests was called and Dr. Friley read ... [a] beautiful original poem: Just fifty years ago today You took the marriage vow, The golden age to you and yours Is not a fable now. Sweet has been life's pilgrimage Through all the pleasant past, Yet, as at Cana's marriage feast, The best wine is the last... . As the guests filed into the dining room pretty white silk badges bearing the following gilt legend were pinned on each: 1844 Golden Wedding 1894 July 25 Mary J. Anderson - -John W. Tabor Fide et amore. The same words appeared in large gilt letters on the walls of the princi- pal dining room, the words "Texas" and "Mississippi" being coupled with the dates. The long tables, some of them under the trees, were loaded down with good things provided in lavish abundance, and rang- ing from burnt almonds to all kinds of barbecued meats with pastry, 53 11 11 11 1 1 Bryan Legends and Legacies fruits, candies, and ices. The principal table in the form of an H bore two large heart shaped cakes, and on the centerpiece a mirror faced upwards, upon which sat a large silver basin making a miniature pond with swans and floating leaves and flowers. The whole scene was truly magnificent and beggars description. At 12 o'clock good nights were said and the guests asked to be invited to Major and Mrs. Tabor's diamond wedding. From an 1894 Bryan Daily Eagle, Contributed by Martha Brunson. The Houses That Charlie Jenkins Built Colleen J. Batchelor Few people leave to a community the tangible monuments to the human spirit that Charlie Jenkins bequeathed to all of us. A noted contractor in Bryan for more than 40 years, Jenkins built many of the older homes and public buildings that still grace our community today. The Jenkins family came to the United States from London in 1873. In 1878, they moved to Texas, settling in Bryan in November of that year. Charlie was one of eight children in the family. One younger brother, George, also was a contractor and apparently worked with Charlie on occa- sion. George died an untimely death after contacting rabies from his dog. Another brother, Edwin, was a local druggist for nearly 70 years. Edwin served as mayor of Bryan, resigning when he learned that his citizenship never had been finalized because of bureaucratic problems. The people of Bryan must have had no qualms about his loyalty for they reelected Edwin at the ensuing election, citizen or not! Among the homes that Charlie Jenkins built in Bryan are the Hudson- Harrison house (1896) at 616 E. 31st Street; the Wipprecht home (1898), 500 E. 29th Street, now in the process of restoration; the Edge -DuPuy house (1901) at 508 East 30th; and the home he built in 1895 as a wedding present' for his brother, Edwin, at 607 E. 27th Street. All of these homes are Victorian in style and remarkable for their crafts- manship. The records do not indicate that an architect was used on any of 54 1 The Early Days these projects. The similarity of some of the features in these homes, in particular an amazing use of natural lighting, leads one to the conclusion that Jenkins may have done as much design work as he did actual building. In 1890, Jenkins built a house on E. 25th Street for himself and his bride, Julia Lula Birdwell. In 1956, this house was moved to 1400 E. 21st Street. Although the house is in need of repair, Jenkins' artistic sensibility is still in evidence if you look past the peeling paint to the decorative de- tails. Elements such as turned wood posts, jigsaw detailing and brackets, and spindle work attest to the care taken in building this family home. Jenkins' versatility is evident in his ability to build homes of many different styles. In addition to the structures mentioned above, he built Texas vernacular architecture for Charles Nitch at 704 E. 29th in 1890, neoclassi- cal revival on a grand scale for Mrs. Onah W. Astin at 600 E. 29th in 1901, a graceful Queen Anne for John A. Moore at 601 E. 30th in 1902, American foursquare for A. W. Wilkerson at 614 E. 29th in 1912, and a brick bunga- low for J. M. Gordon at 615 E. 31st in 1925. Jenkins must have taken justifiable pride in his work, for in one of these houses it has been discovered that he signed and dated the wooden walls in the kitchen before they were papered over. At a minimum this suggests his willingness to take credit and responsibility for his work. Perhaps he also knew that these houses would be standing long after his death and that someday we would want to know more about their origins. In 1912, Jenkins began construction of St. Andrew's Episcopal Church. 1111111 I II 1 1 55 Bryan Legends and Legacies Twilight Zone Eleanor Hanover Nance Here in the old homestead When the lights are low And the fire burns bright, My people of long ago Come back to me at night. Great - great - grandparents step down From the frames upon the wall And greet each other once again As they promenade down the hall. The rest of the family enters Through the old front door; My heart expands with joy To see them all once more. They tell the tales I like to hear How in the days of old They lived and loved as they traveled west In search of land and gold. The fire burns low and My resurrected people depart; Deep down I really know The magic may never work again and I will only see them in my heart. 56 The Early Days Togetherness Mary Ellen Vincent A big blazing fire in the fireplace An extra box of wood in the corner, A big black pot of wild turkey hanging there, too, And sweet potatoes buried in hot ashes, Pumpkin pies placed on a table nearby- - All are preparations for a happy evening meal. Father reading from the family Bible, Holding it behind a kerosene lamp, Mother molding freshly- churned butter, Little Dotty dressing her corncob doll With Sammy, sitting, shelling yellow grained This envisions a contented family, counting its blessings And awaiting a peaceful evening meal. 57 Bryan Legends and Legacies Bryan Bits The H &TC Railroad reached Bryan by the summer of 1867, and by Octo- ber the sidings that ran to the warehouse doors of the principal cotton ship- ping merchants were completed just in time for the cotton harvest. In September of that year, the yellow fever epidemic swept over Millican, killing many of its people and hastening the departure of others. A letter from Bryan to the Galveston Daily News read, "Please mail our paper to this place. The Post Office at Millican is discontinued. The postmaster has fled to the woods, and the telegraph operator is dead." Information from Brazos County History of 1986. The original plan for the layout of the city of Bryan was to have the town built around a public square. Land around the square was quickly bought by speculators who asked...such exorbitant prices that the merchants de- cided to buy the cheaper land next to the railroad tracks. One advantage this provided was that merchants could have their merchandise loaded di- rectly from the train into the back of the stores. From Brazos County Historical Tour, by students of Bryan High School in 1976 under Mrs. Charlene Ragsdale. On November 1868, a group of county officers and Bryan merchants sub- mitted a petition to Governor Pease requesting the appointment of William M. McQueen as public weigher. They noted that Bryan was now "the principal shipping port and the chief cotton mart in the state," and claimed that 300 to 500 bales exchanged hands each day. Information from Brazos County History of 1986. Before construction was begun on the new courthouse, a jail was com- pleted on the courthouse square in 1867...a 10x12 one room building, fif- teen feet above ground resting on four upright logs. The door was reached by a removable ladder. This structure was called the "Bryan Sky Parlor" and was an improvement over the "Dungeon" at Boonville - -a double walled structure that had to be entered through the ceiling and was reported to be infested with fleas. _Information from Brazos County History of 1986. John Wesley Wiley Jr., who later lived in Bryan, moved first to the Tabor area from North Carolina. He and his brother Dub drove a wagon filled with beadspreads woven in the mills of their home state. They sold those beadspreads all the way to Texas. Johnnie Mae Wiley Stanford The Early Days 1884, the following physicians organized the Brazos County Medical ociety: Drs. D. A. Jameson, J. W. Webb, E M. Hall, J. S. Pugh, W. A. dams, J. W. Hunter, J. W. Cavitt, and A. J. Planter. na Coulter Carnes says that (about 1897) all the stores on Main Street ere exactly alike. They each had three entrances, each with two doors and no show windows at all. Sidewalks were made out of wooden planks, not cement. Women wore long dresses down to their ankles. They always took shoes and corsets home to try on because a woman did not dare sit in a chair to let a man try shoes on her, and there were no dressing rooms. Prom an interview by Penny Knodel on March 4, 1975 for the TAMU Oral History Pro- gram. Bryan Legends and Legacies The County built a bridge to replace the Jones Ferry in June 1889 because of floods. It opened in 1892, giving the name Jones Bridge Road to the route we know in 1996 as Farm Road 60. Although Bryan was a proper town, it had a great many saloons. Before the turn of the century, Bryan was known as a "Saloon Town." When the town had a population of three thousand, there were sixteen saloons. At one time Bryan had an average of two saloons per city block. The best known saloon was the woman -owned Lou's Saloon...the cleanest and most orderly saloon in town. From Brazos County Historical Tour, by students of Bryan High School in 1976 under Mrs. Charlene Ragsdale. If you visit Mt. Calvary Cemetery or Bryan City Cemetery, you can see some beautiful cast iron crosses made by artisan Charles Andera of Spillville, Iowa. Andera shipped crosses to Bryan and Smetana in 1890. Today they stand guard over Czek and Italian graves. The crosses exhibit lattice work, heart shapes, crucifixes, and other ornate Christian symbols. Andera began as a carpenter and coffin maker and then learned to cre- ate the crosses out of wood which he then coated in plaster and sent to a foundry. He also renovated churches and added scroll work to altars, and he also was a skilled photographer for whom Antonin Dvorak sat for his por- trait. From Decorah (Iowa) Journal, Dec. 15, 1994. Submitted by Peggy Bassenfelder. The Early Days The best known opera house in Bryan was the Grand Opera House (which) o pened in 1889, when Jacob Schwartz rented the upper floor of Bryan City Hall. Artists from Chicago painted the scenery for the theater at consider- able expense. One of the first showings of moving pictures in Bryan oc- curred at this opera house in 1897. In January of that year, "the magniscope," Edison's latest and greatest invention in the way of "vitascopes," made its a ppearance in Bryan featuring a number of short films. The Grand contin- ued to be a major influence in Bryan's cultural life until Bryan City Hall (in which it was housed) burned in 1909. The fire destroyed the opera house as well. (On this site, a new city hall was built, which later became several theaters in succession, the last one was known as the Palace The- ater.) From History of Theatres in Bryan, Texas by Fred A. Patterson Jr. 0 H Last Visit Home Geraldine Drumwright The old iron gate and cedars are no more Which once gave friendly greeting here to all. The columned porch and swing, so loved before, Are destined now with this old house to fall. The broad front door, the newel -post and stair Now beckon us to enter as of old; Inside the hall, we feel a presence there Of parents poised, their loved ones to enfold. Sweet memories come flooding as we gaze; The room where family gathered round the stove, Told stories, or popped corn on coldest days, Learned lessons of loyalty and love. We wander through the rooms to reminisce How mother served those good old- fashioned meals; How father called, "Too much lost motion, kids!" And over us a burst of humor steals. Apartment dwellers soon will tread the land On which our fruiting orchard once was grown; And on this homeplace site, tall towers stand, For no more can we claim it as our own. We leave the house and look back through our tears To say our last farewells and then depart. The old home place where I spent my growing years Holds first place now and always in my heart. 1 1 Photo Credit: Frances Elizabeth Chance, 1907 Bryan High School Graduation, Courtes of Frances H. Kimbrough. 1901 to 1928 Letter to Granddaughter, Wesa Harvey Mitchell The following letter was written by Harvey Mitchell the year before he died to his granddaughter Wesa Weddington who was attending Baylor College. Harvey's great granddaughter Ruth Weddington Peattie contrib- uted this letter but reminded me that Harvey Mitchell did not live in Bryan but had settled a few miles out of town. When asked where this land was, Mrs. Peattie said that it was located on what is now Villa Maria across from Crestview where St. Joseph Hospital is currently expanding. Wesa Weddington graduated from Baylor and taught for years in Bryan before becoming principal of Bryan High School, where she served for many more years. Harvey Mitchell was one of the first settlers in Brazos County. He had little formal education but believed strongly in education. He was instru- mental in establishing Texas A &M University in our community. Bryan,Texas. January 7, 1900. My Dear Wesa: I have your kind letter of 5th inst and altho I can't conceive of any art or place by which changes in social habits or progress or the reverse in that line may be adequately portrayed on maps "delineation of land" as I under- stand map making Yet I herewith send you a sketch of original town of Bryan one mile square or 640 acres of land which was subsquently en- larged by numerous additions to a two mile square block or 2560 acres within present corporate limits. I will also give as best I can a condensed recital of its history but can't promise all minute details in one letter. BRYAN is situated near the centre of Brazos County on the apex of the dividing ridge between the Brazos and Navasota Rivers. Town site was laid out by the management of the original H &T.C. R.R. Co. on its pro- jected line in 1857 or 8. Its chief attractions were natural beauty of sur- rounding country and certainty of the removal of the County Seat with its trade, schools, churches, lodges and then at old Boonville to the new town and ultimately become the social educational and commercial centre of a 65 Bryan Legends and Legacies large territory in adjacent counties. The Civil War and its consequences of 1861 to 1865 prevented the completion of the railroad to the point until 1867 and up to this time the population was limited and cosmopolitan in character. Building material was costly and difficult to obtain, consequently but few residences or busi- ness houses were built till railroad trains began regular service. About this time (1867) there came a large number of people from other states and different parts of this state in search of some plan or opportunity to make money and Bryan became a city in an incredibly short time, filled with all sorts of people among whom "society" was most conspicuous by its absence. Competition in all lines of business was active and bitter and but few had time or inclination to engage in social intercourse. This condition con- tinued as long as Bryan remained the terminus, but on the railroad being extended, a large proportion of the floating population left and Bryan then began a new system of social, religious educational and commercial intercouse and practice among those who remained. Churches and schools were established. Permanent and costly residences and business houses were erected. The corporate limits of the city extended so as to embrace the several "additions" to the city that has been made. Two large stylish school buildings erected one for the whites and one for the colored high school. Six large church edifices of modern style for whites and four for the negroes. A $20,000 courthouse and $7,000 jail erected and five blocks on main street solidly built up with brick business house stores, hotel etc and the A &M College located in 1872 five miles south of the city on the railroad was now in 1890 in successful operation. Up to this date (1890) may be classed as "map" or chapter two of Bryan's History and up to this time as I estimate it Bryan had reached its highest and happiest status in social enjoyment and real value. The social or society customs of today as I view them are not calcu- lated to promote the real enjoyment of its votaries. Pride, envy, selfishness, vanity and in some instances a total want of moral and intellectual cultures predominate among some of the leading members of the gilt edge circles and impudent cheek and the bank account seem to be a necessary qualifica- tion to membership. Gaudy apparel and "cheek" are dominant, sincerity and love for truth and "for thy neighbor as thyself' cut no figure among the various clubs, clans and socalled society circles of today in Bryan and yet I am consoled in the hope that this very feature may prove a blessing to many poor young 66 people who are now not eligible to enter these sham circles for they may escape marital entanglements that could only result in a life of crushing grief to them. But with great change in society matters that has occurred in the last fifteen years much has been accomplished by her people in the way of useful and ornamental improvements. A new and stylish $75,000 court- house fire proof, and finest in the state except one or two. A fine and com- modious City Hall and calaboose fire and waterworks department and ex- tensive telephone and electric light system. A large cotton seed oilmill and many other improvements of great value have been made and some of our people have high hopes of additional improvements. A cotton mill, street car line to the A &M College. But that is in the future. lbw Now my dear child I've written what I suppose may be of some use to you in getting up your essay. It is the best I can do for you and I hope you may be able to use it so as to get something out of it that you can use (not Copy) in your work. All in usual health, weather unsettled. As ever your Affectionate Old Grandpa. Contributed by Kay Kazmir. t 1901 to 1928 School Days Mildred Collett In the early 1900s, Eula Gregg and her friends attended a little country school in the Brazos Bottom. It was called the Gregg School as it was lo- cated on her parents' property. After finishing the early grades, it was the custom of the time for stu- dents from rural areas to stay in a nearby town to attend high school. Eula boarded with the Henry Rhode family at Washington and 28th streets in Bryan but usually returned to the family farm on weekends, where she often gave parties. Frequently, she remained in Bryan, visiting with her best friend, Blanche Buchanan. The girls loved to dance and each made a vow never to marry a man 67 Bryan Legends and Legacies who could not dance. They attended many dances at A &M College. order to escort the young ladies to a dance, their dates would ride the troll into Bryan; at the terminal they would hire a driver with a horse and bug (the "taxi" of the day), then pickup Eula and Blanche. After the dance, the all went to eat, then the travel process was reversed. Many times, it would be quite late, after 4 a.m., before the young men got back to the campu "because of the long ride on the trolley." One night Eula and Blanche were later than usual. They took off their shoes when they reached the Buchanan home, hoping to tiptoe in softly, s as not to wake Blanche's parents. They got in the house quietly, but family's parrot was not asleep. It greeted them with a raucous "Good mo ing! Good morning!" Blanche was so aggravated she threw one of her sh at the bird, missing it, but hitting a glass ornament that broke. Another weekend event turned out to be a special one for Eula. Blanc was hostess for a party at the Buchanan's, and a number of young peop gathered around the piano singing songs. They were singing "Meet me in dreamland tonight... ", when Eula re ized another young man had joined their group. The young man was Winfie Hugh Looney. Some time later, the two were married. They had four chi dren, three boys and a girl. The Rhode's family home where Eula boarded is no longer standing; church building now occupies the site. For many years, the beautiful o Southern home with large columns was used by the First Baptist Church f Sunday School classes and special events. One such occasion was the we ding reception for Martha Ann, the daughter of Frances Eula Gregg Winfield Hugh Looney. Incidentally, both Eula and Blanche married men who did not dance! Resources from M. L. Persons and Eve Persons 68 1901 to 1928 Ah, Those Were...(Sigh) the Days Phyllis Dozier It is hard to believe that coffee ever sold for 10 cents per pound and a 100 pound sack of flour went for $1. But a Llano woman, whose late husband lived near Bryan as a boy, can attest to the truth of such prices. Mrs. Violet Boswell came across a grocery tab, showing the cost of everyday items, among the possessions of her late husband, Jim Boswell, who died in 1968. As a boy, a little past the turn of the century, Jim Boswell and his brother, Will, helped their father, J. N. Boswell, operate a small cotton farm near Bryan. Purchases made by Boswell on November 25, 1901 were listed, totaled on the tab, and the proof saved through the years. Food shoppers, try to hold back the tears. This is what he got for his money: Coffee, 10 lbs. - $1 Flour, two 100 lb. sacks - $2 Lard, 16 lbs. - $1.95 Bacon, 22 lbs. - $2.30 Soap, 10 bars - 25 cents Black Pepper, 1 lb. - 20 cents Bluing, 3 boxes - 10 cents It might be interesting to follow Boswell's example and save a current itemized list of groceries and prices to be looked over with astonishment by a shopper in the year 2000. But, then again, somehow it doesn't seem possible that 90 cents a pound for coffee will ever seem like a pleasant memory. From the Bryan- College Station Eagle, July 10, 1972. 69 J OIN Bryan Legends and Legacies Cotton Pickin' in the Brazos Bottom (Recalled by Frank and Mary DeGelia) Frances X. DeGelia Our father, Frank Degelia, was born in Corleone, Sicily in 1888. Our mother, Bessie Cotropia Degelia, was born in Brazos County in 1894. When our father was three months old his family sailed for America because eco. nomic conditions were harsh in Sicily at the time, jobs were scarce, an there was little hope for a better future. After sailing about a month, they landed in Louisiana. Having little education and few skills, our grandfather took a job in the sugar cane fields, where he worked for several years, unti he heard of some land that was available in Steele's Store. My grandfath arrived in Brazos County and worked the land as a tenant farmer growing cotton, corn, and maize. Although the family helped out in the cotton fields, there was still much work to be done. During the fall when the cotton was harvested, father drove into Bryan in a wagon seeking anyone who was available for work in the fields. He would pick them up on a Sunday evening and return them to Bryan the following Friday. The workers stayed on the farm during the week, living in small one -room buildings or staying in our homes. One of the workers most remembered was Aunt Savannah, a former slave. Her cornbread and pinto beans were legendary, and we loved to listen to her tall tales. Story telling and hearty meals helped the cotton pickers to endure their- grueling days in the fields. Workers went out at daylight and stayed until dusk. They carried sacks on their shoulders to carry the cotton. It was a hot and dirty job, and the cotton bolls had sharp, dry edges that cut into their fingers. Most workers could pick an average of 125 pounds of cotton a day, and received 25¢ to 35¢ for every 100 pounds they could pick...meager pay for such hard work. When the cotton was picked, it was loaded into huge wooden wagons that transported it to the local cotton gin. Fifteen hundred pounds of raw cotton would make a 500 pound bale of pure lint cotton after ginning. The gin would pay us 5¢ a pound for the lint and $6.00 a ton for the cotton seed. 70 1901 to 1928 John Palasota - Sicilian Carpenter (Recalled by Vancie Todaro) Frances X. DeGelia My father, John Palasota, was born in Poggioreale, Sicily on December 4, 1884. There were few jobs available in Sicily at the time and little prospect of a better future. Hoping to provide a better life for his family, my grandfa- ther decided to sail with his family for America. They sailed on a ship called LaGuardia and landed in New Orleans. The year was 1901, and my father was 17 years old. Shortly after arriving in New Orleans, my father and grandfather found work at a banana plantation. Because he could neither speak nor understand English, father feared being fired from his job and began to work harder and faster. His boss noticed the change and complimented him. Unfortunately, my father thought he was being reprimanded and began to work even harder until an Italian friend explained the situation. By 1902, my father and grandfather had earned enough money to pur- chase a train ticket to come to Bryan where my grandfather's brother lived. They settled in Brazos County where they farmed and raised cotton. In 1912 a flood destroyed their crops and home, financially devastating the family. While the family slowly recovered from the flood, my father began to teach himself English. He had only a fourth grade education received in Sicily. He also began working with some Sicilian carpenters: Frank Fazzino, Jack Weido, Luke Degelia, Charlie Stratta, and Charlie Degelia, a cabinet maker. Although my father had no formal instruction in carpentry, he gradu- ally mastered the trade and became a skilled craftsman. He worked with these men for many years building residential homes in the Brazos County area and towards the end of his career, worked for Julius Skrivanek, a local homebuilder. He retired in 1969. The last home he built was his own. During the construction of his home, my father had a stroke while climb- ing onto the roof of the house. He was 85, and his work as a carpenter was over. He lived, however, until 1978 and enjoyed his later years. He was an 71 Bryan Legends and Legacies avid poet and wrote many poems, all in Italian. In fact, he was called poe (Italian for poet) by friends and family who knew him well. Most of hi poems were about his Italian heritage, customs, and events in his life, suc as the flood of 1912. A Survivor Tells of the 1913 Flood During the first week of December 1913, floodwaters spread across th Brazos River Valley. The devastating flood combined with wintry condi- tions killed people and livestock, demolished crops, and destroyed prop- erty. The following letter from Tom Evans, a Bryan resident who worked fo the Bryan Motor Car Company, tells of the tragic death of three Bry residents: Howard Cavitt, Clifton Ellzey, and Mr. Robins. Evans wrote th letter on December 30, 1913 to Mrs. Clifton Ellzey or Mrs. Carrie Ellzey response to a request to know how Clifton Ellzey died. ...The party of four of us were all from the same place of business. Mr. Robins, Clifton and myself were all working for Mr. Cavitt at the Bryan Motor Car Co. On Saturday morning early I met Mr. Cavitt and asked if he were going to the river and he informed me that he and Clifton and Robins were going to take two motors to the river and carry provisions to some of the people near Steele's Store and then go farther down the river and join a party of five other boats that were engaged in the rescue work. ...We had gone about a mile and a quarter and then the waves began getting very rough and we noticed a cold north -west wind blowing. We were not worried by the waves at first and kept on our course but they began getting worse.... We saw that the boat was filling faster than we could bail the water out. We had three life preservers in the front of the boat and I began passing them back to the three behind thinking that we had four, but after I noticed only three I said nothing of it, not even thinking that we would have an occasion to need them. ...The boat did not capsize at first, it filled with water and went straight down. We all jumped off to the side and Mr. Cavitt called to stay with the boat. By the time we got back to it, it came to the surface with the bottom of it up, having turned over under the water. ...We were drifting for an opening in a strip of three tree tops and we were afraid if we passed these trees we would freeze to death before we 72 1901 to 1928 uld reach others. We all began trying to paddle our boat toward these s by swimming and pushing the boat in that direction. When we passed first tree Clifton swam away from us and caught this tree, the boat then on about 50 feet and I swam to another tree and Mr. Cavitt threw me e rope and then swam over to my tree also. Mr. Robins, who could not im, but had on one of the life preservers, clung to the boat as it drifted to end of the rope and then pulled himself back to the tree with Mr. Cavitt d myself, by means of the rope holding the boat. ...All during Saturday night we made every effort to keep warm but we suffered greatly from the cold wind. Our clothes were dried by orning, or I should have said midnight, and then by Sunday morning at daylight we had made up our minds that if we could not attract the attention f the boats that were to come out that morning, we would get back in the ater and make an effort to right the boat and bail the water out, and two of e party drift farther down the river and try and secure aid from that direc- tion, while the other two would remain in the tree and perhaps attract the attention of other boats. ...Mr. Robins, feeling that he was the strongest of the party in our tree, climbed down in the water and began working with the boat while I was pulling on the rope up in the tree. Clifton then climbed down from his tree and swam over to help Robins in the water. ...After Clifton had been in the water about twenty -five minutes, he decided it was useless to try to turn the boat over, for the water was so extremely cold and he and Robins had become completely exhausted and chilled. Clifton then climbed up in our tree, this was about one fifteen or one thirty P.M. He was so cold that Mr. Cavitt began working with him immediately by rubbing him and moving his arms and making every effort possible to stimulate his circulation. ...We were so completely exhausted by this time, Mr. Cavitt and I, that Robins died before we could get him...out of the water. We then turned all of our attention to Clifton, and using what strength we had left, worked his arms and kept him moving as best we could and as best the tree would afford.... He lived in this condition for about forty or fifty minutes after Mr. Robins died.... Mr. Cavitt and I held him as long as thirty minutes after his last breath in hopes that some sign of life would show in him. ...After the death of Clifton and Mr. Robins, Mr. Cavitt and myself then hovered close together in order to keep from freezing for it began getting colder than ever Sunday afternoon late. Sunday night was the cold- est of all and Mr. Cavitt had not recovered so much from Saturday...so he 73 Bryan Legends and Legacies suffered intensely all Sunday night.... I managed to get him across my lap and held him in this manner for about an hour and he too died. ...Monday morning another boat passed me, but I could not attract their attention. Just a while before noon I heard someone answering me in the direction of the main channel of the river. In a few minutes I saw a boat with two people come out of the woods about a mile away. I kept up my calling and they turned in my direction and it was two Negroes who were on their way across the river to aid some of their live people. They were in a small boat and could only carry one other person so I had them carry me to land, which was about two miles and then I met two Bryan men after I had walked about 500 yards and they carried me back to a house and made me go to bed for I was just about exhausted.... Contributed by Paul Van Riper. Excerpts from a letter by Tom Evans, Bryan resident in 1913. Based on "Letter reveals tragedy of 1913 flood," The Eagle, October 30, 1989. Ethel Gelber Elizabeth R. Gelber Ethel Gelber was a resident of Bryan for ninety -six years. My husband, Morris Gelber, was her nephew. Her life, wit, strength, and courage were an inspiration to her family. She and her family exemplify the spirit of the families who came to Bryan just before the turn of the century and the con- tribution they made to the growth of the city of Bryan. Ethel's father, Josef Gelber, was born in Serath, Austria (now Romania) on August 6, 1865. He came to the United States in 1890, settling first in Schulenburg, Texas. At about the same time, Valeska Kalisky came from Pitschen, Germany (now Poland) to live in Hempstead, Texas with her sis- ter Ricky Kalisky Green. Valeska met Josef and married him in 1891. They lived first in Schulenburg, where their children Willie and Max were born. Ethel was born in Hempstead in the home of her mother's sister. The family moved to Bryan when Ethel was one month old, and she lived here the rest of her life. The other children Dave, Cora, Isadore, and Leonard were all born in Bryan. When the Gelber family moved to Bryan from Schulenburg, Ethel's fa- 74 1901 to 1928 ther went into business with his brother -in -law, Benjamin Kaczer. At first they sold general merchandise, which came in large quantities in barrels an d other large containers. Later Benjamin sold his shares to Josef, and the business became a dry-goods store known as J. Gelber and Son. The busi- ness remained in the Gelber family for many years. After Josef died, Ethel's brother Willie became the primary owner and manager of the store. Josef was a kind, outgoing, civic - minded person. He had friends of many different ethnic, religious, and political backgrounds. He was a member of the congregation of Temple Freda, B'nai B'rith, the Masons, the Woodmen of the World, the Maccabees, and the Sons of Herman. He spoke several languages, and he liked to travel. He made many trips back to Europe to visit his and Valeska's families. He also liked to help people. Mrs. Katie Wehrman, whose family owned Wehrman's Restaurant, used to tell that when her family first arrived in Bryan, Josef Gelber met them at the train, bringing bread and other food and supplies to help them get settled in their new home. Josef also helped people immigrate to America by lending them the money for passage and iving them jobs in his home to pay back the loan. On his last visit to Europe, he had documents to bring his sister to America, but she would not leave her mother, who was not well. While on this trip, Josef contracted pneumonia; he died shortly after his return home. Most of her life Ethel and her three unmarried brothers and one sister lived in the family home at 106 South Logan. This home had been built in 1911. Ethel lived there until her brothers and sister had all died. She then lived with her nephew, Morris, and me and our family until shortly before she died on April 18, 1992, at the age of ninety-six. The thing I remember most about Ethel was her natural curiosity. She always wanted to see and to learn about new things. She told us that when she was a child, she was curious about butterflies and liked to chase after them in the fields beyond the house. When she was old and could no longer see clearly, she would pickup objects to see what they were. This habit used to frighten her nephew when he took her to the grocery store, because he was afraid she might drop something, but she never did! Ethel also had a remarkably good memory. When she was in her nine- 75 Bryan Legends and Legacies 76 ties, her mind was still very clear. No one ever had to remind her of any thing. She didn't often talk about the old times; you had to draw her out. But she did have some wonderful memories. She remembered seeing Halley's Comet in 1910 and how it had frightened some people. Ethel remembered when Temple Freda was built, and she was there for the dedication in 1913. The temple was named for her father's sister, Ethel Freda Gelber Kaczer, who had died in 1912. It is the only temple named for a woman. Prominent citizens of Bryan of many religious faiths contributed to the building of the temple and took part in the dedication ceremony, Ethel was seventeen years old at the time, and she remembered that the little girl who was supposed to present the keys to the building had fallen asleep, so someone else had to take her place. Many years later, when a group of faculty members and students at Texas A &M „ rediscovered” Templ Freda, they asked Ethel to be the president of the congregation. I think the office was more symbolic than real, but it demonstrated the respect that the4 members of the congregation had for her. Ethel's closest friend was her cousin Mary Kaczer. Although Mary was ten years older than Ethel, they stayed in touch with each other all their lives. In 1917 Mary married Benjamin Hirschenson, whose sister married Jacob Taubenhaus, a well -known plant pathologist at Texas A &M. After their marriage, Mary and Benny mov away. For a time they lived in Washington, D.C. Ethel visited them the and remembered attending concerts and plays, where she saw some of th most famous singers and actors of that time. Later Mary and Benny settled in Pittsburgh, and Ethel visited them there as well. Ethel had attended Bowie Elementary School, and in 1913 she gradu- ated from Bryan High School. Her cousin Mary had graduated from the' University of Texas, and that is where Ethel decided to go. The September before she left for the university, she sat on the front steps of her home, watching the schoolchildren go by, and felt homesick already. Transporta tion was difficult in those days, so she came home only at Christmastime and at the end of the school year in May. Ethel and other students from Bryan and the surrounding area rode the Missouri Pacific train from Bryan to Valley Junction, where the east -west and north -south lines of the Missouri Pacific crossed. There they changed 1901 to 1928 trains and went to Austin. Her first year in college, Ethel almost didn't make it home for the Christ- mas holidays. The streetcar that should have taken the students to the train station never arrived because of a power outage. The students waited and waited, and finally a bus came and took them to the depot. The conductor h held the train because he knew there would be students coming He even collected their money and bought their tickets for them so that they wouldn't miss the train. This same Christmas (or perhaps it was a later year) there was a big flood. The trains could not take their usual routes, and Ethel's train went to Hempstead. When she stepped off the train, she saw her brother Willie. He had taken a train to meet her there, and they rode another train back to Bryan. While she was attending the University of Texas, Ethel lived with Judge Key and his family. She ate across the street at Grace Hall, where there were always wonderful cooks, particularly one who, as Ethel remembered, made delicious soups. One of Ethel's sad memories was that during her first year in college a boy she had known since elementary school died. He had also been a fresh- man at the University and had taken his meals at Grace Hall. Ethel remem- bered that every day he would ask, "What kind of soup do we have today ?" When told, he would always say, "That's my favorite kind!" Ethel traveled to Bryan for the funeral, as did the dormitory matron and others from the university. Ministers from several local churches, among them a rabbi and an Episcopal minister, participated in the service. Ethel missed her friend so much that she thought she would not be able to go back to school, but she did. In June 1917, Governor James E. Ferguson vetoed the appropriations bill for the University. Ethel was among the students who marched to the capitol in protest. The University continued to operate, but the governor was subsequently impeached for abusing the rights and privileges of his office. Ethel loved to tell stories about her big collie, Happy. Happy had be- longed to Judge Key's family, and Ethel loved the dog. At the end of her last 77 Bryan Legends and Legacies year of school, the Keys talked of giving up Happy, and Ethel asked if she could have him. So Judge Key fixed up a box for the dog, and Happy tray, eled along on Ethel's last trip home from the University. Happy had to travel in the baggage car, and at Valley Junction he was put out on the platform beside the train. Ethel was distressed when she saw Happy sitting in the box in the hot sun, but she found that someone had given him water and that a man who had a store across the street had brought him some food. When Ethel and Happy arrived in Bryan, the family was there to meet them. Ethel's father immediately took Happy out of the box. Ethel sal "You will soon learn to love him." Her father replied, "I love him already Happy slept on the porch except in cold weather. Looking back, E remembered that sometimes when it was not so cold, he would put on show of shivering all over to try to make the family think he was freezing that they would let him come in. When Ethel was a young woman she sometimes worked in her fathe store, but her main employment was with the Texas Agricultural Expe ment Station at Texas A &M. In 1947, when Ethel's nephew Morris w ready to go to college, she paid his tuition. By this time she had a car, 1936 DeSoto, and Morris rode with her every day. They took their lunch and ate together at Ethel's office. After her brothers Willie and Isadore married and left home, Ethel w the only one in the family who could drive the car. She enjoyed driving often took the other members of the family for long drives in the coun When she was seventy -nine years old her eyesight was such that she was longer allowed to drive. She never quite got over losing her license. It was hardship on her brothers and sister who had never married and lived mil her, because she could no longer take them places as she had before. Ho ever, since they lived close to town, the brothers were able to walk dow town and to the post office. As long as he was able to, her brother Leon walked to town every day and visited with the merchants on Main Street. Now, almost everyone in the Josef Gelber family is gone -- Josef, Valesk Ethel, and all her brothers and her sister. Only Isadore's widow, Jeanne Le Gelber, is still alive in 1996. The Gelber family home and the store on Mai Street have been sold. Cousin Mary and Benjamin Hirschenson died in Pitts 78 r 1901 to 1928 burg Their daughter, Ethel Freda, lives in Canada. The children, grand - children, and great - grandchildren of Willie Gelber are still alive. They all remember fondly their Aunt Ethel, who cared very much about all of them and came to their weddings as long as she was able. I Saw Halley's Comet Merle Hudson My father caught a fire -fly, an ordinary fire -fly. He placed it in a blue pill bottle no bigger than my thumb and said it was a lantern, a wee, fairy lantern. I reached for the gift with eager childish hands and watched, enthralled, hypnotic winking, off ... and on... and off... and on... . While veil -like winds dusk - scented, entwined my parents and my raptured self, I was aware they stood transfixed by some phenomenon, some nonsense in the sky. At length my mother spoke: "Look up, Eileen! Look up and see!" At her command I pulled my eyes away and up ... up above the clothesline. And there in purple -blue foreverness was swung an awesome arc of splendored glow. Yes, I saw Halley's comet. It was photographed indelibly on memory's film. I can still see Halley's comet. Not because it hung there like the arm of God, but because I held a fire -fly in my hand. 79 Bryan Legends and Legacies Living on South Bryan Avenue During World War I Shirlireed Walker My earliest memory of my childhood is the paving of Bryan Avenue 1915. I was only two years old, but I had help in remembering this. Early one morning I saw a work crew at the other end of our block. I joined several children there to watch workmen in the back of a truck pitching shovelfuls of gravel at a screen the size of a door. Paving methods then did not com. pare to modern mechanized street construction, but I guess there was danger because suddenly my mother appeared, grabbed me, and administered traditional memory help. We heard little about European hostilities that year or the next beca we had such great excitement about street paving, the digging of ditches for sewer line, and the building of walls on the back porches to add bathroon for the new indoor plumbing. Other entertainment for me was furnished by the intriguing activities the twin brothers who lived at the other end of the block. Frank and F Seale raised pigeons, went frog- gigging, and played marbles. They had cigar box full of colorful marbles and some prize agates. Though I longed to go, they never invited me frog - gigging, but I was sure from their anticipa tion that it was the greatest of adventures. Lily Rush, my sister, spent more time with the teenage Seale sisters$ Vivian was a high school student, but Zonnie had already finished high school and was teaching at the Oak Grove School. She sometimes took Lil Rush with her on horseback for special school occasions. The sisters als took her to a wedding, which perhaps contributed to her having a crush their older brother, Herbert. Lily Rush amused them by telling that she h decided that Herbert was too tall for her. It was well that she made tha decision, because Herbert probably had already made another choice. Ht married during the time we were neighbors. The residents in the house in the middle of the block were Jack Johnson who worked at Haswell's, his wife, Tinnie Belle, and their daughter Ruth 80 1901 to 1928 w ho was a year older than I. However, Ruth's uncle, W. S. Johnson, was my age This unusual circumstance amazed us, and the whole neighborhood Was amused when Ruth pushed her uncle around in a baby carriage. One Sunday afternoon the Johnsons invited Lily Rush and me to go fishing with them. They had a two -seat Model T, the only car in the neigh- borhood except for the Astin's Packard. The child who sat directly behind Jack had to hold the fishing poles outside carefully so that they could not be seen from the other side when we passed Mrs. Stuart's home on the way to Finfeather Lake. Mrs. Stuart, Tinnie Johnson's mother, disapproved strongly of fishing on Sunday. Many older women objected to fun of any kind on the sabbath. The Stuart home was on the west side of the street just beyond the ter- minus o f the Peavine, a local railway to some farms in the Brazos Bottom. This short-line railroad was built to haul cotton into Bryan, but occasionally a passenger made the trip with the freight, and it had been used to rescue flood refugees during the 1913 flood. One Sunday afternoon my parents had permission to use a handcar, and we made the trip to the Brazos to visit a farm commissary to get a stick of peppermint candy. We children enjoyed the trip immensely, but for some reason my father found it less pleasant, and we never repeated this adven- ture. Mrs. Stuart had a son Elon who worked at the same store as my dad. He and a young kid who also was employed at Lawrence Grocery were court- ing sweethearts in Gause. I never knew the young fellow's name, because men at the store teasingly christened him "Baby Doll" for some reputedly overheard conversation with his girlfriend. I think this name was not the invention of Elon, who was rather serious and a very kind person. Elon married his sweetheart, but the young fellow was drafted when the United States entered the war in 1917. About that time my parents took us on a vacation to Galveston. When We changed trains at Houston, an iron gate barred us from a troop train that Was loading. I saw this young kid and started screaming, "There's Baby Doll! There's Baby Doll!" 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They did all they could to comfort Mrs. Wright and had tea parties for Sue Baby, bought her pet bunnies, gave her dominion ov the playhouse that had been Onah's, and amused her with dolls and toy Because I was still a preschooler, I was often the tea party guest. The Stewarts lived on the block behind the Astin home, on the corner of West 30th and Parker Street. Norman and 011ie Stewart had a baby son, Arthur, whose first birthday celebration is associated with another wartim memory for me. Mr. Stewart had a Main Street drugstore that was known as the place to buy a Brownie Kodak. He arranged for an itinerant photogra. pher to take a group picture of the party guests, and then, for the parents who wished, to make postcard prints of individual children sitting in photographer's goat cart. The photographer had a German accent. Perhaps he was fr Fredericksburg, New Braunfels, or some other German community. So time after the party, a rumor went around that the photographer had arrested as a German spy and found to have maps hidden in the goat's horns. My mother wrote this news on the postcard picture of Lily Rush and me she sent to one of my aunts. I don't know whether the maps were supposed be of Bryan, or what advantage that could have given the German army, such stories were common in wartime, as I learned in later years from d friends who had suffered from such suspicion. Germany's efforts to make alliance with Mexico may have caused such fears. When Lily Rush went back to the first grade after Christmas, she caugh' up with the class without too much difficulty and entered into their victo garden project that spring with enthusiasm. At home we had a garden b since many families customarily had a vegetable garden, we did not thi of it as a victory garden. Many of the women in the neighborhood kni sweaters to donate to the Red Cross, and Lily Rush and I shared in saving of tinfoil candy wrappers. When Armistice Day came, the news flew through the town like wild fire. There was at least one airplane at or near the A &M campus, and soft pilot gathered up reams of yellow second sheets and dropped them from plane all over town. I awoke in the morning to see the yellow sheets around, and when I was told that Armistice had been signed, I thought thesi 84 1901 to 1928 yellow pages were telegrams announcing the victory. We heard that the Aggies were cutting class and coming to Bryan to parade. They walked by way of the interurban tracks. The spontaneous pa- rade was grander than anything that had ever been planned. Some merchant or merchants distributed flags, and spectators waved them triumphantly as the Aggie Band played and the cadets marched down Main Street. Evi- dently it was Saturday, because schoolchildren in the neighborhood were there t see it. ur ne ighborhood was quieter after the war, but some memorable events occurred. Our next -door neighbors by then were the Firths. Mr. Firth was the director of the YMCA at A &M. The "Y" had the only swimming pool in the county, and he took us there once or twice with his daughter Margaret. Margaret was my teenage idol, and when my new baby sister arrived, I persuaded my parents, who had settled on a name for a boy but not for a girl, that Margaret was the best name for our little newcomer. Another new baby about then was Bobby Hearn. R. L. and Deci Hearn lived directly across the street from us. Deci was the granddaughter of Harvey Mitchell and a sister to Dale Weddington and to Miss Wesa Weddington, a well -known Bryan teacher and high school principal. The Seale sisters bobbed their hair. Eva Stewart, Norman Stewart's sis- ter and a new teacher, got a short haircut called the "Ponjola" because an actress in a movie by that title had introduced the style. I started to school in September 1920, an event I had long and impa- tiently awaited. Since there was no kindergarten then, we entered first grade at age seven. There was some discussion about my eligibility since my birth- day was September 1, but it was determined that the rule said a student must be seven, "on or before" the first day of September. Martel Dansby, who lived on 28th Street , and Billy Batt, who lived on East Side, also just got in under the wire I went to first grade at East Side, where Miss May Burtis was our teacher, but in February 1921 we said goodbye to Bryan Avenue and I transferred to West Side School, where Miss Margaret Zuber taught first grade. 85 Bryan Legends and Legacies When Cotton Was King Shirlireed Walker When the first locomotive of the H &TC steamed into Bryan in 1867, Brya succeeded Millican as the chief shipping point of this area. Cotton contin. ued to be the chief crop in Brazos County and production rose during the early 1900s. During and after World War I, stacks of cotton bales ready for shipment were a familiar sight to Bryan residents, especially to those of us who lived close to the compress between the I &GN and the H &TC rail- roads. South Main Street ended at 28th Street, and on the platform of the compress there was a tempting place for little boys to hide, despite the' parents' warnings. Little girls were less daring, so those of us who lived the east side of Bryan Avenue often amused ourselves by sitting on the back steps, waving to engineers, and counting the cars of the freight trains that passed our backyard fences. To go to East Side School, which occupied the lower floor of Bryan High School, we walked two or three blocks north on Bryan Avenue to g around the depot, compress, and warehouse, and then passed the Howel Lumberyard and the C. L. Eden gin on Tabor Street. 86 4 At the north end of downtown Bryan were the Parker compress, cotton gin, and warehouses. Howell's cottonseed oil mill was nearby. We could not escape noticing that cotton was a big business. During my childhood there was further evidence that cotton was kin My father worked at Lawrence Wholesale Grocery under the manageme of John M. Lawrence, president. This firm also operated as commissi agent for cotton farmers. The store had a large room with many long tables of cotton samples rolled up in paper wrappers, looking like rolled newspa° pers. These samples were sent from the compress when the bales were stor in the warehouse. Lawrence Grocery kept the records and acted for the cotton farmers in the sale of the cotton. Cotton buyers came during the dal' to examine the samples and to wire information to purchasing firms. When 1901 to 1928 the buyers received bids by wire, usually about four o'clock in the after - n oon, the orders were submitted to Lawrence bookkeepers. After a day's work over grocery sales, the accounting for cotton sales began and often lasted until midnight. Consequently, from midsummer until Thanksgiving I seldom saw my father except on Sundays. Mrs. Dial Martin (Eva Mildred) recalls that her father, Horace Jones, had even longer hours. He was employed by Parker Lumber Company, but he operated the cotton gin when farmers started bringing in their pickings. Mr. Jones worked around the clock during the ginning season. His wife, Mary, cooked dinner and supper and carried the meals from their home on Beck Street to the red gin on North Main. (In those days "lunch" was food carried in a sack or box to school or to a picnic. The noon meal was called "dinner," and the evening meal was "supper. ") Mr. Jones came home in the early morning in time to eat breakfast, bathe, change clothes, and go back to work. My father, Mills P. Walker, was head bookkeeper and credit manager at Lawrence Grocery at that time. When John Blasienz joined the fine in the mid twenties, he had taken a cotton classification course at Texas A &M and was the company's expert on grading cotton. Cotton is classified ac- cording to staple, or length of the fiber and according to grade, or white- ness. The descriptive terms for grade were part of the Bryan vernacular then, so that the greeting "How are you today ?" was often responded to in the words for the most common grades, "Fair" and "Fair -to- middling." Other bookkeepers who at various times worked with cotton sales were Wallace Mathis and Joe Locke. Later when Lawrence Wholesale Grocery liquidated, about 1950, due to competition from the growth of chain gro- ceries, John Blasienz and Joe Locke, with a third partner, John (Don) Daugherty, organized BLD, a cotton commission firm. The vice president at Lawrence Wholesale Grocery, who was in charge of sales and shipping, was Henry Fulgham. Some of the salesmen were Elon Stuart, Hiram Downard, and Harry Estill, whose families had lived in Bryan since Reconstruction days. Some longtime residents in receiving and ship- Ping were Lamar Zimmerman, Algie Davis, and Sam Lampo. The cotton room was a messy place. The buyers pinched a wad of cot- 87 Bryan Legends and Legacies ton between thumb and index finger and shredded it to determine the len of the fiber. Then they discarded the scraps on the floor. This loose cotto was not wasted, however. Usually someone wanted it when it was swept up Sometimes my mother and the ladies of her missionary society carded it to make cotton batting for their quilts. The ladies, and sometimes their chit, dren, used a pair of rectangular brushes with wire bristles to separate the fibers and remove the trash. After my family moved to a house on West 26th Street, it was often the scene of quilting bees for the mission society of the newly organized Baptist church, which held services in the 1890 courthouse, using the jury box as a choir loft. My mother installed hooks in the ceiling of our sleeping porch to hold a permanent quilting frame. King Cotton also had an effect on the social life of the town. To young ladies, the Cotton Ball at Texas A &M was a highlight of the school year. After we moved to West 26th Street, I became aware of a facet of the cotton industry that I had not known on Bryan Avenue. When the wind blew from the north, it brought the tantalizing aroma from the cotton oil mill that smelled like bacon frying. Perhaps the odor was not so pleasant close to the mill, but a mile or two away it whetted the appetite. One night I awoke with a startling sense of something unusual happe ing. A bright glow lighted the whole eastern sky, and light reflecting on window screen formed a cross. Instantly to my mind, saturated with all preaching I had been hearing lately, came the terrifying thought that th+ Second Coming was happening. Just then I saw a car stop in front and som one ran up the driveway. I recognized John Blasienz as he began to c "Mr. Walker, Mr. Walker, the warehouse is on fire!" In a few seconds th two of them rushed off to the fire to check the damage, and then to spend th rest of the night at the store checking warehouse records. The Eagle, then an afternoon paper, reported in its edition for Friday October 29, 1926 that the fire had destroyed approximately two thousan bales, valued at an estimated $128,000, with 75 percent covered by insur ance. The fire was in the warehouse only, and the compress and gin wer untouched by the flames. The compress, which also was an adjunct to Parker 88 1901 to 1928 Lumber Company, was operated by Sidney Smith. During the Great Depression, I came to understand some puzzling talk among cotton buyers - -the frequent mention of "Miss Dell." My first job after I finished college was assistant editor of a small monthly magazine, the Texas Music Educator. I shared office space with Sam Harrison, a well known local cotton buyer. He generously allowed out -of -town buyers who were here only during the peak of the season to use his office as headquar- ters. This office, in the John E. Astin Building, was conveniently located across the street from Western Union. Their conversation solved for me the mysterious identity of "Miss Dell." This short form for Mississippi Delta cotton was used in their frequent quotes of its price as a basis for compari- son. Although the 1926 fire at Parker Warehouse had been a threat to the local cotton business, it was only a preview of what was to come about two decades later. Since many of us were away during the World War II years, we did not witness the big blaze that completely destroyed the Parker com- press. Although cotton is still important to the local economy, the compress fire forever ended the reign of King Cotton on Main Street. 89 Bryan Legends and Legacies White Magic Peggy Hope The milk was thick and creamy white when poured into the churn; with slow unhurried movements wooden paddles start to turn, For some time nothing changed about grandmother's frothy milk, just seemed to thicken slowly and take on the gleam of silk. Then suddenly it happened, tiny buds began to bloom growing larger by the minute in the cool and airy room. The buds soon came to coalesce into a firmer mass; she poured the milk now thin and pale, into a tall, clean glass. She let me pack the butter into the wooden mold and press it down with wooden top: a pound that would be sold. a small design carved in the wood that was part of the frame left printed on a flower - just like an artist's name. From the Bryan- College Station Eagle, December 9, 1973. 90 1901 to 1928 The Price Came Down and the Whiskey Went Up Phyllis Dozier s. C. Woiton had a saloon in Bryan in pre - prohibition days. Woiton's daugh- ter, Mrs. Geneva Kreneck, recalls that sometime just prior to prohibition he moved his establishment from one side of Main Street to the opposite side and north a couple of blocks to a site across from the present location of Court's Saddlery. For readers who might be unfamiliar with the name Woiton, it is pro- nounced "Werton" because that was the way Bryanites said it. It was a Pol- ish name, Mrs. Kreneck says, that somehow became Werton. When he came to Bryan, Woiton rented a room in the Hrdlicka family home. After Mrs. Hrdlicka was widowed, she and Woiton married. It was Woiton's stepson, Ed Hrdlicka, who later became the proprietor of the Col- lege Station landmark bearing his name that brings nostalgic memories for many pre -World War II Aggie exes. Woiton owned his Bryan saloon when Mrs. Kreneck was a youngster, and he apparently managed it as a well paying business. Then came prohibi- tion. When his establishment was closed by the new law, he was left with three or four barrels of whiskey he could not sell. He even sent it to Ken- tucky but could not get rid of it there. So, Mrs. Kreneck continues, he de- vised an ingenious plan. "Pappa finally took the barrels to Brenham and sold the content from an old building - -a warehouse I think it was. In those days, people didn't want anyone to know that they drank whiskey. So Pappa cut a hole in the ceiling and people would tie their money around a jug and let the jug down through the hole on a rope." Woiton would remove the money, fill the jug, and give it a tug. His u nidentified customers would pull up the jug on the rope. His clever commercial enterprise may have made history as one of the f ew times - -if not the only time - -that the price of whiskey came down as the 91 Bryan Legends and Legacies merchandise went up. "In one day he sold it all, and of course in those days, there wasn't any income tax," Mrs. Kreneck adds. "I believe he put the money in flour sacks and got a cop and a banker to help him get it to the bank safely." With his saloon closed by prohibition and the Brenham sale complete, Mrs. Kreneck's father moved to Houston. Later he owned a liquor store until he died in the early 1940s. From the Bryan- College Station Eagle, December 9, 1973. Bryan in the 1920s W. T. McDonald, Sr. My dad, John Thomas McDonald, became the manager of the old Bryan Country Club in July 1918. We moved from Madisonville, where my dad had for some years been engaged in the general mercantile business. club provided a brand new stucco three - bedroom home for us. This ho has since been moved, or relocated, but it was originally situated just to the rear of the old clubhouse. It is hard to believe, but in those days, the Coun Club was located in an isolated area between the two cities, and duck hunt ing was plentiful. The lake had excellent fishing, lots of bass and whi perch. School Days It must be remembered that around 1920 Bryan was still a small village of only one thousand inhabitants. The total population of the county totaled 21,975. The enrollment at Texas A &M College for the school year starting in the fall of 1918 was 825. At this time, the Bryan school system had twg schools. My brother, Reed, and I attended the newer one on East 30th Street1 We finished eleven grades there, in 1927 and 1930. The name of the schod had been changed by this time to Stephen F. Austin High School. There wa another school on the west side of town where Ben Milam School now stands 92 1901 to 1928 This school had only seven grades, so all students transferred to Stephen F. Austin after completing the seventh grade. To get to school we had to walk from the country club down a trail by what is now Calloway -Jones Funeral Home to the Interurban Trolley sta- tion, which was called Dellwood Station. Since College Station had no school, all the children living on or near the Texas A &M campus caught this trolley into Bryan. My mother was always at the station when I got off the trolley at 2 p.m. because she didn't want me crossing College Road alone. For a while we attended the Union Hill School, a private, rural, neigh- borhood school with two teachers and seven grades. Since this school was located only a mile or so from our house, my parents decided to give it a try, as my brother and I were in the third and first grades respectively. We had to go to summer school all the following summer to catch up the slack. My mother thought we had not learned what we should have at this school, so Miss Birtie Suber tutored us. Transportation I greatly enjoyed riding the Interurban Trolley. It ran each hour until 11 p.m. The line came down what is now called Texas Avenue, which we called in those days College Avenue. It circled around in the downtown area and headed east on Ursuline. Another love of mine was all the trains coming through Bryan. Madisonville had been served by one small railroad known as the Madisonville Branch. It was a branch line of the IGN or the Missouri Pa- cific. It came from Navasota through Anderson and Bedias to Madisonville and then back to Navasota. There were one or two coaches for passengers and four or five freight cars. It was always an event to go down around noon Particularly on Sunday to meet this train at the depot in Madisonville and get the state papers that came in by train. When we traveled to Bryan, we caught this train in Madisonville, which poked along evidently around ten to fifteen miles an hour. As we came through Bedias an enterprising young l ad came on board and peddled sandwiches and ice -cream cones. It took three or four hours to trace the 45 miles from Madisonville to Navasota. 93 Bryan Legends and Legacies There was then a several -hour wait in Navasota before the north -bo train came up from Houston. This train was called the Houston & Texas Central or the H &TC. When we left Bryan after visiting, we usually had to catch an early morning train to Navasota, and then wait a few hours for th Madisonville Branch. Automobiles were scarce in those days, and there were absolutely no good roads at all in the area. The roads were made of dirt, and where three or four roads converged, there were no road signs. When we traveled by ca from Madisonville to Bryan, we would often take the wrong road, or get stuck, or the river would be out and we couldn't pass. Most people owned wagons or buggies for transportation. It was not an� unusual sight at all to see Main Street crowded with wagons and buggies and to see horses and mules drinking out of the two public water troughs. One was located at the corner of Main and 28th Streets and another one down at the north end of Main Street at 29th Street. There was a wagon yard in Bryan just off Main on 20th Street. People coming in for overnight trips would keep their wagons and teams at this wagon yard. We Moved to the "Prairie" After two or three years as manager of the Country Club, my father re• signed. The club was building a golf course, and my father wasn't a golfer, so he decided to resign his position. We moved from the Country Club in 1921 when there was an acute housing shortage in Bryan. The only house my father could find was an unusually large eight or ten room house, which stood at what is now the corner of Cavitt and Duncan Streets. We stayed in this house about a year or so until my dad built a house at what is now the corner of Carson and Cavitt Streets. In the 1920s, this area of Bryan was sparsely settled; there were only four or five houses in the entire area. It was mostly prairie. My dad wanted to rear his boys away from town because he wanted his sons to stay busy and have some chores to perform. All of the houses in Bryan were heated by wood. You either had stoves or a fireplace or both. We had both. My dad seemed to enjoy chopping wood and each fall he would buy a stock of wood 94 1901 to 1928 a nd then take his double bit ax and have it sharpened with a razor edge on i When the weather was good and cold he would get a chew of tobacco and chop an entire cord of wood in one day's time. Dad always had a Jersey cow for milk. He built a barn on the corner of our property and rented a six -acre pasture, which is the area now occupied by the Sunnyland Shopping Center. That is where we kept the milk cow. Dad would do most of the milking but my brother and I had to help him. My dear brother Reed was a hot - headed fellow and if the old cow kicked him or hit him in the face with a wet tail, he would just literally beat the hell out of her, so dad told me that I would have to take over the milking He said, "Son, your brother is too mean to the animals." One of the few resolutions I ever made as a boy and actually kept was that if I lived to be grown, I would never own a damn milk cow. After the Interurban Trolley ceased operations in 1925, a bus line took over serving the transportation needs for the folks in Bryan- College Sta- tion. We lived only about three blocks from the bus line, and it proved convenient for us to go back and forth to town. My brother Reed and I learned to drive on several T- Model Fords. The gearshift automobile that my father bought was a 1925 model Erskine. The Erskine was the English make of the Studebaker but it had an engine that was quite noisy. When you started it, it sounded like an airplane about to take off. This four -door Erskine sedan served us fairly well for a couple of years, but when we had the ex- treme cold spell here in 1929 and the temperature plummeted to four below zero, the block burst. My brother and I prevailed upon our dad to buy a 1930 model Chevrolet Sports Roadster with a rumble seat. We were quite a couple of dudes in this vehicle! Our parents never felt at home operating an automobile and would never drive anywhere out of the neighborhood so my brother and I did all of the driving. Excepts from Bryan 1918 - 1981 by W. T. McDonald, Sr. 95 he was having with Ben. Bryan Legends and Legacies Romance Italian Style Paul McKay It was 1920, a mid- September, and not everything was right in Sat Lampo's life. His brother Ben had returned from the army to the family farm in Dill, Shaw, a Brazos County community. Ben had married and settled in a hou hardly a stone's throw from the home of Sam and his parents. Though they eventually became very close, Sam and Ben at that tin weren't enjoying the best of brotherly relations. Their differences ste largely from a generational gap - -Sam was 20; Ben was 31. Sam, now 82, recalls the day he discussed with his mother the conflict 96 1 901 to 1928 F five weeks the Lampo and Grizzaffi families made wedding ar- rangements and got better acquainted. Sam and Lena, however, were rarely a ll o wed to speak directly to one another —and were absolutely forbidden from touching until their October 29th wedding. In those days, Sam Lampo explains, those strict terms of marital en- gage ment were not unusual among Italian- American families. They were in fact the norm. But Italianism in the Brazos Valley has been liberalized with the slow passage of time. It was a rarity only (in the sixties) for Italian- Americans to marry outside the Italian bloodline. By 1982, intermarriage was common. Reprinted from the Bryan- College Station Eagle, April 10, 1982. Contributed by John Grizzaffi. Prairie People, Outlaws, Gunslingers, and Drifters "Why don't you get married ?" his mother suggested. Relations betweet the brothers would improve, she believed, if both were married and no seeing so much of each other. Sam was receptive to his mother's suggestion, but there was one pro]) il lem; he had no girlfriend. Sam Lampo walked to the family mailbox that evening. As he was ched t l ing for letters, a bow -top buggy carrying three females rolled by. The p sengers included a brunette beauty named Lena Grizzaffi, who was sea between her sisters -in -law, Mary and Josephine. Josephine nudged Lena and whispered jokingly, "There's your boyfrien1 Lena." The three girls laughed and waved at Sam, who returned the gesture Though he'd seen her in church and had known her brothers, Sam ha' paid only fleeting attention to Lena —until that night at the mailbox. l b hurried home with the letters and told his mother he'd found the girl h wanted to marry. "Comanche Indians ?" I was astonished. The following day, Sam's parents relayed his marriage proposal to Lena` "But don't tell anybody you have Comanche blood," said my grand- parents. For 10 days —what Sam Lampo calls "the longest 10 days of tp;mother seriously. "It could get you killed in Texas. Comanches were the life" —the Grizzaffis considered the proposal. meanest and most feared and hated people in these parts. Old folks said On the 10th day came the verdict: Lena had accepted the proposal, any ghtidamn near took Texas back when the rest of the country was busy her family approved of it, so the engagement was on. ng each other in the Civil War." Sunny Nash My great aunt Effie inherited the nomadic habits her father inherited from his prairie people, I heard my grandmother say many times when I was grow- ing up. "And your great uncle Norwood inherited their prairie temper," she said. "His reputation got him shot down in the streets by a gunslinger when he was only twenty years old." "Who were my prairie people ?" I asked my grandmother one night on mY way to bed. "Comanches," she said. 97 Bryan Legends and Legacies To make Aunt Effie's restlessness even worse, she married a confidenc man named Tinney who was on the run from the law most of the time. Every few months in the middle of the night when Uncle Tinney got word that the sheriff knew about his beer and liquor business in the woods behind the house, he packed whatever belongings they could carry while Aunt Effie woke the children. "Did Aunt Effie and Uncle Tinney ever live around here ?" "There's no part of Texas where they haven't lived," my grandmother told me. "Their children never lived anywhere long enough to call it home. And few of those children know how to stay in one place to make a home for their own children." My grandmother said she missed Tinney when they left these parts. "He threw good socials. Cooked deer and pork over open pits all night, sliced tender meat into greasy light bread sandwiches and roasted ears of fresh corn. He charged his guests for every bite they ate and every drop they drank. There was nowhere else to go. Folks got together, ate, drank, and danced all night to Cousin Hudge's guitar picking when he wasn't traveling in a minstrel show or playing music for a medicine man." I went to sleep that night with the shadows of prairie people, outlaws, gunslingers and drifters dancing in my dreams. Previously published in the Bryan- College Station Eagle. Toots and P.V. in Old Bryan Town Helen F. Sheffield In the roaring twenties, Bryan citizens enjoyed watching films in their four cinemas: the Palace, Queen, Dixie, and Will Boy McQueen. "The McQueen theater was built for the black people by Will McQueen," Helen Simpson said. "He wanted us to have a cinema of our own, because we weren't allowed in some of the white folks' theaters. It was located on North Main Street by the Parker Lumber Company. I remember watching films with Greta Garbo, Al Jolson, and Charlie Chaplin in them. We paid 98 r 1901 to 1928 fifteen cents to see a movie, and it was worth it." Many changes have occurred in Bryan since the twenties, and eighty - six -year - old Helen loves to reminisce about those early days. "We moved here from Calvert, Texas in 1917. My daddy worked for the railroad. He died when I was ten, and I hardly remember him. He left Mommie with four girls to raise. There weren't any Social Security checks back then, or rail- road pensions either. P.V. ( that's what we called Mommie because her name was Parthenia Victoria Harris) washed and ironed and played the piano for one or two churches. Those were hard times." Helen pauses for a moment and then tells about an incident that proved the Lord was watching over them. "In 1919, we were down to fifty cents in the house. Mommie said, 'Toots' (that was my nickname), 'you go down to the market and get twenty-five cents of sausage and fifteen cents of rice.' I ran to the store, and after I bought the sausage I went to another place to buy rice. There was sawdust on the floor of that store for sanitation reasons. I looked down and there in the sawdust was a five - dollar bill. I grabbed it up and ran home. When P.V. saw the money, she questioned me. 'You sure you found the money ?' 'I'm sure,' I said. 'You really sure ?' she asked. 'Yes Mommie, I found it.' She didn't want me to steal, and I appreciated that. 'I'm so happy!' P.V. shouted. 'I'm glad the Lord is looking out for us.' And I was happy too." Commenting on the conditions of the streets in North Bryan when she was growing up, Helen said, "Most of the streets were dirt, and there weren't many cars. People walked where they wanted to go. We lived in a little rent house on Candy Hill Street, and to keep from getting dusty or muddy we'd walk on the edges of the yards. I remember one mean lady had barbed wire around her yard so we couldn't hold on to the fence, and then we had to walk in the deep ruts in the road. We just prayed that a car didn't come along until we got home." She continues her reminiscing. "Pearly Haines was my best friend. She lived with her grandparents and uncle. I don't remember the uncle's name, but he worked at the Green Parrot Tea Room located in the same block as the Medical Center Drugstore. It was a such a beautiful room. He made good money and looked so fine in his uniform. Pearly was lucky to have his support." 99 Bryan Legends and Legacies Clasping her hands together, Helen smiled as she recalled the good times with Pearly. "We'd do everything together. Our clothes were all hand- made, so when one of us had a dress, the other one would have one made just like it. We had print, denim, and checkered dresses. It was so much fun to be dressed alike. I remember one time we were going to a 4 -H meeting at Prairie View and Pearly had a little chiffon dress made. I went home and told P.V. that I had to have one like that too. She said, `Sit down and let me tell you something. I don't want you to think I'm mean, but let me show you the difference between what Pearly's people have to do and what I have to do. You see, there are three people taking care of her - -her grandmother, grandfather, and uncle - -but there's only me taking care of you four girls. I'm sorry but you can't have the dress.' I said all right, and you know, Pearly didn't wear her chiffon dress. That's what you call a true friend. I haven't had a friend like that since Pearly died." Helen paused for a while and then said in a wistful sigh, "I was walking along the other day, and everybody was saying `my best friend this' and `my best friend that,' and I said to myself, Do you have a best friend? I wondered to myself if it's necessary. I have a lot of friends, but my best friend is the Lord. He's the one I call on, and he'll do something for you too. Guess I don't need any other best friend." Things improved for the family when P.V. went to work for Allen Acad- emy in 1929. Her title was Pantry Lady, and she fixed salads and other foods for the boarders there. She worked hard, but her home was always open to her children's friends who enjoyed her delicious cooking. Helen explained how it was back then. "In the wintertime we'd buy a cord of wood from Mr. Ellis, our landlord, and Mommie and I built a shed to lock up our wood. If you didn't lock the wood up, people would take it. We got teased a lot about building the shed, but our house was always warm. Not just one room like most people had, but every room was warm. The kids would come to our house to keep warm and eat Mommie's good cooking. She made a raisin pie that would melt in your mouth. I didn't know it was a poor man's dish until I grew up," she laughed. "When P.V. had saved a little money, she bought a cow, and we sure did enjoy the milk. She even sold little cartons of milk to some of her friends. 100 1901 to 1928 The best part about it was making ice cream in the summertime. That cow made our lives a lot better." There were things for young people to do in those early days so they wouldn't get bored, she explained. "Besides picture shows, carnivals came to town. They would set up where the Coca -Cola place is on East 24th Street. We'd have to walk to those places, but that didn't stop us from going. I guess the most socializing we did was at church. There was always some- thing going on there and plenty of scriptures to learn." "White people weren't a problem for my family," Helen recalled. "We didn't have much association with white people, but when we came in con- tact with them they were nice to us. Mrs. Vance was our white neighbor, and she and Mommie would look out for each other's girls. If one of the mothers was gone, the other would tell the boys that visited the motherless house to move on. I also played with a little white girl named Louise Dyer. Her name is Daniels now; she's still my friend." After a few years with Allen Academy, Mrs. Harris went to work for Texas A &M in the laundry. She didn't have a car but drove someone else's in a car pool. That way she rode free. "P.V. was a hard worker and some- times she had to work at night," Helen said. "She made thirty -five to fifty dollars per month. In 1927, when I was eighteen, she got me a job at the laundry. She told Mr. Ayers, the overseer, 'I have a daughter I'd like you to hire. She's little, but she's grown.' 'Bring her on down here and let me see her,' he said; and he hired me. I used to take Mommie's night shifts." Her eyes twinkle as she tells how her mother couldn't stand to see any- thing wasted. "When we lined the ironing boards with cotton in the Texas A &M laundry, we cut the padding to fit and there were scraps left over. P.V. took those scraps home and made the nicest mattresses and pillows. They sure made sleeping good." At twelve, Helen experienced a sad time in school. "When I would try to read the letters in my book, they just looked like little lines, and I couldn't tell one letter from another. I told P.V. about it. She stopped her ironing and looked at me. 'You mean you can't see to read ?' she asked. 'That's right,' I answered. She just shook her head, because she didn't have the five dollars needed to get me some glasses. Finally she decided to borrow the money 101 Bryan Legends and Legacies from Ed Scott; he worked for a mortuary. Mr. Scott pulled a five - dollar bill out of his pocket, gave it to her, and said, 'Why didn't you say so sooner P.V. ?' That's how I got my glasses. But not being able to read set me back in school. I didn't graduate from high school with my classmates. It broke my heart, and I cried for two or three days. I just couldn't stop." "The most money Mommie ever made was selling Avon products in the forties," Helen said. "I guess P.V. was in her fifties then. She even made enough money to buy a car and pay for this house I'm living in now, on Martin Luther King, Jr. Boulevard; it was 19th Street then. Everybody liked P.V. and wanted to buy Avon products from her. She'd start out in the morn- ing with a little bag of samples and sell to people all over town. She would make as much as a thousand dollars a month. This was a lot of money for those times. When she got tired of selling the products, I took over. It was so much fun to count the money I collected. I'd shut the bedroom doors and make little stacks of money all over the room. Then the next day I'd bank it. Helen was fond of all her sisters and pleased with their achievements. About her sister Edna she said, " Mommie and I worked to keep my sisters in school. We were especially proud of Edna's education. She finished Bishop College, received a BA from North Texas State and a master's degree in English Education from Prairie View A &M University. Edna taught Ad- vanced College English at Bryan High School until she retired in the 1980s." "My sister Corene and I graduated at the same time from Bryan High School. Later, when I was in my early thirties, I married a Baptist preacher, Carl Simpson. He was a good man and always nice to my family. We moved from Bryan to San Angelo, Texas and then to Vernon, Texas. After he died, I came back to live with Mommie in 1963. I never had any children but have always loved them. That's why I opened up my kindergarten school, Candy Hill Nursery, in 1965. My first year I had ten students. When they finished, I made every one of them graduation gowns and hats. In the next five years, my enrollment increased to thirty black, brown, and white stu- dents. My school was integrated before the government forced integration. Helen recalls her experience with the Bryan Independent School Dis- trict. "In 1970, I was the first black teacher's aide in the Bryan Independent 102 1901 to 1928 School District. I went to Texas A &M and took some courses in early el- ementary training and helped Margaret Godfrey, who was teaching at Neal elementary school. After five years working as a teacher's aide, I went back to run my nursery at Mommie's house. I've retired, but still own the nursery with someone else running it." Sitting down at the piano she bought with money she earned from sell- ing Avon products, Helen runs her fingers fondly over the keys striking a musical chord. She talks about what she has left to live for. "My family has all passed on, even my youngest sister, Cathryn. Mommie died in 1981, but I still keep up with the children I've taught, and they know I expect a lot of them. I see after my neighbors, and I've got my friends in the Pleasant Grove Baptist Church- -the same church I was married in, in 1934. I told them they're my family now, and we'll look after each other." Toots and P.V. shared some wonderful experiences in Old Bryan Town. Their spirit and determination to live the American dream inspires us all. Published by Insite Magazine, June 1995. Jesse Hensarling, Bryan Merchant Olive Ruth Hensarling Nabors My father, Jesse Hensarling, was born January 11, 1888 to pioneer resi- dents Thomas A. Hensarling and his wife, Martha Gertrude Gandy, in the Steep Hollow community of Brazos County. He was the second child born to this union but the oldest son, and as such he was called "Brother" by all his siblings. He took this designation seriously and during his lifetime felt a strong responsibility for the welfare of his parents and family members. The oldest child was Minnie, called "Sister," who married Amon Williams This sense of responsibility for others and the need to contribute to helping the area develop and progress carried over to Jesse's adult life. A brief look at his life gives a glimpse of the enterprise early merchants exhib- ited in developing Bryan and some of the community activities. My father first clerked for other merchants, then for a few years was 103 Bryan Legends and Legacies owner of Hensarling Grocery after which he became a partner with F. T. Cole in the firm of Cole and Hensarling. From an account in the February 27, 1919 issue of the Bryan Eagle we learn that this firm did indeed strive to promote Bryan. A committee from A &M College composed of Dr. W. B. Bizzell, Dr. J. 0. Morgan, and Pro- fessors F. C. Bolton and A. T. Botts met with the trade commission of the Bryan Commercial Club J. C. Martin (chairman), J. L. Edge, Jesse Hensarling, and others to complain about inadequate delivery service of goods to the College, saying that mail -order service would be about as quick as the two deliveries a week they were getting from Bryan. Dr. Bizzell pointed out that a community of a hundred families could contribute "between $3,000 to $4,000 a month" to Bryan's economy. Mr. Edge commented that this business seemed worthwhile to pursue. Chairman Martin asked grocery men David Reed and T. J. Turner for an opinion, and both men declined to offer daily deliveries to the college. The Eagle re- ports, "Jesse Hensarling, for the firm of Cole and Hensarling made a defi- nite offer to put on a daily delivery provided an afternoon delivery would be satisfactory.... The firm of Cole and Hensarling is to be commended for the enterprise and progressiveness it has shown in undertaking this service." All orders for $1 or more would be delivered free; there would be a 10- cent charge for orders less than $1. Small parcels from other firms not weigh- ing over 25 pounds would also be delivered. Jesse Hensarling married Erma Jane Cloud in April 1920, and in late 1921 or early 1922, the couple opened Bryan's first Piggly Wiggly Grocery, on the east side of what is now the 100 block of North Main Street. Will Cloud, Erma's father, operated a meat market in the rear of the store, and in the front a small fountain was operated where patrons could have a sand- wich, soft drink, or ice cream. Two ice -cream parlor tables and chairs were provided in the small space. About 1927, my parents sold their interest in this store to Will Cloud and his son, Griff Cloud, and opened Self- Service Grocery on the west side of the 200 block of North Main Street. The meat market in this store was owned by Tony Barcelona, with Louis Mauro as butcher and manager. My father was operating this business when death came to him suddenly, at age 104 1901 to 1928 44, in August 1932. Jesse often assisted Mrs. Besta South (known as "Mama South "), a lady of very modest means who spent most of her time ministering to the needs of her neighbors. Her projects included finding funds for medicine for sick and needy elderly people and badgering merchants to help provide food for them and wooden coffins for burials. Jesse was an active member of the Brazos County Singing Convention (often singing in a quartet with Ed Crenshaw, John Whitten, and J. C. Cloud). He was a charter member of the Bryan Lions Club, formed in August 1923. The Eagle reports that an official from the Lions national office visited the local Rotary Club before granting a charter for a Lions Club in Bryan, to be sure there would be no objections or conflicts from Rotarians. Jesse served on the trade extension committee of the Bryan Commer- cial Club. This trade group evolved into a group that made treks to outlying areas -- Franklin, Hearne, Snook, etc. - -to put on short programs and explain what Bryan merchants had to offer. My brother, Jesse Hensarling, Jr. (known as "Jackie "), was often the entertainment. At the age of five to six years, he was a talented tap dancer and could spellbind a crowd. After our father's death, Bryan merchant friends took Jackie (with me to watch over him) on these trips. He danced on sidewalks, porches of stores, wooden platforms, any smooth surface, to the accompaniment of a lone saxophone, a drumbeat, a harmonica, or occasionally a piano. My father also was a charter member of the Fin Feather Lake Club. The Bryan Eagle of July 6, 1916 tells of the annual meeting of the membership. At that meeting "it was decided to spend somewhere between $1,000 and $1,500 on new work contemplated" to improve buildings and grounds "at this most delightful pleasure resort." They hoped to put the clubhouse in good order, update the boathouse, and add a new lot of "up -to -date boats to their fleet and last but not least they expect to build a nice new swimming pool, one that will be second to none in Texas." This club continued to be available for activities until it was damaged by a severe storm in the mid 1950s. The lake covered about forty acres. 105 Bryan Legends and Legacies History of Allen Academy Mrs. R. 0. Allen, June 27, 1921 Betsy Perkins found this handwritten account in a bound ledger containing ing details of student accounts for the 1902 -1903 school year, accounts of gar- den plantings from 1904 to 1911, and notes intended to increase en Sunday school attendance at the First Methodist Church, where o as superintendent for many years. Betsy says, "The Allens seemed to feel that any blank piece of paper was a challenge to record their thoughts of the moment." In September 1887 J. H. Allen opened in Madisonville, Texas a mixed school which was partly public & partly private that is the school funds were used and also tuition was n �a a fine teacher and grades. good man. He had considered good and Mr. Allen to Texas a while before from Verona near Tupelo, Mississippi a young man just out of the Verona Academy. At a later date he was joined by his younger brother, R. O. Allen who had graduated from the N.N.W. Lebanon Ohio. After teaching in the school with his brother a term or two R. O. Allen then taught at Rusk, Texas again at Wheelock, Texas and in the fall of 1894 he went to Lynnville, Tennessee as principal of Lynnville Academy for a year and a half leaving there in December 1896 returning to Texas and entering the University of Texas for the spring term. In the meantime J. H. Allen had continued the school at Madisonville which he named Allen Academy and he had acquired a home and owned the school building adjoining his home. He had married Fannie Burtis of Madisonville about 1887 or 1888 and they had four children. In the fall of 1897 he was again joined by his brother R. O. Allen in the school. They continued to teach in the Madisonville school till June 1899 when they moved to Bryan and established as Co- Principals the Allen Acad- emy of Bryan, Texas. On December 27, 1898 R. O. Allen was married to Miss Mattie Witt of Lynnville, Tennessee and about da Madisonville. Later he Later in the spring J. B. Dodson of Dallas wrote R. O wished to have him join him in a school for boys in Oak Cliff, Dallas. He considered this for several weeks until fmally he decided he did not like to 106 leave his brother who needed him so much so he and Mrs. Allen formed a plan to establish a boys school in Bryan, Texas modeled after the Webb School at Bell Buckle, Tennessee, a school which Mrs. Allen had known well since childhood. Three of her brothers had attended this school, Wm. H. Witt, Geo. B. Witt & Carter Harrison Witt -The latter the youngest of the 8 children of her parents, Mr. & Mrs. C. H. Witt. R. O. Allen talked this plan over with his brother and he fell right in with the plan, sold his home & school property and both families moved to Bryan in the summer of 1899 and the school was opened in September of that year with 35 pupils. The school was financed by a corporation consisting of the leading businessmen of Bryan who advanced $5000.00 to be held by the Aliens for five years without interest. With this the Mitchell home was bought and the school building erected. Contributed by Betsy Perkins. 1901 to 1928 Dave's Place (W.D. Bunting Remembers Bryan, 1913 -1925) Dorothy Bunting My father, Frank Allen Bunting, had a large family and really had to struggle to make ends meet on a carpenter's wages. Sometimes when emergencies arose my mother, Hallie Allen Bunting, would sell one of her beautiful filet crocheted bed spreads or table cloths. Her handwork was perfect and so dainty that these cloths were much prized by the ladies of Bryan. One of these purchased by Amy Barron Neeley was later given to her daughter, Ruth Lewis, and is now used in the beautiful home of the Neeley Lewis family. My mother was the daughter of Dr. Francis Marion Allen from Lexing- ton who served as a medic on the battlefields of the Civil War (another wonderful story). I was the second son of the Bunting family. We moved to Bryan in 1913 when I was in the second grade. I attended Bryan Public School on Baker 107 Bryan Legends and Legacies Street, the first school building erected in Bryan. As a young boy I helped out at home. I took my Dad's cow out each day to graze in Cavitt's pasture, along with cows belonging to three neighbors (A. M. Waldrop, Joe Dyer, and John Moore). Each paid me fifty cents a week. Every morning I took four cows into Cavitt's pasture, which went from the corner of Mr. Cavitt's home on Haswell and East 30th Streets east and south almost to the very outskirts of the city. After school and before milking time, I found the cows waiting for me at Cavitt's gate. Then I'd drive the cows home, closing the yard gates behind them. By 1919 I was thirteen and old enough to get a "real job." I actually had two! I delivered newspapers and groceries. My first paper route was on Candy Hill. Candy Hill was the area in northeast Bryan on and around what is now Martin Luther King Boulevard. I went downtown to pickup my papers, the Waco News Tribune, as they were tossed from a bus. To deliver the Waco paper, I rode a little mule. Once every week I collected fifteen cents from each customer, the cost of the weekly subscrip- tion. I gave half of the money I collected to the Waco newspaper and got to keep the rest; the pay wasn't much, but it was something. Later, when I delivered the Bryan Daily Eagle, I rode a horse in bad weather and a bicycle in fair. Things seemed so much better! My delivery area was from West 26th Street down West 27th and 28th Streets, down to the railroad tracks, and along the streets of Sterling, Groesbeck, Bryan, and Beck. I delivered to more than one hundred customers on the west side of Bryan. This was the elite area of town in the twenties, where well -to -do families lived. The Eagle paid me fifty cents a week total for rolling and delivering all of my papers. By age fourteen, I was bigger and had a summer job delivering grocer- ies from Sanders Brothers Grocery. Sanders Brothers Grocery Store was owned by brothers W. H. and Jim Sanders (their older brother was Mr. Olin Sanders, father of longtime Bryan art teacher Sue Sanders Loew). The gro- cery store was located on Main Street where the Varisco Building now stands. What a store! There were rows of barrels holding molasses, vinegar, kerosene, and more. Under the grocery counter were bins of dried beans or peas, rice, sugar, corn meal, and flour. 108 1901 to 1928 Mr. Jim Sanders' home was on Houston and 27th Streets, where he kept a bay horse and a gray that were used separately on alternate days to pull the delivery wagon. Each weekday morning I went to Mr. Jim Sanders' home, harnessed one of the horses to the wagon, and drove down the street to the clearing between Sanders Store and the railroad tracks. Once when I was in the clearing with the wagon, I wondered about the men gathering at the Stephen Bottling Works nearby. A number of working men and some Stephen employees were laughing and talking. Someone told me they were "shooting craps," whatever that was! Inside the store, workers wrote down orders called in by the housewives of old Bryan. I filled the orders in separate boxes. Usually they included kerosene (a daily necessity) and molasses along with other staples. I helped to fill the orders, scooping out the dried supplies into a paper sack on the scales, weighing them out by the pound. I used a hand pump to draw out the molasses into jugs. After filling the boxes I carried them to the wagon. At each home I took the box into the kitchen, often doing extra chores the housewife requested. When the order included a chicken, the lady of the house would say, "Now, David, kill the chicken for me." I would take the chicken to the back yard and wring its neck. Oh, how I hated killing that chicken! But I did it. Back inside the store, I noticed that some of the customers came for their own groceries and carried them out (remember Cash and Carry?). I heard some of them, as they paid, ask, "a little pin -on, please, Mr. Sanders." And Mr. Sanders generously made his gift to them; always several pieces of hard candy along with some other bit of good food. There were many farmers coming in also to buy staples and to sell their produce. I admired these sturdy men in their overalls and big brimmed hats. They were staunch, honest, and hard - working. The farmers left their wag- ons and horses at the "wagon yard" on the north end of Main Street near 19th Street (now Martin Luther King Boulevard). They walked downtown to Sanders Brothers, bought their groceries, then enjoyed standing around visiting with friends. While visiting they sometimes ate cheese, crackers, and a slice of summer sausage, for which they paid Mr. Sanders a dime. Sometimes as we worked inside the store, we would hear the blast of a 109 Bryan Legends and Legacies car horn. This meant that a lady from one of the fine homes was in her car expecting someone to come out to take her order. One lady always arrived in her beautiful Cadillac and honked, expecting the manager to come out for her order immediately. If someone didn't get out there fast, she would really sit on that horn. We always hurried when that car showed up. Her family had a home in town and a big plantation in "the Brazos Bottom" so she was used to lots of servants and expected quick service. During my high school years, I lived very close to the Bryan Schools. My home was on East 31st Street just across from the home of Mr. and Mrs. H. O. Boatwright, parents of Ruth Boatwright (Mrs. Travis Bryan, Sr.). When Mr. and Mrs. Boatwright took their daily carriage ride, the lady always dressed in the mode of the day, wearing white gloves and a fashionable hat. They were a gracious couple. With my brothers and sisters, I attended the first school in Bryan until the "new one" was built in 1918. I remember helping other boys move furni- ture from the old building into the new one. I attended that school until I graduated from there in 1925. While in high school, I held jobs and made my grades. I lettered in three sports, being the captain of my team during my junior year. I also took part in activities at the First Baptist Church where I was a member. Mr. Pat Newton, Mr. Hardy Newton, and Mr. B. F. K. Mullins were great influences on my life. One summer while I was in high school I would ride my bike out Jones Bridge Road to where men were building the levee. I worked with them as a muleskinner, driving three mules hooked to a fresno, a large scoop that was five feet wide and two feet deep — used to lift dirt and dump it on the levee. My senior year I worked for Mr. J. L. Reese, my manual training teacher, doing plumbing and electrical work. I was able to pay for my graduation expenses in a very special way. I needed about $150.00. I earned this money from my own little stand that I operated during my senior year selling sandwiches, soda pop in glass bottles (especially strawberry and grape), and delicious fried pies made by my wonderful mother. My lunch stand was on Baker Street on the block across from 30th 110 1901 to 1928 Street. In those days the men of Bryan were glad to help out any young boy who really wanted to work. Thus, it was Mr. Joe Dyer who said "Yes" when I asked permission to use his empty barn for a lunch stand. That goodly man let me cut a small window through which I sold my lunches. I painted the words "Dave's Place" on an awning which he hung over the window. With his help, I was able to pay for my special trousers, jacket, and a tie for my graduation in Spring '25. Hardly a man is now alive who remembers "Dave's Place," but there are some, like Merle Henry Buchanan and a few of the others still living, who remember. In the fall of '25, I rode the train to Georgetown with my trunk, a foot- ball scholarship, and $5.00 in my pocket. At Southwestern University I se- cured my teaching certificate. After that time, except for earning two de- grees from Texas A &M University, by going to school in the summer time, I was an educator for forty-eight years in the schools of Bryan, College Station, and Brazos County. Part of that time I taught in the very building where I had graduated. I have loved Bryan from 1913 until now. Bryan is a part of me and I am a part of Bryan. My family sometimes says, "Bryan is Dave's Place." From an interview with W.D. Bunting, 1995. 111 Bryan Legends and Legacies Bryan Bits Statement of the Treasurer of the Rest Room Fund I am directed by the Woman's Home Mission society of the Method- ist church to give to the public a detailed statement of the finances of the rest room recently established in Bryan. In compliance with this request I add herewith the statement. We are glad to learn that the institution is becoming known and appre- ciated by the ladies of the surrounding county. It was for their benefit that the room was provided, and we sincerely hope they will make free use of it. Mrs. J. B. Priddy From the Bryan Eagle, December 9, 1907. Contributed by Olive R. Nabors. Cottage Destroyed Home of Mr. and Mrs. Jesse Hensarling Burned Last Night, Lamp Exploded The cottage home of Mr. and Mrs. Jesse Hensarling was almost to- tally destroyed by fire at 9 o'clock last night. The roof was burned off, and the damage to walls and foundation was such as to make the loss practi- cally total. Most of the furniture was saved. Mr. Hensarling's cottage was valued at about $1,000.00 with only $450 insurance. The loss and damage to furniture was fully covered by insur- ance. The fire originated from an exploding lamp. The fire boys, members of both stations, were at the station when the alarm was turned in, and one of the prettiest runs was made ever witnessed in the history of the department. The boys did some quick, good work and in just a few minutes after the alarm was turned in had the fire under control. When the alarm was turned in, Emmett Cole rushed from the Imperial garage to the fire station with his automobile to pull the chemical engine, and just as he backed up to the door the boys were coming out with the chemical, and in the collision the 112 1901 to 1928 tongue of the chemical jabbed an ugly hole through the back of the car. It was an unfortunate accident and is deeply regretted by all. From the Bryan Eagle, March 28, 1912. Contributed by Olive Ruth Hensarling Nabors. Back during Prohibition days, "Doc" was sufficiently under the weather to stay home from his office one day. Looking out his window he saw a friend passing by whose neighbor happened to be Doc's bootlegger. Doc called to this friend and asked him to tell Mr. Neighbor that he (Doc) had double pneumonia and wanted him to come to see him. The friend delivered the message to Mr. Neighbor, who understood it correctly as an order for two bottles of home brew, but the friend interpreted the message literally and spread all over town the news that Doc was seri- ously ill with pneumonia. Shirlireed Walker. The first regular meeting this season of the West End Social Club was held Friday afternoon with Mrs. J. W. Doremus and Mrs. J. R. Calton at the home of the former. The rooms were tastefully decorated with cut flowers and pot plants. In one cosy corner a handsome punch bowl was arranged with pretty sofa pillows about the table on which were lovely chrysanthemums...About fifty ladies were present. Eleven tables were sup- plied with dominos for playing Forty -two. Nearly all took part in the con- tests, the game being new... The game is a fascinating one and sufficiently attractive without prizes, which are against the rules of the club. Bryan Morning Eagle, Oct. 28, 1904 A Medical Case History 113 Bryan Legends and Legacies Mrs. P. S. Tilson entertained the Embroidery Club Friday afternoon. The rooms were sweet with the perfume of exquisite roses. orange n e were served. were the games enjoyed, and a salad course and cake and served. The next meeting of the club will be a come and go reception with the president and Mrs. Pryor, complimentary to Mrs. Tilson, on next Friday afternoon. Bryan Morning Eagle, Oct. 18, 1904 The Old Reliance Road was once known as the Poor Farm Road. The county poor farm was moved around to three different places between Community. et m 19 A 1927 map shows the poor farm located in Reliance show that paupers were buried at "the poor farm," but one seems contact to know where that cemetery is. If anyone has information, please the Brazos County Genealogical Association, P.O. Box 5493, Bryan TX 77806. General Henry Bates Stoddard, born 1840 in New York, died 1925 in Bryan, was one of the most highly honored Masons of the entire Fraternity. By 1865 he was living in Millican, Texas and was one of (a very few) men to survive the yellow fever epidemic of 1867. He was conspicuous in the relief work. He was most Eminent Commander of Ivanhoe CommanderY Number 8 of Bryan from 1876 until 1881. In 1880 he also served until Grand was mander of the Grand Commandery of Texas. From 1901 Grand Master of the Grand Encampment of the United States, and the first Texasnto do so. In San Francisco in 1904, he was maded ales at he the of the United Order of the Great Prory of England and representative of King Edward VII of Great Britain. From local Masonic historian, Byron Nelson 114 1901 to 192 Brazos A. Varisco took both his name and a fortune from the Brazos River bottoms. By the time he died in July 1970, at age 67, Varisco was recog- nized as a patriarchal figure and the one person who symbolized the progress of Italian immigrants in the Brazos Valley. Varisco was born in Sicily on Columbus Day in 1902. In 1906, his fa- ther Antonio returned to the United States and regained the American citi- zenship he had once relinquished. One of Antonio's cousins, Dominic Angonia was already established as a Brazos County Farmer and he helped Antonio start farming in the Brazos bottom. By the time he died in 1948, Antonio Varisco had become a wealthy planter. Brazos, Antonio's oldest son, finished fifth grade at Steele's Store, a Brazos bottom community, and plowed until he was 20. Then he spent 10 months in Soule Business School in New Orleans. From there he returned home to farm and work his way up to a penthouse office on the top floor of the Bryan office building that still bears the Varisco name. From the penthouse, Varisco could look down on his real estate hold- ings, which included the original City National Bank Building, The Astin Building, a Varisco Lumber Co. Building, and many other structures. Local Italian- Americans remember him as hard - working and very gen- erous. Above all he is remembered as an inspiration to all the Brazos Valley descendants who fulfilled the American Dream. From "Brazos County Italians" by Paul McKay, the Bryan - College Station Eagle, April 10, 1982 115 Lee Burnette Schink From his cousin Dorothy P. May Jeanette Canavespi Bryan Legends and Legacies Why are there so many different spellings of Scamardo? In the homes of the early Italian settlers most parents did not read or write in English, so when school teachers would ask their children how to spell their names they came up with different ways to do it. Albert May, better known as "Casey," was the engineer on the Bryan -Col- lege Station Interurban from 1910 until 1921. In 1958, May was living in Houston running a commercial garage when he received the thirteenth An- drew Carnegie Medal for making a boat and saving the lives of three people in the Brazos River Flood on Dec. 7, 1913. In the early 1920s, Dr. W. H. Oliver owned and operated the first hospital in Bryan. Other doctors used the hospital for major surgery. Dr. Oliver died in 1934 and that year, Drs. R. B. Ehlinger and R. B. Grant reopened the hospi- tal. In 1935, the Sisters of St. Francis came to Bryan, purchased the Bryan Hospital, and renamed it St. Joseph Hospital. Central Baptist Church began as the College Avenue Baptist Church. Be- fore that it began meeting in the old stone courthouse, meeting in the court room. My mother, Minnie Maude Bullock Riley sold bibles to pay her way through Mary Hardin Baylor. She played an old pump organ everywhere her daddy preached, in churches at Steep Hollow, Reliance, Harvey, and Cottonwood. Then she got her teacher's certificate and taught in one room schools in the same areas - -first through eleventh grades. This was before my daddy, John Wesley Wiley, Jr., bought land in Bryan and built our house on East 27th street in the "Wiley addition." 116 1901 to 1928 Old Mr. Chapman would come around the corner at Baker and 27th in his big wagon drawn by a white mule. He had three big containers in the wagon with vanilla, chocolate, and strawberry ice cream. When I heard his bell I would run as fast as I could to get a nickel from my daddy so I could get an ice cream cone. We had a swimming pool in Bryan. Mr. Stephens had the ice house where he made ice for everyone to put in their ice boxes. Under that ice house was a big concrete tank where condensation from the freezing coils would accu- mulate. That is where we would swim. Johnie Mae Wiley Stanford The old Ursuline Convent was across from what is now the East Villa Maria Road. There was a big rectangular building there, and we would see the nuns walking around in the yard. Years later the Will Howells came to Bryan from England and built a beautiful English Manor house past Allen Academy using bricks from this old convent. After that, Allen Academy used this house as a dormitory, but then it went into decay. When Paul and Merrill Bonarrigo built the Messina Hof Winery near Steep Hollow they used the bricks from the Ursuline Convent. Mamma would take a chicken out in the back yard and wring it around and around and then let it go. She would let the dead chicken flop around the yard until it stopped moving. Then she would plunge it down into a big pot of boiling water in the yard and pick all the feathers off it. She would hold it over an open flame at the kitchen stove to singe the fuzz off the skin. Finally, she would cut that chicken into a lot of pieces and fry it up, and you could maybe have a pullybone. That same old black pot used to dip the chicken held up to ten gallons of water. Momma would build a fire under that pot and boil our clothes using lye soap. 117 Maurine Neeley Banks Hill Bryan Legends and Legacies We would hang those snow white clothes on a clothesline stretched across the yard using wooden clothes pins. When you put your sheets on your bed you could just smell that good old fresh air and sunshine. Johnie Mae Wiley Stanford One of my favorite neighbors was Miss Dona Carnes. During t d and Chan w make the most beautiful desserts, such as rom Grandmother Coulter's lotte Russe. In the summer she cut lovely flowers and brought them to me. She was a most interesting and educated friend who had traveled all the world and knew many prominent people of her day. She wrote the Society Page of the Eagle for years." George B. Shaw operated a hamburger stand at the site the GTE office on East 26th. He sold "sanitary hamburgers" for five cents Frances Rountree assumed the duties of editor of the Eagle when her hus- band was elected to the House of Representatives. At his her husband's term. became full time editor and was appointed m term her own. In 1925, she was the She was elected to and served one first woman to be elected president of the Texas Editorial Association. She was reknowned in her time for her column on local events, "Pave- ment Pickups," but we are reminded of her today because she loved the Bryan Public Library and served as the chairwoman of the library board for 18 years. She raised the funds for the children's section, which was named the Rountree Room for Children. Adapted from an article by Robert Borden in the Bryan- College Station Eagle, March 10, 1991 In 1927, Allen Academy was selected as an Honor Military School and held that distinction for many years. This was the highest rating given a military school, and it was maintained many years. Allen was the only school in Texas to have that honor. Allen Academy 1886 -1968 A total of 71 votes had been cast in the city election to ratify the sale of the city hall to Schulman and Son for a consideration of $10,000 up to 3 o'clock this afternoon. Judging from the vote up to that time it seemed likely that the sale would be ratified... Bryan Daily Eagle, Dec. 4, 1928 Blocker Trant 1901 to 1928 About 1898, my father, Phillip Kennard Trant was hired by the Bryan Evening Pilot as their first delivery boy. Phillip rolled and banded his news- papers in a room above a saloon. If he got thirsty he'd put a dime in a bucket and let it down through a hole in the floor so the folks below could send some beer back up in the bucket. Phillip Kennard Trant was the construction superintendent for the build- ing of First Baptist Church. When it was time for the steam crane to set the columns up, Earl McWilliams said, "You're supposed to put a penny under each column or it's bad luck." There were six columns, but between the men on the site, only five pennies could be found, so one column was set without its lucky coin. THREE 1929 to 1949 Patchwork Quilt Nancy Mertz Roberts Grandmother and her patchwork quilt Stitch by stitch, memories built. The gingham square, blue checked and white, From a party dress that danced all night. Tear- stained silk from a wedding veil; Striped cotton snipped from an old shirt tail. Bright calico from the first bonnet made Sits saucily next to the rich brocade That once adorned a parlor chair. The fine stitched embroidery; best at the fair. There's denim squares, then tough and new, Mellowed and worn to a faded blue, And flowered pink from a Sunday best. Black gabardine from trousers and vest. In the strain and stress of unhappy times, Security was found, nestled there, Fondling the treasured kaleidoscope, And telling each square. Photo Credit: (1 -r) Frank Kocman, Jr., Donald Kocman, and Bill Kocman, December 26, 1944 on Franks way to San Antonio. Helena Machentanz of Dortmund, Germany, wife of Frank Kocman, Jr., Courtesy of Frank Kocman, Jr. 1929 to 1949 School Days in the Italian Community (As Recalled by Janie Ricca DeGelia) Frances X. DeGelia In 1928, I was seven years old and attended Gregg School in Burleson County. It was a one -room country schoolhouse, with only one teacher. She taught children ranging in ages from six to fifteen years old in grades one through seven - -all in one room and all at the same time. Having so many children, the teacher frequently could not attend to them all on a daily basis. One of my aunts related to me that in 1908 her uncle was in such a classroom and spent many days sleeping or chewing on the corners of his books until the book was virtually round instead of its original rect- angular shape. The furnishings of our school were meager. Long benches with tables attached served as desks. There was one blackboard, a shelf for our coats and hats, a wood stove, and the teacher's desk. The bathroom facilities were located outdoors, and the water well was about one - quarter of a mile away. There was no electricity. Kerosene lamps were used for light. Our school day began about 8:00 and ended at 4:00. During recess we played the typical children's games such as jump rope, hide - and -seek, hop- scotch, marbles, jacks, and popping -the -whip. This was an amusing game where all the children would hold hands in a long line led by the leader, who would shake, jerk, and twist the line until most of the children had fallen down. Those that remained standing were the winners. School supplies consisted of a Big Chief tablet and a few pencils. I don't remember having any crayons or colored pencils or painting supplies. Our lunch boxes were recycled "Rex Jelly" buckets, little blue and white striped metal containers that held delicious fried potato and egg sandwiches, and on a particularly lucky day, potted meat! School clothes were limited to what my mother and sister could sew on our treadle sewing machine. Fortunately, my sister had a real flair for pat- tern making. When it was time for a new dress, she would ask me to choose a design that I liked from the Sears catalog and would then proceed to make 123 From an interview with Janie Ricca DeGelia Bryan Legends and Legacies a pattern from simply looking at the catalog illustration. The only other accessory was my shoes, which we ordered from the Sears and Roebuck catalog. There were few extracurricular activities, but we did have school plays, spelling bees, and sing - alongs. In the seventh grade, we had a piano in our classroom. Mrs. Florence Scarmardo was my teacher and offered to give me piano lessons, but unfortunately there was no extra money to be had for such luxuries. The classrooms of today are modern marvels of technology, but I still retain a fondness for my early school days. Even the daily one and a half mile walks to school and back, often through the rain and mud up to my ankles, could not cloud those joyful memories of my early years. Growing Up in the Manse, Part One Elizabeth Watts Whitehouse In 1926, my father, Thomas Gordon Watts, decided to leave the First Pres- byterian Church in Milledgerulle, Georgia to accept a call to the First Pres- byterian Church in Bryan, Texas. He put his wife and four daughters in a Studebaker touring car and headed for Texas. The weather all the way was terrible...rain, rain, rain...and the only protection from the weather were eisinglass snap -on windows. It took five days to reach Bryan. As we got to Benchley near Henry Seale's ranch, the car stuck in the mud and would not move. Mr. Seale pulled us out with his horses. Then we proceeded to the manse in Bryan where very kind ladies from the church had prepared food and a welcome for us. I was nine years old; my sister, Sarah, was seven; Josephine, five; and Ruth, three. My sister Virginia was born in Bryan in 1927. We all grew up in the manse next to the church. My sister Sarah has remained in Bryan and still teaches piano. The rest of us married and moved away. 124 1 929 to 1949 My father was a kind and loving person and a good preacher. He was always quick to arrive at the hospital when he heard of an accident; he visited many, many people from his congregation and others, who were ill or in need of help. Mother took a very active part in the life of the church. She organized a Junior Choir and taught Bible in the Sunday school and in the Women of the Church. A very deep thinker, she was a great intellectual influence on us. I also joined in the activities of the church, especially the youth group then called the Christian Endeavor. The church held three services, two on Sunday and Prayer Meeting on Wednesday night. When I finished my school homework, I was allowed to play the piano for Prayer Meeting. I also played the organ. My high school years were happy ones. I will never forget some of my teachers, especially Miss Mary Hyman who stimulated my life long interest in English literature and history. No one will ever forget our principal, Miss Wesa Weddington, and her dedication to the students of Stephen F. Austin High School. Lila Fae Vance, Jessie Thomas, and I vied for good grades all through school. My best friend was Bessie Mae Lichte (now Mrs. Joe Vincent), whose father taught at Texas A &M. We have remained friends through the years, though I have lost track of her. I vividly recall the Cavitt family... Mr. Fred, Miss Ethel, Miss Edith, and Miss Esther. Many times I visited Miss Ethel and Miss Edith, who were splendid housekeepers and who willingly shared recipes with me. Miss Esther taught a Sunday school class of boys from Allen Academy: every fall she took the boys, plus a girl for each boy, on an "opossum" hunt. When the men and hounds treed the "possum," it was the first one I had ever seen. Then we walked to a clearing in the woods to a big bonfire where we roasted hot dogs and marshmallows. Miss Esther then paired a different girl with each boy and we returned to town, walking, of course. What fun it was! Miss Lena and Miss Clara Wetter had a hat shop. My sister and I loved pretty clothes, and we always bought a new hat for Easter from them. Other people at church were the Armstrongs, the Kinnards, the Maclnnises, the Bryans, and the Fullers. Dr. Fuller was our organist. He 125 Bryan Legends and Legacies liked to play the organ as loud as he could when a hymn was joyous. Once, as a hymn reached the phrase "towering o'er the wrecks of time," an organ pipe came loose, fell on Father, and knocked him and the pulpit to the floor. In 1934, I went to college and have lived away from Bryan since then, returning only to visit, but I shall always look back on my growing up there with many happy memories. Growing Up in the Manse, Part Two Virginia Watts Baker My earliest memories of Bryan date from the early1930s. My father, Tho- mas Gordon Watts, had become pastor of First Presbyterian Church in 1926. The church then stood on the corner of Washington Avenue and 29th Street, with the manse beside it in the middle of that block. Behind the manse and church ran a narrow road; across that road stood the Bryan water tower and railroad tracks which led to the train station a block or two to the north. One block west of the train station was Main Street, where the Carnegie library was located. Even as a young child, I was allowed to walk to that library and check out as many books as Miss Willie Rogers would allow, then walk back home and begin a "reading feast." Once, Miss Willie thought that some of my choices of books were not proper and called my mother. She listened carefully to what Miss Willie had to say, then said, "Virginia may check out any book she wishes to read." Father and mother grew up together in rural post -Civil War Alabama. He and my mother married in 1915, about the time that he became an or- dained Presbyterian minister. In 1926 father and mother and my four sisters moved to Bryan. My mother, Elizabeth Carmichael Watts, was sixteen years old when she began teaching school near Goodwater, Alabama in 1902. By 1904 she had saved enough money for one year at Florence Normal School. Two years were required to earn a diploma, so she carried a double load and graduated in 1905. Mother and her sisters taught themselves to read music and play a foot 126 pedal organ. During her ten years of teaching before she married father she also took voice lessons and studied oil painting. She loved teaching algebra and geometry. She was born to be a teacher. After the family moved to Bryan, she was always very active in church work. Glancing up from my schoolbooks, I would see her with a Bible in her hands and her head bent down, studying hard, to give another Sunday school lesson or speak before the Women's Auxiliary or at a Presbyterial or Syn- odical meeting. Mother and Erma Lancaster, a member of the church from College Station, formed a junior choir for children that met twice a week, one of those times on Sunday morning. The children would go to the regular church service for the first 20 minutes, and then go downstairs for hymn study and singing. Some say that my father was the first Presbyterian minister in Texas to preach a children's sermon. I attended choir meetings after school. On cold, blustery winter afternoons, there would be hot cocoa and marshmal- lows for all of us. Somehow, on a cold winter day even now, I can taste that cocoa. In addition to church, Mother took correspondence courses in sewing and tailoring, and made most of the clothes for her five daughters: Eliza- beth, Ruth, Jo, Sarah, and me (Virginia). These included dresses, blouses, coats, suits, evening dresses, and so on. Each of us took over part of the household work while she sewed, usually during the month of August. As we watched her, each of us learned to sew for ourselves. Mother also taught each of us to play the piano. Three of us majored in music in college. When college years approached for my sisters and me, mother planned to give private piano lessons in order to help defray the costs and because she'd always loved teaching young people. However, she found that she had to take an examination in the history of music, theory, harmony, analysis and form, and in piano playing before she would be quali- fied to join the Texas Music Teacher's Association. She studied on her own and took piano lessons. When she'd passed the examinations in all subjects, she not only joined the Texas Music Teacher's Association, she added cred- its she'd earned from two Georgia colleges so that she also passed require- ments to become a qualified school teacher. Mother taught piano until she 1929 to 1949 127 Bryan Legends and Legacies was 85 years old and was extremely proud of her pupils in Bryan. In 1972, the year before she retired at age 85, Mother was presented with the Yellow Rose of Texas award by Governor Preston Smith for her 70 years of teaching. From early childhood, father would take me with him to visit Mr. and Mrs. Henry Seale, Sr. in their home at Benchley, where occasionally, Mr. Henry would tell a story of his frontier days. One of the log cabins he and his family had lived in still stood near the main house. I also stayed with Mr. and Mrs. Kinnard on their dairy farm while my mother had surgery at Scott and White in Temple to remove a toxic goiter. My own grandmother lived in Alabama, so Mrs. Kinnard was like a second grandmother, a very loving one. And I spent a great deal of time with Mr. and Mrs. E W. Kazmeier and their daughter Hazle. Hazle and I are still very close friends, "almost sis- ters," we tell each other. The Bryan I knew as a child lives in my memory as a very special place. It was the kind of town in which our parents knew everything we had done on Saturday night before we appeared at breakfast on Sunday morning. I felt protected, watched, and cared for, and not only by my parents. From six or seven years of age, I walked downtown from the manse, shopped for my mother and myself, went to the library, and knew most of the merchants in the stores. I felt quite independent. The children in Bryan had many "guard- ians" in those days. Perhaps they still do. During the Depression years, hobos "rode the rails." Because the manse and church were so near the railroad tracks and the downtown section of Bryan, they often sought work and food at the manse and other nearby places. In the winters, particularly during a blue norther, the Session of the church would arrange to have the furnace going through the nights and a basement door left open so these men could find shelter. Any time of year, usually in the early mornings, we would hear a knock at the back door and find a hobo asking for food. My mother never refused. But almost invariably, she would ask him to use the axe that was kept near the woodpile to "chop a little kindling" while she cooked his breakfast. I thought she was not being very kind, that those men were too hungry to have them work before she'd give them food, and I told her so. Her answer to my protest was something like 128 19 to 1949 this: "They have just as much pride as you or I do. If they chop kindling for us, they may feel they have earned their breakfast. We must always be care- ful to help other people keep their sense of dignity, Virginia." I didn't un- derstand all of that until I was older, but I never protested again. Once there had been talk of a serious confrontation between some Bryan men and hobos in their camp, which was under a railroad trestle north of Main Street. After some of the town leaders, my father, and Dr. Andrews of First Baptist Church conferred with both sides, the conflict was averted. A few days later, my father accepted the hobos' invitation to have dinner with them in their camp and took me with him. I couldn't have been more than five or six. It was near dusk and shadows had gathered under the small railroad bridge when my father and I approached the camp. One of the ho- bos came to meet us, thanked us for coming, and began introductions. A big black iron pot hung from a tripod over a crackling fire creating delicious smells. I remember, even today, how good their beef stew tasted. I felt very welcome there. In the manse, there was an unspoken rule that if the phone rang late at night, we were to wait for Father to answer it. My bedroom shared a wall with my parents' bedroom, so I'd often wake just long enough to hear his voice, movements around their room, footsteps on the stairs, and then the car starting and driving away. Usually, these calls were about a serious ill- ness or death in a church family. In the middle and late 1930s, however, we began to hear talk of war, at first from church missionaries who had come home on leave from missions in China and other parts of the Far East or had returned to the United States on a semipermanent basis, hoping to be able to go back when the fighting between Japan and China ended. At the same time, war seemed more and more imminent in Europe. Another manse rule was that we were not to read the newspapers or listen to the radio on Sundays. But on the afternoon of December 7, 1941 while my parents were out visiting, I turned the radio on and was the first in the family to hear about Pearl Harbor. I knew when my parents came home, I'd have to tell them. My father refused to believe me, until later in that afternoon, there was a repeat of that broadcast. Wartime changes came all too quickly. Some of the cadets at Texas 129 Bryan Legends and Legacies A &M were inducted and sent to training camps. High school schoolmates were called up under the draft, trained, then sent to Europe, or to the Pa- cific, or to Army and Air Force and Navy bases all through the United States. By 1944, the year I graduated from Stephen F. Austin, the group I walked to school with every morning had formed a habit. Until we reached the last corner before the high school and turned that corner, we couldn't see the flagpole, so as we neared that turn, we'd fall silent, often in mid -sen- tence. Then, if the flag was at the top of the pole, the conversation would pick up exactly where the speaker had left off, sometimes again in mid - sentence. But if the flag was hanging from the center of the pole, we'd stay silent, enter the school building quietly, and go to our homerooms to watch the teacher's and classmates' faces, hoping not to have to ask who, or where, or when a friend had died. At home, the telephone rang even more often, sometimes in the day- time, sometimes late at night, and my father, or both my parents, would leave the house for a time, then come home looking tense and strained, often teary. During those war years, a young man of French descent who had given up his studies at a Rabbinical Seminary and had come to Texas A &M to study veterinary medicine, lived in the manse with us. Often, in the eve- nings, he and my mother would talk, and sometimes I was allowed to listen. This was how I began to hear about concentration camps and the slaughter of Jews by the Nazis. Some of his family were in those camps and other members of his family who were still free had heard from them. From mis- sionaries, some years earlier, we had heard about slaughter by the Japanese. Now, on the other side of the world, the same thing was happening. Those were terrible years for sons and husbands, friends and school- mates who went off to fight and risk their lives, terrible years for parents, wives, and children. Too many loved ones were killed. In 1944, I graduated from high school but since two of my sisters were still in college, I worked in the Registrar's Office at Texas A &M for a year, then in the fall of 1945, I entered Sophie Newcomb College in New Or- leans. I did live in Bryan and College Station again for about three years, 130 l� 1929 to 1949 while my husband was in Japan during the Korean War and while he was in graduate school at Texas A &M after he returned. I have been back to Bryan often and cherish the friends I have there. The East Texas Chamber of Commerce Ruth Neeley Lewis In 1929, the annual meeting of the East Texas Chamber of Commerce was held in Bryan. This was a big event for our small town. Main Street was gaily decorated in red, white, and blue bunting. All the merchants had col- orful patriotic displays in their store windows. This event, bringing people from all over East Texas, was a financial boon to the town. There being few hotels, the ladies of the community of- fered rooms for rent. My mother and two of my aunts also decided to be- come entrepreneurs. They planned to open a temporary catering service for the duration of the meeting in my uncle's "rent car" garage on Main Street where they hoped to sell chicken salad sandwiches, cookies, and coffee. My Aunt Mary was an especially good bargainer. She drove around to neighboring farms, negotiating prices for chickens. Aunt Artie, now ninety - one years old, recently remarked, "You never saw so many old roosters as Mary brought home." These three ladies were gourmet cooks. Their sandwiches and cookies were being eagerly purchased by the visiting East Texans. All went well until a gentleman from the Health Department came in and announced that they did not have a restaurant permit. This put a stop to the venture, and my aunts gave away all the extra sandwiches and cookies to relatives and friends. 131 Bryan Legends and Legacies The Easter Egg Hunt at Sue Haswell Park Ruth Neeley Lewis Bryan's first city park was Sue Haswell Park. The land was donated to the city by Mr. Tyler Haswell, a prominent businessman whose bookstore was located at 25th and Main. In the late '20s and early '30s, all of the children of Bryan were invited to the Easter egg hunts at Sue Haswell Park. I say "all the children," but this was the time of complete segregation, and the black children were not in- vited. Such injustice, however, was not on the minds of the eager egg hunt- ers. Literally hundreds of eggs were scattered throughout the park, most of them not too well hidden. In addition to the regular boiled colored eggs, prize gold eggs were to be found by a lucky few. These were redeemed by the local merchants who gave prizes from their stores. We children thought this was a wonderful way to begin our Easter celebration. A Mind Full of Memories Glorianne Rice Those of us who grew up outside the city limits thought of Bryan as the hub for our important needs. Bryan was the financial, medical, and legal center for those who lived out in the county. Although my grandparents, Robert Lee and Bell Wilson, lived in Ta- bor, my grandfather and John Conlee were close friends. When Mr. Conlee was running for sheriff, my grandfather told him, "John, if you win the pri- mary election and Bell has a boy, we will name him after you." The Demo- cratic party was the only party in the thirties. Whoever won the primary, won the election. Mr. Conlee did win, so when my dad was born in August, he was named John Conlee Wilson. Everyone called him Conlee. My mother was Lena Scasta of Wheelock. My parents were living there when I was born. There was no mad rush into Bryan to take mother to the hospital; instead Dr. Wilkerson rushed madly to come out from Bryan for 132 1 929 t 1 the delivery. In about 1931, my father wanted to try his hand at farming and rented land in the Brazos Bottom from Mr. Lightsey. First State Bank and Trust of Bryan staked him. After two straight years of floods, he had only a mule to show for his effort, so he applied for a job with Texas A &M and got it. The bank carried his note and allowed him to pay it off. We first moved into Bryan where my brother, Allen Lee, was born. Then my parents moved to College Station because of the long commute for my father. As residents of College Station, we joined those who went to downtown Bryan on Satur- days. When my brother Allen and I put our heads together to recall childhood days, some of our most vivid memories are of the movies we saw at the Dixie, Queen, and Palace theaters. The first feature at the Dixie was a serial that ran for about twelve consecutive Saturdays. Usually, one parent would go with us while the other shopped or handled business matters at the bank. One of the serials was the Lone Ranger. Once my father told mother that she would have to take care of everything in town on their next Satur- day trip because he was hooked and had to see the last episode. Local youth had a standing joke that they were going to get a summer job at the Dixie dragging out dead cowboys. Main Street was wide enough for a six yoke team of oxen to turn around without backing up. The oxen were before my time, but I do recall wagons and cars such as the Model A Ford. The streets were always filled with people we knew, so much time was spent visiting as we walked along. The men who came in from the smaller towns like Wheelock and Tabor, if they carried any money, always traveled different routes to and from town. We loved eating hamburgers on Saturday; that was the only time we ate out. The best tasting ones in town were on North Bryan across from Humpty Dumpty Grocery. The place may have been named Charlie's. It was a small long narrow tin building without much seating space, but it had the best smells in town. As we walked by the Humpty Dumpty store we passed a barrel filled with stalks of sugar cane. We knew that when our grandfather was in town he would buy a stalk so that later when we visited him he could cut sections for us to chew. 133 Bryan Legends and Legacies While we were living on the campus at Texas A &M in college housing, our pet bulldog developed rabies. Each member of the family had to take a series of shots for 14 days. We drove into Bryan to the barber shop next to the old Carnegie Library for the shots. The serum for the shots came on the 2:00 p.m. train from Austin each day. The county nurse met the train and then walked to the barber shop to give the shots. They were very painful. The first day the shots were given in one arm, the next day the other arm, then in one buttock, then the other. My mother bruised very easily, and by the end of the two weeks she looked as if she had been severely beaten. Much of the land between Bryan and College Station was undevel- oped. A section of nice two story homes had been built on the edge of Bryan on College Avenue. One of these had a widow's walk and each Christmas the family placed a Christmas tree on top of the house. My brother and I liked it so much my parents drove by it often so we could see it over and over. My father loved local politics. He followed the results of each election with eager attention. I remember as a youngster going to downtown Bryan with the family to check out the statistics. Outside the Bryan Daily Eagle building a large chalkboard was set up with the candidate's names listed down the side of the board and the precincts listed across the top. As results were turned in, a man would post the new numbers. The chalkboard was high so everyone could see. The person posting the figures walked on a platform. He had chalk in one hand and an eraser in the other, and he strolled back and forth on the platform updating the totals. Final scores did not come in until early in the morning. If things were moving slowly, father would take us home and return to see the outcome. During World War II, we lived for a while in south Texas. When my father was drafted, mother and us kids had to move back to College Station and had trouble finding a place to live. We finally rented a bedroom with a shared kitchen space. Later we moved into a small house. My mother went to work for the first time and each month saved my father's check. When he returned home they had saved enough money to purchase a house in Bryan. 1929 to 1949 Our new home was on First Street near the old country club. I had a big problem because I had only my senior year to go at Consolidated High School in College Station. Mr. W. D. Bunting, the county superintendent, gave permission for me to finish there, but my brother had to transfer to Lamar in Bryan. I walked up the hill a few blocks to catch the school bus near Martin's Barbecue and Youngblood's Restaurant on College Avenue. Allen, being an enterprising thirteen - year -old, found a way to make some money. He and his friends put on their bathing suits, took along a bucket and a rake, and went to the Bryan Municipal Lake to pull out golf balls. When they had a bucket full they took them to the country club and sold them. Sometimes they would stand in the water and retrieve balls for the golfers as they landed in the lake. They expected to be tipped, of course. Sometimes they came home with a few fish. After we moved to Bryan I went on my first date with George Rice who later became my husband. He was an Aggie and had no car, so he hitch- hiked from the campus to my house and we took the bus to Bryan so we could see the latest movie at the Palace Theater. After the movie we walked to the bus stop to catch the last bus going back to College Station. On one of these trips, the bus was so crowded that George gave his seat to a young woman. By the time the bus left Bryan, he had moved to the back as the bus had filled with people. When we got to my stop, I pulled the cord and got off the bus, expecting George to get off by the back door. As the bus passed by, there was George still inside, talking to some friends. By the time I walked through the back door at home, I was laughing out loud. My father told mother to wake up and fix something to eat, saying "George will be back." Sure enough there was a knock on the door and there stood a red faced and apologetic George. After George had finished his snack and had taken some kidding from Dad, I was allowed to drive him back to the cam- pus since there were no buses running that late at night. Bryan Legends and Legacies Profile of Norman A. Stewart Billie Stewart Norman A. Stewart (1890- 1953), son of Reverend A. M. and Emma Ross Stewart, lived most of his life in Bryan. He graduated from Austin College in Sherman and returned to Bryan to open Stewart's Drugstore on Main Street. The drugstore was located on the corner of Main and 24th streets where the Varisco Building now stands. In the late 1940s, his health and eyesight failed and he closed the store. Stewart was also an active farmer and rancher in the 1920s and contin- ued ranching until his death. He served as mayor of Bryan, was a member of the City Commission, and served on the Draft Board during World War II. Stewart was an avid bird hunter of dove and quail, and he raised show chickens. He won many prizes, including Grand Champion Bird of the Show at the Houston Fat Stock Show and Livestock Exhibition, February 12 -15, 1941. Norman's favorite breakfast was fried quail, which he called partridges. His family teased him, saying he would sell his birthright for a mess of partridges. Stewart was devoted to his church, the First Baptist Church. On No- vember 10, 1922, the Business Men's Bible Class presented him with a silver loving cup marking five years of unbroken attendance and faithful service. Norman's home was on the west side of Bryan, about two blocks from the railroad tracks. During the Depression of the 1930s, many hungry men rode the rails, dropped off in Bryan, and came around the neighborhoods asking for food. When Stewart's wife asked what to do about this, he told her to never refuse food to anyone. Stewart was married to Olive Goodwin, daughter of Tom Goodwin and Sally Newsom. The Newsoms were pioneer settlers in Brazos County in the early 1800s. They also had the first indoor plumbing in the county. 136 19 to 194 N. A. and Olive had three sons: N. A. Stewart, Jr. (known as Arthur) and twins, A. M. (Mac) and T. G. (Tom) Stewart. The Joys of Shopping in Bryan in 1932 -33 Dorothy Bunting When W. D. Bunting and I were newlyweds teaching in Kurten we would never think of missing Saturday in town. This was the highlight of the week, because entire families came into Bryan for the week's shopping and busi- ness. The fun part was that we stayed downtown all day, visiting on the sidewalks with other farm families and browsing in the stores. "Just look- ing" was fun as there was little or no money for buying. I remember a Duke & Ayers store, Gelber's, a Guarantee Store, Cloud's Grocery, and the Hicks' Meat Market. People brought their lunches from home. Margie and Gene Bunting came along with us to town. Sometimes we all went to the Bunting's house for the noon meal, dinner, of Mrs. Bunting's wonderful homemade rolls with boiled pinto or butter beans. There were black people enjoying the day in town too, but they always stepped off the sidewalks onto the street as white people came by. This was not right, but it was expected. The streets of downtown Bryan were built wide to accommodate wagons and teams. Some wagons were still hitched on Main Street among the cars. I never saw cold drinks in downtown. We saw soda pops only at the Fair. Near the railroad tracks downtown was the Farmer's Market where most of the farm wives I knew sold their produce on Saturday. Our shopping consisted of buying our week's supply of groceries with the $3.00 budgeted for that week. Bread was a nickel a loaf and we soon learned that a sandwich made with lunch meat was mighty tasty when our homemade preserves were spread on one of the bread slices. We drove a Model A Ford with a rumble seat. Several times a year we enjoyed the luxury of a movie in town for a quarter each. 137 Bryan Legends and Legacies The Big Jewelry Store Robbery of 1933 On December 14, 1933, about 6:30 p.m., Mrs. John Sealey (Celeste) Caldwell drove to downtown Bryan to pick up her husband at Caldwell Jewelry store. As she and John came out the back door some men swung around in the middle of the block and yelled, "We want you. We want what you got." The men forced John to unlock the door and open the safe. They wouldn't let John Sealey turn on the lights but struck matches on the safe to give him light to dial the combination. Nerves and flickering matches made it difficult for him to open it. Mrs. Caldwell removed her diamonds and dropped them into the trash basket. The bandits thought the noise was an alarm. This made them more nervous, but they took all of the jewelry out of the safe. Mrs. Caldwell recalls, "It was the first Ford V8 John Sealey and I owned and I was bundled into the back along with Blackie Thompson. They began to speak in 'Pig Latin', which we of course we could understand...They said that they would take us to the other side of Kurten." "They turned on the first road to the left and crossed the creek. The robbers took us from the car and led us away from the road. I was having a hard time walking in my high -heel shoes. We had to jump across a gully. Roy Johnson, the one who had been nice to me, helped me across. The bandits tied our arms around a tree and tied us up with their dirty handker- chiefs. They tied our thumbs together with copper wire. The wire cut my hands before I could get free and free John Sealey." Within about 30 minutes the couple had managed their freedom and returned to Kurten. From there they hitched a ride to Bryan with a local insurance man, Clifton Steen, who was hauling a Christmas tree in the back of his car. Mr. Steen didn't believe their story until he overheard Mr. Caldwell talking to Sheriff Jim Reed, trying to make him understand that they had been robbed and the back door of the store had been left open. Later that night, the Caldwells went to the Houston Police Department and identified the men from mug shots. The robbers belonged to the Whitey Walker Gang, a group of dangerous and vicious gangsters who were known to associate with other criminals such as Prettyboy Floyd, Raymond Hamilton, Bonnie Parker, and Clyde Barrow. When they returned to Bryan the Caldwells spent several weeks at the hotel for fear that the gang would return and make good their promise to harm anyone who reported the crime. 138 1929 to 1949 About thirty days later the gang paid cash for a Cadillac in Florida. Suspicious Florida police found out they were dealing with the Whitey Walker Gang and began a search. In early February, they captured Whitey Walker and Ben Johnson after a running gun battle and Blackie Thompson at a beer joint. The gang was also wanted for the burglary of a Palestine jewelry store and for bank robbery and kidnapping in Marlin. In February 1934, hundreds of people were turned away from one of the most exciting trials in the history of Brazos County. To prevent other gangsters from breaking the prisoners out, Sheriff J. H. Reed placed numerous officers at key points in and on top of the jail and the courthouse. J. W. Hamilton, a member of the Bryan Police Department and later sheriff of Brazos County, was ready with a machine gun. The streets around the courthouse and jail were blocked and the path from the jail to the courthouse was roped off. Every precaution was taken to prevent other gangsters like Bonnie and Clyde from aiding Walker's and Johnson's escape. Rumors were rampant and the town was very excited and fearful of other outlaw gangs. The jury found all three men guilty and Judge W. C. Davis sentenced each of the robbers to 99 years in the Texas Department of Corrections. Adapted from the Bryan - College Station Eagle of Thursday, April 27, 1989. Two Men and a Machine George D. Winstein In mid August 1935, two sunburned, lean, and hungry young men drove 1,600 miles to Bryan, Texas on their 1924 Harley Davidson motorcycle and sidecar to register at Texas A &M College. I was nineteen years old, and my travel companion, Don Boyce, was seventeen; we were both from Bridgeville, Pennsylvania and were anxious to learn more about veterinary medicine and animal husbandry. I brought with me an old brass trumpet that I hoped to play in the Aggie band. Don was less fortunate with but one five - dollar bill in his billfold. We had been traveling for three weeks, sleeping along the road at night and eating whatever was available, day to day. 139 Bryan Legends and Legacies We arrived in Bryan only to learn that we had another four miles to go, to get to the school in College Station. To pick up some extra money, we made good use of our motorcycle and sidecar by transporting suitcases for other new Aggies from the small College Station train station to the school dormitories. We charged 10 cents per suitcase and 15 to 25 cents per trunk or whatever the traffic would bear. After a month, I was settled in Bizzell Hall. In 1935, room and board was $30, and tuition was $25 per semester. Don obtained a job at the Dairy Barn shoveling manure in exchange for the privilege of sleeping in one of the shacks behind the barn. He did this for four years to earn his B.S. in animal husbandry. I played in the marching band and with Russell Hillier in the Aggieland Orchestra. In 1935, the Aggieland Orchestra consisted of myself, first trumpet; Maurice Cramer of Pharr, Texas, trombone; Oscar and Wilbur Kuehne of San Antonio, Texas, piano; George Linske of Dallas, percussion; "Doc" Zedlitz of Dallas, bass violin; "Rich" of Dallas, guitar; Elaine Smith of Bryan, singer; Russell Hillier of Bryan, lead saxophone; "Wiggles" Smith of Houston, tenor saxophone; and Chet White from New Jersey, fourth saxo- phone. We practiced one evening a week in Sbisa Hall and bought our music from Parker Music House in Houston. Our favorite bands (which we at- tempted to imitate) were the Casa Loma Orchestra, Rudy Vallee, and Guy Lombardo and his "Royal Canadians." One feature we never failed to emu- late was Henry Buckhauser's use of a wa -wa mute on his trumpet when he played "The Sugar Blues." We played for Corps dances, at the local country club, and at various other local affairs. During the two weeks of Christmas vacation, we rented a bus, which held twelve men and their musical instru- ments, and traveled to all major Texas cities playing for dances sponsored by the TAMC Mothers Clubs. We played at the Nueces Hotel in Corpus Christi, the Baker Hotel in Fort Worth, and various other well -known places. The usual pay per man was $5 for four hours of dance music. Russell asked for a little more to cover the cost of transportation. One night as we loaded the bus after a dance, we put several instru- ments on the roof of the bus. We lost those instruments to an overpass. Doc 140 1929 to 1949 Zedlitz lost his bass violin, and several of the men had to borrow instru- ments from the high school band in the city we were playing in that night. One of our engagements I shall never forget. It was at a school for girls at Denton, Texas. There was a shortage of male dance partners, so several of the lone women invited the fellows from the orchestra to dance with them. Soon Linske was the only musician on the stage, still beating out his rhythm on the drums. I don't know if Russ Hillier even paid him overtime for his devotion to duty that night. Money was hard to come by in those days. After two years at Texas A &M, I transferred to the U. S. Coast Guard Academy in New London, Connecticut, from which I graduated in 1943. I served in the USCG for over thirty years and retired in 1971 with the rank of captain. I now live in Bryan with my wife, the former Mary Bothell Ruth of Iowa City, Iowa. When I returned here, I formed a small group of musicians called the Medicare Jazz that played at local rest homes and service clubs. In 1988, I was selected as the RSVP Volunteer of the Year, and in 1995 I was selected as the adult representative for the fund - raising drive for the Brazos Valley Rehabilitation Center, after I'd undergone extensive therapy for a paralyzing stroke I suffered on October 2, 1994. My travel companion, Don Boyce, ended up in Yellville, Arkansas, with his wife, Fenn, where he became a real estate developer. He passed away in 1994. The motorcycle went the way of all good motorcycles through several owners, and then into the junk heap of fond memories. 141 Bryan Legends and Legacies The Sky Pilot of the Rails Jack Maguire His name was Robert Irvine Bell, an ordained Baptist preacher. Bryan was his home, but his pulpit was along 12,000 miles of railroads. To thousands of railroaders and denizens of hobo jungles in 17 states, he was known sim- ply as the "Sky Pilot of the Rails." This slight, silver - haired evangelist was known in the railroad yards from El Paso to Miami. His services, always impromptu, were held without benefit of choir, hat - passing, or pulpit. His "church" might be outside the wooden shanties that served the switchmen in railyards. Often it was a nearby campsite used as an open -air hotel by the vagabonds to whom fast freight were a favorite- -and free - -mode of travel. For the Reverend Bell, the kind and size of the congregation was unim- portant. Wherever two or three (or many times more) were gathered, his message was the same. In the unique jargon of old -time railroaders and the wanderers who hitched rides on the cars, his sermons had a common theme: Let God be Life's Dispatcher and the Bible its Book of Rules. Lounging against box cars or squatting on the rails, the congregation would listen attentively as he preached the gospel train that takes its pas- sengers to Eternal Life. He kept no formal records, but he estimated that over the years of his itinerant ministry, hundreds who listened to his folksy sermons accepted Christianity in their work -a -day lives. "There is nothing complicated or 'goody - goody' about being a partner with God," he would tell his listeners. "Like railroading, it's hard work - -the kind that demands tough muscles and stout hearts. But when you take your orders from the Chief Dispatcher, you know that the switches are lined up on the main line and you'll run your life -train into the Heavenly station on time." Then, after a brief prayer, the travelling preacher would sit down on a stack of cross -tiles to talk man-to -man with any who had a personal problem or needed a word of advice and encouragement. The next day, in another rail yard or perhaps another city, the services would be repeated. 142 4 1 929 to 1 949 The Reverend Bell never planned to take Christianity on tour. In fact, his ambition was to be an actor, not a preacher. Born on a tobacco plantation near Mobile, Alabama in 1889, he was attending high school in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, when he got his first smell of grease paint. He was perform- ing in a summer stock production when an actor friend of his quit the theat- rical company to enter a seminary. When the friend opened a mission in Pittsburgh, he asked Bell to join the worship service. It didn't take the aspiring actor long to discover that religion held more interest for him than the stage. After completing his de- gree at Washington and Jefferson College, he enrolled in Western Pennsyl- vania Theological Seminary and emerged with a doctorate in divinity. He was ordained in the Presbyterian Church, but later switched to the Baptist. Like most young preachers, he held several pastorates over the next decade, most of them in the South. He found each a new challenge, and he never regretted giving up the floodlights for the pulpit. At the same time, however, he felt that something always seemed to be lacking in his ministry. Having grown up in the busy railroad center of Mobile, he missed the sounds of steam whistles and the pounding of locomotive drivers on steel rails. Then came the day in 1934 when a chance meeting with a hobo on a Pensacola, Florida, street was destined to fill that void in his ministry. Bell was en route to a new pastorate in south Florida when the panhandler hit him up for a meal. "A man deserves nothing that he doesn't work for," Reverend Bell re- plied. "But if you'd like to earn your bread, I'll swap you a meal for some talk. Over the food, the man told Bell that he had neither friends nor job. With nothing to which he could anchor his life, he had turned to roaming the nation's railroads and hobo jungles. "If there was one person who believed in me and cared what happened to me, I'd go back home and start over," the wanderer said. "Then I'll be that person," the minister promised. He wired his new church that he had changed his mind. Staying in Pensacola only until he had found his hobo friend a job, he took a train to Bryan to tell his wife his plans for a new life's work. 143 Bryan Legends and Legacies Thus began a ministry, with Bryan as his home base, that eventually took Bell more than 150,000 miles via train for sermons to thousands of hobos and railroaders. Armed only with his Bible, a police whistle and an unshakable faith in the inborn goodness of man, Reverend Bell began his invasion of railroad yards and hobo jungles. Before long, he was well known at terminals in Texas, Oklahoma, Kansas, Missouri, Arkansas, Louisiana, Tennessee, Georgia, Florida, and half a dozen other states. Neither the Baptist Church nor the railroads contributed any direct fi- nancial aide for his work. The railroads did, however, furnish him annual passes so that his travel cost nothing. From time to time, he filled regular pulpits for short periods. However, it was free -will offerings from people he helped that enabled him to continue his ministry. There were legions of these. A young man who was begging his food while hoboing around the coun- try went on to become a prominent Boston physician after a man-to -man talk when Reverend Bell convinced him to enter medical school. Another hobo who quit the rails after the minister got him a job became a wealthy oil operator in Texas. Before he began his wide - ranging railroad ministry, Reverend Bell pastored a church in a southern town. When he learned that local police had arrested a young hobo, the minister got him released and took him to his home. He gave him a bath, clean clothes, and good food. The next day, he got him a job with the railroad. The youth became one of Reverend Bell's close friends and supporters. Years later when the minister gave up his pulpit to become the "Sky Pilot of the Rails," the line he liked to visit most often was the one which had given the young man his first job. The young hobo had become the president of that railroad! Reverend Bell liked to tell this story because he said it illustrated that "God and a good friend are all any of us needs to succeed." His railroad and vagabond parishioners liked his philosophy because he put his message in language they knew. "No grade in life's railroad is too tough for the man who lets God ride with him and on the Main Line run that goes by the way stations of Friend- 144 1929 to 1949 liness, Kindness, Happiness, and Hard Work and stops only at the Heav- enly Terminal," he would preach. He was probably fortunate in that his career ended as the kind of rail- roading he knew and loved was changing. The passenger trains on whose chair cars he rode to his far -flung "churches" disappeared. The steam en- gines he doted on have been replaced by diesels. Even the hobo jungles he served are history. And the Sky Pilot himself? At age 61 and in ailing health, he and his wife moved from Bryan to Bogalusa, Louisiana, where he had once held a pastorate and where his daughter lived. Six years later, in January 1951, the Gospel Train on which he had been the engineer for so many years deliv- ered him to the Heavenly Terminal that had always been his destination. Reprinted from Discover Magazine, April 1995. Amy Barron Neeley, Pioneer Educator Ruth Neeley Lewis My parents, William Edgar Neeley and Amy Ruth Barron grew up in Iola, Texas. On June 1, 1914, these two handsome and gifted people were mar- ried. Edgar was a lawyer who served as state representative from Grimes County. Later the family moved to south Texas and then in 1920 to Bryan. This couple had three daughters, Amy Maurine, Ruth Erin, and Bonney Mary. During all these years, while Edgar practiced law, Amy was fulfilled by being a wife and mother. Then, in 1930, tragedy struck this happy fam- ily. Edgar became seriously ill and died of Bright's disease. The adjective that best describes Amy Barron Neeley is courageous. After Edgar's death, the young widow did not give up. Since she held a Permanent Teacher's Certificate, she was soon employed by the Bryan school system as a teacher of the fourth grade. At that time, all female teachers, by law, had to be single. One of Amy's former students expressed her feeling to me about having had Mother as a teacher, "After all those years of having old -maid teachers, it was like having a mother in the classroom." To supple- 145 Bryan Legends and Legacies ment her $75 a month salary, Amy turned her home into a boarding house for fellow teachers. Amy planned the menus, her friend Henrietta Moss did the cooking, and the boarders bought the groceries. In 1932, an opportunity for a better job arose. The elderly gentleman who had been county superintendent retired. At a time when very few women would have dared to run for public office, Amy ran and won. Thus, Amy Barron Neeley became the first woman county superintendent of schools in Texas. Amy's social outlook was years ahead of her time. This was a time of complete school segregation. Amy did her best to provide a good education for all rural children of Brazos County, both black and white. To that end she hired Mrs. Fred L. Sloop as a supervisor of teachers in the "white schools." Mrs. Sloop was the author of a series of textbooks on the phonetic approach to reading. Her books are still widely used in schools. Amy saw an advertisement in an educational journal that would open the way for progress in the "black schools." A Mrs. Ella Jeanes, a wealthy, socially conscious philanthropist, had left her fortune to provide supervisors for teachers in "black schools." Amy applied for and received a grant. This grant funded the salary of a remarkable teacher, Mrs. Pauline Watkins, who had a master's degree from Columbia University. Amy described her as "a missionary to her own people." Pauline would not let the children just line up and sing during her visits to schools. She made them demonstrate what they had learned in school, and she taught the instructors efficient teaching methods. During the Great Depression, when certain supplies were avail- able from the government, Pauline obtained all the help possible. School gardens helped to provide nourishing lunches for the children. Old, dilapi- dated buildings were repaired and painted by the students' fathers. She stressed personal hygiene and pride. Indeed, this driving woman brought a dramatic improvement in the previously neglected "black schools." One area that had been overlooked was the need for reading material for the rural children. Usually the farm families would come to Bryan to buy provisions on Saturday. The day was so full of other activities that very few rural children visited the well- stocked Carnegie Library. Amy estab- lished a Brazos County Rural Library in her office. Through the WPA, she 146 hired Mrs. Grace Bowman as librarian. Not many rural children made use of the library, either. Amy was determined to purchase a bookmobile, which would make weekly visits to the rural schools. Where could she get the money for that? Although the Depression was still nationwide, Amy felt that many who had money would support this worthy project. She sent letters to everyone in Texas who she thought would contribute, and she received enough money to buy the first Brazos County Bookmobile in 1935. Amy's efficient secre- tary, Maudelle Wiley Gray, often drove the bookmobile or checked out books to the children in the rural schools of Brazos County. Recently, one of my sister's friends said, "When I was a little girl your mother saved my life! I grew up on a farm with only brothers. My life seemed desolate. When the bookmobile began coming to our community it opened a whole new world to me. Wallace Kimbrough lived a remarkable life, overcoming what he called his "inconveniences" --juvenile diabetes, an enlarged heart, and a leg crippled by polio. Despite the predictions of his doctors, he conquered these ob- stacles and became an example to farmers, ranchers, community leaders, and young people in Brazos County 4 -H Clubs. Wallace was born in 1912, the fifth of seven children born to a rural medical doctor and his wife. He entered the world with a congenital strike against him -- an enlarged heart. When he was eleven years old, his father discovered that he also had a severe case of diabetes, which needed treat- ment desperately. A specialist gave him until his late teens, at most, to live. If the family was willing, the specialist offered, they could try a new, ex- perimental method for controlling diabetes. Wallace became a human guinea pig, helping prove that insulin, the experimental drug of the time, could control diabetes. He took an insulin shot every day for the rest of his life. At thirteen, the already fragile boy was struck with polio. After weeks 19 to 19 Wallace Kimbrough Frances H. Kimbrough 147 Bryan Legends and Legacies in bed, he painfully releamed how to walk. With one leg atrophied by the disease, Wallace had to wear a built -up shoe. His mother put restrictions on Wallace's physical activity, but he had three older brothers who were ath- letic and competitive and Wallace would not be left out. His mother en- couraged him to be independent, even though she ached to help him more. Wallace struggled to be like "everybody else." As he grew stronger, he walked to school every day. Then, after ball practice, his father took him with his brothers to the family farm outside of town to work in the fields. If Wallace had to stay in after school, he walked the several miles to the farm. His leg really bothered him, but he knew the exercise was good for him. There were times when Wallace would feel like quitting and giving in to self pity. Some of his school mates cruelly nicknamed him "toad" be- cause he limped or "hopped." When he reached dating age, he altered the name slightly and told girls that the guys called him "tow" because his hair was cotton - colored as a child. Despite all the cruel teasing by his peers, Wallace kept going. In high school, he even played on the football team. Nobody was going to call him a cripple if he could help it. Wallace finished high school late because of his earlier illnesses. Then came the difficult decision about going to college. His five brothers and sister had gone or were planning to go to college. Three brothers were of- fered football scholarships to major colleges. Wallace was determined to go to college too, but he knew that he could not attend on athletic scholarship and that his mother- -now a widow - -could not afford to send him. His younger brother, John, was offered a football scholarship to Tulane University. When John went for an interview he told the recruiter that he would play ball for Tulane if the university would find a job for his brother to enable him to attend school there also. The recruiter -coach just laughed and said that John was crazy if he thought a school would do that. John told him to forget about the scholarship. At Texas A &M College, John told the same story. The coach there offered him a football scholarship and a job for his brother Wallace. In fact, Wallace held down several jobs at one time -- waiting tables at the dining hall, selling flowers, and tutoring football players. His leg still bothered him, but all the professors and students loved and respected him. 148 i I 149 19 to 194 John became an All - American fullback on the 1939 National Champi- onship football team at Texas A &M, which beat Tulane University in the Sugar Bowl. In a press interview after the game, the Tulane football coach cursed the day he had laughed at John and his deep love for his brother. "Jarrin' John" Kimbrough made two Grade B western movies, "Sun- down Jim" and "Long Star Ranger" and went on to become a state legislator representing west Texas. Wallace finished Texas A &M with a Bachelor of Science degree in agriculture and became an agricultural extension agent. His final appoint- ment was in Brazos County, where he coached many youth teams who won national championships. Some of his distinguished "boys" include Dr. Henry L. (Sonny) Presnal, a local veterinarian; Bill Presnal, Bryan's former state representative; Dr. Eddie Payne, an area veterinarian; and Kent Potts, a landscape contractor. These men began a yearly endowed Texas A &M schol- arship in Wallace's name for an award to a deserving 4 -H Club student majoring in agriculture. Wallace, along with other community agricultural leaders, formed the Producers' Coop in Bryan. He married a local girl, Frances James, and had one daughter -- whom he said was the apple of his eye. In his forty - fourth year, Wallace suffered a heart attack. When his doc- tor told him to slow down, he faced his one fear -- being an invalid. Wallace had a great passion for golf. One Sunday afternoon, he hit the ball straight down the fairway, looked up at the sun, and died. His worst fear was spared him. His funeral was the largest one the town of Bryan had seen. Wallace never thought of himself as disabled, just inconvenienced. He accomplished a lot in his life, especially for a child who was not supposed to live past his teenage years. (In case you haven't guessed, I am that proud apple of his eye.) Resourced by Billie Stewart. Bryan Legends and Legacies Red Heart Cecelia Conitz Heinrich When Judge Arthur Stewart, (N. A., Jr.) Texas A &M University Class of '38, retired from teaching business law at the university in 1985, his stu- dents paid him an unusual tribute. His Management 212 class threw him a surprise party and presented him with a plaque that was inscribed "For a job well done, from 25,000 Aggies..." "Dear Arthur Stewart, Professor of Business Law, This little gift we give thee -with humble awe, Two cans of Red Heart -Oh so yummy To adorn the inside of thy great Big tummy. Two cans of Red Heart refer to 1938, 1939, 1940, and 1941 when Stewart first began practicing law. He told of hard times and little money...just enough to buy Red Heart dog food and crackers. His first fee in 1938 was $2.50. Stewart retired after teaching for thirty -five years at Texas A &M. On February 5, 1988, the tribute was read at graveside during Judge Stewart's funeral. 150 i An Educator Recalls the Thirties and Forties Wesley K. Summers, along with his younger brother, Gene, and his parents, Frank L. and Etta Nelson Summers, migrated to Bryan in 1931 from San Antonio. Frank Summers worked for a painting and decorating contractor and helped decorate some of the old buildings on the Texas A &M University campus, including the Systems and Chemistry buildings. Unfor- tunately, most of the old structures Frank decorated have been torn down and replaced with modern ones. Wesley says about his Dad's work, "Those old buildings were absolutely beautiful inside and out. They even brought people in from Mexico to gold -leaf some of the ceilings." "My Dad didn't intend to remain in Bryan after he finished the campus project, but he found work in town, so we stayed. There weren't many people here then; the combined population of College Station and Bryan was about eight thousand. When we visited our friends who were on the faculty or staff at Texas A &M, we went to the campus because that's where they lived. There was nothing but cow pastures and a few trees between College Sta- tion and Bryan." "We moved to several different locations in Bryan before Dad built a house in 1939 at Midway, a subdivision between Bryan and College Sta- tion. 'Doc' Sprague became mayor of the development. Crockett School is located where Midway used to be." Wesley explained what they did for entertainment when he was a kid. "One of the things we did was join the Boy Scouts. We had a meeting once a month, and in the summertime we'd enjoy going to Camp Arrowmoon off Highway 6. The boys going to camp were usually my friends from school. Bryan had only two elementary schools back then, Bowie and Travis." Another treat he describes was taking trips downtown. "It cost five cents to ride the bus, fifteen cents to see a double feature, and another nickel to buy ice cream topped with chocolate from the soda fountain at Canady's. Anyone who was anybody always stopped in at Canady's Pharmacy." 1929 to 1949 Helen F. Sheffield 151 Bryan Legends and Legacies Home entertainment during this time was the radio. Wesley remem- bers that his dad had a big radio in the living room and they listened to President Roosevelt's "Fireside Chats." Later Wesley had his own little ra- dio and was entertained by "Jack Armstrong" and "The Shadow." One night in 1938 when his parents were visiting friends, he heard some scary news over the radio: The Martians had landed near Princeton, New Jersey, and were going to take over the world. Of course, it was H. G. Wells' program "The War of the Worlds," a spoof aired over CBS. "I was so scared I ran up the street to join my Mom and Dad," laughed Wesley. Talking about his parents' financial status during those post - depression years, Wesley said, "My folks weren't rich, but we always had plenty to eat and clothes to wear. Sometimes the soles of our shoes would wear thin, but it didn't warp our personalities." Wesley recalls some jobs of his own. "When I was twelve, I got a job delivering papers for the Houston Press. It wasn't a fun job, because I didn't like to collect from people. The charge was thirty cents per month or any amount you could get. Some people didn't pay at all. We sold extras too. On March 18, 1937, they woke me up in the middle of the night to deliver extras. There was an accident in New London, Texas. Five hundred people, mostly children, were killed in a devastating explosion and fire at a school." "Pay seemed awfully small for Saturday jobs too," Wesley confessed with a smile. "I worked for a big grocery store, Palermo's, that paid five cents an hour. If you didn't take your lunch to work, you'd spend most of your money for food, and going down to the soda fountain after work took care of the rest." Another summertime adventure Wesley describes was taking vacation trips to Corpus Christi. "Dad would put us on the steam locomotive, and it seemed like it would take us all day to get there. No air conditioning in those days; we'd just put the windows down." "Cars," Wesley said, "were pretty scarce in 1939. I had a friend, Dick Holmgreen, that had a Model T Ford. We'd put fifteen cents' worth of gas in it and ride all over town." After elementary school, Wesley attended the only white high school in Bryan, Stephen F. Austin, and graduated in 1942 when he was sixteen. Soon 152 1929 to 1949 after, he enrolled at Texas A &M. "World War II was revving up," Wesley comments," and Texas A &M had started tri- semesters. I was green as a gourd but did a lot of growing up in two and a half years. Officers from the cadets were being called to ser- vice, and so a bunch of us decided to join the Marines in 1943. I was eigh- teen and had to get my parents' permission. After several transfers around the country, waiting for a spot in OCS to open up, I landed in the hospital in Virginia with a bad appendix. They messed me up by returning me back to duty too soon, and I made a return trip to the hospital. That ended my mili- tary career." Wesley admits that his stay in the hospital wasn't all bad, because there he met his wife, Blanche. She was a Wave in the nursing corps and stationed at the same hospital. They married in 1946 after a year's courtship. When he was discharged from the Marines, Wesley returned home, and in 1948 he received a degree from Texas A &M in agricultural economics. He could have gone to work for Sears, but he opted to work for his father until returning to school. In 1952 he emerged with a master's degree in education and business administration. He then rose to the top positions in the Bryan Independent School District, due to his hard work, additional college hours, and devotion to young people. It took him nineteen years to accomplish his final goal of becoming superintendent. The positions he held in BISD were distributive education teacher (1952- 1957), assistant princi- pal of Stephen F. Austin school and director of guidance counseling (1957- 1960), curriculum director (1960 - 1971), and superintendent of schools (1971- 1984). Wesley spoke with modesty and humor about his rise to superintendent. "I applied for the superintendent's position in 1961 after Dr. Carmichael left, but the board selected Mr. Bowen. Looking back now, I know they did the right thing, because I didn't have any experience as a superintendent. I became one of Mr. Bowen's team and ten years later was hired to take his place." He laughs when he talks about having to go back to college every time he changed positions in the school system. "You know, it seems like I've been in school all my life." Dr. Wesley K. Summers is a leader who knows how to work with people 153 Bryan Legends and Legacies and get things accomplished. Some of his successes in Bryan Independent School District included peaceful integration, new buildings, curriculum guides, merit pay for teachers, and teacher health insurance. Leadership did not end with public schools for Wesley. He has taken an active part in many community and county projects, including serving on the county board where he was instrumental in setting up the 911 service, and he still serves on several educational boards. Bryan is indeed fortunate that the Summers family made the move to Bryan in 1931 and decided to stay. When Wesley is not busy with community and county projects, he and Blanche work their ranch in Robertson County or visit with their three chil- dren, Janet, Sue, and Gary. They also enjoy entertaining their eight grand- children. From an interview with Wesley K. Summers. Working on the Railroad Sunny Nash When Alandrus Peterson II attended high school in 1937, work was scarce for everyone around Bryan and particularly limited for African American men. Peterson's parents had divorced, so for the first time he was on his own and considered to be a grown man by his family. Realizing that he had no support group, he rented a cabin in the woods, bought supplies for the win- ter, and cut wood on the property to sell. "A fellow I knew had a contract with the government," Alandrus said. "He shipped wood to other parts of the country on boxcars. That gave us some work in the community. I was the youngest one out there when I started working on that contract. My daddy had already taught me how to work. Cutting firewood had been one of my chores at home." Peterson said his railroad job was probably the hardest work he'd ever do in his life. "My Uncle Ned got me a job in an outfit on the railroad. He left home when he was about fourteen years old and started working on the 154 $ I 1 1929 to 1949 railroad. Before I was born, he was called into the armed services during World War I. When he came back from the service, he went back to work for the railroad and finally retired from the railroad. His wife, Aunt Etta, worked in the private homes of white families, caring for children and per- forming other domestic duties." Peterson said for six months he helped to build what seemed to him the longest stretch of railroad in the world - -the Streamline Sunbeam Train, be- tween Hearne and Hempstead. "When I got through building those railroad tracks, I'd had enough of railroad work. It was tough. But I'd rather have worked, as tough as it was, than to beg. And I didn't have it in my mind to steal, so I worked. I worked hard." After serving in World War II, Peterson earned a bachelor of science degree from Prairie View A &M in 1952 and, in 1962, earned a master of science in education administration. "I never again wanted to work as hard as I had on the railroad," he said. Previously published in the Bryan - College Station Eagle. Crossing the Creek Sunny Nash "You need to learn how to swim," my mother scolded, going on and on about the creek near her childhood home in the 1930s. After heavy rains, she - -the youngest of seven children- -and her four sisters and two older broth- ers paddled to church on logs many Sunday mornings, across a road sub- merged under creek overflow. There was no way the mule could pull the wagon to church through the high water and thick mud of an all -night rain. Even the snakes knew it was time to move on to higher ground. "It was fun splashing my bare feet and legs in cool water," my mother said. "Shoes tied together by laces and tossed over our shoulders, the hems of our best clothes dripping wet by the time we reached the other side. But I was two years old! I could have fallen in the water and drowned!" By the time the preacher spat the last amen, she admitted, the creek 155 Bryan Legends and Legacies water had receded from the road, no longer a threat, low enough to step across. "After church, Evans and Winfred would go back to the creek for a swim." They could have been bitten by a snake or worse, I thought, listening to her tirade. "A big fish could have snapped you right off that log and eaten you for breakfast," I said. "I can't believe I crossed the high water on a log and couldn't swim!" my mother said, unamused. "None of us girls could swim, Evans and Winfred both went off to the war, and neither one of them taught us to swim. Winfred was so much like a fish, he convinced the U.S. Navy to take him even though they were turning down most Black volunteers!" Unlike my mother, I had never been threatened by rising water. Oh, maybe I felt a little intimidated when she sent me off with a frayed bath towel to the public swimming pool at Sadie Thomas Park to learn to save myself from drowning. But my cool blue pool water was no match for her muddy, snake- filled floodwater. Previously published in the Bryan - College Station Eagle. Medical Memories Regina Opersteny Medicine and sickness always leave lasting memories. Here are some of mine. Those outside steps up to Dr. Ehlinger's office above Roman Phar- macy still leave me wondering. For a sick or old person, that was a long climb. How did they make it up there? Dr. Searcy was in an office below, next to the pharmacy. He had the first intercom 1 ever saw. When he needed to order a prescription, he gave a loud holler into a pipe that traveled along the wall from his office to the phar- macy. The pharmacist could hear the message and would take the prescrip- tion. There were no appointments in the 1940s; it was first come, first served. 156 i 1929 to 1949 Most times, the room was full. I squirmed many hours waiting to see Dr. Wilkerson, Dr. Richardson, Dr. Searcy, or Dr. Grant. I never could get used to the Blacks' having to come in the back door and have their own waiting room. My most dreaded thought was waiting to get my throat mopped. With a sore throat complaint, you could count on the doctor to hold your tongue down with a tongue depressor and swab your throat with a cotton swab and a red medicine that left a bad taste. The medicine was not too unpleasant, but the gagging was. Ear aches are another of my unpleasant medical memories. The home remedy for those was a hot pack made of a small cloth bag of cornmeal warmed in the oven and placed over the ear like a heating pad. Imagine getting up nights with a child and putting wood into the stove and heating the bag. It did work though. We finally were able to get a hot water bottle, but the water still had to be heated, same as the cornmeal. Vicks VapoRub was always around for colds and stopped -up noses. Af- ter one of these chest rubdowns, a person could tell that you had a cold by your smell. But Vicks was a much better cough remedy than a dose of sugar and kerosene. Axle grease for the wagon and other farm equipment was good for cuts, scratches, and bruises. It was antiseptic and soothing, and helped to stop the bleeding. Stickers or splinters in the foot were common because we went barefoot all summer; many times they would go deep. If we couldn't pull them out, we would tie a piece of raw bacon over the sticker with a piece of cloth (we had no tape). That was left overnight to "draw out" the sticker. Somehow it would soften the tissue, which caused the sticker or splinter to surface for easy removal. Sleeping with the bacon tied to your foot made the bed sheet greasy, but the method worked. Green tomatoes could remove warts, or so I was told. Tie a piece of green tomato onto the wart, leave it for several days, and then pull the wart off. I tried it, but with no luck - -so instead I tried to remember to stay away from those toads that supposedly caused the warts. At age five, I learned a lesson on how to carry cookstove wood. I was dying some wood from the woodpile into the house, holding the wood 157 Bryan Legends and Legacies sticks vertically, pressed against my body. Going in, I tripped over a vine; one of the sticks I was carrying punctured my right eye. I remember the pain. My parents took me to the doctor. I have no recollection of what he did, but I had to wear a patch over the eye for a while and then sunglasses. I always remembered from then on to hold the wood horizontally when I carried it. My stay in the hospital at age seven was an experience. I had been running a high fever with strep throat, and after several days of being sick I was getting no better. Finally, my father fetched Dr. Searcy, who decided I should be taken to the hospital. My mother gathered together a few things and came along into town with us and stayed in the hospital with me. That was St. Joseph's Hospital on West 28th Street (the old building is still there). Two days later, my brother Raymond was admitted as my roommate, with pneumonia. How did my parents survive their children's being so vulnerable to illness? During this hospital stay I was introduced to bedpans and elec- tronic devices for calling the nurse. I was back in the hospital when I was fourteen with an attack of appen- dicitis in 1946. My parents took me to Bryan Hospital, which was across the street from the new library (that building also still stands). Dr. Wilkerson operated the next morning. The anesthesia was injected into my spine. I was conscious during the operation and heard the ten o'clock Southern Pacific passenger train make its stop at the depot just a block away. Because of my surgery, I was able to miss my midterm exams. I was also in demand to tell about my operation, as the anesthesia method was very new. Whoever heard of being conscious throughout an operation? Medical procedures for childbirth have really changed. My sister, Cecilia Sedowski, had a baby in Bryan Hospital in December 1945. The delivery was normal. She had to stay in the hospital two weeks and was not allowed to get out of bed; then she was sent home in an ambulance and put in bed for another week or so. That was the procedure then. My grandmother from Poland had been back in the cotton patch the day after giving birth. Now we are back to getting new mothers up like that. How we go round and round. My mother -in -law, Mary Opersteny, was bitten by a copperhead when she was five years old. She was picking cotton barefoot when the snake bit 158 1929 to 1949 her on the heel. Her father cut a slit on the bite and put her foot to soak in a pan of kerosene. A doctor was brought out after about eight hours, but he said there was nothing he could do now. Her leg swelled, and she almost lost it. She was very sick and unconscious for several days; after she recov- ered she could not walk for a while and had to miss her first year of school. Kerosene is an effective medical treatment for many things, but curing Nanna's snakebite wasn't one of them. These are just some of my memories of how we treated illness and in- jury in the '30s and '40s not long ago. How much will things have changed again in the near future? I Trade for Anything Myrl Sims My dad, Nathan Cullens Baker, was born in North Carolina. His father was a land owner and merchant but also a dreamer. He brought his family to Texas, leaving the lush greenery of North Carolina for the sandy land of Lexington, Texas. The Bakers were prosperous in North Carolina, but times were much harder in Lexington. They farmed but were unable to continue the lifestyle they had in North Carolina. My father had to take over care of the family and the farm at an early age because his father was ill and died in 1907. Daddy stayed to assist his mother until all his siblings were married. One of his early occupations that supplemented the farm income was as a relief rural mail carrier. At that time he delivered the mail in a gig. After he left the farm, one of his first jobs was to sell Model A Fords for Giddings Motor Company. He was so eager that he once delivered a car to a buyer in Lexington and walked back to Giddings. He fell in love with the new "school marm," Eleanor Sapp, and asked her to marry him in 1924. Their married life began in Somerville where he again sold cars. They moved to Brenham and finally in 1932 to Bryan. Daddy worked for Cade Motor Company before he struck out on his own in the tire business. He established Baker Tire Company in the early 159 Bryan Legends and Legacies thirties and it continued for over forty years. It was first located in the build- ing now housing the Twin City Mission. His slogan was "I Trade for Anything." He believed it was better to please a customer, even if he had to lower his price or make some adjust ment, than to have them leave without buying something. Some trades mad money. Some did not. I remember the load of hay he thought he would to some money on that was stored in our garage a long time. Our cow ate a lo of hay that year. Wartime rationing made the tire business very slow. He began vulcaniz ing tires and moved across the side street to expand the business. Later, h bought the old gin at Bryan and West 19th Streets. He continued workin there after he sold out to his son -in -law, Ed Sims. As competition from chaff stores increased in the seventies, that business was closed. Daddy's impact on the community came in subtle ways. He worked hard to support his family and sent four children to college. He dabbled in real estate, bought and sold cattle, and developed tracts of land. He was on the Boys' Club Board, in Rotary Club, on the Board of Stewards of Firs Methodist Church, worked for the Cancer Society, and was a Mason. H was an early crusader against parking meters in Bryan, believing customers should be encouraged to do business without such contrivances. Daddy was 92 when he died in 1975, though most people who knew him thought he was much younger. His strong Christian work ethic remains in our memories of him, along with memories of his good nature, generosity , concern for his fellow man, and love of travel. His school marm, Eleanor, . still resides in the community and enjoys her family of four children an their spouses, twelve grandchildren, and seventeen great - grandchildren. 1929 to 1949 Pleasant Memories of Bryan: 1930 -1960 Myrl Sims Running all over the neighborhood on summer nights, playing "piggy wants a signal" with no fear of danger. Walking from home on Haswell Drive to town to spend hours roaming through Woolworth...just looking. Spending hours in Carnegie Library and bringing lots of books home to read (no television to interfere with that). Taking the Howell House bus to town to spend the afternoon at the movies; then eating delicious lime sherbet cones at Roman's Pharmacy while waiting for the bus home. Riding the bus to the "country club" municipal pool to spend the afternoon swimming coming home on the last bus, tired but happy. It may have cost a whole dollar for that outing. Attending Lamar Junior High where Fannin School now stands. Mr. Lipscomb was principal. He allowed us to climb those beautiful oak trees as long as we kept one foot on the ground. Riding bikes to the creek off 25th Street to catch crawfish. Climbing the big tree at Haswell Park to sit on the big limb that stretched over Crenshaw Street right beside the big Rotary Club water fountain. Going with my big sister and her friend whose daddy was the sheriff to climb a rickety ladder through the top of the old courthouse (pigeons and all) and crawling out to survey the countryside as we sat on the hot tin roof. Trying out the old jail cells with Sheriff Koontz locking us in so we would know we never wanted to be there again. Playing softball with neighborhood kids in our cow lot. Guess what we used for bases! Bryan Legends and Legacies Climbing chinaberry trees. Swimming in the Little Brazos River. Riding out to A &M at suppertime to watch the corps march into Sbisa Hall for dinner. Watching student pilots practice landings at Bryan Air Field. Skating on the sidewalks of 29th Street and around Lamar School. Babysitting for 25 cents an hour. Wrapping Christmas gifts at Caldwell Jewelry for $5.00 a week. From the Home Front Cecilia Sadowski 162 I i i I have many memories of my early years around Bryan. I was the first grandchild born to the Stetz family. My brothers and sister and I were born in a farmhouse near the Brazos River. The land where the house stood was$ my inheritance. My grandfather Florian Stetz bought the farm when he came to this country in the late 1800s from Poland. In the early years, our mothers had their babies at home. Dr. Mundric delivered all of us. We also received medical care from Dr. Black. Our tw room school, Leonard School, was a walk of about two and a half miles. On very cold days my daddy took me on horseback. The roads were really muddy. When we walked home in the mud, our shoes were caked and heavy. After finishing eighth grade at Leonard School, I went to Lamar Juni High in Bryan, wondering if I would be able to find my way around. Th next year I went to Stephen F. Austin High. In May 1942, I graduated in class of 179 students. Wesa Weddington was our principal. That was a great class, and we still have great reunions. In my senior year in high school, Pearl Harbor was bombed. I was si ting in the library on December 8, 1941 when President Roosevelt declar war. War brought many changes. It was a very sad period seeing our boy and some of our girls, go off to war, and some of them being killed. Man 1929 to 1949 things were rationed, including sugar, tires, gas, shoes, coffee, some meats, a nd some canned goods. Stamps or tokens were issued for each person. I went to work at Texas A &M University for the Former Students As- sociation. Mr. Locke, my boss, had said that my starting salary would be $75 per month, but my first check was for $100. Mr. Locke said I did so well at my job that he had decided to pay me more. In those days, we could buy a coke, a candy bar, or ice cream for a nickel. There were good country dances that the young people went to on Sat- urday or Sunday nights. There was no air conditioning, but we did not mind the heat. Admission cost a quarter or fifty cents. That was good entertain- ment for the young, and parents would come to watch the young people dance, often bringing the whole family. Many times you could find the chil- dren asleep on the floor by their mother until the dance was over. I met my future husband at a dance. We married in 1944 while he was in the army and went to live in Macon, Georgia, where he was stationed. After the war, things were changing again. We moved to Houston, hoping to make a living. Housing was scarce, and so were jobs. We found a one -room place to stay, with a shared kitchen and bath. Some of the things that came after the war were air conditioning, tele- vision, going into space, going to the moon, more air travel, computers, microwaves, medical heart transplants, frozen food, and freezers. A Charmed Life William T. Harper Ask lifetime Bryan resident Frank Joseph Kocman, Jr. if he believes in good luck charms and he'll emphatically tell you he does. Before Kocman went off to the Battle of the Bulge in World War H as an infantryman, an uncle gave him a little religious medal "that looked like it came out of a Cracker Jack box." The uncle had worn that medal while serving with the 345th machine gun battalion in World War I. After Kocman's service, it was passed on to relatives who saw combat in the Korean War and in Vietnam. Not one of the 163 Bryan Legends and Legacies four medal wearers suffered a scratch in those wars. Kocman, or Junior as he's been called most of his life, was born into "a really poor family" on November 21, 1925 at his family's home at Tatum Street and Sandy Point Road, just outside the city line on Bryan's west side. He was the first of three sons born to Frank and Mary Kocman. His youngest brother, Don, was born in 1938 and still lives in Bryan; the middle son, Bill, born in 1928, died in 1985. Kocman's grandfather and his family emigrated fromYugoslavia to Texas via a stormy sea voyage to Galveston in 1901. Kocman's grandmother trav- eled with her family from Czechoslovakia to Lavaca County in 1869. Both the families subsequently moved to Smetana, about five miles west of Bryan on Texas Highway 21. Frank Kocman, Sr. and Mary Regmund met in Smetana and were married on November 4, 1924. Like most Catholic children in Bryan, Kocman went to St. Joseph's School and Church. He followed those years by attending Lamar Junior High and then spent his three final years of formal schooling at Stephen F. Austin High. On Sundays, under the guidance of his Boy Scout troop leader who was called up to join the Navy ten days after Pearl Harbor, Kocman and many of his scout friends would spend the day at Camp Arrowmoon, north of Bryan. There they would swim in the "swimmin' hole," make shishkabob dinners, and profess that they were the world's best "chefs." Before the start of the war, Kocman bicycled to work at the Food Town grocery store on Bryan's Main Street where he made a penny a bunch sell- ing bananas. Sometimes he would sell as many as 150 bunches on a week- end, making $1.50. "Surprisingly," he says with a smile, "I still like ba- nanas!" Later, Kocman "moved inside the store" at Food Town, then owned by the Sam Palermo family. Grocery stores had no shopping carts, and his job was to follow the lady customers around "like a little puppy" with a wire basket over his arm and carry their groceries to the cashier's counter while reciting a list of possible additional purchases. There was no tipping for that job, and he worked on an hourly basis for 25¢ an hour. With some of the money he earned, he bought 10- and 25 -cent U.S. 164 1929 t 1 savings stamps. With the rest, he bought ice cream, went to the movies, and ( "because I must have been hooked on uniforms even at that age ") pur- chased Boy Scout uniforms, equipment, and handbook. Some of it also went for his $2, one - eleventh interest in a "slightly used" green- and -white Ford Model T that he owned along with ten other scouts. With the coming of military conscription in 1940 and the war in 1941, many of Bryan's young men either enlisted or were drafted, so there were few young men left in town. Some stores had to shut down while their male owners and employees were gone. The severe labor shortage throughout the economy meant that many of women and boys filled vacancies formerly staffed by men. Kocman stayed with his grocery job, working full -time dur- ing the summers, until he was drafted in 1944. On December 7, 1941, Frank and members of his Scout troop returned to Bryan from Camp Arrowmoon along the Brazos River Bottom as usual. On their trip home, the Scouts came upon a burning railroad bridge that crossed the river at Texas Highway 21. Flames from the creosoted timbers raged out of control, and the volunteer firefighters were forced to stand back and watch them burn themselves out. When Frank got home that after- noon, his outraged father told him about the Japanese attack on Pearl Har- bor. When they heard the news about Pearl Harbor, Frank and a couple of his angry scouting buddies immediately assumed that "they had also bombed or set fire to that railroad bridge." Like many Bryan residents of that time with Croatian, Italian, German, Slovakian, or Austro - Hungarian heritage, the Kocmans closely followed the wartime events in Europe. Kocman saw the National Guard troops go through Bryan in early 1941 on their way back from maneuvers at Camp Polk, Louisiana. "They were wearing wrapped cloth leggings, and they wore World War I helmets. They had long cardboard tubes around which lino- leum had been wrapped and which were then painted and used as make - believe howitzers. And some of their trucks had signs on their sides that said 'Tank.'" When asked about local knowledge of Hitler's anti - Semitic activities, Kocman replied, "If there was any, I didn't know about it." He noted that there was "a pretty strong Jewish community" in the Bryan area then. Pre- 165 Bryan Legends and Legacies war diplomatic problems arising between Japan and the United States were also unknown to most of the local citizens. Even with the launch of World War II (for which, Kocman recalled, the Eagle newspaper put out an Extra edition), the radio stations that night only occasionally broke into programs like "Fibber Magee and Molly" to give updates on what had happened in Hawaii. In 1942, work started on the 2,000 -acre Bryan Air Base on Texas High- way 21 where the Texas A &M University Riverside Campus is today. About 80 acres of the Kocman farm were taken by the government, which offered $44 per acre. Ten years later, the family and other landholders finally settled with the government at $55 per acre. The Kocmans had few wartime food rationing problems because they lived outside the Bryan city limits, where there were no ordinances against raising farm animals on private property. "We had lots and lots of chickens," he recalled, "along with a couple of hogs and one milk cow." On what was left of the family farm west of Bryan, which was being leased to a relative, the Kocmans kept a couple of calves and got an ample supply of sweet potatoes, corn, black -eyed peas, string beans, and other vegetables. The people of Bryan were pretty self - sufficient when it came to food. It was mainly folks in Houston and other big cities who had to do without the rationed goods, as Kocman remembers it. "Just about everybody in Bryan had a Victory Garden in their backyard where they grew turnip greens, on- ions, and carrots," Kocman said. Coffee rationing was not a problem for the Kocman family, either, be- cause "Mother and Father only drank one cup each a day. But gasoline was a big problem and tires were another," he lamented. To get automobile tires during the war, Kocman remembered, "You had to go before a rationing board for authorization to buy a tire. Even then things were tight. Once my father had one size tires on the front of his 1937 Oldsmobile and another size on the back. You might have a stamp for a tire, but often you couldn't find the correct tire size." And, of course, the war brought sad times. "I remember one particular naval pilot," he said quietly. "Lieutenant Aubrey Tobias, who had been a Boy Scout, perished in the Pacific war theater. They brought his remains 166 e to the Southern Pacific railroad depot up near where the Bryan Pub - Library is now." Bodies arrived regularly and people would gather in the park across r the railroad depot. The caskets, usually accompanied by a military il, were unloaded onto a small handcart that would be pulled to a hearse ich, Kocman recalled "always seemed to be backed up to the depot." The war did bring some good fortune to Bryan. "Economically, I be- e the war was good for Bryan as much as I hate to make the statement t any war is good for anybody," Kocman said. "There were families that ered. They lost loved ones." But the war did provide growth and jobs. It k boys off the farm, educated them, gave them trades and skills, and sed their pay. More and more women were in the shops and stores doing work that men used to do. Wartime labor shortages allowed them to rk and be more economically productive. Kocman's mother, through a church organization, rolled bandages for the American Red Cross during the war. Stephen R Austin High School had ahuge scrap heap, and on holidays the students would all go out to a nearby farm on a couple of 1.5 -ton trucks provided by N.C. Baker of the Baker Tire Company. There they would pick up an old rusty cultivator or an aban- doned car and haul it back to the school's scrap heap. The Boy Scouts had newspaper drives. School classes and organiza- tions competed to see who could buy the most savings stamps and bonds. Civilians working at the air base were "expected" to buy war bonds. Work- ers would have money withheld from paychecks to buy stamps and bonds. Kocman had "six or eight" $25 bonds, which he cashed in the '50s to pay, in part, for his wife's visit to Germany. Servicemen home on leave in 1943 and 1944 visited the high school, always wearing their uniforms. "The navy guys looked really sharp in their blues and white," Kocman said enviously, "and the marines looked pretty good too. But the army guys looked like Sad Sacks." "The Texas A &M cadets," he continued, "wore khaki- colored uniforms, and the girls were probably not too interested in the Army's olive drab. But the girls were really attracted to the ones in the ones in Navy uniforms. Young guys who weren't in uniform at all didn't have much of a chance with 1929 to 1949 167 Bryan Legends and Legacies the girls during the war years," he recalled. Although he was due to go into the Army in June, Kocman received a deferment until August to finish some high school courses. On August 14, 1944 after graduating high school, he entered the service. A Greyhound bus picked up Kocman and 20 or so other recruits, including his classmates Louis Thanes and Paul Ponzio, and took them to the induction center in Houston. Kocman was sworn in with serial number 38550458, a number he quickly recited from memory without hesitation almost 51 years later. The family had said its goodbyes the night before. There was no crying, no remorse. Uncle Joe Merka gave him that religious medal. Service was accepted as a duty to the country. He had no problem with his first GI haircut because he had always worn a crewcut. Nor did he have any problem with Army food because "it was similar to the food we had at home. My mother would put a chicken in a pot, add some noodles, and make soup out of it. The Army did the same thing except it used beef instead of chicken. Also," he continued, "we usually didn't have bacon for breakfast at home but in the Army we did. We had pork patties or what we called 'SOS,' chipped beef in cream." After a short basic training at Camp Hood (now Fort Hood) preparing to fight the Japanese, Kocman and his outfit shipped out to Boston where they boarded a French ocean liner headed for Glasgow, Scotland. It was Kocman's first boat ride and he remembers, "I was seasick even before the boat left the dock!" Kocman and his companions were assigned to the 314th Infantry Regi- ment, 2nd Battalion, Company G, 79th Infantry Division, where they fought the Germans in Alsace- Lorraine in an attempt to relieve pressure on the American troops fighting the Battle of the Bulge. German mortar shells rained on the regiment all night long. Four months of battle followed. Kocman returned home to Texas on July 4, 1946 following another 11 months of occupation duty with the First Infantry Division. "The best thing that ever happened to me was going into the service," he said. "It changed my life forever. It gave me maturity. It made me recognize how big this world is. And I learned how other people lived, both American and Euro- P 168 1929 to 1949 "My biggest wartime hero was from Bryan," continued Kocman. "Olin 'Tiger' Teague, commander of the First Battalion of the 314th Infantry. was twice wounded and received the Silver Star with Cluster for his ership in taking Fort Du Roule in the Cherbourg [France] area. He was fighter and a leader." Kocman retired as a command sergeant major in the 386th engineer battalion of the Texas National Guard in 1968, when the unit was changed to an airborne infantry unit. "At age 43," he said wryly, "I had no desire to learn how to jump out of high -flying airplanes!" In May 1949, Kocman went to work as a bookkeeper in Texas A &M's animal and dairy science department. He married his German sweetheart on December 31, 1947 and in 1951 she was sworn in as an American citizen at the Bryan County Courthouse. Four children (Frank, now living in Garland, and Donna, Linda, and Carl, all of whom still live in Bryan), three grand- children, and two great - grandchildren followed. After 39 years at Texas A &M, he retired in August 1987. For Kocman, it has been a good life thanks, perhaps, to a little religious medal that looked like it came from a Cracker Jack box. Based on an interview with Frank Joseph Kocman, Jr. When the Old Bryan Air Base was Home Sweet Home Wilma C. Parker When World War II began, my husband, Roland, was a junior at Texas A &M. He had already served four years as a Marine and had returned to Texas A &M to complete his degree. This time he had joined the Army Air Force and ended up in San Antonio, where we met. Three months later we were married. (I'd always heard about those "fast" Aggies.) And three months after that he was sent overseas. It wasn't long before he was shot down and spent the rest of the war in Stalag Luft One. I remained in San Antonio, and 169 Bryan Legends and Legacies in due time our first child was born. V -E Day brought Roland's release, and he returned home on our baby's first birthday. After a few months of R &R, we prepared to return to Bryan so Roland could finish his degree. (I already had mine) On a bright sunny day in September 1945, we packed everything we owned into our 1936 Cadillac LaSalle and headed up Highway 21 with our year -old baby on the front seat between us (we didn't have baby restraints in those days). We sailed into Bryan/College Station with all the windows down (we didn't have air conditioning either). We were in the first class of veterans returning to school and Texas A &M was ready for us. We were lucky to get an apartment in Walton Hall, where Roland had stayed years before. We had two rooms; one had been remodeled to make a kitchen, and the other remained a bedroom, complete with bunkbeds. The bathroom was a tiny space between the two rooms. But it was home, and we were together. People on campus were friendly. Cadets would always speak to me (even if I had a year -old baby in my arms). The university went all out to help us. At Veterans' Wives Clubs I tried to learn to play bridge, and we learned helpful things like how to recognize choice cuts of meat. Then we had the good luck to move to a "project house," located next to Kyle Stadium on what is now George Bush Drive. We had more room, but the train went through every few hours making our baby rise up and scream. But we could walk to the football games, watch the Aggies practice, even' see the bonfire! Naturally, baby's first word was "Aggie." I don't know howl Roland got any studying done, but he did get a degree in accounting and was asked to stay on and teach. That meant another move. Again we were lucky! Texas A &M provided living quarters for faculty out at the old Bryan Air Base. We had a deluxe suite in the old hospital - -in what had been the mental ward, no less. It had bars on the windows, no air conditioning, numerous bathrooms, a kitchen, and no furniture except for some hospital beds. The wife of our department head was upset about this. She found some usable pieces of furniture for us. (One couldn't buy much furniture with a GI Bill of Rights pension.) Now that Roland was an instructor, we had a little more money, but we used that 1929 to 1949 to buy a washing machine and a good rocking chair because we were ex- pecting another baby. Daryl, our first, was nearly three years old. Roland drove the old LaSalle in to school to teach. I don't remember where we shopped, but it must have been in Bryan. They didn't have super- markets in those days, so, my friend here in Brenham says, we probably shopped at Humpty Dumpty. And we undoubtedly went to church some- where. Why I can't remember these important things, I don't know. Maybe because it's been nearly fifty years! But I do remember the birth of our second son, Howard, in October, at the old Bryan Hospital. My doctor was Dr. J. J. Hopkins, and that's where he'd said to go. I didn't know it was a county hospital. Roland took the day off from teaching so he could be with me. This was before husbands were allowed to be with their wives in the delivery room, but Dr. Hopkins felt that since Roland had missed the birth of his first one, he should be present for this one. I crawled onto the delivery table and soon we had a bouncing 9- 1/2 -pound boy. The baby went to the nursery, and I was put in a ward with five or six other beds that stayed empty all the time I was there, so it was like having a private room. After the ten o'clock feeding, I settled down for a good night's sleep (I thought). Around midnight, the nurse came in with my baby and said, "Here, I think if anyone should be kept awake by a crying baby, it should be the mother." So she thumped the baby down by me and left. I was in a high hospital bed, and I was scared I'd roll over onto him or drop him if I fell asleep. As soon as I got the poor little thing warmed up (he felt like ice), he went to sleep, but I didn't. The next morning when the day shift came in, the nurse exclaimed in horror, "What are you doing with that baby ?" I told her what had happened. The next night I did not see the baby, and there were no feedings. That was in the days when you stayed in the hospital for ten days - -in bed - -after giv- ing birth. The next morning when Dr. Hopkins came in, I told him my "horror" story. He asked me if I thought I could get along if he let me go home. Would I promise to stay in bed the full time, and so on? My mother had already come from San Antonio, and I would have promised him anything 170 G 171 Bryan Legends and Legacies to get out of that hospital. So he called an ambulance and we wrapped the baby in an ambulance blanket instead of the pretty little clothes I had in- tended to take him home in, and away we went - -from downtown Bryan to what used to be the mental ward of Bryan Air Field Hospital. Somehow this seemed to be appropriate. Dr. Hopkins also told me goodbye. He was leaving Bryan and had been waiting for me to deliver. So there I was with a new doctor to get used to, as well as a new baby. The nurse wasn't due until the ten hospital days were up, so my mother and Roland and I struggled with the situation. It was an unusually hot fall. Of course we had no air conditioning, but the heater was set to go on, on a certain date, and it did. So we cooked. The new doctor couldn't understand how the baby could have such terrible heat rash in November. But I could. In June 1948, we said goodbye to Bryan- College Station and went to Houston to seek our fortune. But that's another story. The Jack -Ass Prairie Stephanie Colunga Back in the late forties and early fifties Tom Mcdonald, Jr. and about ten of his friends roamed an area bounded roughly by Texas Avenue, 29th Street, and Villa Maria. They named their "turf" the Jack -Ass Prairie. To claim their territory these young citizens explored and investigated every alley, vacant lot, and house. They claimed all climbable trees as play places or look -out points. In May, they vigorously picked the vacant lot dewberry patches clean and marketed the crop to the homemakers of 30th and 31st streets. They explored every inch of the storm drain maze beneath Hutchins, Haswell, 31st Street, Ennis, and Coulter. Near the north end of Cavitt Pas- ture the boys built an astounding two -story treehouse, using scrap lumber that otherwise would have been burned on construction sites. In the early fifties, Bryan Air Force Base expanded because of the im- portant pilot training, so many new homes were built in Bryan. Some were 172 • 1929 to 19 c onstructed along Coulter Drive and in the meadows and fields south of Coulter near the Cavitt family's large pasture that extended all the way to Villa Maria. The Cavitt's foreman, Mr. Burkhalter, decided to harness the boys' boundless energies by enlisting their aid. He told them that there were valuable cattle being grazed on the property and asked them to help guard them. If they saw anything suspicious, they were to report it to him. The boys took this assignment seriously and built a treehouse for a look- out point. Some of the Jack -Ass Prairie boys liked to hide in the storm drains and wait for one of the natty young Air Force pilots to drive by in his shiny car. Then they would throw mud balls and shout obscenities at him. The at- tacked pilot would not appreciate this and would try to locate the brats responsible. Sometimes a pilot would get out of his car and chase angrily into the wooded areas, never dreaming that the culprits were lurking nearby in the storm drains. Youngsters had a lot of freedom to move around in those days. THE BIKE was all important. As soon as a boy received one he overhauled it. First he sanded it down, then he took it to Bernath's Chrysler - Plymouth to be repainted. Bernath's fee was usually, "Whatcha got in your pocket ?" Bike races were such serious business that the Jack -Ass Prairie boys would invite kids from other neighborhoods to participate. Some of them would use le- thal devices to destroy their opponents' spokes, like in the chariot races in the movie, Ben Hut Other adults besides Mr. Burkhalter realized the need to channel the energy of boys in the right direction. Mr. Theo Thompson allowed them to build a bike track on his lot on Winter Street and even put up the lighting for them. One day Tom McDonald executed an unplanned aerial flip when a wheel came off his bike. He landed on his chin and required a few stitches from Dr. R. M. Searcy. Dr. Searcy donated the use of a spare lot and built a backboard, so the boys could build a baseball diamond. These were the days before polio vaccine, so parents made their children rest in the summer from noon until about three o'clock. Young Tom always rushed out to play baseball the mo- ment the clock reached that magic hour. 173 Bryan Legends and Legacies A favorite hangout was the Gulf Service Station on Texas Avenue. Things wonderful to boys were there: Coke machines, bicycle pumps, cars, and the mechanic's garage. Another favorite haunt was Demottier's neigh- borhood store on 31st Street. Here hungry boys could devour moon pies, those delectable pastries, and utilize the comic book exchange. A kid could buy a new comic book for a dime, read it, and exchange it for a nickel. It then went into a box of used comic books that someone else could buy for less than a dime. They also bought bubble -gum, mostly to collect baseball cards - -their legal tender, which they treasured or traded. The Heritage Park on Hutchins Street between 30th and 31st Streets was the battle -site for the Horse -Apple Wars. The boys would divide them-1 selves into teams or invite another crosstown group. Each group would then' gather the fruit of the thorny Bois d'arc tree. Then they would split a dis- carded bicycle inner -tube, nail the ends to opposite branches of a spreading mesquite to create a giant sling shot, load up a horse - apple, and then with the combined strength of several ten -year -olds they would draw back the sling and let the ammunition fly to destroy the opposition's fortresses. Tom and friends prepared their own neighborhood fire department. They had been experimenting with bows and arrows when someone got the bright idea to light one of the arrows. (After all, the Indians did this to the settlers, didn't they ?) The flaming arrow worked for the Jack -Ass Prairie Indians too. After the boys had stomped out the first small blaze, they had a big discussion. First they scoped out all the water spigots around the neighbor- hood houses, then they called everyone's Red Flyer wagons and all family water hoses into service. The young firemen measured the distances from potential fire sites to water faucets. Thereafter, when flaming arrows flew, the fire wagons would quickly appear on the scene, complete with simu- lated sirens. Once or twice, when the blazes got out of hand, someone would call the volunteer fire department. The boys put their throwing and running skills learned from baseball to another use. Under the high school stadium seats were great colonies of yellow jackets and wasps. Although the boys usually wore only shorts in the summer with no shoes or shirts, they did not let bare skin deter them from the fun of dislodging the insects' happy homes. At first, pulling the nest 174 192 t o 194 down and running away without being stung provided enough of a chal- lenge. Then someone decided to make it an endurance test. They would dare one another to stick around in spite of the angry evicted bugs and their stings! Tom was only about twelve years old when he inherited his first auto- mobile. A family friend left his old Model T truck to Tom in his will. His ten-year-old friend, Jimmy Whitley, helped him haul it to his driveway with a wrecker. While he waited until he could drive and the old truck was being repaired, kids were climbing all over it. After he received his license, Tom devised a great scheme to impress the girls. He figured how to set certain levers so the truck would seem to have stopped running, but it was actually primed to move with a delayed action. Tom would get out, walk down the street, and talk to some local citizens. After a carefully calculated time he would turn, give a whistle, and say, "Come on, Trigger!" The truck would slowly begin to put -put toward its master, just like Roy Roger's horse in the Saturday movies. One clandestine activity of the boys took place in the two -story treehouse or sometimes underground in the storm sewers. They had a steel box con- structed by Mr. Joe "Dub" Dubrovolny to exact specifications. In this they hid their stash of grapevine, cut into lengths just right for smoking. Making movies was less of a threat to their health. Bobby Halsell owned a movie camera, a rarity in those days. Some of the boys would write the script, some would round up extras, others would approach the stars (the pretty girls in the neighborhood), and some would collect table cloths and towels for costumes and prepare the set by dragging in some of their mom's bridge table and chairs. Then the fun would begin. Lights, action, camera! Tom claims he always played a slave in the Roman movies. He also says that some of these movies are still around. Look out, Hollywood! Prom an interview with W. T. "Tom" McDonald, Jr. 4 175 Bryan Legends and Legacies Bryan in Grandma's Day Marah Fry My grandmother's name is Myrl Sims. Her ancestors came from England to this country in the late 1600s. One of her ancestors, Major Henry Baker, was in the House of Burgesses in England and later lived in Virginia. Her great granddad was a plantation owner in North Carolina. Her grandfather, John Outlaw Baker, brought his family to Lexington, Texas in 1890. Her father, Norman C. Baker, was seven years old at the time. There are many other ancestors, of course, but I can sum it up by saying they were Anglo -Saxon Protestant, hard working, good citizens. My grandma's life has been spent primarily in this community, and she has watched it change from a small town in the early '30s to the twin city envi- ronment of over 100,000 population. Born in Bryan, the youngest of four children, my grandma has had the pleasure of remaining here except for two years when she lived in Lake Jackson and time spent in Huntsville while in college. She still attends the First United Methodist Church, which she attended as an infant, where she was baptized and married, and where she has taken her children, and where she will continue until she dies. Her mother is still living here at the age of 93, so she has grown up surrounded by old friends and family and in famil- iar surroundings. Fannin School is on the plot of ground where her grandmother, Martha James, attended public school in the late 1800s and where Grandma at- tended Lamar Junior High. Here at Fannin she substituted, taught, and su- pervised teacher aides; now four of her grandchildren attend. Her school was two blocks from her house for twenty years. The original building is gone except for the columns they managed to retain. The beautiful oak trees remain also. The schools in the forties were small. My grandma's graduating class at Stephen F. Austin High School was about one hundred and twenty. They 176 1929 to 1949 knew each other well, and the teachers knew all of them. This year they will have their 44th reunion. Many of them remain friends. Their schools existed without air conditioning, computers, video tapes, overhead projectors, televisions, tape players, vending machines, stereos, Polaroid cameras, copy machines, drill teams, pep squads, ball point pens, magic markers, highlighters, styrofoam containers, plastic anything, or back - pack The main fun back in the '40s was being with your friends. Kids went to the movies on Saturday (where the shell of the old Palace Theater remains today). They loved having a greasy hamburger and hand - stirred malt at Canady's Pharmacy. They skated on metal- wheeled skates all around the old Lamar School building, played scrub softball in their cow pasture, walked to town to spend hours "just looking" in Woolworth's, went crawfishing, played at Haswell Park, spent hours in Carnegie Library, then more hours reading the books they had walked home with. They played marbles in the dirt under the shrubs, played jacks and hopscotch, and rode bikes (no ten speeds) all over town. When they talked on the phone with their friends they spoke a three digit number to the operator who would make the connections. The dial telephone came in when my grandma was in junior high school. They had no answering machines, no call waiting, and no cellular phones. Jobs for them began like children's today, with babysitting, but they made only 25 cents an hour to keep five kids. As she got older, grandma also helped at her father's store, preparing statements and paying his bills. She walked up and down Main Street with cash and bills in her hands, and no one ever mugged her. She wrapped Christmas gifts for Caldwell's Jew- elry and earned $5.00 a week. After high school, she worked half -time in two different offices in the Varisco Building. Neither one was very busy, so she got to read a lot. As an adult she taught school, did secretarial work, and taught school again. Dur- ing her childhood, most moms didn't work outside the home like most moth- ers do now. When she worked as a secretary, she used shorthand to take dictation and used a typewriter to write letters instead of a computer. People were more interested in friends and neighbors when my grandma 177 From an interview with Myrl Sims. Bryan Legends and Legacies was young than they are now. They worked hard but found time to visi with each other in the evenings. There was no television to monopoli their time. Radio provided some entertainment at home, bringing them new music, baseball games, and such shows as "Fibber Magee and Molly," Love a Mystery," and "Amos and Andy." There were no portable radios The schools sponsored functions such as sports, plays, festivals, and fundraisers. Traveling shows were held at Guion Hall on the Texas A &114 campus. Carnivals and circuses came to town and Coulter Field provided air shows. My grandma and her family associated with people who were generally the same race and religion. They didn't dislike others; that was just the custom. So people they were with were a lot like them. Now with a highly mobile society, integration, and laws against discrimination in hiring and housing, people of all races and religion are living more closely together, sharing ideas, and understanding each other better. One thing that has changed a lot since Grandma was a child is the wa people shop. "Going to town" was a dressup event. Most women wore nice dresses, stockings, heels, hats, and gloves to go shopping. Shopping was downtown; there were no malls. Most stores were owned by local peopli that knew everybody by name. There were no supermarkets or drive -ins There were very few restaurants; most people ate at home. They did ge "curb service" at the local soda fountain downtown. Most people didn't lock their homes, and they left keys in their cat! when they parked them. Their homes weren't air conditioned, most were nc carpeted, and they had no dishwashers, microwave ovens, garbage dispos• als, trash compactors, or ice makers. As my grandmother grew up, she well from "ice boxes" to electric refrigerators, from standard shifts in cars q automatic transmissions, and from propeller driven airplanes to jets. Eve with all our timesaving devices today, people seem to have less time I enjoy their leisure and their friends than people did in the forties. 178 19 t 19 A Grandchild Remembers Frank and Mary Dominik Joanne Dominik Glowski Although I was born and raised in Houston, I spent many weekends and vacations during the '40s and '50s at the home of my grandparents, Frank and Mary Dominik, who lived in the Steep Hollow area. When we arrived to see my grandparents and aunts, it was customary to give lots of hugs and kisses. We parked our car outside the fence surrounding the house under a huge oak tree with protruding roots. My sisters and I loved to play "cars." We pretended that our cars were going through the "giant redwood trees," which were actually the protruding roots. We played like we were traveling to places throughout the United States under this tree. We built houses and corrals out of sticks and sand castles in the sand. Once inside, we caught up on the latest happenings. My parents and relatives sat in the rocking chairs, and all rocked in unison with each other. If one got a little too fast, they would slow down until they were rocking together. They mostly spoke in Polish, which we kids did not understand. When we heard our name, we knew that they were talking about us, but we didn't know if it was good or bad. After visiting awhile, we were served a scrumptious dinner. My grandmother and aunts cooked on the wood -burn- ing stove and oven. I don't know how they knew how much wood to put in for the stove top and oven, but practice must have made perfect! The sweet aroma of fresh baked bread and cookies lingered throughout the house. When nightfall came, the kerosene lanterns hanging on the walls were lit. They flickered in the shadows and made it feel real peaceful. Electricity had not yet come to my grandparents' house. At night I slept on a feather bed, which was put on an old trunk in one large bedroom by the wood stove. During the winter it was extremely warm sleeping there. When I was small I could fit nicely on the trunk, but as I grew my sister Carolyn and I slept on a pallet on the floor. The homemade bread was left to rise near this stove. I 179 Bryan Legends and Legacies 180 would fall asleep listening to the tick -tock of the mantle clock, strikin once every half -hour and then at the hour striking how many hours it was Sometimes the howling of wolves was heard in the distance. Next morning, we would go with Grandpa to the blacksmith shop sharpen tools. We always chased the kitty cats that lived there, but they were too wild to catch. Sometimes we got lucky and caught one. There's nothing quite like kitten love, but occasionally the little critters bit us. W also went to the barn to get hay for the farm animals, and we often played in the loft while Grandpa did his chores. Our aunts, Rosie, Tracy, and Annie, would let us help feed the chickens, hogs, mules, horses, dogs and cats. We4 helped them pick eggs too. Many times I encountered a hen flying out of the nest as I was tiptoeing up to the box. On summer afternoons my grandpa or daddy would take a nap on the cot on the front porch. The porch faced the south, and the south wind gave good breeze. My daddy occasionally liked to sleep out there at nigh Grandpa kept his Prince Albert tobacco and his pipe on the front porch, There he would smoke his pipe. Even in those days he was not allowed MI smoke in the house. Grandpa would tease us to smoke his pipe and tell us that it was sweet as candy. He liked to tease a lot. In the evenings, I watched my aunts pen up the cows when they came til the back pasture. The cows to be milked were put in the corral. On several occasions, my aunts coaxed me into trying to milk a cow. They would shov! me how easy it was. But, seems every time I decided to try to milk one, th. cow would turn around and look at me and moo, and over the corral posts went as fast as I could, sometimes tearing my jeans in my haste. One time, my Aunt Rosie, sister Carolyn, and I were standing out in the middle of the cow pasture. She told us to take a good whiff of this fre country air. She said that she bet that the air in the city was not this fres Standing in a field of cow patties is not the place to take a good whiff of air! I almost gagged. I could have appreciated the good country fresh anywhere except that cow pasture! The stars were never so numerous bright in the city. When it came time to get water, we were allowed to dra the water from the water well. Boy, that rope would sure sting sometimes i you let it go down too fast! The water was s0000 sweet! We would get d I 1929 to 1949 tummy ache from drinking too much water. Grandpa would go to the stables to put up the horses and mules and feed them. The horse's name was Shorty, and the mules were Dolly, Queenie, Dixie, and Rhoadie. Seems the dogs, present and past, were always named Blackie or Coley. Indoor plumbing had not yet come to my grandparents' home. When you had to go, you went to the outhouse way out back by the fence separat- ing the back pasture. They had a double - holer, equipped with a Sears & Roebuck catalog for toilet paper. If you didn't drop the back flap, you had chickens in "your toilet tank." Sometimes a cow would venture a little too close for comfort. My sister Carolyn and I would put on sun bonnets and walk the place looking for adventure. We would walk across the fields to the meandering Wickson Creek and track raccoons, squirrels, and deer. We picked up all kinds of clam shells, some with the clams still inside. Once we were spooked by a deer and ran home as fast as we could, stopping once in a while to pull sticker -burrs out of our feet. We never once saw a snake; that is, unless we were with an adult who pointed it out to us. We would swing on magnificent grape vines in the pasture. They made the best swings! On one New Years Day, my sister and I were shooting Black Cat fire- crackers. My aunts had given us a shovel full of hot coals to light them and cautioned us to be careful. While holding the shovel, I had almost a full small pack of them in one hand. With the other hand I was lighting the individual firecrackers. They came in too close contact with the hot coals, and bang went the firecrackers off in my hand. My ears rang for hours after that episode, and my fingers were black. I learned a good lesson that day. One time my aunts told us how to catch a rabbit. They told us that if we threw salt on its tail that you would catch 'em. So off to the garden my sister Carolyn and I went hunting rabbit. We did find some rabbits in the garden. We threw salt on their tails, but did not catch any. I don't know who was more startled and jumping around, us or the rabbits. I came close, though, as I brought home some rabbit fur to show just how close I came to catching that rabbit! We should have known that our aunts were joshing, as they were laughing all the while that they were telling us the story. On Saturdays, we would go with Grandpa and Daddy to town to buy ice 181 11111111 11 11111 II I Bryan Legends and Legacies for the ice chest so that we could have cool cow's milk. Otherwise, we had to drink it at room temperature, which was not bad. Sometimes ice was bought, and they made homemade ice cream. It was delicious. In the sum mer, watermelons were put under the house to cool. When they sliced on and we ate it, you were surprised just how cool the melon was. All these things and others too numerous to mention gave us our Brazo County heritage and love of the land of which we are so proud to have bee a part. Bryan Domino Club Entertained Thursday at N. A. Stewart Home Mayor and Mrs. N. A. Stewart, Sr. opened their hospitable home on Thursday evening at 8 o'clock for the meeting of the Domino Club of which they are members. A Christmas decoration of mosses and evergreens added beauty to the rooms, and bright fires and many shaded lights completed an inviting scene. Four tables for dominoes were arranged in the living room and soon the contest for victory was in progress. No prizes were given, but the victo- rious players announced their successes loudly. In the dining room the mantle was draped with southern mosses and poinsettia and other Christmas flowers gave brilliant coloring. The table was spread with an exquisite lace cloth, and in the center of the table was a mirror, on which was a miniature Christmas tree, with its twinkling lights reflected again in the mirror below. A salad course with hot tea and coffee and Christmas fruit cake was served on the game tables. Those present with Mayor and Mrs. Stewart were: Mr. and Mrs. Forrest Jones, Mr. and Mrs. E. E. Yeager, Mr. and Mrs. Hugh S. Looney, Sr., Mr. and Mrs. V. B. Harris, Mr. and Mrs. R. R. Ellis, Mr. and Mrs. T. J. (Puny) Wilson, Dr. and Mrs. S. C. Richardson. Reprinted from The Eagle, December 14, 1934. Contributed by Billie Stewart. 182 Bryan Bits uise Fletcher won an Academy Award for her portrayal of Nurse Ratched "One Flew over the Cuckoo's Nest." She used sign language during the tionally televised award show to thank her parents (who were) both deaf. Fletcher was no stranger to Bryan. For nearly 16 years in the 1930s and 940s, Fletcher spent her summers in Bryan with her grandmother, Mrs. M. Caldwell. "My grandmother gave me a birthday party every July 22," Fletcher d the Eagle shortly after winning her Oscar. "And we went to church ery Sunday." on Reicher, the Bryan- College Station Eagle, January 15, 1995. The scenic mural painted on the walls of the newly remodeled Palace the - tre in 1948 adds to the elegance of this grand theatre...The lavish tting...adds to its charm and makes it a focal point for the community. m a publication of the Schulman Theatres. ording to the minutes of the Woman's Club, Marjorie Clark Hillier was first woman not to wear a hat to a Woman's Club meeting. L. O. Wilkerson reported that before he established Wilkerson's Memo - Clinic (a forerunner of Bryan Hospital) in the 30s, surgery was often 1929 to 1949 183 performed in home. The doctor would bring a portable operating table and a pressure sterilizer, and he wore a head light like a miner for night surgery. When Wilkerson began his practice the delivery of a baby cost $15. He delivered over 2,000 of those babies. 1 Dr. Wilkerson was one of the founders of Central Baptist Church. Dur- ing World War II, he founded the Civil Air Patrol and helped organize the submarine patrol over the Gulf of Mexico where U -boats had been sighted. The Eagle, April 23, 1972. Household hint for 1930: To clean woodwork - -use equal parts of vinegar and kerosene. The kerosene polishes as the vinegar cleans, leaving no smudge. Bryan Chamber of Commerce booklet. When I was a kid I told myself that there was one thing I would never ever do again when I grew up and that was to churn butter. Bobbie Butler In the 30s, Johnnie Mae Stanford and her sister Bessie Lou Barron drove a Model A Ford. They sometimes used it like a taxi. Aggies hitching rides from Bryan to A &M would pile into the car and hang on the running boards. Aggies wanting to come into Bryan would do the same for the return trip. Johnnie says, "We were making memories." Specials from Sam Palermo's Grocery Ad in a Bryan Daily Eagle of 1938. corned beef can 19 cents tall can olives 16 cents Coffee 2 lbs 54 cents Syrup 1 gal. 45 cents Potatoes 10 lbs. 30 cents Bananas doz. 15 cents Apples doz. 25 cents FOUR 1950 to 1979 Photo Credit: Commerce. Riches Peggy Hope I will always remember When life was simple and I was young When the greatest treasure That could come to a child Was having enough coins To go to the store And buy a box of sixteen Crayolas (Instead of eight), To have blue -green and red - purple And pink and white And gray. One birthday I was given A box of sixty-four .. . Crayolas of every hue Were mine to color with, And I was then richer than I have ever been Since that time. Downtown Bryan, 1960s, Courtesy of Bryan- College Station Chamber of After coming to Bryan in 1950 to practice law, I spent most of my working time in the county clerk's office searching land titles. But one day I had a client who was in jail on a drug charge. (Yes, we had drug dealers, even then.) I got word that my client needed to see me, so I went to the sheriff's office on the first floor of the courthouse. The old Bryan jailhouse was a two -story structure located across Wash- ington Street from the courthouse. I believe it was made of brick, and it had a barred front door facing the street. One entered the doorway to a down- stairs foyer and climbed the stairs to the second floor, which contained the barred cells. A lawyer or visitor would stand outside the cells and talk though the bars with the prisoner. Once inside, he or she had free access to the halls and foyer, but couldn't get out the front door without the deputy sheriff unlock- ing it with a key. J. W. Hamilton was the high sheriff of Brazos County at that time, and he and his family lived in quarters in back of the jail. The only entry to the jail foyer, other than the front door, was a sliding panel between the sheriff's kitchen and the downstairs jail, through which the prisoner's food passed after being prepared by the sheriff's wife. Deputy sheriff Jess McGee was on duty this particular day, and he took me across the street about 1 p.m. and unlocked the front door and let me in. I told Jess to come after me in 30 minutes. I climbed the stairs and talked to my client, and after half an hour I went back downstairs to wait for Jess. I waited, and I waited. No Jess. I didn't know that Deputy Jess McGee had received a call to duty and forgot I was in the slammer. After an hour or so, I began to stick my arms through the barred front door and call out to passersby on Washington Street, the sidewalk being only five yards from the door. Now, I'm dressed in a nice suit and bow tie, am not bad - looking, and have a pleasant deep voice, but not one soul would 111 1111II 11111 1 1950 to 1979 Stuck in Jail Jim Dozier 187 Bryan Legends and Legacies come to the jail door or stop to listen to my tale of woe. I even offered money if they would phone my law partner to contact someone to let me out. No dice! People did not trust anyone in jail or want to get involved in my kind of predicament. I began to get desperate, the walls were closing in, my breathing was labored, and I felt the perfect fool. I know nobody is perfect, but I was close that day. Around 4 p.m. I heard noises coming from the sheriff's kitchen, and I stuck my head through the food - serving opening and yelled for help. Fi- ries. nally, Sheriff Hamilton's son, who had come home from school, agreed toi In the '50s there were no historical preservation, ecology, or environ- listen to my pitiful story and called Alan Mudgett, my law partner. He couldn't find anyone in the sheriff's office, but he got the Bryan police to come free me from jail. I was liberated about dark - thirty, and outside never felt so wonderful. After 5 or 6 hours in the caboose, I was convinced that crime was not my cup of tea. From the series, "Yesterdays," m the Bryan - College Station Eagle, October 1, 1992. Will Anyone Remember the Old Courthouse? Jim Dozier On Saturday, Aug. 14, 1954, they tore down one of the most beautiful court- houses in the State of Texas. It was located on the same block -- bounded by Washington and Texas Avenues, 25th and 26th streets- -where the current Brazos County Courthouse now stands. This story concerns the old queen, a composite building in Romanesque Revival style. Two facades were seven -part compositions, very unusual in Texas, and two were three -part, French Mansard roofs with cresting. A tower with these features and a four -faced clock rose from the center of the struc- ture. Eugene T. Heiner was the architect, and the corner stone was laid by Brazos County Masons in July 1891. The fifth Brazos County Courthouse, the stately building opened to the 188 1950 to 1979 public on September 16, 1893. She served her county well for 60 years, but time, traffic, and temperatures began to wear down the old girl. By the 1950s, age and lack of proper repairs made the building somewhat unsafe. One time lawyers will remember having to dodge plaster, mortar, and other materials falling from the tower as they climbed the stairs to the second floor where the courtrooms were located. Everyone knew it was financially risky going to District Court, but in those days there was also physical dan- ger involved -- although I don't remember that there were any serious inju- mental concerns on people's minds. In the early summer of 1954, the Brazos County Commissioners' Court decided to take bids on the razing of the courthouse. All of the contractors stated in their bids that the job of leveling and clearing the block of debris would take two to three months to finish. All, that is, except one. Ted Hall, The Wrecker, a razing contractor from Iowa, said that he could do the job in fourteen working days with proper penalties if he exceeded the time frame. All the contractors and onlookers laughed and said it was impossible, but the Court awarded the contract to Hall on August 8. On August 10, 1954, The Wrecker began removing the four -faced clock from the tower. Hall had three or four of his own employees with him, and he hired about 30 local workers to do the heavy work. His "office" was an easy chair under a live oak shade tree on the north side of the site. Hall had 22 years experi- ence in the wrecking business, and he directed operations from his chair with a telephone as his only accessory. During the demolition, the community became aware that here was live - action entertainment. Because television was in its infancy, requiring out- side antennae to receive the only available station, Houston's Channel 2 (including the snow), most everyone visited the site to gawk and kibitz. On Saturday, August 14, just as in biblical Jericho, the walls come tumbling down. At the end, one sidewalk engineer was heard to say, "They stomped that sucker flat." Believe it or not, Hall finished the job Saturday morning, August 21, Just 12 "official" working days from the start. The improbable took less than 189 Bryan Legends and Legacies two weeks; the impossible took an extra couple of days. Porterfield Con.. struction Co. was hired to handle the cleanup when Hall was excused after his Herculean efforts brought the race in under the wire. A postscript to the story concerns the cornerstone from the old court_ house. When it was opened it contained newspapers, grange material and a metal tube with a message signed by Ed Saunders and John Booth, which read, "When it is taken out we hope we have done enough good to be re- membered without it." Will anyone remember? From the series, "Yesterdays" in the Bryan- College Station Eagle, 1991. Justice Lightens Up Jim Dozier By the time Brazos County's beautiful courthouse came tumbling down in 1954, plans had already been made to erect a new courthouse closer to the center of the county's population, which at that time was near the intersec- tion of Texas Avenue and Villa Maria in Bryan. Mr. Brazos Varisco had agreed to buy the old block for a shopping center, and the county planned to use that money to purchase a site for the new courthouse. But then the plans went awry. The county was told it did not have the fee simple title to the land, but only a determinable fee. Records showed that Groesbeck and Baker, who controlled the H &TC Railroad, got the land from William Joel Bryan as part- consideration for moving the end of the rail line from Millican to Bryan. It was reported that these two men gave the block of land to the county to be used only for a courthouse, and if not so used, the title of the land would revert from the owner back to Groesbeck and Baker or their heirs. Since Mr. Varisco wanted to use the land for a shopping center, the title company would not issue a title policy out of fear that the title would revert back to the former owner's heirs. Therefore, the county decided the only 190 thing to do was to build the new courthouse on the same site as the old one. In keeping with current trends, the new courthouse was designed with- o ut windows, presumably to conserve on utilities used for the newfangled luxury of air conditioning. To be precise, the structure was built without outside glass of any kind, except for the front and back entrances on the ground floor, and the elevator which went all the way to the jail on top. Maybe it was because I was once locked up in the old jailhouse by mistake, but I never felt comfortable in the new courthouse. It was as though the walls were closing in, and I always had the urge to run outside. One day I had legal business in the Justice of the Peace Court, located on the third floor. I was addressing the court when an electrical outage oc- curred. There was no emergency or electrical backup system, and instantly all present were pitched into the void of total darkness. We could not see our hands in front of our faces, and we knew the terrifying sensation of being blind. To say we panicked is putting it mildly. Those who felt the urge to scream, did so. The rest of us, just like Elvis, were all shook up! Without flashlights or candles, we all got down on our hands and knees and started crawling toward what we guessed was the direction of the door. We finally made it through the doorway and into the hall, and- -Glory Be! - -we could see a faint glimmer of light coming up from the stairwell. We scrambled to the staircase, where blessed rays of light were pouring up. We raced down the stairs, in the company of others in the same predica- ment, out the front door into the beautiful daylight. In the last remodeling of the courthouse, you might notice that the County Commissioners's Court saw fit to add as much glass and windows as pos- sible. That, with landscaping, has made the area much more pleasant. Oh yes, I almost forgot. It has always bugged me about that deed of gift from Groesbeck and Baker, so a few years ago I looked up the recorded copy in the County Clerk's office. Lo and behold, I discovered that Brazos County paid cash money in gold for that land, and even though the deed states that the land was to be used as a courthouse there are no words of reversion! If violated, the title would not revert to anyone. The county had f simple title after all, subject to a minor, conditional wish. 1950 to 1979 191 Bryan Legends and Legacies 4 But as we all know, one person's opinion of the law is a good as another' and only the final court decision, if any, is binding. From the series, "Yesterdays" in the Bryan- College Station Eagle, 1992. Main Street Reflections Frances H. Kimbrough When I was a child in the '50s, I'd hear stories of long ago about our bei one of the first families in Bryan. I found these tales about the Parke Chances, Webbs, Jameses, Howells, and Derdens boring and tedious. Ne ertheless, the relatives would continue to drone on about Aunt Lizzie, Cousin Rob, Aunt Mary Ross, and Cousin Della. Somewhere along the way a meta- morphosis occurred. (I think it is called reaching maturity.) Now, I'm fasci- nated with the past: the filmy, ankle length dresses, the men's boater derby hats, the elegance of a cream lace fan, the refinement of afterno teas where that hot beverage was actually served, the kind, genteel times transplanted Southern ladies and gentlemen of Texas. "She was the most beautiful and richest girl in Brazos County," old folks would exclaim about my grandmother, Frances Chance James. Her father was John Parker Chance who, with his family, owned Chance F on Brazos Bottom black land. Today this soil is the Texas A &M Universi farm and, successively, the Fountain and now Scarmardo farms. France mother was Emily Derden, whose father, Captain S. M. Derden of the Con federacy, was a boyhood friend of Governor James Hogg, Miss Ima's daddy In 1913, Mr. Bradley, Bryan's mayor, chose my grandmother Frances to perform the distinct honor of holding the plow of the mule team that brok ground for the paving of Main Street. She related stories of attending per- formances at the Grand Opera House above a saloon on Main Street. " wore a cut velvet, rose colored, satin lined cape and elbow length white ki gloves. I carried Mother of Pearl opera glasses," she reminisced. Later this building became the beloved Palace Theater, gathering place for "teenybopper" preadolescents in the 1960s. As one of that illustrious 192 1950 to 1979 cfe w, I remember viewing the latest "flicks" two, three, four times until I cou ld recite all the lines and bellow out the songs by heart. I always loved the theater's mural of life on a Southern Plantation in the Brazos Valley — t h e river flowing by, the cotton ripe for picking, and the grand estate in the background. After the marathon movie stint, we stumbled outside to be blinded by the bright afternoon sun and pounded by the Texas heat. We trooped across the street to Jarrott's Pharmacy, our favorite watering hole and hangout for "the Allen boys," the out of town boarders at Allen Military Academy. We all piled into the booths in the back or, if the old folks got there first, we climbed up on the stools at the fountain. Jarrott's had the best soda fountain and grill in town — and I venture to say, in the world. I've tried many such establishments since and I've never found an equal. As a "little chicken" I ordered their famous Cherry Phos- phate, which I heard as "Cherry False Face." I think I wanted it as much for my misnomer as for the taste. Other specialties were fresh squeezed lime- ades, rich chocolate ice cream sodas, and thick strawberry malts. The wait- resses were consummate sandwich makers, too — sharp cheddar, pimento cheese, rich creamy tunafish, and cheese grilled to perfection on toasted bread. The B.L.T. held crackling crisp bacon, snappy iceberg lettuce, vine ripe tomatoes slices, and onions. On down Main Street was Lester's clothing store. The Lester family was the purveyor of ladies' fine wear for decades. (Previously that very shop had been another clothing store, Webb Brothers, owned by the broth- ers of my great - grandmother, Harriet Webb James.) The Lester's daughter, Pat, and I were and still are good friends. Her brother, Jack, always the Prankster, would needle the Jarrott's waitresses by requesting a "pine float." "Sure," they'd reply, "What's that? Pineapple sherbet and gingerale ?" "No," he'd chuckle, "a toothpick floating in water." The most elegant establishment downtown was Caldwell Jewelers with its grand dame of Bryan society, "Miss Celeste" Caldwell, at its helm. The store itself was an elegant gem of sparkling glass cases, creamy marble store- f ront, and soft, cushiony, upholstered chairs. Mother used to tell me about t he time in the 1930s when gangsters robbed the store and kidnapped Miss 193 Bryan Legends and Legacies Celeste and her husband, John Seeley Caldwell. But that's a whole `noth story. Of Dogs and Frogs and Other Friends Frances H. Kimbrough Childhood summertime on Bryan's 29th Street in the 1950s was an era ofd abundance in wildlife now disappearing in cities: chartreuse neon fireflies,; horned toads, ambling turtles, and golden -eyed frogs. The Kermit lookalikes' we neighborhood kids knew, urinated on us if we picked them up. "You'll get warts!" the grownups would caution. Our pet dogs roamed freely, patro ling the neighborhood for suspicious unknowns of both the two- and fo legged varieties. They'd chomp on the amphibians, and then, their mou frothing with saliva in response, would make a beeline for their owners. We'd scream "Mad dogs!" to scare ourselves for fun and run away. We gulped down icy Cokes in squatty hour glass bottles and guzzled Dry Peppers at 10 -2 -and -4. The musical ice cream truck's tinkling melody struck pandemonium in many households as mothers scrambled for nickels. gobbled up Fudgsicles, Dreamsticks, and Popsicles for five cents. My next door neighbors, Ginny and Debby Groves, and I played dolls both in and ou of the sandpile. Their aunt "Sitter" (for Sister) intoned on outer space explo• ration, "If God had meant us to fly, we'd all had wings. We ought not to gt messing with the heavens. No telling what might happen." Debby and Ginny's great -uncle Lije (Elijah) Thompson was a horst trader who tied his wares to a pole near our fence. Enthralled, I pretended was Annie Oakley and mentally transformed that old brown nag into W) trusty trick stallion, Black Beauty. Why the Thompsons ever had two con crete cannonballs hitching posts complete with heavy iron rings at thei sidewall entrance, I will never know. My neighbors across the street, Chris' tine and Mitty, were the offspring of the famous Texas gambler, Duck M lard. Another well -known gambler from the Brazos Bottom, Ward M ing, gave us our pet dachshund, Pretzel. Ward and Duck allegedly ran casino right on the banks of the Brazos River during the 1940s and 1950s. 194 1950 to 1979 W the big scandal of the times! My neighborhood sports buddies and I had the luxury of nearby Sue Haswell Park for swimming, and Fannin, Travis, and St. Joseph Elementary S playgrounds for ball parks. The teams for basketball, football, or baseball, depending on the season, included the three Clifton boys, John Foster Marsh, son of family physician, Dr. Jack Marsh, my cousin, Ursula Canady, Dave Denny, now a high school coach, the Batten clan, and me. One day John Foster led a crew of guys up to my door and begged, "Mrs. Kimbrough, please let Frances come play football. We need her." It would be great to be able to race with the pigskin like that again, spare the leisure time to do it, and most of all, have all those boys clamoring at my doorstep. The Stale Air Taxis of A &M W. T. (Tom) McDonald, Jr. In about 1933, five men, who lived in Bryan and worked at Texas A &M College, bought an old Chevrolet sedan for transportation to and from their ork. During these times smoking cigarettes, cigars, and pipes was in vogue. Vehicles were not air conditioned so the sedan car was appropriately named the Stale Air Taxi of A &M. My uncle Reed McDonald (my Dad's older brother) was one of the five men. He lived about two blocks up Ennis Avenue from our house, so the taxi could go down Homestead on the way to College Avenue on the way to the Texas A &M campus. Originally, the five men took turns driving the car and picking each other up, but when the United States entered World War H, they decided they should get a larger car and more passengers, since gasoline was ra- tioned and the old Chevrolet was about worn out. The group appointed one of their number to shop for a car they could ord. They bought an Army surplus staff car, which became the Stale Air 'Taxi II. No one wanted to pay for the car individually, so all five men signed a note at the First Bank & Trust. Each month there was an assessment for the note payment and expenses. 195 Bryan Legends and Legacies In order to save gasoline, they decided that the person who lived farthest should drive the car and pick up the others, hence Steve Visos; became the driver. If you lived more than two blocks off College Avenue, you were not eligible to become a rider because the driver would have to leave home too early in the morning, and he would have to zigzag all over Bryan, and it would take too much gasoline. The five original owners of the Army staff car decided to expand the passengers to seven. These seven were: Steve Visoski, Cliff Edge, Frank Nedbalek, Herbert Hertel, Reed McDonald, Charlie Nitch, and Bill Norman. There was a unique seating arrangement that was different in the morn. ins than in the evening. Seating changed according to the order a passenger was picked up or dropped off. Everyone knew their place and it never changed for any reason, except one. The President of Texas A &M, Gibb Gilchri thought the Stale Air Taxi was unique, and on several occasions he asked ride to Bryan with the group. It was on such occasions that the seating rangement changed, as President Gilchrist was the last one to get out. Several of the Stale Air Taxi passengers took their lunches every day and would eat as fast as they could, so they could go and throw horseshoes! before someone else could get their place. It was during the middle 1950s (my days as a teenaged schoolboy) that I became acquainted with Stale Air Taxi II. My dad was an early riser. Hi would make a pot of coffee, put the homemade biscuits in the oven, read the Dallas Morning News and the Houston Post until the biscuits were done then wake me up. The biscuits were made by Lula Martin, who was the family cook for about 20 years. She made biscuits from scratch for land!h every day and would make some extras for our breakfast. She would them in the refrigerator and they would rise. Lula never used a recipe, just "whop" of this and a "whop" of that. She would make the best biscuits arou While sitting at the kitchen table eating those delicious biscuits wi jelly or honey, I would drink coffee, read the papers, and watch the few c that drove down Homestead Street. Homestead is a short street that between Ennis and Texas Avenue (College Avenue in those days), past side and rear of my childhood home. 196 One of the cars that would pass by every morning at the same time was the Stale Air Taxi II. People in the neighborhoods on the route of the Stale Air Taxi of A &M said they could set their clocks by the taxi horn when it arrived to pick up one of its passengers. One summer, when I was in my teens, I had a temporary summertime job on the Texas A &M campus, so I got to ride in Taxi II to and from work. It was an unforgettable experience that contributed immensely to my liberal education and life experiences. The author acknowledges the invaluable assistance of his aunt, Mrs. Reed (Imogene) McDonald. His uncle, Reed McDonald, devoted his entire adult life as an employee of TAMU and at the time of his death was Director of the Texas Feed and Fertilizer Control Services. The Reed McDonald building on the TAMU campus is named in his honor. Mary Jane David The Bryan branch of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter -Day Saints was organized in August 1953. According to a church history written by Will- iam J. Clark and George Boyette in 1990, the new branch included groups from Milam, Robertson, Madison, Brazos, Burleson, Washington, and Grimes counties. The first Latter -Day Saints group formed near Bryan was established near Madisonville in a town called Utah, Texas around the year 1900. The town was later called Jozye. Another group of Saints formed near Plantersville in a town called Dyers Mill, later called Stoneham. After 1941, the members from Dyers Mill met for a while in Navasota and the Bryan members traveled there also. By 1951, the members of Dyers Mill and the Navasota group joined the group that met in Bryan. On April 4, 1956, the group purchased a chapel site at 101 North Coulter rn Bryan, and construction began on Thanksgiving Day, 1956. The piano, s ong books, sacrament trays, and podium from Dyers Mill were used in the new chapel in Bryan. 1950 to 1979 Windel W. Culbreth 197 Bryan Legends and Legacies During the leadership of Windel W. Culbreth, the chapel was paid fo it was dedicated on February 19, 1960 with sixty members attending. Th Bryan branch became the Bryan Ward in 1963. By October 1971, membe ship in the Bryan Ward totaled around 360. On September 13, 1973, a ne chapel was built at 2500 Barak Lane in Bryan. In May 1981, the Bry was divided into Bryan I and Bryan II; the Bryan II ward eventuall moved to College Station at the new Stake Center built there. Presently tw wards meet at the Bryan chapel —Bryan I and a university ward of colleg students. The Spanish branch also meets there. The old podium, from the Dyers Mill Group and the early chapel o Coulter, is now located in the Navasota branch building. Windel Culbreth was born in Madison County, Texas on January 1 1917. He has a favorite saying, "It is important for things to be small befo they get large." Windel and his wife, Zuella, lived in Corpus Christi 1941 where Windel was employed with Southwestern Bell Telephone Co pany. He served in the Air Force from 1942 to 1945 as a cryptograph encoding secret messages, and was stationed on the Aleutian Islands. After World War II, the membership of the church on Coulter Dri grew, partly because of pilot training at the Bryan Air Force Base. Fifte to twenty Latter -Day Saints men were instructors or pilots in training, so of them with families. Because of the reopening of the Bryan Air Force Base, Windel Culbre was transferred to Bryan by his employer to coordinate activities betwe GTE and Southwestern Bell. The companies furnished communications s vice and equipment for the base. Windel, Zuella, and their young daughter, Anna, came to Bryan in F ruary 1952. Two more children were born to the Culbreth family in early days of the Bryan church — Windel, Jr. (Rusty) and Kathy. Rusty w blessed at the first meeting in the new building on Fast Sunday, March 1957. Early members have many fond memories of the construction of new church on Coulter. During bricklaying, the temperature dropped the three- foot -high brick wall had to be taken down and rebuilt. Win who had laid the first brick, was charged with watching over the structur 198 1950 to 1979 being built. He would stop and visit, with local saints, on his way to in the morning and again at lunchtime. ter the church building was completed and meetings were being held the chapel, concrete sidewalks still needed to be poured. Plans were made; concrete was to arrive at 9:00 a.m. and some of the Priesthood men were be on hand at that time. At 9:15, Windel Culbreth received a telephone nforming him that the concrete had arrived but the assigned men had The Relief Society women, who just happened to be meeting at the 1 at that time, came to the rescue and had the job half completed by me the men arrived on the scene. social activities of the early church were usually held in members' s. On one occasion, Windel and a few other men of the church paddled boat on the Navasota River, collecting mussels. When they returned, made chowder, and the families all came together for a feast. Kindel stayed active in the church and became branch president in at Normangee, Texas, while still living in Bryan. He also has been in family history work and served many years at the site of the present 1 on Barak Lane. Tindel retired from the telephone company in 1981 and is now ranch - He still enjoys family history work. He and his wife, Zuella, live in �. They are blessed with seven grandchildren whom they love very . They spend a lot of time with them and the rest of their family. 199 Bryan Legends and Legacies Growing Up in Candy Hill Sunny Nash Mr. Pruitt's Gymnastics Team 200 There we were, skinny eight - year -old girls, strutting around on our re gravel playground behind six- foot - three, muscular Mr. Pruitt. "Hold your chins up, ladies," he called over his shoulder. Nobody minded staying an hour or so after school. There was not much else to do after school. I could go home with Dora Jackson and watch her fry chicken for her sisters and brothers if it was her night to cook. I could go to Joan Robertson's house, sip iced tea, and look at old photographs that her mother kept handy for visitors. Or I could go over to Mr. Hines's house before Mrs. Hines got home and watch Mr. Hines feed his chickens. e "Before you little ladies learn any gymnastics routines or positions, you have to learn poise, posture, walking, sitting, and standing," Mr. Pruitt ex plained, motioning us to fall in behind him. "Let's keep walking." In the 1950s, the world had hardly even heard the word gymnastics. But Mr. Pruitt ordered this little book from someplace in Europe, I think, with stick figures in it showing positions for certain tumbling and floor routines We had seen Mr. Pruitt studying that little book over his lunch and had heard through the school grapevine that he would be picking a very sm and select group to train for his team. The classes at Washington Elementary School first through seventh grades took turns on the playground. It wasn't large enough for every clas at the same time. Some days, Mr. Pruitt took the portable bases out of the storeroom for a class to play softball. Other days, we played basketball on our dirt court or kicked up a cloud practicing our drill -team steps. On rainy days, we stood quietly around classroom windows watching puddles form in the middle of the school yard. 4 This particular day, however, Mr. Pruitt had taken the tumbling mats out of the storeroom and placed them on the grass under a thick canopy of trees at the end of the playground nearest the cafeteria. Oh, that little caf- eteria building always smelled so good. We had real food for lunch -- peaches that still had their fuzz, mashed potatoes that started out with their own skins, gravy that did not come from a jar, meat that was all meat and not part soy. The school nurse used the cafeteria for testing vision and hearing. We hated when she came in the morning. We were hungry for lunch and had to sit in the cafeteria smelling candied yams, steak smothered in onion gravy, collard greens, and corn bread baking in the oven. We were afraid Mr. Pruitt's tumbling and gymnastics team would be picked based on who had the longest ponytail or the lightest skin or whose parents were schoolteachers. Well, those things may have counted with some teachers, but not with Mr. Pruitt. "You have to put that hair up," he said to me one day. "I don't want you getting tangled up in it and strangling your- self." Mr. Pruitt wasn't impressed with anything but good straight headstands and walkovers. Having been a track star in college, he knew all about muscles and joints and didn't require all of us to do the same things. As a matter of fact, he said, the fastest way to be thrown out of the activity was to try something he'd warned was dangerous for your body type. It didn't take him long to screen out the girls who could do the routines in his little book of stick figures. We astounded the audience at our first performance. The Kemp Gymnasium was packed when we rolled out our mats and took the floor. Mr. Pruitt stood far enough to the side where he thought we couldn't see him. But I saw this wide grin creep across his face when I came out of my handstand. Smoke billowed out of the girls' restroom through cracks around the closed door. In the 1960s, no one got caught smoking at Washington Elementary School - -not the students, custodial workers, or teachers. I wondered who was dumb enough to be smoking at school. It was difficult to get into worse trouble than to get caught smoking. The paddling was bad enough, and 1950 to 1979 No Smoking on Campus 201 being sent home meant another paddling when parents found out. Seventh. grade boys may have returned to school after lunch smelling like cigarettes or chewing tobacco, but principal 0. W. Sadberry and vice principal Willie Pruitt needed no written policy to enforce the "no smoking rule" on campus rule. Smoking -- strictly prohibited at home and at school - -was fashionably displayed in magazines, movies, and television programs. In smoke - filled rooms, small ensembles played soft music and dancers whispered private ! conversations into each other's ears. Shiny lips dragged tar and nicotine through long glistening cigarette holders that rested between slender fin- gers tipped with manicured nails. Swirls of smoke circled overheard while loving couples toasted with sparkling champagne. Not as spectacular as a movie set, nearly every Candy Hill household that I went in and out of as an eleven - year -old had at least one committed smoker who scraped together small change and sent children to the store for a pack several times a day. "All the movie stars smoke," I said, thumbing through a magazine. "I wonder how a cigarette tastes. I'm going to smoke a cigarette when I grow Bryan Legends and Legacies up. "You go right on and smoke if you want to," said my grandmother. "But . your teeth are going to rust, your skin will be as dry as a lizard, your lips are going to draw up like an accordion, and your breath will stink like the exhaust of an old car. But you go right on and smoke if you want to." I pushed the restroom door open a little just to get a peek inside and have some fun. The cigarette smoke was thick, but I saw the two smokers puffing the stale tobacco they had stolen one cigarette at a time from their parent's packages. They were new girls at school who hadn't learned the rule yet. Everyone else in the restroom was coughing and waving their arms and hands. "Mr. Pruitt's coming!" I yelled, knowing that only the boys' restroom was regularly raided for cigarettes at recess. The girls emptied the restroom, scattered, and disappeared in the crowd on the playground. 202 1950 to 1979 Open -Door Policy We slept with our doors and windows open when I was a child. More con- cerned about attracting a summer breeze than a thief, I dropped my pillow by the open door on summer nights, stretched out on cool wood, and buried my face in the rough fabric. My nose found the slightly sweet scent of dust trapped in cracks between dead planks. Crickets gathered on the porch. I listened to their chatter imagining them knocking their knees together and choosing partners to square dance. A bird harmonized with a partner to the accompaniment of a chorus of evening bugs. The blades of a little black fan whirred. Perspiration formed in my hair and rolled down my face. Waiting for the sounds of branches to forecast a breeze, I turned my pillow to the cool dry side and listened to frogs croak in the ditch out front. Then, traces of air began dancing above my head. I tilted my face and felt the tickle of cool evening puffs relieving earth of the day's heat. Strings on the out -of- tune upright piano became haunted by the gradual change in temperature. When Wednesday Was Laundry Day I heard my grandmother humming a familiar hymn to the rhythm of her knuckles on the rub board and the periodic splashing of sudsy laundry water over the sides of her galvanized washtub. That must have been on a Wednesday because, in the 1950s, on Wednes- days our Candy Hill neighborhood was decorated with colorful clothes sway- ing in the breeze on backyard clotheslines. No one I knew had a real wash- ing machine, but I'd seen one in a magazine. Although I'd once heard my cousin James from Houston mention something called a Laundromat, I didn't know if such places existed in Bryan. And it didn't matter since most Candy Hill folks washed the old- fashioned way by hand. Miss Rosetta, a widow with no children at home who lived across the street, put out a small weekly handwash of lacy underthings, handkerchiefs, head scarves, and shiny nylon stockings. A beauty operator and owner of a store attached to the back of her house, Miss Rosetta had no time for laun- dry. She sent her sheets and towels next door to Miss Willie's laundry. 203 Bryan Legends and Legacies Aunt Gnat lived down the trail in back of our house. At least one huu, dred years old and having outlived all of her relatives, she was no one's aunt anymore. Her clothesline was full of assorted rags and odd -sized garments 1 couldn't recognize from a distance. Across the dirt road on the side of ou house, Mrs. Hines strung her clothesline and yard fence with Mr. Hines' blue denim coveralls and white longjohns, which she threw into a big black iron pot to boil out the smell of the chickens her husband raised. In the shadow of the house, I stood quietly out of sight. If my grand- mother knew I, or anyone else, was listening, the humming would stop. Never having heard her sing out loud, because she only made these sounds while doing the laundry, I wasn't sure if she could really carry a tune or if she was just shy about her voice. She wrung out a dress, cotton stockings, and my short blue rompers and tossed them in the rinse bucket. Thinking bib -front pants were for babies crawling on the floor and drool g P g ing, I hated wearing rompers. But every time I hid them, my grandmother found them and remarked that many babies were about my size, and if I didn't start eating vegetables that's the size I'd stay. She reminded me that I was a seven - year -old but could wear clothes meant for a doll Aunt Clara had sent me. People thought my mother was taking me to nursery school when she was taking me to first grade. My grandmother slapped my romper onto the rubboard and began grind- g ing out a week's worth of my sweat and the red dirt that drifted from the dusty road running in front of our house. Invading her private recital, I eased to the ground, resting my back against the house, and allowed muted tones that poured from her throat like warm honey to comfort me. Poor Vision, Stress, and Failing Grades I picked up a pair of socks so I could get ready for school. My grandmother always paired my socks, rolled them neatly, and nestled the little balls into a large straw basket on the dresser. The pile of white socks reminded me of Mr. Hines's hens' eggs, which he kept in the basket on his kitchen table. 204 1950 to 1979 Unable to focus my eyes on the tiny ribs in the fabric, I stared at the s ocks and felt my head begin to ache. My stomach was already upset. The d before, my nose bled most of the day. My inability to read, which prompted constant ridicule and being called dummy by my classmates, made me dread going to school. Easily, I was the most awkward student in school, running into walls, falling down steps, and getting lost in the building. I wouldn't have understood any lesson my first - grade teacher, Mrs. Walton, gave if my deskmate, Donald Ray Johnson, hadn't noticed me squinting at the board and handed me his thick glasses every now and then. Mrs. Redding's second -grade writing work was more a mystery because Donald Ray was not in my class that year. One day, I overheard teachers discussing that I should be sent to special education class. With that, I stopped trying to read and write what seemed so easy to everyone else. When I slipped one sock on my foot, my big toe poked through. "I sewed this hole up last week!" I whined. "I can't go to school. I'm tired of wearing old worn-out stuff." "Nothing wrong with wearing patches," my grandmother said over my shoulder. "But wearing a hole makes the hole bigger. Anyhow, when did you start caring about clothes ?" "I'm tired of always wearing white socks." I searched for excuses, know- ing clothes meant nothing to me. "I want socks that match my clothes." "All the socks are white for a good reason," she said. "If you had pink socks and one wears out before the other, you have to throw away the pair. If all the socks are the same, just throw away the worn-out sock." In the 1950s that must have been the Candy Hill sock rule. All the students - -boys and girls - -at Washington Elementary School wore white socks except my cousin Ethel, who dyed her socks to match her outfits. "I don't want to go to school today," I said. "I feel sick." "The school nurse is coming to check eyes today," my grandmother said. "I believe you're just about blind. That's the reason you can't learn." For the next eight years, until I got contact lenses, my classmates called Me old four eyes. But no one ever again called me dummy. 205 Bryan Legends and Legacies Monument to Segregation 206 The water sprinkler had saturated its soft green radius. I walked into spray and dragged the hose to an adjacent spot. I sat down under the warm droplets, thinking how I couldn't wait to be old enough to go to Kemp Hi School and be one of Mrs. Mel Pruitt's cheerleaders. But I still had anoth two years to spend at Washington Elementary School. The big kids on Candy Hill, the Graveyard Line, the West Side, the Fair View community on Highway 21 West, John M. Moore off Highwa 21 East, and other outlying parts of Brazos County received diplomas at Kemp High School, until someone set fire to it in the early 1970s when school desegregation of Bryan's public schools was imminent. The historic portion of Washington Elementary School was also burned to the ground Around that same time, a fire was set at Carver Elementary School but put out before any major damage was done to the structure. My cousin Lee White, who lived along the Graveyard Line, had started at Kemp High the year I was born, 1949. He was only thirteen when he began walking several miles to attend eighth -grade classes at Kemp. said his excitement wilted after he was selected for the football team and spent several days watching Coach Scurry pick through and try to salvage sports equipment discarded by Stephen F. Austin High School across town. "I expected to have old desks and old books from other schools," he said. "I don't know why I was surprised to see old worn -out football pads. i guess because I was five - foot -seven and weighed only 119! I needed lots of good padding!" Traveling to out -of -town games on a bus with missing seats and known to break down, the Kemp band didn't have enough instruments to go around Ridiculed by students in other towns, Kemp High band members proudly filled out their formation lines and marched empty -handed during halftime, activities. Lee said he decided not to play basketball. No gymnasium meant he would be playing on dirt, like he had for seven years at Washingtotf Elementary School. "Around 1950," he said, "a large metal building was erected as a gymnasium. The students were glad to get a gym so we could come in out of the rain." 1950 to 1979 During the 1950s and 1960s, the large dark tin barn served as shelter f basketball games, physical education programs, festivals, band rehearsal, pe p rallies, and other activities that attracted large crowds. Ventilated by crank-out windows high on the walls and an industrial fan at one end, the facility was referred to by some students as the barbecue pit. I tugged on the hose, dragged the sprinkler closer to me, and decided that I'd walk over to Kemp the next day and watch the cheerleaders prac- tice. Knowing Everything about Everything My ten - year -old cousin Margaret set out in 1959 to read all the books in the Carnegie Library, now a downtown Bryan historic building waiting for res- toration. The youngest daughter of my Uncle Evans and Aunt Lucille, Mar- garet had read all the books our Washington Elementary School had in its meager library, located in a teacher's classroom. I can't remember which classroom held the library, but I know we didn't have a real reading area in a separate room. I don't think the books were in Mrs. Byrd's room. I'd remember that because she was my teacher in third and fifth grades. Per- haps Mrs. Hall's room housed our literary treasure. Margaret read books so fast that she didn't have to check them out of the library most of the time. In two or three sittings, she was done with even a lengthy book and gone to the next one. Groups of students would sit and watch her flip through the pages faster than most could read the page num- bers. Never having known anyone with that kind of total concentration, teachers marveled at Margaret's speed and accuracy, but did little to en- courage or enrich her, and did nothing to urge her toward a college educa- tion. She used her largely ignored intellectual superiority and vocabulary that few could comprehend to entertain herself and dazzle schoolmates. Margaret knew about things on the other side of the earth, on top of the e arth, on the bottom of the earth, and inside of the earth. Before any of us knew what an empire was, Margaret had already read about Egyptian and Creek civilizations and the rise and fall of the Roman Empire and had in- f owed opinions about modern political systems and presidential candidates. Bryan Legends and Legacies Margaret knew what people in China grew in their gardens and what they ate for breakfast. She knew that silk came from worms and nylon from a te tube and that the walls in Japanese homes were made of paper. Why it rain in a forest in South America was of great concern to Margaret for a coupl of days, and equally important a few days later, was where sea creature laid their eggs. The summer before, Margaret had been the first and sometimes the onl my one to meet the bookmobile that came to Sadie Thomas Park in the morn. ings. When she entered the converted bus the last time, she discovered that there were no books left inside that she had not read. The only alternative she had was to challenge tradition and go where the books were - -behind the tall oak doors of the Carnegie Library. Going inside that white columned Southern plantation -style mansion offered my cousin no prizes, no awards, and no glory. Knowing everything about everything was something Marga. ret needed to do for herself. Feeling unwelcome, Black students never spent leisure time in the Carnegie Library. But Margaret did. And before long, the rest of us fol- lowed her there. What to Do When I Grow Up i In 1961, one of my eleven - year -old friends got me to thinking about things I didn't want to do with my life when I grew up when she told me she wanted to be a housewife. "Like Beaver Cleaver's mom ?" I asked. "Yes," she insisted. "Like June!" "And sit around all day dressed up ?" I asked. "With your hair in tight little frizzy curls like Lucy and Ethel ?" "Yes, a housewife!" she said. "Like Harriet Nelson!" "Waiting for Ozzie to come home ?" I asked. "You ever see Harriet wash dishes ?" she asked. "Or Donna Reed? TheY throw away the plates when they get dirty. Housewives don't do dishes laundry or floors. Some even have maids like Hazel." Walking home, I was confused. That housewife business didn't soup 1 not. 1950 to 1979 like anything I wanted to do. Who in their right mind would want to sit a r ou nd the house all day, tossing dirty plates in the trash and waiting for O to come home? My grandmother was sweeping the porch when I got home. She wasn't dressed up. But as usual, her crisp white apron covered a wrinkle -free print cotton dress; her stockings were gartered below the knee; her hair was cen- ter parted; and a neat braid lay on each shoulder. Laundry waved on the clothesline by the side of the house. The aroma of fresh pound cake was strong. "Are you a housewife ?" I asked, walking into the yard. "Yes," she said. "A maid who doesn't get paid." "Georgia said that's what she's going to be," I said. "Georgia wants to be a maid ?" My grandmother asked. "No, a housewife!" "Well, her chances of being a maid are better!" she said. "Because until she gets old like me and have to help out with her grandchildren, she will probably to have to work for somebody else whether she have a husband or My grandmother was right. There was not one young housewife on Candy Hill, but there were plenty of young maids. "I don't want to be a housewife or a maid," I said. "I want to be a boss like a man so I can make a lot of money and be more important than a housewife." "First of all, you don't know any men who are bosses." She breathed deeply. "Second, you think earning a lot of money will make you more important than a housewife or a maid ?" Feeling myself starting to sweat, I was trapped. Afraid to answer, I swal- lowed hard. "No," I whispered. "Well, it won't!" she scolded. "I don't care what you do for a living or how much money you make," she said. "You will sleep with your eyes closed and open your mouth to put in food just like all the other men and women on earth, whether they are maids, housewives, or bosses! Now come on in the house and let me show you how to make up a bed the right way." My grandmother took the sheets off the bed, bundled them, and tossed t hem into the corner. "Hand me a clean sheet," she said, pointing to a stack 208 209 • Bryan Legends and Legacies on a chair. "When you do it right, no wrinkles can hide under the spre You're old enough to know how to do some things around the house. T you learn to cook, time you learn to clean." Didn't she hear what I had just said? I wasn't interested in learning h to make a bed or cook or clean or do the work that most women I knew the 1950s and 1960s did in other people's houses. Besides my grandmo the neighborhood babysitter, exceptions were Miss Rosetta, who owne beauty shop and sold ice cream and sodas; Miss Willie, who operated laundry; and Miss Geneva, a hotel cook. In one motion, I handed my grand mother the snow -white folded sheet and turned to leave. "Come back here," she said. "I'm not keeping any rich woman's house when I grow up," I said. " rather work in a cotton field to make my living or shovel outhouses thasi clean up behind some woman who doesn't know where the salt is kept in own kitchen and doesn't have to know because she's got me to fetch it! ", With a glare, my grandmother pulled the sheet from my hand. "I don't clean up other people's messes for fun" were frequent words from my mother's pretty lips. "I would do a better job than most of thos¢, careless folks sitting behind desks downtown. I clean up houses becadil they're keeping the desk jobs for themselves and passing them to their chip dren. Cleaning up is the only money I'm allowed to make." Since May 17, 1954, when I was only four years old, my mother t about the Supreme Court case Brown v. Board of Education. Although s tical of a law meant to end separate- but -equal education, she explained that the Brown decision could mean that cleaning houses may not be my onili choice. My grandmother popped the sheet in the air to spread it over the mat tress. A corner of the sheet didn't quite make it to the other side of the Not wanting involvement in the operation, I folded my arms. Seeking fection, my grandmother popped the sheet again. Eyeing me from the ners of her lids, she popped the sheet again. And again, I made no mo Helping meant I agreed to make the bed. Next would be dishes, cookif' washing, scrubbing. "I'm not keeping anybody's house when I grow up," I said, watching 210 1950 to 1979 other make the bed. cking the last corner of the sheet tambourine tight, she said, "Sup - ou have a house of your own when you grow up." A Neighborhood Institution There was no mistaking that smell, floating like a huge aromatic cloud over West Bryan making everyone's mouth water! It was the smell of hamburg - rs- -real hamburgers -- round, ground meat patties frying on a greasy grill that was well- seasoned with charred drippings, salt, pepper, and tiny brown flecks of toasted onion. In the 1950s and 1960s, there were no precooked, prepackaged fast foods being hauled into Bryan in the backs of eighteen - wheeled refriger- ated trucks. All of the food, grown in local gardens or on nearby farms, was prepared from scratch right on the premises by the hands of neighborhood folks who generally owned the establishments and knew their regular cus- tomers by name or at least by face. The aroma of hamburgers grew, the closer I got to Littleton's Snack Bar on West 19th Street, now West Martin Luther King. Walking home from football and basketball games or other school activities in the evening or on Saturdays, Kemp High School students stopped at Littleton's to eat and socialize on the wooden picnic benches beside the tiny whitewashed build- ing, which was only large enough to hold a kitchen. Because it was walking distance from the campus, Littleton's monopo- lized the Kemp school -lunch business. Across the street from the Kemp campus, Scott's Place served balanced soul -food lunches and dinners of steak, pork, and chicken, vegetables and greens cooked with ham hocks, candied yams, mashed potatoes and gravy with fresh -fruit cobblers. Teach- ers and other adults ate at Scott's, which was too much like eating at home for students. With Mrs. Scott running the place, telling us where to sit, what t o eat, behave yourself, be quiet and finish your food, we might as well have been at home with our own mothers. Littleton's was our place. 211 I t Bryan Legends and Legacies "Hello, honey," said a smiling Mrs. Littleton, leaning down to the littl window to take my order. Her white uniform glowed in the sun. Her lon hair, pulled back in a bun, was tucked under a shimmery hairnet. "What ca I fix for you today ?" "A hamburger with everything," I said. "French fries and a cherry cola float. "That'll be 50 cents," she said. I carefully counted out 25 cents for the hamburger, 10 cents for the fries, and another 15 cents for the float and placed it on the counter. With the tip of her apron, Mrs. Littleton raked the coins into their proper place is the cash drawer. I never saw her touch money with her bare hands. Standing on my toes, I watched her take a fresh meat patty from the refrigerator, touching only the paper liner around the meat with her hands. She slapped my meat on the grill, and its smoke rose through the vent over the stove and joined the aromatic cloud that hung overhead. Until the late 1960s, when folks began to get their pleasure from corpo. rate gimmicks, clowns, drive - through windows, and flashy wrappers, Littleton's Snack Bar was our neighborhood institution. A Relic of Segregation I heard the sweet unseasoned sounds of saxophones and snare drums bou ing off the side of the barbecue pit, a nickname for Kemp's tin barn gymna- sium. Walking up West 19th Street, now Martin Luther King, I turned the corner by Littleton's Snack Bar and headed toward West 20th Street to the Kemp High School campus. I was just entering sixth grade at Washington Elementary School in the fall of 1960. All I could do at that time was dream of one day marching with the band, twirling a baton, or cheering from the sidelines wearing a shod' maroon skirt and white sweater with a capital "K" on the front. A drop of rain fell on my face. I climbed onto wooden slat seats at football field hoping that it wouldn't really rain because it was too hot follow the band into the barbecue pit at the far end of the field if they had continue rehearsal inside. With excitement, I watched fewer than twee 212 me mbers move in simple formation on the field, led by an impressive line of ta ssel - booted, baton - tossing, hip- swinging majorettes with smiles gleaming f innocent smooth brown faces. Most of the poor families that surrounded the school had no money for band instruments or uniforms. In fact, many Kemp students hired themselves out in the summer to local plantations as cotton field workers to earn money for school clothes and to help the family meet routine expenses. Participa- tion in the school band and other activities required that the school provide instruments, equipment, and uniforms that could not be homemade. Depending on hand -me -down horns from other schools, Kemp band members usually ended up with mostly reed instruments and very little brass. Using raw talent and worn-out horns with chipped finishes that had lost their tone and ability to shine, Mr. Webster, the band director, created an ensemble of uniquely mature and entertaining musicians who laid down the hottest jazz and blues licks in the district. Although the football team was a consistent loser, every other Friday night the air around the Kemp football field was filled with the smell of hot dogs and the sound of the band rocking 4 the bleachers with spontaneous jamming The original Kemp High School campus was in operation until 1964, when a new high school for Black students was opened and the old school began its new service as R. C. Neal Junior High. In the early 1970s, the original portion of this building burned, leaving only the outbuildings. To- day those outbuildings are used as special- services facilities for troubled students. Still standing, however, like a swollen unhealed wound of broken win- dows, scratches, and scars, the old Kemp gymnasium reminds us of a near- fatal illness that we have surely survived. Blackened by age, the barbecue pit is filled with yesterday's discarded, rejected, and retired junk, debris, and plain old trash that can no longer be passed down. 1950 to 1979 213 Bryan Legends and Legacies Yard Parties, a Candy Hill Necessity I was busy cutting hot dogs and pushing toothpicks into the little piec for our end -of- the -1960- school -year yard party. With no parks, game roo skating rinks, or soda fountains, Candy Hill kids had a summer tradition gathering in yards to listen to music, dance, play cards and dominos, shoot marbles and dice, or just sit around betting on who could spit the farthest. "You should boil the weenies," my twelve - year -old friend Queen Esth said, trimming off bread crust. "Who's bringing music ?" "Everybody's bringing records," I said. "I won't play any old time shuffle -along music; no country- westem; gut- bucket blues; only good blues - -Bobby Bland and B. B. King," she sal "And I'll have none of that offbeat, out -of -tune American- Band -Stan Johnny -Be -Good rock - and - roll!" "Cause you know if somebody's rocking and rolling," I said, laughin "they're up to only one kind of good - -no good!" We screamed with laughter, rolling our stomachs in a vulgar dance call the "Bacon Fat" like we'd seen women in beer joints do as we passed on our way home from school. "Why would somebody name their music after something fast -tail gir do with boys at night in the backs of cars ?" I said. "Too dumb to find out what it really means," she said, turning serious. "And no jazz! We can't dance to jazz!" "I like listening to some jazz," I said defensively. "You don't like jazz!" Queen Esther scolded. "You claim to like it be- cause you think it'll make you cool and different. You love James Brow Etta James, Sam Cook, and Booker T. and the MGs." We started hu the Booker T. and the MGs' hit "Green Onions" and made a few steps to the dance that went with it. "I wish we had Joe Daniels's music," Queen Esther said. "We can't ask Joe Daniels to haul his records and equipment over here to play for a bunch of kids," I said. "We had trouble coming up with money for weenies, bread, cheese, and Kool -Aid. That man has a band! And he's on the radio!" 214 1950 to 1979 1 music makes the party," she said. "If they can't dance to it, they'll a ct stupid, throw things, maybe even fight." Again, she was right. "Joe Daniels is on radio at two," she said. "Let's finish up here so we can run and tell eVe rybody the party will start at two instead of four." "That's too early!" I insisted. "No," said Queen Esther. "We can call the station and ask Joe to play requests! And after his show, we can play cards or dominoes. We all have to be home before dark anyway." Mr. Pruitt's Gymnastics Team is from Sunny Nash's upcoming book Candy Hill to be published by Texas A &M Press in 1996. The other stories by Nash have been previously published in the Bryan- College Station Eagle. Once My Child, Always My Child Missie Collier Do you remember Restwood Street and Clayton's Restaurant with its won- derful shrimp salad? On that corner there used to be a sign pointing to the dead end street ahead and reading "Mother Goose School." Jack- in -the- Box and First Federal Savings now occupy that corner. If you were not living here in 1959, you wouldn't have memories of this quiet wooded area, with the street ending at Burton Creek. Restwood ceased to be when a bridge was built over the creek and Villa Maria was extended to FM 2818. In those early days our children and their neighborhood friends could _ run freely, fish, wade, wander in the woods on both sides of the street and build their dream castles. Dr. Don Young and his wife, Nell, lived on the creek and encouraged them in bird watching. Children were everywhere. We had four, the Sheros, the Neumans, the Palmoses, and the Hansons all had large families. Mr. Hanson owned Hanson's Meats and Freezer Service and drew the children on the week- ends with his friendliness and barbecues! Mrs. Hannah, the children's librarian at Carnegie Library, lived across 215 Bryan Legends and Legacies the street from us on the corner of Restwood and Maloney. She loved to tell stories and read to the children. In the midst of this "heaven for children" was the Mother Goose School, located in the cul -de -sac of Restwood where Burton Creek flowed unbridled, Ivan and I took over the school and moved into it in 1959. I didn't like being called "Mother Goose" and promptly changed the name to "Collie School." In the front yard of the school we installed a huge train bell we had found in Brownwood; the bell tempted children to ring it, day and night. 4 In the late fifties, there were no regulations for day care, kindergarten or private first grade; no license was required. The formation of the Brazos Valley Association for the Education of Young Children, a branch of the Texas and National associations, was the best thing to happen for children being served by these facilities. The Association, a group of educators (vol- unteers), held classes for anyone interested. Teachers in public schools, day care workers, and parents attended. Early kindergartens in Bryan were Margaret Beard's Happy Day on Cavitt Street and the Mother Goose Kindergarten and First Grade on Restwood, run by Louise Orr and Ann Grant. In College Station were Mary Lyle's Wee Aggieland, with students who wore uniforms, Mrs. Medley's Musical Kindergarten, and Mrs. Hardaway's Kindergarten and First Grade. Later, Melba French had five schools, which she eventually sold to Kinder -Care. Many churches began to offer day care. Public school kinder- gartens, for all children, started in Bryan in 1974. When Ivan and I bought the school from Amy Grant, Margaret Zuber, a longtime teacher in public school, taught the first grade. Ruth Wilcox fol -� lowed her and taught first grade at Collier School for sixteen years. Like Mrs. Hardaway of College Station, Mrs. Wilcox was a strict disciplinarian. Mrs. Wilcox had started her teaching career in Tabor's one - teacher school, where she arrived early, started the fire to heat the school and put the beans on to cook for lunch. Before retiring, she taught in several schools around Bryan and Houston. In 1987, when we sold our school after 28 years and over 3,000 stu dents, three pupils who had started in Ruth Wilcox's first grade were Na tional Merit Scholars: Lori Brossman and Erik Tielking, who were gradu 216 1950 to 1979 ates from Bryan High School, and Cari Chui, from A &M Consolidated Hi School. Three in one year was quite a record! In the first years of Collier School, segregation was the custom. I re- me mber the first black student. By 1972 we realized the times were chang- ing. One day, Ruth Wilcox and I sat looking out the window as Brian Seastrunk approached the school with his mother. Ruth said, "Missie, let's take him," and we enrolled Brian as our first black student. He has now finished medical school and is doing his internship in anesthesiology in San Antonio. The school grew with the area. Colorful memories of its years on Restwood Street are still topics of conversation. One time, during heavy rains, Burton Creek flooded over its banks like a raging river. Collier School never flooded, even though in previous years water had come into the kitchen. During one of these floods, John Collier and another boy, T. D. Palmos, climbed into the family rowboat and were swept along by the swift current. Frightened fish jumped into the boat and snakes swam beside it. The boys were thrown out of the boat and managed to make their way up the slippery banks by clinging to vines--poison ivy! Healthy cases of rash gave them misery for a week. Those floods left rich ground in which Collier students planted and tended garden plots on the corner of Texas Avenue and Maloney Street, now occupied by the Dairy Queen. ▪ Not long after the boys' boating escapade, cement was laid on the banks of the lower part of the creek so that the water could flow more freely, and the flooding stopped. • Our son, John Collier, raised a calf on the back part of the lot as a 4 -H project; it grew into a cow and took seventh place at that year's exhibition. The children at the school liked to reach through the fence to pet the calf during its growing -up days. The eventual closing of the Air Force base at Bryan Field (now the Texas A &M Riverside Campus) didn't slow the growth of Collier School. Ivan and I began looking for a new location. Bill Scasta, a builder, took us in his truck to a ten acre field at the end roadmoor that had one small water tank, one tree and tumbled fences. 217 Bryan Legends and Legacies Doves, rabbits and other creatures abounded. According to Scasta's map, proposed streets for the area were named Barak, Tanglewood and Midwest. All trees had been cut down to make room for the housing development. From the map, Ivan and I chose a plot on Barak Lane. After the school moved, son John and a friend delivered The Eagle on horseback down the tree shaded trail that is now Tanglewood. Later, when Bryan High School was built at 29th Street and Barak, the entrance to Briarcrest County Club was a gravel road way out in the coun- try. St. Joseph's Hospital opened its new facility in 1971 in the mushroom- ing area. Our new Collier School opened in the fall of 1968. Having had the experience of home and school housed in one building, we wanted to con- tinue this homelike atmosphere for the small children. We planned for a storage room and a restroom to be built into each of the six classrooms. The living quarters, four bedrooms and two baths, were upstairs. The Forest Service furnished one hundred small trees. Each child planted a tree along the property line, which became his or her tree to protect. Cot- tonwood sticks about a foot long were professionally planted to provide quick shade for the acre of treeless playground; in a very short time they grew into huge, leafy trees. The busy world of noise and hustle and bustle hadn't yet reached the area. Collier School students and teachers enjoyed nature walks in the thic woods beyond the present location of Stephenson's Clinic; there was n Briarcrest Drive. They sat still to listen to the birds and falling leaves an the frogs in the small water tank. One day there was a deer in the space th is now Bryan High School's Campus for Human Sciences. With the new school came a new cook, Hal lie Carter, who had a heart big enough for everyone. Lunch was a big deal at Collier's. Hal lie woul peel 20 pounds of potatoes without blinking an eye, and her corn bread w the talk of the town. Many parents called for the recipe, but they receive only an approximation because it required transforming a recipe that served a hundred people into one for a single family. Hal lie was "mother" to every one, children and adults alike. By 1987, because of my age and the loss of Ivan three years earlier, 218 ed that I must retire. With a heavy heart I said goodbye to the school t had also been my home for 28 years, to Hal lie, and to the children who been loaned to me. But I remember all my children with love. "Once child, always my child!" Momma, I Want to be a Police Officer When I Grow Up Miguel Orozco ave always wanted to be a police officer. In the early 1960s at the age of a police officer friend told me that the police department was taking lications. I applied, and after several months of background investiga- n checks and interviews, I was accepted as a Bryan Police Officer on tober 15, 1960. I started as a patrolman. I had to buy my own police uipment, uniforms, and accessories. I was the first Hispanic police officer the history of Bryan. There were a lot of things different at that time. For example, there was only one Black officer, and he was allowed to patrol only the Black neigh- borhoods. He was not allowed to write tickets nor stop Anglo citizens. In contrast, I was allowed to perform the same duties as the other Anglo offic- ers. Even though I was a bonafide police officer there were some older Anglo citizens who resented being stopped by a Hispanic officer. That was new to them. I understood their feelings and tried to let them say what they felt. I had many funny encounters in this respect, but I remember one incident in Particular. I was on patrol around 28th Street and Main when I observed an older Anglo gentleman driving a pickup truck. He failed to stop for a red traffic light, so I immediately stopped him, lights flashing on my marked patrol car. He appeared confused. I was amused because I had an idea why he was confused. I asked for his drivers license and told him why he had been stopped. I issued him a citation, asked him to sign it, and told him to see our city judge within ten days. He looked at me very preoccupied and said, "Is this a real ticket, and are you suppose to stop me ?" After I acknowl- 1950 to 1979 219 Bryan Legends and Legacies edged yes to both of his questions, he looked at me and then stated that he thought Mexican police officers were not supposed to stop Anglo citizens. I told him that no one had advised me of that rule, and so I bid him a good day and went back to my patrol car. I understood his feelings but never had any problems. I only thought it was amusing. 1 Later in my career, around May 1965, I was promoted to the rank of sergeant and in 1970 was promoted to lieutenant. I maintained the rank of lieutenant until my retirement from the Bryan Police Department in 199 after 33 years of service. During my career, the City of Bryan grew from 15,000 in population in 1960 to over 53,000 in 1993. My work was pleas- ant and very rewarding. I made many friends, especially in the growin Hispanic community. My motto for a successful career is "Treat everyone you would like to be treated under the same circumstances. And always be fair but firm." St. Michael's Academy Constance Brown One winter Sunday afternoon in 1972, a group of people sat in the parlor of St. Andrew's Episcopal Church in downtown Bryan, discussing the kind of education they wished they could offer their children. Helen Spencer and Georgia Frazer, who loved teaching Sunday School together, almost simul taneously came up with the same idea, "Let's start an Episcopal School! The idea caught fire with the other people in the room, and St. Michael' Academy was conceived. By April, with the signing of the charter, the school was born. Tho who signed the original charter were Father Joseph Frazer, then rector of St. Andrew's, his wife Georgia, Dr. James and Mrs. Helen Spencer, Dr. Clyd Caperton, Ms. Florence Furubotn, and Ms. Jane Hafner, all of Bryan-Co lege Station, and Dr. Leonard and Mrs. Carol Coleman of Navasota. In September 1972, under the leadership of Dr. Spencer, St. Michael' Academy opened its doors to seventy students in grades kindergarten through seven. The school was downtown, at East 29th and Washington. Students 220 1950 to 1979 Were treated to a full classical curriculum: they learned math and science, they explored the ancient world in Georgia Frazer's exciting history classes, t h e y studied English and French, and they started Latin at the tender age of eleven. The fourteen teachers were having a wonderful time teaching their pupils to love learning. In the first grade, having perhaps the best time of all, was Mrs. Louise Coke, who had recently celebrated her retirement from a lifetime of teach- ing in College Station schools. She couldn't resist the invitation to step r ight back into teaching. Mrs. Coke lived her childhood on College Av- enue, and she had wonderful stories to tell about her girlhood in old Bryan. The children loved those stories. One of their favorites was about how Mrs. Coke and her sister would walk to school through the fields between Col- lege Avenue and Stephen F. Austin, being careful to allow enough time to skirt the territory of a mean old bull and still get to school before the bell rang. The history of their own community became real to the pupils in this brand new school; they heard it from a born storyteller who had lived it. Little did they know that they were becoming part of that history. Mrs. Coke taught at St. Michael's for fifteen years, at times welcoming to her classroom the grandchildren of former pupils from her lifetime of teaching. As the years went by, it became tradition to celebrate important days (especially St. Michael's Day) with drama. In 1979, the biggest drama tra- dition began- -the annual Gilbert and Sullivan operetta. Every year since then, the community has been treated to another Gilbert and Sullivan pre- sented by the whole school, from the fifth grade up. Usually the perfor- mances have been on the school's stage, but when it becomes necessary, other stages have been used - -First Presbyterian Church one year and `Magination Station in 1995. Of course, there was soon pressure to continue the curriculum into the upper grades; so St. Michael's gradually expanded through high school, and by 1983 the first senior had graduated. Since then, forty -one more stu- dents have completed school at St. Michael's and many more have received at least a part of their education there. Graduates have headed out to col- l eges and universities across the country. The school itself has traveled a bit. The downtown location was soon 221 Bryan Legends and Legacies too small; so in 1974 the Academy moved south to South College Avenu where it was able to continue adding space as the school expanded. O Christmas vacation, passersby were startled to see the chapel's roof h fallen in. A sudden need for a new chapel created a burst of energy, and the new building, designed by David Woodcock, soon graced South Colleg Avenue. However, by the mid 1980s, the school's Board of Trustees real. ized that more expansion was needed than the existing campus could handy Across College Avenue, adjacent to Faith United Church of Christ, a complex of office buildings stood unfinished for years, clearly waiting to occupied by a few hundred enthusiastic learners and teachers. The St. Michael's Board, headed by Peter McIntyre, paced through the shells building, imagining classrooms, labs, and workrooms. "Let's go for it!" th said, excited but apprehensive. They did. They bought the property, and volunteers led by Mark Wrigl and Kirk Brown toiled for four years to finish the buildings, one by one. As the first building was finished, the Upper School moved in. Then the Day Care Center and the Preschool followed them across the street. Now Michael's lay on both sides of a busy street, a very difficult situation. original plan had included a cleverly engineered crossing tunnel under Co lege Avenue, but that was not economically feasible. So the decision was made: increase the pace of renovation and finish all the buildings as fast as possible. At last came the great day: school opened in August 1994 entirely on the new campus. There was space to spread out, and space in which envision the future: a gym and a chapel/drama center. The tall, blue -gray buildings at 2500 South College Avenue now sere 175 children and youth - -from infants in the nursery to high school s dents - -who learn, worship, and play at St. Michael's because of the visi and action of a group of people in a church parlor in 1972. The chape building on the old campus will continue to serve children; Twin City Mi sion is readying it for Sheltering Arms, a children's shelter. Another new era is about to begin. In the summer of 1995, after twenty three years of service, Dr. and Mrs. Spencer retired as Heads of the School. They have been not only founders of the school but also founders of the many traditions that make St. Michael's such a vibrant place and keep ali 222 1950 to 1979 i sense of history-- celebration of Michaelmas, the medieval Christmas play, the Gilbert and Sullivan operetta each spring, the May festival. Patricia Nordstrom, the new Head, comes to St. Michael's from Friends Seminary in N York City, but years ago she taught math at St. Michael's. She under- stands the school's traditions. Under Mrs. Nordstrom's headship, the past and the future will be closely related —as they should be in a school that has always emphasized a love of history and an eagerness for what is to come. pi Reflections of a Fiestas Patrias Reina (Queen) Clementine Gonzales Orozco In the early 1950s at the age of seventeen, I came to Bryan, Texas in search of employment that would ultimately lead me to a comfortable standard of living. I was searching for a job that would help me to support my parents who were living on a farm near Navasota. First, I was a waitress in a restaurant. I commuted to Bryan once a week, living with friends and their families between trips. I met many nice people, and I believed that Bryan would continue to grow and would become a wonderful place to live. During the early 1950s, the League of United Latin American Citizens (LULAC) was organized in Bryan. This organization, seeking to promote the cultural heritage of the Hispanic community, formed a committee to nominate candidates for reina (queen) of the Fiestas Patrias (Patriotic Fes- tival). The reina would reign at the festivities that would be held on Sep- tember 15 and 16. Fiestas Patrias commemorates Mexico's call for inde- pendence from Spain. The committee selected four candidates, and I was one of them. We were given a set procedure to follow that challenged each of us to work and raise money through projects and personal contacts. I worked on personal contacts and fund raising events, such as dances; some o f the proceeds supported my candidacy. One week prior to the Fiestas P atrias, I was declared the winner and the Reina of the Fiestas Patrias. I 223 Bryan Legends and Legacies 224 received $150 for my wardrobe. My parents and I made a trip to Houston to purchase my dress. It was a beautiful, long white dress with a long train similar to a bride's dress. Other purchases included a crown, shoes, and a lovely wand. The LULAC organization prepared a large wooden platform with wooden benches surrounding it for all the activities of the Fiestas Patrias on Sandy Point Road outside the Bryan city limits. There was a stage for the band and a podium for the speakers. It was a fabulous festival with red, green, and white colored papers, representing the colors of the Mexican flag. The fes- tival gave people an opportunity to enjoy a variety of Mexican food at con- cession stands. I will always cherish the memory of September 15, 1952 when I was crowned the first LULAC Reina of the Fiestas Patrias by the Honorable W. T. McDonald, Sr., District Judge. The coronation was followed by speeches about the Mexican heroes who fought for Independence. I deliv- ered a speech on the Mexican Flag. As a child, I was taught to celebrate the 15th and 16th of September, and I have continued this tradition throughout my adult life. Bryan, Texas and LULAC gave me an opportunity to grow and expand my horizons. I am very grateful and I will always share my experiences with the youth of our community as I encourage them to continue their educa- tion. This wonderful community has given me much and I know it will do the same for others. FIVE Timeless Stories Photo Credit: "Mr. Zuki" and his brother Chato, San Antonio, Texas, 1942. Timeless Stories Cutting Out a Place in Time Brent Zwerneman Time stands still in a little shop on Bryan's Main Street, where the barbers call you Mr. Smith or Mr. Jones, and if you happen to be a stranger they'll call you "Mister" until they know your name "We're probably one of the last places in town to have one of these," says Nap Cole, pointing to an old black dial telephone. It's not that Mr. Cole, owner and barber of the City Barber Shop at 107 S. Main St., couldn't afford a touch -tone phone, it just somehow wouldn't be right. The barber shop opened in 1838 and Mr. Cole is only its third owner. He bought the place in 1983. The barbers and their customers take pride in its timelessness, because in a world and community of change, it's the way things used to be. You couldn't stir people with a stick on the sidewalk in those days," says Tom Dodson, pointing out the window. Across the street, a pigeon rests on a ledge on the old, quiet Queen Theater. Mr. Dodson, a barber at the shop for 20 years- -who cut hair in College Station for 20 years prior to that -- continues to look out the window and remembers another time. "You would see your neighbors on the streets," he says. "You would park and walk the streets and see neighbors you hadn't seen in two or three weeks." What with telephones and shopping malls, things aren't the same, Mr. Dodson says. "That's just the changing of the times," Mr. Cole offers. Both agree t hings will never . be the same downtown, even with restoration of some of the old buil On this particularly cold January day, Mr. Cole backs up to the gray Dearborn gas heater and warms his back. "1 get up early every morning just to come here and stand by this," he sa ys. Not even central heat can match the feeling of warmth. "This fire, you 227 Bryan Legends and Legacies can back up to it and you know you are warm." Anyone famous ever visit here? Mr. Dodson takes down a black- and -white photograph of himself Lyle Lovett, standing outside the barber shop door. "He made a video outside there in '89 or '90." Mr. Dodson says. "Th was before he met Miss Julie." Over near the front, J. T. Hedge busily shines a boot. "I've been here off and on 28 years," he says. "My dad (Jessie Head) shined at this shop 42 years." Near the back of the store, a bone -dry fountain juts from the wall. A wooden keg used to sit above it where the ice man would drop blocks of ice, Mr. Cole says. A 12 -foot broom sits in the back serving no other purpose than being all oddity and an antique. "This is the broom you sweep off the ceiling with," Mr. Cole says as he dusts the only visible remnant of the original pressed tin in the place - -in the back room. The ceiling has been lowered since the 1950s, so the broo mostly sits idle. Other relics are a 1920 cash register, an old scissors sharpener on a' back shelf, a big red chair from the LaSalle Hotel, and a picture of down. town Bryan dated 1910. Two men stand by the cash register, their necks freshly shaven. Frank Kubin, Texas A &M University Class of 1939, tells of the days he used to catch a train for a nickel in College Station and ride it to Bryan, where would watch Tom Mix westerns. But that was the past, and here he is in the present. Mr. Kubin says his wife is waiting for him with a list of chores. He's reminded with a wink it's cold outside, and he may not get them done. "There's plenty of work to do on the inside," he says before walking out the door and into the cold, to the laughter and nods of those still feeling warmth of the barber shop. From the Bryan College Station Eagle, January 8, 1995. Early Southern Italian immigrants to the Brazos Valley were largely Catho- lic. Though devout and faithful practitioners, their lack of knowledge of the English language and inadequate transportation greatly decreased church attendance. Catholic priests began visiting and holding services in residences around Brazos County as early as 1860. In 1865, a group of students studying for the priesthood in Galveston were brought to the Koelsh's farm ten miles north of Bryan primarily to escape the yellow fever epidemic raging in Galveston at the time. The first resident priest arrived in 1876 and St. Joseph's Church, the first Catholic Church in Brazos County, was built in 1878. When this church burned, Mass was held on the second floor of the John Daly Building on Main Street while a new church was built. Because the Italian immigrants living in the Brazos bottom land were predominantly Catholic, they were often visited by the priests from the newly built St. Joseph's Church. But their large numbers showed the need for their own church, and a new parish was established in 1896 when St. Anthony's Catholic Church was built on Polk Avenue in Bryan. Rosa Patranella Shimen was the first baby to be baptized at St. Anthony's. The ceremony took place on June 20, 1896 and was performed by Father A. Petillo. Father Peter Villani, Father Basil Bravi, and usually two Catholic Sis- ters would go to the Steele's Store community once a month to teach cat- echism classes for First Holy Communion. They taught in a small building in front of the existing two -story school building. Barney Cotrone, born in Steele's Store, remembers that there was a platform near this little building where the priest would give his sermon. On days when the priests would visit the community to say Mass or give Catholic catechism classes, local ladies would alternate serving meals to them. When the Bishop came from 401 .Galveston once every four years to perform the Confirmation ceremony, tr aditional dress was all white for both boys and girls. In later years, Cat- Timeless Stories Religion and the Italian Heritage Rosemary D. Boykin 228 229 Bryan Legends and Legacies echism and Sunday school classes moved to St. Anthony's Church on it i regular basis, due primarily to the efforts of Mrs. Josephine Perron Patranella. The original frame building, which had served as St. Anthony's Church was destroyed by fire in 1926, and the present church built at 308 Sou Parker Avenue was dedicated in December 1927. Josephine Patranella lated a story about the naming of the church. Two principal groups of i grants had their respective patron saints: the Poggiorelese worshipped Anthony, while St. Luke was the revered saint of the Corleonsese. Agr ment on the chosen name for the new church could only be reached drawing a name out of a hat. Bryan was the only city in the Diocese of Galveston permitted to have national churches, that is, churches officially recognized for ethnic parish- ioners. St. Joseph's Catholic Church is the designated national church for German, Czech, and Polish settlers; Santa Teresa Church is the national church for Spanish speaking settlers; and St. Anthony's Catholic Church is considered to be a national church for Italian settlers. The celebration of St. Joseph's Altar on or near March 19 each year is l i an ancient Sicilian tradition that immigrants brought to the United Sta and to the Brazos Valley. The custom of St. Joseph's Altar was started ge erations ago in Sicily by farmers who prayed to St. Joseph to end a drought, which had resulted in famine. Their prayers were answered with the much needed rain. The harvest of their staple crop, the fava bean, was abundant' and the farmers showed their gratitude by providing the poor with an "altar of food." St. Joseph has always been revered as the patron of peace, a happy home, and charity to the poor. Families devoted to him extend hospitality to all who come to their door. And so, the recreation of the farmers' altar food came to be called St. Joseph's Altar. Families desiring to honor St. Joseph get together for cooking and bak ing of traditional Italian foods. As a rule, an altar has three sides consisting of a stair -step arrangement of wooden shelves in a pyramid fashion, covered with lace cloths and decorated with small statues of the honored saint, Jesus. Mary, and sometimes other saints. Floral arrangements and many varieties 11 III111111 11 11 230 Timeless Stories o f traditional Italian cookies are included, such as elaborately decorated fi cookies and small cakes, biscotti, aneli (small rings), andpignolati (honey clusters). Lula Mae Perrone, longtime resident of Steele's Store, f remembers the enjoyment she received in baking for the Altars, es- pecially the "fancy fig cookies." A traditional spaghetti dinner is served to the many guests attending. Since the holiday falls during the Lenten season, meat is not used in the cooking. Pasta e sugo (spaghetti with sauce) with toasted bread crumbs (representing sawdust from St. Joseph, the carpenter), hard- boiled eggs (sug- gesting new life), and sometimes, tuna fish is served. Picciodoras (braided bread), representing the "crown of thorns," may also be served. The hostess of the St. Joseph's Altar designates people to represent dif- ferent saints, including an honored pair representing Joseph and Mary. On the morning of the feast, Joseph leads the other saints around the house and knocks three times on doors, as he did so long ago at the doors of the inns in Bethlehem. Not until the third try are the saints admitted. Throughout the week preceding the actual Feast Day, prayer services are held each evening during which the Holy Rosary is recited. Finally, on the Feast Day, those persons selected to represent the Holy Family march in a small procession near the altar. They take their place at a special table to preside over the festive meal while the guests eat. These traditions are still followed. Lena Bush Salvaggio has had at least seventeen St. Joseph's Altars, sometimes referred to as St. Joseph's Tables. She began helping at the age of twelve with the planning of the decorations and putting up the frame in her home. One year Mrs. Salvaggio served approximately 700 people. June 13 is the celebrated feast day of St. Anthony, patron saint of the Italian church in Bryan. Earlier celebrations included vespers followed by band music. Today it is celebrated in many ways, including special Masses, church picnics, and bazaars. When early residents of the area drove their buggies or wagons to Bryan for this special day it was quite an occasion. In order to keep the children looking clean and fresh for their arrival at church, mothers would take along a fresh suit of clothes for the children to change 111111 11 231 Bryan Legends and Legacies into before their arrival. Lena DiMaria Canavespe remembers having to '' keep her Sunday hat in a special hat box so it wouldn't fade from the sun or''�' get dusty from the trip. Adapted from The Italians of Steele's Store, Texas by Rosemary DePasquale Boykin, 1993. Viva Italia! Andrea T. Pool Generations ago in Sicily, farmers suffering from a severe drought prayed ,� to God through St. Joseph for help. Shortly thereafter, their prayers were when a ship filled with wheat docked near their farms in south- ern Italy, saving many from starvation. In thanksgiving, the Italian farmers erected St. Joseph's Altar, a three - sided display of baked goods decorated with lace cloths and statues of Mary, Jesus, Joseph, and other saints. Every year in March, that same celebration is held at St. Anthony's Catholic Church in Bryan, serving to remind the parishioners not only of God's mercy but also of their Italian heritage. Many of the members of St. Anthony's are descendants of the more than 3,000 Italians who immigrated here in the mid to late 1800s. Brazos County once boasted the largest Italian settlement in Texas, and the Italian immigrants made up the largest European-born community in the Brazos Valley. Since their arrival here, the Italians have made their mark on Brazos County, with special emphasis on farming, food, faith, and family. Johnny Lampo, who once owned Pizza Huts of Brazos Valley, says both his grandfathers sold everything and came to New Orleans in the late 1890s. "To me, that was a great act of courage," Lampo says. "To leave your native land, to leave without any money, not being able to speak the lan- guage. They knew that anything they came to over here had to be a better life. All they wanted was a piece of land, to work the land, and feed their family. That was their main ambition." 232 Timeless Stories Some Italian immigrants, such as Lampo's grandfather, stayed in New Orleans to work in the sugar cane fields until they saved enough money to move on to the Brazos Valley to farm. It was common for landowners to pay the immigrants' fares to come to the United States, says Bryan resident Charles Marco Patranella, a former high school English teacher whose great - grandmother came here from poggioreale, a small village in southern Italy. The immigrants would, in return, live on the landowners' land and work in their fields. Many Italians settled in Steele's Store, a small community about 10 miles west of Bryan. They came to the Brazos Bottom area because it re- portedly had the best farmland in Texas, says Rosemary DePasquale Boykin, author of The Italians of Steele's Store, Texas, a book about local Italian heritage. Despite the rich soil, many Brazos Bottom farmers struggled to survive because of severe flooding. In 1889 alone, two serious floods left 25,000 acres of land under water. The problem was not alleviated until the U. S. government began building a series of levees beginning around 1911. *' The floods prompted many immigrants to leave the area and move to Galveston, Dallas, and Fort Worth, Boykin says. Some of those who stayed, however, later benefitted from the discovery of oil in the Brazos Bottom area. Owning land was important to those early Italian farmers and remains so to many today. Many of the current Brazos Bottom landowners are de- scendants of the Italian tenant farmers who first settled there. Josephine Perrone Patranella was recently honored by the Texas Family Land Heri- tage program for having had the same land in her family for 100 years. That land is the oldest farm in the county still run by the original family owners. "I love land," says Patranella, who since July has been restoring her parents' home in Steele's Store. Some of the succeeding generations decided not to farm and slowly migrated into Bryan. Many went into the grocery, produce, or other food - related businesses. Mike's Grocery, owned by L. J. Ruffino and located at 7 07 E. 23rd St. in Bryan, has been in business since 1942. Other food - related, Italian-owned businesses in Bryan- College Station include Readfield 233 Bryan Legends and Legacies Meats retail division, owned by Larry, Roland, and Richard Ruffino; Ferreri's restaurant, owned by Joe Ferreri; Tejas Restaurants, John and Frank Lampe Scarmardo Produce, Mark Scarmardo; and Farmer's Market, Bladge DiLeo Other businesses, but by no means all of them, that are owned by local Italian- Americans include the Texas Hall of Fame (Paul Emola); JJ's Pack. age Stores (J. J. Ruffino); Taste of the Tropics (Thomas Boykin); Court's Saddlery & Western Wear (Jimmy Court); Gooseneck Trailers (David and Mark Carrabba); TAVS (Ross and Vancie Todaro); Doggett Auto Parts (Donny Ruffino); Emola Service Co. (Darryl Emola); Handy Drive In (Greg and Judy Haas); Margaret Halvorson School of Dance (Margaret Halvorson); and U- Rent -M, Party Time Rentals, and Clo -Jo's Formal Wear Rental (Cullen Mancuso). Although many came to the United States for economic reasons, they also hoped for a better education for their children. Many Italian immi- grants had not had an opportunity to go to school in Italy, because they needed to work. But they passionately wanted their children and grandchil- dren to be educated. "All I wanted for my family was to educate or give them the opportunity to get an education and to be good American citizens," Lampo says. "I I've done that. I'm very proud of my family." Many who arrived in the United States were illiterate. Often, Boy says, the immigrants would tell the customs agents what their names we but would be unable to spell it. The customs agents would spell the nam phonetically, and discrepancies in spelling (Scamardo vs. Scarmardo, fo example) would result. Then, as now, religion played a large part in the lives of the Italians, as the Catholic Church served as their religious and social center. Since the early immigrants did not speak English at first, two priests were sent from Italy to Brazos County. Charles Patranella says the church was important because it was a rem nant of home. It also helped the different Italian cultures mingle. The Ital ians who settled here came primarily from three villages in Sicily in south ern Italy: Corleone, Poggioreale, and Salaparuta. Although only 12 or 15 miles apart, each village was different in culture and attitude. 234 Timeless Stories The Italians were reluctant to mix with immigrants who had come from a different village. According to the book, Italian Experience, Sicilians from the village of Poggioreale settled on the west side of the Brazos River, a nd those from Corleone built their homes on the east side. But they came into contact with each other through the church, which helped them assimi- late. However, it was not until the early 1940s, Boykin says, that marriage was acceptable between people whose ancestors had come from different villages. In 1927, the Italians of Brazos County built St. Anthony's Catholic Church, located at 306 S. Parker Ave. in Bryan. The congregation today is still about 75 percent Italian, says the Rev. John Malinowski. Joseph Patranella, whose family also helped built St. Anthony's says the name of the church was decided by the luck of the draw. People from Corleone wanted it to be named for St. Leo Luca, and those from Poggioreale wanted it to be named for St. Anthony, both of whom are patron saints in Italy. The members could not decide, so the names were put in a hat and St. Anthony's was drawn. One of those who helped build the church was Johnny Lampo's father, Lampo, who also served as sacristan for the parish for about 25 years. "The sacristan takes care of everything for the priest," Lampo says. "He the wine ready; he gets everything ready for the service." Other traditions have centered on family and home. For example, in t Italian families, the firstborn son is named after his grandfather. How- , Lampo decided to relieve his son of that tradition. "He came to me and said he was going to name him John Lampo. I said, 'Son, I'm John Lampo, you're John Lampo, and there are cousins all over named John Lampo. I'm going to relieve you of tradition if that's what's bothering you. - "We probably have the only Italian baby west of the Mississippi named hary Taylor Lampo," he says proudly. Lampo says that his family enjoys special dishes to mark occasions, C as Sicilian pizza and Italian pastries at Christmas. The dishes are simple ake because they originally were cooked by peasants. 235 Bryan Legends and Legacies "It's funny how most traditions revolve around food," says Lampo' son, Chris Lampo. "You keep the food alive, you keep the traditions alive." Johnny Lampo says the local Italians still play games such as bocce, also called lawn bowling, which is similar to bowling and played with wooden balls. He says his children are also interested in maintaining tradition. "Sometimes it's surprising how much they're interested," he says. Family is one of the most important things in the Italian community. "We have a good, tight -knit family and we try to get together once a month on Sunday," says Lampo, who adds his father influenced him greatly. "His philosophy was to enjoy life while you're young and healthy. He spent every nickel he made on his family, enjoying life. He was a fun guy. In many Italian families, children tend to settle around their parent and they don't seem to spread out as much, Boykins says. This also leads t businesses that are passed down from one generation to another and more social activities that are family- oriented. The Italian heritage permeates much of the lives of even third or fou generation Italian- Americans. "One thing that I think that stems all the way down here," Chris Lam says, is "they stuck together as a family. That's what made everybody so close. It was a survivalist thing Family togetherness, strong sense of famil is what makes the Italian culture, in my opinion, different from all oth families in America." "It's a pressure on the younger generation to not let the older generation down," he says, "because they came from nothing. They had dirt and a plow to make what I have today." Reprinted from Insite Magazine, December 1994. 236 Timeless Stories The Beauty of a Dog -Trot House Regina Opersteny The Florian Stetz family settled in the Bryan area for two reasons: the fer- tile soil and a promise from a friend already settled in the area of a place to stay and farm. Florian and Magdalene Stetz came from Southern Poland, around Jaslo. As new marrieds, they landed in New York and worked in Massachusetts in a factory. A son, John, was born in Chickapo, Massachu- setts. Letters came from a friend in Bryan bragging about the area and how vailable land was, so Florian, Magdalene, and John came to Bryan by way of boat to Galveston. The farm in Bryan where they settled was the Luza place. St. Joseph's Hospital is now located on the spot. Florian sharecropped there for at least ten years. Four other sons were born during this time, Michael in 1885, tiney in 1887, Joe in 1889, and Peter in 1892. Two other sons, Anton and Phillip, were born in 1894 and 1897 on the other farm, but both died in infancy. Enough money was saved to buy a farm of their own in 1900 for $35 per acre. On the 197 acres located on Leonard Road and the Brazos River, they raised cotton and corn. The farm was paid for in seven years. 4 Florian moved his family into a log house on his new farm. It had only one room and a ground floor. After a few years, he had another house built by Anton Krzesinski. Anton was a builder as well as a farmer. He built his own house and one for John Boriski. They were all built alike and were near each other. The house had two big rooms on either side of a big hallway known as the "dogtrot." Next to one of the big rooms was a dining room and then a kitchen. Across the front was a "gallery" or porch as it s known today. Another porch wrapped around the back. The house was painted white with green trim and green shutters. The two big rooms were painted light blue. The dining room was wallpapered. The kitchen had bare walls and no ceiling because of the wood stove. The Main bedroom had a chimney (the only heat other than the cook stove). The walls of the house had no studs, but were supported and held in place with 237 Bryan Legends and Legacies 238 three layers of boards. The center board was a 12 x 12 placed up and d the outer boards were horizontal ship -lap; and the inside boards were hori, zontal and two inches thick. It was a strong and nice house for the tinge. It stands today as then, but with modern conveniences added. The Stetzes were completely self - sufficient on the farm. They even had their own blacksmith shop for making repairs on their equipment. They w go into town for supplies such as kerosene for lamps, flour bought by the 50, pound bag, sugar, and coffee. Every time they went into town, they would go by the post office and ask for any mail that they might have received. Most all rural areas received their mail by general delivery. Florian would go into town to gin his cotton. He had to take one of his sons with him each time. That was ordered by Magdalene because Florian could not be trusted to come home early and sober. The son would see to it that his father got home. Joe told about when it was his turn to go, how he would try to get his father out of the saloon, and the owner would kick him (Joe) out like a dog. He would go to the back door and try to slip in after his father. Finally, his father would come out and go to the wagon and fall asleep. Joe had to get the wagon home on his own. They had to cross a creek in the dark. He would close his eyes and depend on the mules to get them across. The Stetz boys got very little education at Leonard School because they had to work. Joe had a third grade education. They would come to town for several weeks of catechism to prepare for their first communion, but they would board with someone. Of course, church on Sunday was a must. They were members of St. Joseph's Catholic Church. Only one of the five sons could go to church with their parents at any one time. The boys had to take turns, as the family had only one pair of boy's shoes. The shoes were bought to fit the oldest boy. Joe hated his turn because he was so embarrassed. He was the fourth son and quite a bit smaller than the oldest. The shoes flopped around on his feet. He tried to hide his feet. Three brothers served in the army during World War I: Stiney, Joe, and Peter. John was about to go when the war ended. Michael and John were left to do the farming because Florian was already dead. Stiney served in the Timeless Stories in fantrY and saw action in France. Joe was a cook and served only in the U. s peter was in the cavalry and also stayed in the U. S. Joe was the only Stetz brother to marry. On Tuesday, October 26, 1921, Joe married Stella Paradowski at St. Joseph's Church in Bryan. After the cere mony, they celebrated with a dinner at the house of her father, Joe p Stella's dress was made by her sister, Ida Konecny. Stella's sister Mary served as bridesmaid, and Joe's brother Peter served as grooms- ma n. The dinner was small, though Stella remembers having baked turkey. Stella and Joe were given a small section of the Stetz farm to start their life togeth Stella's father gave them a few chickens, and Joe was given chick- ens, a cow and calf, mules, corn, some potatoes, and an old house to live in. Stella claimed this was the happiest time of her life. Stella and Joe built a house on the farm next to the old house. They moved into the new house and used the old one as a barn. The new house was simple and small, with two rooms and a kitchen. Only one room had a ceiling. It had a single wall and was very cold. The brothers and Joe built it themselves. In this new house, Stella gave birth to Cecilia in 1922, Raymond in 1927, Alvin in 1930, and Regina in 1932. The family purchased a Model - T Ford and land on the Brazos River for $400. In 1932, they moved into a much larger and stronger house. Stella's Uncle William Gorzycki of Brenham was the builder, but the brothers provided the labor. The lumber cost $500 and was bought directly from a mill in East Texas. The Depression years were hardly felt by the Stetz family. Stella said that she only heard of hard times of other people when she went to town or church. On the farm, they had their own food so the Depression did not bother them. They talked about the banks failing. They never trusted banks because of those bad years. In the '30s, ice was purchased in the summer. A small block of ice cost 5 cents and a large block sold for 25 cents. There were two places to buy i ce- -at the ice plant near the courthouse or near Sims Street behind the old Wards, where ice was brought in from Hearne. That block of ice was really v alued. During the cotton harvest season from mid -July through August and 239 Bryan Legends and Legacies 240 September, Bryan was buzzing with migrant laborers. Waves of Mexicali or Spanish - speaking people came into town. They came in flat bed tru that had six-foot sides on them. Families would live in those trucks and pick cotton for the farmers. The trucks were also used to carry the cotton t4 the gin. On Saturdays, they would come into town to shop and have a good time. The trucks would park on the side streets off North Bryan Street. 0 Saturday night, they camped in the city park on Highway 21 near the present Martin Luther King Blvd. The laborers would stay until the season was over, then migrate north. The farmers of those days kept the cotton and other produce corning into the Bryan markets. On Saturdays, farmers filled the streets of down. town Bryan. It was difficult to walk along the crowded street. There, neigh. bors mingled, women caught up on the gossip, and teenagers flirted at the soda fountain of Vick's Pharmacy. Little kids were just happy with a bottle of soda water purchased from a street soda water stand, and the men gath. ered at a saloon, either Opersteny's or Jake Boriskie's. Merchants counted their take after a good Saturday. Florian died in 1915 and Magdalene in 1951. She was 91 years old when she died. She never did conform to the American way. She spoke only Polish. It was difficult for her great - grandchildren to communicate with her as they spoke only English. She dressed the old way even to church and town. A small woman, she wore an ankle -length shirt waist and skirt and high -top shoes, stockings, and a bonnet. Such clothes could no longer be bought, so Stella had to make them. Magdalene wore the long skirts even to garden, feed the chickens, gather eggs, and to milk the cows. She wore her hair combed back, braided and put into a knot on the back of her head. Electricity was brought out to Leonard Road in 1950. Until that time kerosene lamps were used for light and wood for cooking and heating. Wa. ter came from a 60 -foot well, drawn up with a bucket and rope. Oh, thos rope burns! A cistern caught runoff water from the roof. That was soft water and was used for bathing and washing clothes. Well water was used fo drinking and cooking and watering the poultry and stock. Of course, n refrigeration. All five Stetz sons lived their entire lives on their farms, never leavin€ Timeless Stories exce for World War I. The first to die was Peter in 1957, followed by M i c hael in 1968, Joe in 1969, Stiney in 1971, and John in 1974. Stella d i e d in 1989. All are buried side by side, including Stella, Florian, and M at Mount Calvary Cemetery in Bryan. They loved the farm and ha d the reputation of being hard workers and builders. The farm is still owne by the Stetz family. The white house with the green trim that Florian and Magdalene built was abandoned for several years. It was used to store hay. Her great -grand- son, Michael Opersteny, as a student at Texas A &M, restored the house to its original look. Besides Michael, two more great- grandchildren have lived in that house while attending Texas A &M. One great - grandson still lives there. Stella and Joe's house is still being used. Steve Opersteny, another great - grandson, lived in that house while at A &M. Florian and Magdalene Stetz came to America for a better life and freedom. Their dream seems to have been fulfilled. They enjoyed a produc- tive life in Bryan. It was their home and that of their children, grandchil- dren, great - grandchildren, and even great - great - grandchildren. Florian and Magdalene were brave people and are to be admired. Magdalene was lonely for her family in Poland. She thought she would die from the heat her first summer in Texas. She is known to have said, "If I had wings like the bird, I would fly back to see my family." From Bohemia With Love Regina Opersteny Joe and Joanna Opersteny landed in Galveston from Bohemia in about 1880. They settled in Kurten with their six children, Mary, Agnes, Johanna, Joe, Anna, and Frank. Mary and Agnes married and moved elsewhere with their f amilies, but the others remained in the Bryan area, contributing to the com- munity. Johanna married Frank Lero, and Anna married Frank Valenta. These napes can be well recognized in the Bryan farming community. Frank mar- ri ed Veronica Holubec and remained on the farm in the Kurten area. To er nPhasize the tribute paid the Operstenys in Kurten, several roads have 241 Bryan Legends and Legacies been named after the family. Frank's family built a cotton gin in Kurten,l was called Opersteny Bros. Gin. One of the sons, Louis, had a bar and g in Bryan for many years. It was moved one block north after his daught and son -in -law began the new management. It is now Margie's. The Opersteny hamburgers from Opersteny's Grill became famo throughout the area. Many people have wanted the secret and still talk about the hamburgers. Some say it was because of pickled onions or onions soak in pickle juice, some say it was the buns grilled on the grill with the meat, and others say it was the grill itself. The Opersteny hamburger was no doubt talked about. The other Opersteny family that settled in Bryan was Joe and Teresa, For awhile, they lived in Wichita Falls, Texas. Children Joe, John, Chris. tine, Lyda, and Albert were born there. Frank and Charles were born in Bryan. On returning to Bryan, Joe and Teresa built a house on West 27th and Brazos Streets. The railroad ran in front of the house. Joe operated a saloon in Bryan for many years. It was located on Main Street between 24th and 25th Streets. When prohibition was enforced, Joe closed his saloon and retired. During World War I, Frank and Albert served in the Army. Frank was a sergeant in the cavalry, and Albert served in Europe. Before Albert went into the army, he contracted flu during the influenza epidemic. He was not expected to live, so Frank was given a pass to come home. Albert recov- ered, but brother John got the flu and died. Two weeks later, Frank also died from the flu. They are all buried in the Bryan City Cemetery. Daughter Lyda married Ole Martinsen, a building contractor. His most noted works were the Varisco Building and St. Anthony's Church, both in Bryan. He also built the entrance to Bryan City Cemetery, the memorial chapel at the cemetery, and many homes in the area. Charles went to work for Eden Grocery on Main Street in Bryan. After several years, he and Luke Patranella became partners in a grocery store in College Station on Main. This partnership lasted several years. Each went out to his own grocery store in College Station where Charles stayed untl his death in 1963. Albert was also a businessman in College Station. fl owned and operated a variety store. 242 Timeless Stories Joe and Teresa owned the block bounded by Brazos, 26th, 27th, and Alamo Streets. The original home was sold to the Paulsons. Albert, Lyda, wad Charles each built a home on that block and raised their children there. Those homes remain, but Charles' home is the only one still in the family. M Opersteny, wife of Charles, still lives there. The Woman's Club The Woman's Club, organized in 1895, was originally known as the "Mu- tual Improvement Circle." There were twenty members in the early group who undertook to improve their minds, to serve the community, and to fight for the rights of women. The club aided in bringing the Carnegie Library to Bryan by securing a grant from the Carnegie Foundation. It kept the library grounds and bought books for the shelves. The organization was instrumen- tal in getting horses and wagons off Main Street and aided in the eradica- tion of mosquitoes. It helped with the beautification of the courthouse lawn and started the Civic Improvement Association which, among other things, landscaped the park at 26th Street and South Tabor. In 1909 -1910 the Mu- tual Improvement Circle became "The Woman's Club." Its purposes were civic, literary, and philanthropic. It first met in the members' homes and later met in the Carnegie Library. In 1928 -1929 the club moved to a new club house at the corner of 27th Street and Washington. The Woman's Club met there until the building was declared unsafe for meetings, and a need for more space was recognized. Meetings were held for a time in various auditoriums in Bryan. In 1942 the old clubhouse was sold and the Sims' home on Bryan Street was purchased for the club's second home. It was remodeled in 1949, but by 1 967 it was deemed inadequate and was sold. Then for several years the Club met in the Medallion Room of the Bryan Utilities Building. A site was Purchased in 1970, and by 1972 the new clubhouse was completed at 1200 Carter Creek Parkway. The clubhouse was redecorated and modernized in 198 -83. In 1986, the year of the Texas Sesquicentennial, two style shows of antique clothing were held at the clubhouse. Funds from these events Were reserved to obtain a historic marker for the building. The history of the 243 Reprinted from The Woman's Club Yearbook. Bryan Legends and Legacies Woman's Club was compiled, and a marker was obtained from the Texas Historical Commission. Dedication was an event of the 1989 -1990 club year. The sacrifices and work behind the growth and accomplishments of The Woman's Club have been enormous. The tradition of working for th good of the club is a legacy to each member. The motto of the Mutual Improvement Circle is as challenging today as it was in 1895: "We must move with the time." A Glimpse of Jewish Life in Bryan Carol Parzen Temple Freda, located in Bryan at 205 Parker Street next to the railroad tracks, has a cornerstone dated 1912. A plaque states that in 1983 the build- ing was entered in the National Registry of Historic Places. Its designation as a structure of historical interest was obtained through the efforts of Pro- fessor David G. Woodcock, Department of Architecture, Texas A &M Uni- versity, and students, especially Deborah Parks. Their report prepared for the National Registry supplied some of the information below. We know that Jewish families lived in this area much earlier than 1912. In a separate section of the Bryan Cemetery is the small Jewish cemetery; the oldest stone, belonging to baby Jacob Levy, is dated 1870. Thirty miles away, in Calvert, there is a another Jewish cemetery just as old. Jewish merchants and their families entered the Bryan area around 1865. They organized a congregation in 1890 (we do not know its name) and met in the homes of members for services. In 1912, the congregation decided to construct a synagogue. J. W. English donated a piece of land next to the railroad tracks. Funds and supplies for a synagogue were provided by Jew ish and non - Jewish members of the Bryan community. In the deed, Mr. En' glish stated that the conveyance of the land to the Jewish community Was 244 intended as a gift, and he stipulated that the land must be used only for religious and benevolent purposes. If the land was to be used in any other manner, the ownership of the property would revert back to the English family The Bryan Eagle reported the dedication ceremony of Temple Freda, held on May 20, 1913. Temple Freda, the only temple named for a woman, was named in memory of Mrs. Ethel Freda Kaczer, the recently deceased wife of the congregation's president. A few blocks from Temple Freda lived Ethel Gelber, the niece of Freda Kaczer. She was seventeen years old at the dedication and watched the entire community as it participated in the gala celebration of laying the cornerstone. The small Temple Freda congregation dwindled in the 1930s, and it wasn't until Sol and Felice Klein came to Bryan in 1949 and Bettye and Frank Kahan arrived in 1954 that services again were held at the temple. Both men led services and taught in religious school. Sol also performed weddings, funerals, and baby - naming ceremonies, and prepared students for their Bat or Bar Mitzvahs (religious ceremonies for children when they are thirteen). Bettye Kahan Matcek recalls that the Jewish community at that time was "very close and very active. It wasn't a large group, but it was a very close -knit group, and we had lovely services there in that little build- ing. Norma Schlueter remembers having Frank Kahan and Raymond Reiser as her religious school teachers. She also recalls that services had to stop when the trains went by. Norma fondly remembers Edna Schulman, the owner of the Palace, Queen, and Dixie movie theaters. Ms. Schulman gave the children free movie tickets and candy. When Norma graduated from Bryan High School in 1957, Edna Schulman gave a dinner party for the graduat- ing seniors at Del Monico's. Felice Klein recalls that Texas A &M students came to Temple Freda for holidays but met for regular Friday -night services at the YMCA on cam - Pus. During the Korean War in the 1950s, when Bryan Air Force Base was r eactivated, the Temple Freda community grew with the arrival of several Jewish servicemen and their families. Passover in 1952 was celebrated with Timeless Stories 245 Bryan Legends and Legacies a seder (the ceremonial retelling of the Jews' exodus from Egypt) at th home of Willie and Faye Gelber. The guests attending the seder were a mixture of Jewish servicemen and their families, students from Texas A &M and members of the Temple Freda community. The National Jewish Wel- fare Board sent Hagaddahs (booklets with the story of the exodus) and Pas over food ( "matzohs," unleavened bread). During this time, the men played a weekly poker game and put money in a pot to cover the costs of the present Jewish cemetery and fence. The women of the Jewish community organized the Jewish Women's Club (1951). One of its objectives was to serve the local Jewish youth, including students at Texas A &M and Allen Academy. The Jewish Women's Club provided a link for the wives of the servicemen and for Jewish families living in Nava- sota. The club, which still exists today as the Congregation Beth Shalom Sisterhood, provided programs of social, educational, and cultural interest. One of its memorable activities was designing a puppet show for Purim (the story of Queen Esther in the Bible). Performances were given at Temple Freda for the community, at the Bryan Public Library for the Saturday Morning Children's Program, and at the Hillel building for Texas A &M students and faculty. Today, forty years later, the Purim puppets are still available to entertain children. A building for the Jewish students of Texas A &M University (B'nai B'rith Hillel Foundation) was built in 1958. As Temple Freda became too small to meet the needs of the growing Jewish population, the Jewish com- munity began meeting at Hillel with the students from campus. In February 1968, Congregation Beth Shalom was founded. The Congregation contin ued meeting in the Hillel Foundation building, sharing such activities with the students as a Wednesday -night discussion group and Friday services and providing potluck dinners for the students. After many years of meeting at the B'nai B' rith Hillel Foundation, the members of Congregation Beth Shalom decided to search for a home of their own. During the interim they met in College Station at the Community Center and at the Unitarian Fellowship. In April 1990, the Congregation moved into its new home at 101 North Coulter Drive in Bryan. The dedica' tion ceremonies were held December 8, 1990. 246 Timeless Stories Today, a Christian group rents Temple Freda for its religious services and a small group of Jewish faculty and students meets there on Saturday m ornings. The author recognizes Felice Klein as a major resource for this article. Judge W. S. Barron, Public Servant for Half a Century Sandra Barron Judge W. S. Barron once told a gathering of friends and family that he liked Bryan because "it has a spirit and a soul." A vital part of the town's spirit himself, Barron was known for his lead- ership both locally and across the state. Local citizens elected Barron to the Texas House of Representatives in 1924. He served for three consecutive terms and was elected speaker dur- ing his final term in 1929. While he was speaker the legislature passed several education bills aimed at improving the public school system. Changes included setting the mini- mum age of school children at six years and adding a physical education program to the public school curriculum. l o w Throughout his term in office, Barron also supported legislation favor- ing Texas A &M University (at that time known as the Agricultural and Mechanical College of Texas). In 1931 supporters urged Barron to run for a statewide office. Instead of accepting offers of financial support for his campaign, Barron returned to Bryan to resume his practice of law. In 1940 he was appointed judge of the 85th Judicial District Court. He retired from the bench in 1955 and resumed his law practice. From 1956 to 1959 he was a member of the board of directors of the State Bar of Texas. Barron moved to Bryan in 1917. At that time he was a 28- year -old attorney and former school superintendent in Grimes county. During his early years in Bryan he was a scoutmaster with Boy Scouts 247 Bryan Legends and Legacies of America. Under his leadership and training were many youths who be, came respected and prominent citizens of Bryan and other cities. Also a staunch supporter of the YMCA, he was chiefly instrumental keeping the program alive though school clubs during the years when the was no professional leadership. A dedicated church man, Barron was a charter member of the Colleg Avenue Baptist Church (now Central Baptist Church). He was prominent as an active member, deacon, and Sunday School teacher for more than years. In 1953, he was instrumental in organizing the Laymen's Prayer Ser. vice, a nondenominational, interracial devotional held at breakfast ever Friday morning for many years. The weekly meetings were frequently at. tended by more than 300 people. In 1976, the Brazos County Bar Association, of which he was a former president, honored Barron with a luncheon in appreciation for his profes- sional and judicial contributions to the state. Barron and his family resided at 100 South Congress Avenue in Bryan until his death in 1984 at the age of 95. He was preceded in death by his first wife, the late Ethel Sanders Barron who died in 1928. In 1931 Barrett married Bess Dubois of Cameron. She passed away in 1989. At the time of his death, Barron was survived by three children, all of whom were lawyers. Bryan Rotary Club Celebrates 75th Anniversary Rhonda Brinkmann At the same time the city of Bryan commemorates its 125th birthday, the Bryan Rotary Club celebrates its 75th anniversary. Rotary International is- sued a charter to the Bryan Rotary Club on May 1, 1921. It was installed May 9 by a group of Houston Rotarians. The club began with 25 founders and now boasts over 120 members, bringing together professionals from throughout the Brazos Valley business and academic communities. The Bryan club has always met during the noon hour. In the early years 248 Timeless Stories o f the club's existence, Miss Maggie Parker hosted the group - -first in the parish House and then in the Green Parrott Cafe above the Milton - Franklin Furniture Store on Bryan Street in the downtown area. Club records show that from 1921 to 1958, Miss Parker served members meals costing from $1.25 to $1.50. When the club moved to the Triangle Restaurant in 1968, meal prices climbed to a whopping $2.00 per member. Since then, the club has met at several different eateries- -but they've never gotten prices like that again. The Bryan Rotary Club calls itself a "singing club" and has enlisted loyal musicians over the years to accompany member voices. Bertha Danforth served as pianist for over 30 years from the mid 1920s to the late 1950s. The current pianist, Diana Steelman, is approaching that record, having played for the club since the early 1970s. For over 60 years, the Bryan group was the only Rotary association in the area. In 1982, it was instrumental in founding the College Station Ro- tary Club. Because of the proximity of the two groups, and their mutual attraction to members from the university community, Rotary International took the unusual step of approving all of Brazos County as the jurisdiction for both clubs. As a part of its response to Rotary's goal of community service, the Bryan organization commits funds to various activities. Many of the club's funds go to help youth groups or assist Rotary Scholars attending Texas A &M University. Other contributions go to a spectrum of causes including special appeals, worldwide campaigns, and local projects. In 1968, the local club inaugurated an annual series of plays and shows presented in the newly completed Bryan Civic Auditorium, complementing the existing Town Hall program conducted through the university. The two programs combined in 1970 to form the now familiar Opera and Performing Arts Society (OPAS). Rotary regulations permit members who miss weekly club meetings to "make up" attendance at a meeting of another club. Because of a 60 percent attendance requirement for membership, many members take advantage of this rule and attend meetings wherever they travel. The Bryan club has amassed an exceptional collection of club banners exchanged by visiting 249 Bryan Legends and Legacies members from around the world. Among other locales, banners represen member visits from Bangkok, Thailand; Ventiane, Laos; Tokyo (South Chap, ter), Japan; Kingston, Jamaica; Halifax, Nova Scotia; Helmond, Holland and Calama, Chile. Excerpted from A Short History of the Bryan Rotary Club by Paul P. Van Riper. Getting By in "The Good Old Days" It Helen F. Sheffield Doris Scurry is a handsome woman with light brown skin, an infectious smile, and a gentle, quiet way of expressing herself. The walls of her den are filled with photographs of her family that she talks about with pride. "My mother and father were both born in Bryan. Their homes weren't very far apart when they were growing up. Mother went to Paul Quinn College in Waco, Texas, but Daddy didn't go off to school. They married in the twen- ties and lived on 28th Street, which was considered out in the country bac then. Mrs. Scurry recounts her birth and the struggle her parents encountered for a livelihood. "I was born in Bryan, Texas, in 1921, with my grandmother, Ellen Adams, serving as midwife. Those were Depression years and my family had to move to Dallas to find work. We moved back to Bryan in 1929, because Daddy lost his job in Dallas. He found employment doing maintenance work for several different people. Mother worked too; she set a new trend on 28th Street by becoming employed. Before that time, none of the women on that street had held jobs. She cooked for Rob Howell, who owned the La Salle Hotel. Together, Mother and Daddy made fifteen dol- lars a week." Recalling her childhood days, Doris talks about the innovative materi als they used to make their toys. "We made our dolls out of socks and the rope that came off the ice that was delivered to our house. The rope made wonderful hair for the dolls because you could curl it. Big white flower blossoms were sometimes used for the doll's skirts, and we had a handma 250 Timeless Stories doll house with furniture. My sisters and I seldom received a store - bought doll, but if we did, we thought we were in tall cotton. The only kind of ball we had was made of firmly packed cloth. Daddy used to play stickball with us using a cloth ball." When asked about her downtown visits as a child, Doris explains why they were few. "Mother and Daddy worked all the time, and we didn't have a c ar, so we kids hardly ever got into town. If we needed a new pair of shoes, m y mother would outline our foot on paper to use for the correct size. I can count the number of picture shows I saw on one hand." "Christmas celebrations in our home as a child," Doris said, "were mea- ger in material things, but rich in spiritual blessings. We didn't put up a Christmas tree when I was small, but we always received something as a gift. Sometimes it would be a pair of needed shoes and a piece of fruit. When I was older, we'd chop down one of our cedar trees and decorate it with berries, popcorn, and paper chains. We had spiritual celebrations at Stearne Chapel, a Methodist church named after my father's people, Later, the family always had a good Christmas dinner. Grandmother, Ellen Adams, and Grandfather, Nathaniel Adams, owned a farm where the Industrial Park is now. There were plenty of mustard greens, turnips, corn, potatoes, chick- ens, hogs, and cows. We didn't have very much money, but we always had enough food to eat. My grandparents made and smoked their own sausage. It tasted so much better than the kind you buy in the stores today." The desire for their children to have a college education and a chance for a better livelihood prompted her parents, Mable and Pinkney Stearne, to encourage Doris to attend Prairie View University after she finished Kemp High School in 1938. Scurry explains how it was back then. "When I went to Prairie View, I worked as a domestic, cleaning houses to pay my bills. Mother and Daddy were supposed to send six dollars a month, but some- times it was late. When I was a junior, I stayed home a year from college so my sister, Loleta, could start to Prairie View. I came back home and went to work for Mrs. John Stasney. Her husband was a fireman, and they had a son i n the Texas A &M University Cadets. Mrs. Stasney asked me to iron her son's khaki shirts, but I didn't know how to iron; Mother never had time to t each us to iron. So Mrs. Stasney showed me how. I was working for her 251 Bryan Legends and Legacies when World War II started in December 1941. I'll never forget that Mond when Mrs. Stasney heard on the radio that war was declared. She cried a l l day long." While she was growing up, reading books was a part of Doris's life. Blacks weren't allowed to use Carnegie Library (the public library) bac then. Scurry explained how she circumvented that rule: "I would give Mrs, Stasney a list of the books I wanted to read, and she would check them o of the library and then return them for me." Doris's brother, Pinkney Stearne, Jr., served in the U. S. Air Force in World War II. An incident caused him to leave Texas for good. "Whe Pinkney, Jr. came home after the war, he saw war prisoners eating inside a building while he had to stand outside to eat. It made him so bitter and angry he moved from Texas to California. He lived there until he died in 1964." In 1942, Doris's parents moved to California so they could work in the shipyards. They lived in a basement and paid for their lodging by cleaning its brass rails and corridors. Doris comments on the use of passenger trains. "My parents traveled back and forth to California on the train. Bryan's train depot was located by the old fire station back of Main Street. I think that many years later someone carted the depot away and made a restaurant out of it. On Daddy's last trip to California he bought a Model A Ford, and it died on him in the driveway when he moved back to Bryan." Scurry chuck- led as she recalled the car's last run. Mable and Pinkney Stearne opened a store on the corner of 19th Street (Martin Luther King, Jr. Boulevard) and Preston after they returned to Bryan. There was now enough money for Doris to finish her senior year at Prairie View University. Doris graduated from college, but there were no teaching jobs available in Bryan. She started helping out at her family's store and that's where she met her husband, Claude Lorenzo Scurry, in 1944. "I had another boyfriend at Prairie View, " Doris admitted, "but I forgot about him when Claude came along. Claude had finished Bishop College and was working in Corsicana, Texas when he accepted an offer to coach football at Kemp High School in the Bryan ISD." 252 Timeless Stories Finally a teaching position became available for Doris. She explains ho w that happened. "At Washington Elementary School there were sev- enty-two children in one classroom. They hired me to teach half of them from eight to twelve. Somebody else taught the other half in the afternoon. W taught in shifts because there weren't enough classrooms. I made sixty dollars a month." Doris speaks of Claude with justifiable pride. "Claude and I were mar- ried in Bryan, 1945. He worked hard for the youth in the community-- coach- ing, teaching, and organizing the first Black Boy Scout troop in Bryan. In addition, Claude was a wonderful Christian man and became deacon in the Shiloh Baptist Church. I was Methodist and he was Baptist when we mar- ried. He didn't want to change to my denomination, so I joined his because I didn't want our children torn between two different churches. But you know, I could have stayed Methodist for a few years longer and enjoyed all those good Methodist songs, because I didn't have a baby for six years," she said laughing Bryan public school integration in 1972 was made easier because of the involvement of Claude Scurry. Both Black and white citizens had great respect for him. He served on Bryan ISD committees that investigated the steps other school districts had followed for integration. By studying the problems these schools had encountered, Bryan ISD was able to eliminate those obstacles from their own plan. Even after his retirement in 1977, the schools still called on him for help. Doris explains how the students reacted to her husband. "When those kids were having fights on the school grounds, all they needed to do was see Claude's old station wagon turn the corner, and they would scatter." Claude Lorenzo Scurry had a very successful public school career as Kemp High School football coach, Neal Junior High principal, and director of special services in the central office. He served Bryan ISD well for thirty- two years. Blacks and whites alike mourned his death in 1979. After forty years of successful teaching as an elementary school teacher, Doris Stearne Scurry retired from Bryan ISD in 1984. She still lives in the home she and Claude bought in 1951. Following in their parents' footsteps, Doris and Claude's children, Claudette and Lorenzo, are schoolteachers. 253 Bryan Legends and Legacies Scurry exhibits pictures of her four grandchildren with pride. Don't expect to find Scurry poring over old photograph albums, though She's far too busy taking trips with her two sisters, Loleta and Gwendoly Doris devoted many years to the community's youth, and now it's her tim for an extended vacation. From an interview with Doris Scurry, 1995. The Poetry Society of Bryan - College Station Answering a desire for local residents to have an organization for poets to share their talent, as well as to answer the need of a student -poet at the University, a meeting was held November 20, 1949, with nineteen in atten- dance. Its goals were " to stimulate interest in verse writing, to encourage appreciation of poetry as an art, and to improve writing technique." The local Society became a chapter of The Poetry Society of Texas, with a member acting as the local councilor for the state Society. Later, the Society became a charter member of the Arts Council of the Brazos Valley. Associate members, living in other Texas cities or other states and submit- ting poetry to the group each month, were numerous. Members of the group from Bryan held many monthly meetings in their homes. A contest with a required topic or a required form of poetry was a feature of every meeting. Poetry had to be submitted by an announced date, with judging done by a qualified critic. At meetings, a vote was made by members for the popular awards, which often differed from critics. During June 1978, the local Society acted as host group for the annual three -day conference of The Poetry Society of Texas at the Ramada Inn in College Station. This event was attended by several hundred poets. The Society began sponsoring poetry contests in the local schools in 1954, involving students in grades 6 through 12 in an activity welcomed by English teachers. Certificates were awarded to finalists; in later years, rib bons were also awarded to winners in each grade in every school. Eventu ally cash awards were available to grand prize winners. Each year National 254 Excerpted from The Poetry Society Yearbook. Timeless Stories Poetr Day (October 15) was celebrated with a display in the Bryan Public Library and several years with parties to which student winners were in- vited. Two anthologies were published. The first, Harvestings, was presented in 1978 and completely sold out. Ten years later, Boundaries Crossed was a nother successful edition. The Society's yearbook in 1989 -1990 celebrated the fortieth anniversary of the group with a theme of A Time to Rejoice in Our Own Works, the programs based on the poetry of the Bible found in Ecclesiastes 3:22. A special meeting was held in November 1989, with four past presidents in attendance. Due to the deaths of several longtime mem- bers, and loss of others who moved, the final meeting of the group came in 1991. Presidents included Clara Carson, Mable Clare Thomas, Geraldine Drumwright, C. Vick Lindley, Merle Hudson, Eleanor Nance, Isaac Peters, Mayme Evans, Floyd Temple, Jessie Merle Franklin, Allen Hawley Brown, Helen J. Megerle, Harry M. Alter, Beth Bryant Brady, Nancy Roberts, Marvin Rowe, Diane Church, Betty Foster, Margaret Jenkins, Peggy Hope, Geraldine Schueller, Gladyce Bouley, and Orlena Newton. The poems included in this book were written by members of The Po- etry Society. 255 Bryan Legends and Legacies Prophecy: A Sonnet for Friends Peggy Hope When first I came to join this poets' clan I found but one known face among those here. In days and weeks new friendships soon began, Your kind acceptance banishing my fear. United by compulsion to create, We've joined in mighty struggles with the muse. While poets down through history await To see if one among us fate will choose To someday know the crowning of acclaim. 'Tis honest to admit we all aspire That while still living one may come to fame And in a blaze of glory soon retire. Then all of us who toil with page and pen Will join in saying, "Yes, I knew her then...." 256 Timeless Stories The Cavitt Tombstone Rhonda Brinkmann on Halloween Day 1989, Dorothy Van Riper heard the words over her p hone line, "I think we may have your tombstone here." Far from being a Halloween trick, the words were welcome to Paul and porothy Van Riper. The call meant that they might finally locate a long - missing tombstone of one of the Cavitt family, original owners of the his- toric home the Van Ripers now inhabit in Bryan. November first found Paul Van Riper and a handful of Texas A &M University physical plant staff loading the long -lost tombstone of Howard Cavitt into the back of Van Riper's station wagon. Howard was the son of William R. Cavitt, born in Wheelock to Josephus, a native of Tennessee, and Catherine Ann (Dunn) Cavitt. Known as "The Major ", W. R. married Mary Mitchell, niece to Harvey Mitchell for whom Harvey Community is named. The Major and Mary had six children: Horace, Ethel, Howard, Fred, and twins Esther and Edith. In Bryan, the Cavitt fam- ily gave their name to Cavitt Avenue, Esther Street, Ethel Street, and Twin Boulevard, the latter named for Edith and Esther. The Major was a lawyer and active in the community. He served in the state legislature in the 1880s, as county attorney briefly, and for a decade as a member of the Texas A &M University board of directors. He built the house on East 30th Street - -now known simply as the Cavitt House - -as a wedding present for Mary. It contains 13 rooms, totaling 4,500 square feet, and a rooftop widow's walk with a view as far as Gibbons Creek Power Plant in Carlos, Texas. The Cavitt children also took an active part in local activities. People Who knew them characterize their distinctive personalities. Ethel was do- mestic and maternal, raising the twins after her mother's death in 1914. She had another side to her personality, as well, and loved dances and parties. Edith was quiet while Esther was a tomboy who loved the out -of- doors. Horace was an adventurous oil man, doing some of the first drilling in the Brazos Valley. Fred was a sportsman and rider and loved gardening - -espe- 257 Bryan Legends and Legacies cially in his beautiful rose garden. Howard managed Bryan Motor Car Co 11 , pany in downtown Bryan. Howard Cavitt died from exposure he incurred in rescue attempts du ing the devastating flood of 1913. He was buried in Bryan Cemetery, hi grave marked with a small headstone. When the Cavitt family later replaced his tombstone with a different style, the original stone was placed in th formal garden area of the Cavitt House. Edith and Ethel Cavitt lived in the house until the early 1970s. When they moved out, the house remained vacant and neglected for several years until the Citizens for Historical Preservation purchased it in1981. Dorothy and Paul Van Riper bought the house in 1986 and cleared the garden, dis- covering that the tombstone was missing. When an article in the October 29, 1989 edition of The Bryan- College Station Eagle mentioned the lost tombstone, Tom Hines of Texas A &M's physical plant responded with the call letting the Van Ripers know he'd seen it near Hensel Park. Thanks to a curious chain of events, Howard Cavitt's memorial is now back in the Cavitt garden, resting near the house where he grew up. Mr. Zuki - -Have Accordion, Will Travel Josephine Arevalo Sotero Perez Guevara has always lived life to the fullest and with much gusto. Born in Gonzales, Texas in 1925, Sotero's nickname and stage name of Mr. Zuki evolved over a period of time. At the age of three he was quite a mischievous child. The family lived on a farm where he was bored most of the time, so he entertained himself as best he could. He observed his father as he hauled water in barrels for daily consumption. When no one was look ing, he would take water out of the barrels and throw it on the ground. When he had the ground wet to just the right consistency, he would step far back disrobe himself, then take off running and plop his little nude body in the mud and swish around until he would be completely covered with mud Soon the family started calling him el soquetero, the muddy one. Gradua el soquetero evolved into Soque. Later in his adult life he worked at th 258 Timeless Stories International Shoe Factory, where his fellow Anglo workers could not pro- n ounce Soque, and the name was changed to Zuki, and ever since Sotero has been known as Mr. Zuki. '*As a young child, Mr. Zuki would join the family as they gathered a round an uncle who played the accordion. The accordion interested him, an d he recalls that he had a burning desire to learn to play it. His brother b him his first accordion and with nightly learn-as- you -play lessons, Mr. Zuki was on the road to becoming an accordion abuser. The Mexican community was small and close -knit. Religion and music were very impor- tant. At night, tired from the drudgery of farm labor and after praying the rosary, the workers found that the accordions, guitars, corridos (ballads), and polkas provided much needed relief, stimulation, and contentment. Wherever two or three gathered, there was an accordion, a guitar and a song in their hearts. Soon Mr. Zuki was playing at weddings, birthdays, dances, and cantinitas. But just as Nashville calls the aspiring country and western singer, San Antonio, the Mecca of the aspiring Mexican artist, calls the Mexicano. Mr. Zuki went to San Antonio in 1941 and played in that area until 1944. During that time he entertained a lot of people with his accor- dion and accompanied many artists including Lydia Mendoza, la Golondrina (the swallow). Lydia and her two sisters were well known and respected as the first women in the music industry. After his tenure in San Antonio, Mr. Zuki returned to Gonzales and joined the family as a migrant worker in the Brazos Bottom community of Steele's Store, Texas. They would harvest cotton on the Tony Varisco farm, then return to Gonzales. During this seasonal work, Mr. Zuki would travel with his accordion. He joined company with the Estradas, a musical family, who worked on the Luke Nigliazzio farm and were playing in the area. Together they started playing in and around the countryside. By 1946, the Guevaras had moved permanently to the Brazos Bottom. The countryside became alive with the sounds of music. Every night two or three families gathered and lifted their hearts, souls, and minds to the beat of polkas. There was much singing, dancing, and carousing, Home brewed Moonshine quenched their thirst. The Astin farm in Mumford was the scene of at least three dances a week and was affectionately named el rancho 259 Bryan Legends and Legacies alegre, the happy ranch. It bustled with much activity, singing, danci and cooking. There in the countryside, with Mr. Zuki on the accordion and one of the Estrada brothers playing guitar, workers put aside their worrie In taverns and saloons, the sound of Mr. Zuki's accordion could be he entertaining not just the Mexicanos but the Blacks and Anglos. In the late 1940s, Mr. Zuki was multicultural when multicultural wasn't cool. At tim there would be brawls brought on by too much home brew. Mr. Zuki recalls one such incident, "I had lent my accordion to my cousin and he had just set it down, when a brawl broke out. Seems like it resulted from the bootleg. ging. Anyway, shots were fired and we didn't t realize that the accordion had been shot. My cousin came back and he continued playing, it didn't bother the accordion any. It wasn't until the next day that we noticed it." From rural entertainment, Mr. Zuki moved to the fair grounds in Cameron. He recalls playing for the Fiestas Patrias in 1947. It was custom on diez y seiz de septiembre to play from 8 p.m. till 4 a.m. There was much activity - -food, game, and craft booths, coronation of the reina (queen), the procession of the Mexican and American flags, and el grito (cry for inde- pendence). Mr. Zuki and Estrada also played in halls in Bryan. He recalls very fondly the Lulac plataforma. In its beginning, Lulac Recreation Center was a large platform and the scene of dancing under the moon and stars. As the years progressed, the accordion and guitar were joined by the drums and Mr. Zuki and his group started playing at the American Legion and for Huero Aguirre, owner and manager of the Cinco de Mayo Cantina. The Cinco de Mayo Cantina has very fond memories for him. His eyes glow as he recalls, "We first went to play there at the request of el Huero. It was his birthday and he asked that we play for him... And it was there we were given the name for our group. At that time there was a polka titled Suve y Baja (Up and Down). The patrons really liked that polka and they would request it, so we played it a lot. Then when they would see us coming they would say, Look, here comes el suve y baja. Then someone wrote on the drum, Zuki y el Conjunto de Suve y Baja. And that's how our group got its name." During one of his performances at the Cinco de Mayo Cantina, Mi 260 1 Timeless Stories Zuki met David Haines, owner and general manager of KORA radio sta- tion. Haines was a candidate for State Representative from this district and t he cantina was on his campaign tour. Willie Escamilla, a volunteer for David, approached Mr. Zuki with a request. Introductions were made, and Mr. Zuki was recruited as one of the many spokespersons in behalf of David Haines. Before he left, David left his business card with Mr. Zuki and in- vited him to the radio station to discuss the possibility of his hosting a Span- ish program. After obtaining his FCC license, Mr. Zuki hosted a morning show from 5:00 to 6:00 a.m., later extended to 6:30 a.m. He credits David Haines and KORA for giving him the opportunity to further his career as a musician. Of course, Mr. Zuki was no stranger to radio. He had played on the air during the time that Pascual Villarreal hosted a Spanish show. So impressed was Pascual with Mr. Zuki's accordion style that he nicknamed him el Huracan, the Hurricane. During his tenure with KORA, Mr. Zuki, in addi- tion to playing requested music for his fans, also made public service an- nouncements for the Kennedy administration, sold advertisements, cut his own commercials, and was able to promote musica nortena, accordion style music. Because of changes in his work schedule at the International Shoe Factory, Mr. Zuki regretfully had to end his tenure as Spanish radio host. But the experience and exposure he gained proved helpful in later years. Felix Torres, who had a radio station in Bryan, helped Mr. Zuki get a job with a Navasota station. Mr. Zuki recalls, "I enjoyed wearing those ear phones, talking into the microphone, playing requested and nonrequested music and making announcements. But then work picked up and again I had to leave, but another Mexican took my place." Today, Mr. Zuki is still playing the accordion. He has seen a lot of changes in music during his musical career. In the beginning, the polkas, ballads, waltz, chotis y redobas (dance typical of Madrid) were very popu- lar. Accordion music typically known as musica nortena or musica de taconaso (foot- stomping music) from the northern part of Mexico started °ut with the accordion and guitar. Later it included the huge bass that was affectionately known as el tololoche and el tambor, the drum. Then in the 6 °s, bands and orchestras began using the saxophone, trumpet, and electric 261 guitar and began to develop their own identity. The accordion was associ ated with the conjunto, nortena music. Today the music industry has s een the accordion make a comeback. Nortena music now appeals to young a old and most all musical groups have an accordionist. Mr. Zuki is still the accordionist for Fuerza Latina. There are no plans for retirement from music. Music has and always will continue to bring hi much enjoyment and he is encouraged by the support he receives from the community and colleagues in the music industry. Fuerza Latina has been the opening act for big name Tejano stars like Selena y Los Dinos and Emilio Navaira. Mr. Zuki never tires of playing his accordion, and he honors all re- quests within reason. He is very proud of the fact that his son, Sotero Jr., learned to play the drums at age eight, and by age nine he was playing in his group. Today Sotero Jr. lives in Dallas. His musical style is versatile, and he plays with an English and a Puerto Rican group. Mr. Zuki's retirement has permitted him the luxury to take life a little slower and enjoy his grandchil- dren. But when it comes to his music, the pace increases. Whether he is playing in Temple or San Antonio; the Palace Theater, or for a meeting of the Celebrate Bryan History Book Project, he plays with gusto! Mr. Zuki is indeed living history. From an interview with Sotero Guevara. Bryan Legends and Legacies Emma and Edward Aycox Kathryn Robinson "The city of Bryan has been good to me and my family." With a smile Edward Aycox explains his decision to run for city council in 1988 and shakes his head remembering when he ran for a second term in 1990, win- ning the at -large election by eight votes over the white candidate. "Maybe it's time for me to retire," says Emma Aycox, poking fun at herself. "I'm now teaching children of my former second -grade students at Johnson Elementary, where I've been since the school opened in 1972." 262 Timeless Stories Emma and Edward, who met while taking extension classes in Temple, c elebrated twenty -three years of marriage on Emma's birthday in October 1995. February is a time of celebration of Edward's birthday and Valentine's pay; a time to look back and count their blessings. "We were married at my minister's home in Teal's Prairie," Edward says. "I've always been active in the Baptist Church. My Dad was the Sun- day school superintendent when I was a boy in Cameron, in Milam County. When I got old enough, I took over the job." "We still drive back to Bremond every Sunday to attend the New Hope Baptist Church," Emma adds. "That's where I grew up and it's our spiritual home. My mother lives there, and our daughter, Latricia, comes home from her dorm on the Texas A &M campus to go with us. I'm a mission teacher and sing in the choir. Guess what Edward's job is. That's right ... Sunday school superintendent. And he also serves on the board of deacons." Latricia, home for a break, takes a smiling peek at her parents. "I come from a long line of strict disciplinarians," she says. "I work three days a week at the library on the west campus and two days a week at a medical lab, plus my studies." Her father shakes his head. "When I was ten I worked along with my Dad, a paper hanger and painter, or I joined my eight brothers and sisters in the assigned tasks Dad left for us when he went to work. I laugh when I hear people talk about migrant workers. We followed the cotton crop, picking our way west across Texas. When we finished school and left home to find other jobs, we were expected to send half of our salary home." Latricia rolls her eyes. "It was the same for me," Emma says. "My mom, who worked for fifty cents an hour as a maid, taught us that if we were going to do something, to do it right. She insisted that we learn to be independent and to accept re- sponsibility. Her dream was for all of us children to get a college education, and we did. When my brother, Wilmer, was in the Air Force, he made sure I had the money for my fees at Prairie View. And I did the same for our younger sister, Ida, when it was her turn." Emma graduated from Prairie View with both a bachelor's and a master's degree from the College of Education. 263 Bryan Legends and Legacies "When I finished high school at eighteen, jobs were hard to find and I joined the Navy," Edward adds. "I still thank my lucky stars I was part of th first groups of Blacks not required by law to be cooks and dishwashers I was a Seaman with military shipboard duties. We were part of a huge con. voy at sea when the atom bomb was dropped. I still wonder if we were headed for Japan." Emma adds that he also received a master's degree in biology from Texas Southern University and a Counseling Certification and Education Administrative Certification at Texas A &M in College Station, which led to jobs as an assistant principal, a counselor, and director of special services in the Bryan Independent School District. "Those thirty -seven years of teaching young people and working in the community gave me the desire to run for the city council after I retired," he says. "It's funny, though; working on the council was tougher than I had expected. Too time - consuming. It's like a full -time job. During my terms, I worked for reducing the speed limit on Highway 21 in the area of two Black schools, the required maintenance of vacant lots, the widening of Martin Luther King Street when the Sam Rayburn Middle School was built, and improvements for Sadie Thomas Park." He looks down at his artificial leg. "I have diabetes," he says. "Some- times I pretend that my leg will grow back." Emma searches his face and points to the plaques on the wall: Man of the Year; O. J. Thomas High School Alumni Association in Cameron (they still get together every August); Man of the Year, New Hope Baptist Church, Bremond; Bryan Citizen's Police Academy; International Association of Lions Clubs, North Bryan Lions Club. Emma Aycox: Secretary of the Rose Hill Cemetery Club and a tutor at Bethune Women's Club, North Bryan Community Center. "Now that I'm retired, I run some cows near Bremond and care for a few properties," Edward says. "And do you know what my most important activ- ity is ?" He looks fondly at Emma. "Washing dishes." Emma and Edward Aycox: two kind, gentle people, products of strong Black families insisted on education for their children. Those children raised children who went to integrated schools. Latricia Aycox graduated from 264 1 Timeless Stories Bryan High School and received the $10,000 President's Achievement Award from Texas A &M. These families have been good for the City of Bryan, and the other co mmunities touched by their lives. published in the Golden Eagle and the Bryan - College Station Eagle. Boleros y Tamales, The Life and Times of 1 Ambrosio "Bocho" Saenz Josephine Arevalo Mr. Saenz, Ambrosio, the Bolero King, the Tamale Man, and Bocho are a few of the names by which Ambrosio Cruz Saenz is affectionately known in Bryan and surrounding areas. Born in New Braunfels, Texas on December 7, 1908, Bocho's life has spanned 86 years. His life has been productive because he has worked hard, but always with a song in his heart. To Bocho, music is the language of the soul. With music one can express what is felt in the heart and find inspiration. Bocho's father Crespon Saenz was born in Camargo, Tamaulipas, Mexico in 1876, and his mother, Refugia Cruz, was born in Laredo. Crespon mi- grated to Texas at the age of fourteen. Family, not economic problems, brought him to San Antonio to work as a field laborer. There he was in- volved in a dispute with an Anglo that netted him valuable jail time. Valu- able, because Crespon learned to speak English. After his release, he went to work for the railroad. Moving from town to town, and with a command of the English language, Crespon became ajefe (boss), accumulated savings, married, bought a house, and bought farm equipment. Bocho's earliest recollection of his family is at the age of three living in Skidmore, Texas. Growing up, Bocho was surrounded by music. Music has always broken the monotony of the farm laborer. His German brother -in- law played the violin, a neighbor played the guitar, and together they pro- vided entertainment for family and friends. Bocho being an inquisitive child knew that he too could be musical. One day his brother -in -law left the vio- 265 Bryan Legends and Legacies lin at Bocho's house. Bocho picked it up and started plucking it. He 1' the feel of it in his arms. At the same time, he had been given a mandolin s he started practicing with it. To Bocho, the violin and the mandolin we similar, and the fingering was the same. He continued practicing and persis. tence paid off when he finally acquired his own violin. From about 1910 to 1921, the Mexican Revolution brought an influx of many Mexicans to Texas. They were from all classes -- elites, professionals, skilled, and unskilled. In that influx came a music professor who began teaching music in Skidmore. Being one that takes advantage of every op. portunity, Crespon sent his son, Bocho, and his violin to study music under that professor. Bocho was twelve at the time. Today he reminisces of the first encounter of protege and teacher: "There I was with my violin and the professor said, 'No, no! Forget the violin. You are going to study music - -do, re, mi, fa, so, la, ti - -and all that. You need to learn the first part.' And so I learned to read music. Then he said, `Now you can get the violin.' Then he told me to buy a music book and ... It showed everything: fingering, bow- ing. And that's how I got started." In 1922, the Saenz family moved to Milam County in Cameron to share- crop in that area. Bocho was fourteen years old, the same age his father was when he migrated to Texas. For the Saenz family, sharecropping at one- fourth was very profitable. At one - fourth the tenant was his own boss; at one -half the landowner was the boss. But then came the Depression. Many tenant farmers were displaced because subsidies were given to landowners not to farm their land. Even though the Saenz family was not affected by the subsidy, Crespon sensed that jobs would become scarce. Being a visionary, he made plans. He brought Bocho to Bryan in 1930 to seek employment at the dining hall at Texas A &M College. Bocho was twenty -two years old at this time and the only vice he had was smoking Lucky Strike cigarettes. At the "mess hall" Bocho toiled ten to fourteen hours a day earning $45 a month. He lived in the barracks on campus and made music by night. An accomplished musician, he enjoyed playing smooth, easy listening Glenn Miller music. By 1936 he had composed two songs and was very much in demand. He played no less that four nights a week. These engagements, at a dollar an hour, provided him with petty cash and enabled him to send all his 266 1 Timeless Stories y from his Texas A &M job to the family in Cameron. Tired of working 10 to 14 hour days, Bocho yearned for excitement. for a change of pace he moved to Houston in 1938 and went to work for a r estaurant. By day he made picante; by night he made music. He joined with an orchestra and had engagements in clubs in Houston and at the Mort pock Pier in Galveston. Bocho was really enjoying himself. Life was great, cooking by day and entertaining at night. But then work slowed down. He recalls wistfully, "The new law against the sale of drinks made it harder to bring the crowd in. Once he came to Bryan to play in a place called the Nighthawk. We played there for three weeks. But money was scarce. The group left, but I remained. After all, this was my home." Bocho, like his father Crespon, was a visionary. He had a dream of Organizing an orchestra in the Bryan area. At the time there was a small group studying music under the guidance of a self - appointed professor of music from the Lower Valley. The group was experiencing discontent. They did not like the songs the professor was teaching them and were learning nothing. The group had heard Bocho play at the Nighthawk. They were impressed and invited him to join their group. Bocho's acceptance created discord with the professor, but he moved on and left Bocho to direct the group. With much practice, the group under the name of Los Boleros Kings [with Ambrosio on violin; Lola Moncivais, guitar; Manuel Moncivais, alto sax; Emil Moncivais, bass fiddle; David Vivero, singing tenor; Raymond Canales, trumpet and Ascension Munoz, drums] was ready to perform their first booking in 1941 at the SPJST Hall in Bryan. They played Glenn Miller music and smooth easy listening music like Stardust. Lola sang songs in Spanish. One of the popular songs was Sonar en noche de luna (Dreaming on Moonlight Night). Boletus Kings they most certainly were! They projected elegance, style, and class with a touch of romanticism. Dressed in purple shirts, white cumberbunds, and long coattails they entertained the community playing at the college, the country club, a hall on Highway 6, and at weddings. Since there was no other orchestra in Bryan, they were well received and pro - vided the community with their rendition of "Sentimental Journey," 267 Bryan Legends and Legacies "Stardust," boleros, polkas, and whatever was requested. For three y eas they played for high society. Bocho recalls nostalgically, "The people wer very well dressed. The women wore beautiful long dresses, and the men h on coats and ties. Those were beautiful times." On the local level the community listened and danced to the smooth music of Los Boleros Kings, but globally World War II was still raging in Europe and moving into Asia. Bocho served his country for a short tim Upon his discharge the group reorganized again and started playing for home dances. Bocho recalls softly almost in a whisper, "At that time they had dances at homes, the big shots did. Lola and I played at Mrs. Parker's house, She was wealthy and had a large house. The women had meetings and we were hired to play easy listening music, so while they were chatting and enjoying refreshments we would be playing." Bocho and Lola also provided entertainment from 8:00 to 10:00 p.m. at Chapultepec, a Mexican restaurant on South College, owned by the Manriquez family. Lola, dressed in a white blouse and black skirt and Bocho in coattails attracted a large crowd of students, professors, and wives. The women enjoyed listening to the music and at times would sing along and be very hesitant to leave. This caused a line of people waiting to get into the restaurant. Laughing, Bocho recalls the day Mr. Manriquez told him, "I'm going to have to let you go, Bocho, because if I don't, these people will stay here listening to the music. And others are waiting to get in." Bocho and Lola continued playing for anniversaries and home entertainment until Lola moved to Santa Fe, New Mexico. She had a small orchestra there and con- tinued with her style of entertainment. Bocho kept practicing and playing at home. He always has found serenity and tranquillity. After gaining valuable experience by working for someone else, Bocho finally opened his own business in 1969. He bought a building on Sandy Point Road and started selling picante and tamales. At first he hesitated about selling beer but was advised that without beer there would not be much business as tamales and beer went hand in hand. Later he had a spe- cialty plate, called the "Saenz Special" consisting of three tamales with chili con carne on top, jalapenos, cheese, and onions, which was a big seller. The cafe was opened seven days a week, so Bocho and his family worked 268 Timeless Stories hard. But he never forgot his love for music. At night between breaks he Wo uld play his violin and on Sundays he sang in the choir. His violin is very special to him. It was purchased for $24 from a judge. Bocho recalls the purchase, "A man from Germany came to the United States to play here, and he brought the violin. This judge had to hear his case, and the man paid him with the violin. It was a good violin, for he was a musi- cian. The judge came into Steve's where I was working and he told me, 'I have a violin. Go look at it. I will let you have it for $24. It's a good violin.' I looked inside and it has the name Jacob Steiner made in Germany. I put strings on it, and tuned it. Later I was offered five thousand dollars for it, but I wouldn't sell it." In 1984, Bocho opened his second business at 1401 West William Joel fl Bryan Parkway and left his son to manage the original Saenz Place. Today, only the second business is open; in addition to tamales it serves barbecue. Bocho no longer works there. His son, Alfonso is carrying on the family tradition, but occasionally Bocho will drop in. Today Bocho and his wife are taking life at a slower pace and are enjoying their grandchildren. The Bolero King will always be remembered by his community. To his five sons, Adolfo, Arturo, Andres, Alberto, and Alfonso; his two daughters, Adelina and Alicia; and his grand grandchildren he will always be their "Bolero King." The family musical tradition continues in the Saenz court. A son, Alberto, plays guitar for a local band, The Brotherhood, and a granddaugh- ter, Alma Avila, plays the violin in a school orchestra in Katy, Texas. From History of the Mexican Americans in Brazos Valley 1900 -1950, Research Paper, Texas A &M University by Josephine R. Arevalo. Retiring is Hard to Do Betty Foster 0 When Rebecca Landmann moved to College Station in 1964, she had re- tired from her job as Library Supervisor for the River Forest Public Schools in Illinois. She believed that her professional life was over. But someone 269 Bryan Legends and Legacies must have heard that she had a Master's Degree in Library Science and lots of experience. A representative of the Bryan Independent School Distri called and asked her to help establish an elementary library system. In 1965, when Rebecca became the Library Supervisor for the Bry Elementary Schools there was not one elementary library; her job was t organize one in each school. First, she had to gather all books from teachers to be reissued, then she went to a fire sale at a warehouse in Mexia. She put library aides into each school and set up a centralized processing center where books were cata- logued and sent out. Rebecca found the work interesting. She enjoyed organizing and trav- eling from one school to another. She especially loved meeting authors and illustrators. She tells one funny story, not so funny at the time, about a library aide who was teaching about the card catalogue and handed out cards from the alphabetized file to the kids. It took six months to reorganize. She was sometimes amazed at some of the books parents complained about, The Diary of Anne Frank, for instance. But she never had to remove a book. She had an effective selection policy and tremendous support from her superintendent, Alton Bowen. Rebecca's love of books began early in life. Her older sister was a country school teacher and she let Rebecca come to school with her so by the age of four she had begun her lifelong love of reading. As a busy supervisor she read five or six books a day. She still collects books and is an avid Dr. Seuss fan. In 1985, Rebecca retired a second time because her husband Wendell was finishing his career at Texas A &M, and they wanted to travel. She had served the Bryan Schools for twenty years - -after she had moved to the Bra- zos Valley to retire! For the past eleven years she has remained active in StageCenter, the community theater that she and Wendell helped found and enjoyed together for thirty years until his death in 1991. She is now serving as president of 270 F an interview with Rebecca Landmann. Timeless Stories that group and hoping to have time to play in Agatha Christie's The Mouse- trap. Rebecca has a hard time staying retired. StageCenter, Legacy of Two Cities Betty C. Foster Wendell and Rebecca Landmann who contributed to the founding and de- velopment of StageCenter did not meet because of their common interest in the theater, but because they both played violin in the University of Illinois orchestra. ,t It was not until they had married and moved to Hinsdale, near Chicago, that they began to enjoy community theater. They became so involved that soon their children were in it with them. When they moved to College Station, they kept asking about commu- nity theater until they met Vick Wiening, a professor of English at Texas A &M University who wanted a readers' theater. No one could have realized that the reading, The Hollow Crown, in the fall of 1965, at the MSC Ballroom at Texas A &M would lead the way to the formation of StageCenter. This community theater group was destined to produce 162 plays by the fall of 1996. The Landmanns would perform in more than thirty -five of these. StageCenter's second production was Dirty Work at the Crossroads the following summer. That fall, Frank Coulter directed the orchestra and Harvey Schmidt's work, The Fantasticks, charmed audiences. Some of the other founders of StageCenter were Dr. and Mrs. A. G. McGill, Brooks and Anneliese Cofer, Florence Far, Frank Coulter, Harry Kroitor, Louise Rotsch, Frank Kahn, Wanda Daisa, and Jean Black Williamson. Some early members were Jane Cooper, Ed Guthrie, and Betty Smith. More recent members include Cathy McWhorter and Will and Kitty Worley. 271 From an interview with Rebecca Landmann Bryan Legends and Legacies The Landmann family has contributed a lot of time, energy, and tale to performances over the years. Wendell acted and directed, winning the best actor award several times. Rebecca has made a name for herself i many character roles. Ttheir sons David and Rick have been active; Rick has been directing for about ten years. Even the grandchildren have joined in. Rebecca and Wendell have each been honored with the Arts Council's Award for Outstanding Contributor to the Arts. Dr. "Mac" McGill, Frank Coulter, and Wendell Landmann were the first three presidents. Rebecca has served as president in the past and is now serving in 1996. Leadership, participation, support, and audiences for StageCenter through the years have come from both Bryan and College Station citizens, demonstrating that we are in reality one community. Early plays presented were The Night of January 16, The Haunting of Hill House, and Once Upon a Mattress. In 1968, The Best Man was the first play in the new theater by the Bryan golf course. Then came The Cru- cible, The Trip to Bountiful, Annie Get Your Gun, Harvey, Lion in Winter, The Chalk Garden, Stories of America, Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, Dial M for Murder, and many other plays and melodramas. Greater Tuna was the biggest box office success. It was the last play performed in the Palace Theater. StageCenter actors and crew were sched- uled to rehearse on Saturday morning, May 1986, but the entire roof caved in shortly before rehearsal time. If the disaster had been delayed many people could have been hurt and perhaps killed. After several moves, StageCenter has established its present home at the corner of Main Street at 20th in downtown Bryan. An offshoot group named Troupe has recently formed to produce musicals. Our community theater was founded and nourished through the years by people of both Bryan and College Station who worked hard to "Go on with the show!" It will be fun to see how old- timers and newcomers from both cities and surrounding areas will work together so that this legacy will continue to bless the people of the Brazos Valley. 272 L Timeless Stories Some Stories of Miss Ida Mrs. Ida Wipprecht Kernodle was of German heritage. Her father taught at Texas A &M. Her husband was the first plumber in Bryan, and their home was the first house in town to have indoor plumbing. During World War II, people were not always kind to the Kemodles because of feelings toward Germans. Ida (pronounced "eeda ") was often at odds with her strict, sometimes harsh upbringing; her romantic side just would out, so endearing anecdotes abound. Nancy Gallaway told Stephanie Colunga two stories about Ida Kernodle: Ida's first experience with flying was in a biplane when she was a young woman. A friend invited her to go up in spite of cloudy weather. They were having a grand time flying through the clouds when they spied a rainbow, a perfect circle. Her friend looped the plane through the rainbow circle sev- eral times while her more timid friends waited below and worried because they couldn't see the plane for the clouds. It was one of her happiest memo- ries. Whenever there was a dance at Texas A &M, the young people would gather and ride the trolley out to the festivities. On one of these occasions Ida was all dressed up and waiting for the trolley when someone noticed a large tent pitched nearby that a travelling evangelist had set up to catch the passengers' attention. After some guilty discussion, most of the group de- cided to postpone the dance and attend the revival. The plan was to get saved, then go to the dance. Mrs. Kernodle told her friends, "I'll not go down to that altar and tell Jesus I'm not going to dance again. I know I'll dance, because I love it. He knows I love it. I think he'll save me anyway!" According to Gallaway, when Ida was in her prime she always raised a big garden and canned everything and smoked her meat. She claimed that she could set up a dinner in thirty minutes. As chairwoman of the U.S.O. she brought in lots of sandwiches and arranged for entertainment and dancing. Fran Kimbrough remembers "Miss Ida" from the fifties and how she l oved to let her yard go to wild flowers in the spring. "Her yard would not be neat, but it was beautiful, and Miss Ida would sit out in the sun wearing 273 Bryan Legends and Legacies a bright colored sweater, with sunlight on her silver hair so that she w part of the scenery." Yet Fran was frightened when she went in the hou because Ida had painted a picture of a scary devil. In the sixties, when teenage fashions went to extremes, Betty Foste and her sons were shopping for bargains at one of Mr. Waldrop's famou menswear sales. Her fifteen year old son Dan fell in love with what seem to her to be a very ugly military style overcoat. There was some argument. As Dan was looking with great longing at his image in the mirror, Id Kernodle looked Betty sharply in the eye and said, "Let that boy have that coat. When Kandy Rose was working as the site manager at Years for Profit she noticed Mrs. Krenodle because she would come every day to eat lunch wearing white gloves and her Sunday best. When Kandy discovered that she was expecting her third child she con- fided to Mrs. Krenodle that she was hoping for a girl. Mrs. Krenodle said," I'll take care of that." The next day she brought a pink Bavarian China demitasse cup and presented it to Kandy, saying that this would ensure the birth of a daughter. Five months later Kandy gave birth to a baby boy, Jason Christopher. Kandy still has the cup, maybe it is meant for a granddaughter. Bryan Bits W. David Bunting was part of the schools in Bryan and Brazos County from 1913 through 1974. He started in the first school building that had been built in 1880 and graduated from the "new" building that was built in 1918 (where Fannin Elementary now stands). He earned a teaching certificate and then a bachelor's degree from A &M and began his career as an educator. He taught in the Tabor Schools, was principal and teacher in Kurten. From 1931 through 1941, he taught high school chemistry and physics at Bryan High and Stephen F. Austin. From 1941 through 1946, he served as Superintendent of the A &M Consolidate Schools. 274 thecca Landmann Timeless Stories During his career as Brazos County Superintendent from 1946 through 1974, he helped set up the first county -wide school bus transportation sys- t in the state. When Mr. Bunting retired in 1974 at the age of sixty- eight, he had s erved forty -eight years as an educator. Dorothy Bunting (Mrs. W. D.) "Pat Peters never let me forget about my StageCenter performance as "Miss Marple." I removed my hat, and my hairpiece came off with it." During StageCenter's first melodrama at the old country club, the director was nonplussed at seeing his actors darting around on stage into positions to which they had never been blocked. At the end of the first act he found out that the roof was leaking and the actors were trying to avoid being drenched. StageCenter had a theater ghost named Ralph who was held responsible for disappearing objects, out of place set pieces, etc. Ralph moved along with the troup to Wellborn Road and to 29th street, and some actors claim he is alive and well at the theater's present location in downtown Bryan. 275 Photo Credit: Dr. Asha Haji and Dr. Karim Haji at the Health for All Clinic, October 1995, Courtesy of Christy Pandey. Recent Times Modern Immigrants Leave Their Mark Christa Pandey He sends her flowers now and even gives her a collegial hug. But it wasn't always so. It took many serene smiles, hard work, and honesty for her to overcome the resistance of this local colleague. After all, she was a strange novelty in this town, a female physician in a sari. Only two other women had established practices in town before her, and neither was a foreigner. The year was 1973. That's when family practitioner, Dr. Asha Haji and her surgeon husband, Dr. Karim Haji, came to Bryan to establish their practices and make their home. They had met in medical school in Bombay, India and fallen in love. A born- and - raised Bombayite, Asha was a big -city girl from a medical house- hold, trying to follow her parents and a grandfather in their medical foot- steps. Karim preferred smaller towns. He had come from Tanzania in East Africa, a country to which his Indian ancestors had migrated three genera- tions earlier. During the years of medical school grind Asha and Karim had come to love and trust each other. They knew they belonged together, de- spite their cultural differences. Though both looked "Indian" to the untrained eye, they had grown up continents apart and practiced different religions: She was a Hindu, he a Muslim. For Karim, who had gone abroad once for his training, the leap to fur- ther medical training in the United States was almost natural. He came to Toledo, Ohio for his surgical training. But Asha had no desire to leave her country. She was at home in India and intended to stay there. Only her love for Karim convinced her that she had to follow him to the States. She joined him in Detroit where both could serve their medical residencies. They had dreams about practicing medicine in Africa afterwards. But things in Tanzania went awry. Shortly after becoming independent, Tanzania turned to Socialism, and businesses, banks, and industry were na- tionalized. Karim's parents lost their property. The young couple's African dream evaporated like a mirage. Karim and Asha called his parents to the United States to live with them. His siblings too had started new lives out- 279 Bryan Legends and Legacies 280 side Tanzania. After completing their training the Hajis looked for a town to set up their practices and call home for their two small daughters. After years in the north, they longed to once again live in a warmer climate. Several small towns in the southern United States had advertised their medical needs, but when the Hajis arrived to look things over, Asha's strange garb was a greater attraction to the townspeople than her medical credentials. Arriving at Easterwood Airport, gateway to yet another small town, the doctors were received by an administrator of what was then Humana Hospi- tal. He greeted them warmly and complimented Asha on her beautiful sari. The couple looked at each other and knew they had come home. Bryan was small, but no backwater. The neighboring university spread an air of sophis- tication over the community. Setting up a practice and attracting patients was easier for Asha, the family physician, than for Karim, the surgeon. But the need for surgeons was great and many colleagues sent their overflow patients to the new doc- tors' offices. Despite Asha's sari, the young doctors tried to integrate quickly into the medical community. They made introductory visits to their col- leagues and were generally well received. Some physicians took them out to dinner, while others received them in their offices. Only a time or two were they totally brushed aside or left waiting in the waiting room and re- ceived in the examination room. Colleagues began to accept them, yet flowers and hugs were earned the hard way. Asha always enjoyed good food and good company. She invited the medical community to her home and introduced colleagues and coworkers to the cuisine of her homeland. Her annual Christmas party at K. C. Hall became an ever larger event that patients and medical staff didn't want to miss. Many who attended her parties sampled Indian food there for the first time. It gave Asha pleasure to introduce friends and colleagues to culinary experiences beyond the local fare. Their desire to live in a small town turned the Hajis into pioneers for other foreigners in the local medical establishment. Only two foreign -born doctors had ventured into Bryan before them. The medical community in the mid 1970s was as white as the traditional physician's coat. The Hajis Recent Times added two brown specks. Things changed rapidly after that. During the late 1960s the floodgates of immigration had been opened for the technically skilled and highly trained, including physicians. But once in the United States, the foreign physicians found that further retraining in certain spe- cialties was closed to them. Many went into lesser -known areas. Setting up practice outside the major metroplexes, they began to enrich the medical choices in many cities like Bryan. Foreign -born physicians began to call the Hajis to inquire about the local medical climate. From their own experience the Hajis could always say that a new physician would impress the local community with honesty and excellent performance, as long as there was a need. In the 1990s the Bryan - College Station area is brimming with medi- cal services. Arriving practitioners find a competitive climate very differ- ent from the medical community that the Hajis encountered when they ar- rived. Bringing up children in this religiously conservative town was another matter. Although the Hajis let their daughters take part in religious prac- tices at school, the children found their faith questioned at an early age. Their peers at Allen Academy felt compelled to lure them into the Christian faith. Even for the parents, the right response to a colleague's concern about their salvation was not always easy to find. When the children complained that all their friends went to Sunday school, Asha started a Sunday school for them and some of their non - Christian friends. There she taught them the stories of the Bhagavad Gita and the festivals of the Hindu calendar. But they also learned about Islam and the Christian festivals celebrated in the community. Though not brought up in an overly religious household herself, Asha felt that she could pass on the values of human kindness that underlie all religions. The juggling act of living with two religions in her own home while facing a third in the community made Asha aware of the common thread that runs through the different faiths. Her daughters have heeded her message well and have become aware adults. Both are social activists whose names are likely to surface some day in the histories of other towns in this country. Karim had no problem adjusting to the exposure of Christianity. While 281 Bryan Legends and Legacies his mother was a fervent follower of the Ismaili branch of Islam, his father had a more broad - minded influence on his children. He had gone to churches, mosques, and temples, finding God everywhere. Karim's father taught his children that how you treat others and what you do for your neighbors are the day -to -day signs of religion. Karim learned this lesson well, because he describes himself as a doer. His dream is to convert some of the hours people spend listening to sermons into hours spent in community service. Listening to a sermon is less important to him than actively helping someone. Because of this attitude, Karim started what came to be known as Health for All Clinic. As many physicians do from time to time, he had treated some patients without payment. Most of them were sent to him by his sister. Farida, who, following parents and brother to Bryan, owned a modest -priced motel in the north end of Bryan. She would refer customers with minor medical needs but no money to her brother's office. When this had gone on for a while, Farida suggested that Karim should come and treat the people in one of her motel rooms instead. He agreed, but the patient load spread quickly from one room to two rooms. Soon he involved his wife and then another doctor in treating the patients. Word spread, and on clinic day the motel parking lot was usually filled with patients. When the pharmaceutical companies found out about this work, they sent more free samples and medi- cations. Why was there such a need for free treatment? Who were these pa- tients? Some were illegal immigrants, others were people on tight budgets with no medical insurance, people between jobs, and people with high deductibles and a houseful of children in need of medical care and food. Their budget provided only for one or the other. Treating them before they needed emergency -room care was not only charitable but good medical eco- nomics. Giving of their expertise and free time became a source of personal satisfaction for the Hajis that could not to be measured in dollars. As the work progressed, the Hajis found many kindred spirits who eased their burden. One became unforgettable. While Dr. Karim was treating pa- tients at the motel, a rancher pulled up in his truck. The gentleman had heard about the work and wanted to meet the doctor. He wrote Karim a $1,000 personal check and left. This and other checks written by generous 282 Recent Times people made it necessary to put the clinic on an organizational footing. And after five years of treating people in several motel rooms, it was obvious that the need far outstripped the space. The patient flow could not be man- aged efficiently in such inadequate facilities. Fortunately, a community worker and fellow immigrant, Maria Valdez, who had volunteered her services early on, came to the rescue. About 1986 when the decision had to be made to close the clinic or to go public, she organized a nonprofit organization, developed a board of directors, and launched a publicity campaign. Even though the fund - raiser hit the commu- nity right before Christmas, the group raised $25,000 within six weeks. These funds were enough to renovate a small building into a more efficient clinic. Many who helped with the renovations, from plumbing to painting and carpeting, never charged for their services. This type of charitable giving touched the hearts of the Hajis. In many countries charity flows out of the pocketbooks of the wealthy, but to see it flow out of the muscles of average persons and into physical action was and is a gratifying experience. Until medical reform assures access to medical care for everyone there will be a need for free treatment. As a nonprofit organization the Health for All Clinic now receives some federal funds but also faces more bureau- cratic paperwork. Its growth made another move necessary, and for almost two years the Bryan School District provided a facility near St. Joseph Hos- pital, where the clinic could attract more volunteer physicians. Unfortu- nately this location was again temporary and a new home on North Main Street had to be renovated during the summer of 1995. In addition to their own busy practices each of the Hajis still manages one day a week at the clinic, and one day is covered by other volunteer physicians from the community. An additional service day is provided on a rotating basis by the physicians from the Scott & White Clinic. From its beginnings of a few hours once a week, the clinic is now open four days a week for several hours each day. Word of free benefits has a tendency to spread. Out -of- towners, includ- ing school students from the surrounding areas, have found their way to the clinic. To alleviate this pressure on the local clinic and at the request of two 283 Bryan Legends and Legacies adjacent counties, Dr. Karim Haji now goes to Caldwell and Hearne one day a week each. While he admits that twenty years ago he would have never gone to these small towns even for money, he now does it for free and derives great satisfaction from it. In giving back to the community he is guided by the tenets that permeate all religions. Even the conservative among his Christian colleagues now call him "brother." Previously published in Insite Magazine, January 1996. Writers' Group Puts Words to Use Rhonda Brinkmann Every even - numbered month, a group of local people gathers to read and listen to original combinations of words. They are common, everyday words put together in fresh and imaginative patterns by writers who create every- thing from novels to nonfiction, songs to satire. These are the members of Brazos Writers, a group born in Bryan in 1986. In September 1987, fourteen people attended an organizational meet- ing of the Brazos Valley Writers Group, later to become Brazos Writers. They were acting on the inspiration of two energetic writers, Betty Foster and Nancy Wick, who began discussing such a group the year before. With this unpretentious beginning, the group has grown over the years, outgrow- ing two meeting spots and now comprising nearly 100 members. Original members of Brazos Writers met in The Studio in downtown Bryan, but numbers outgrew this first meeting space just two years after the group's official formation. The next regular meeting area was a small room in the Anco Insurance building on Briarcrest Drive. In August 1992, the group again burst its seams and moved monthly meetings to the College Station Conference Center. In odd - numbered months, Brazos Writers offers programs with guest speakers; in even - numbered months it provides a forum for open readings by members. Special interest subgroups gather informally at other times to trade tips, share ideas, and critique one another's work. Monthly newsletters 284 Recent Times keep members informed of meetings, accomplishments, opportunities, and special events. As with any volunteer organization, Brazos Writers relies heavily on the energies and commitments of its members to move the group forward. It achieved nonprofit status thanks in large part to efforts by Ruth Smelser and has been able to offer quality programs and events over the years thanks to creative involvement of its members. Support from the Arts Council of Bra- zos Valley and the Texas Commission on the Arts enables Brazos Writers to continue to expand its outreach. Almost from its inception, Brazos Writers has held at least one major event each year in an effort to reach more of the community. During 1988 and 1989, the group sponsored the Bluebonnet Bouquet Writing Competi- tion. The following year, workshops and conferences became an annual part of the group's efforts. In 1989, Gwynne Elledge presented "Writing without Fear." In 1990, Tom Knowles talked about "The Three Stages to Action Writing: Character, Dialogue, Voice." The next year, 1991, a combined panel of Zinita Fowler, Ed Eakin, Kathi Appelt, and Donna Cooner worked together to present "Writing for Children, Tots to Teens." The 1992 romance and mystery writing workshop, "Desire and Detec- tion," featured Bill Crider, Linda Shaw, Evan Fogelman, Carol Nelson Dou- glas, and Cara West. Liz Carpenter made a special appearance at the 1993 conference, "Exploring the Past: Using History as a Resource," which show- cased talks by Sunny Nash, Judy Alter, Joyce Gibson Roach, and Haskell Monroe. "From Printout to Publication," in 1994, gave participants a chance to learn more about publishing from editor and author Marcia Preston, aca- demic press editor Camille North, agent Michael Duran, and publisher Ed Eakin. It tried out a new approach of "roundtable" discussions that proved a smashing success with those present. Last year's conference, "Writing For and About Texans," featured key- note speakers Roger Downing with the San Antonio Express, Ken Hammond of The Houston Chronicle, Mary Grace Ketner from the Institute of Texan Cultures, and author Margot Fraser. That conference added a concurrent session format, bringing in local leaders Candace Leslie, a widely published 285 Bryan Legends and Legacies local writer; Donald Dyal, head of special collections at Texas A &M University's library; Bobbie Nelson Butler, owner of The Main Street Book- seller; and Janet McCann, professor of poetry at Texas A &M University. The goal of Brazos Writers is to provide leadership, information, coop- eration, and mutual support for published and unpublished writers in the Brazos Valley. In the growing years of its existence, Brazos Writers has seen its members succeed through publication of their works and by achievement of other writing goals. Besides, it's a lot of fun. Selena, 1971 -1995 y el pueblo lloro (and the people wept) Josephine Arevalo No event has affected the Hispanic community in Bryan more than the untimely death of Selena Quintanilla Perez. Although Selena was born in Lake Jackson, Texas, had won the Grammy Award, and was undisputed queen of Tejano music, she was happily and proudly del pueblo de Bryan. What forged the powerful personal bond between Selena and Hispanic Bryanites? Many people do not know that Selena s first performance in Bryan was in 1985, when she was fourteen. She sang at Emiliano's, a small nightclub. Roy Lopez, then owner and manager of the club, recalls that on this occa- sion there were only about six people in the audience but that each time she appeared the size of the crowd increased. Selena and her dad were like family to Lopez. From Emiliano's, Selena moved to larger dance halls like the Fiesta Ballroom and finally to Denim and Diamonds. The band's popularity grew, not just in Bryan, but all over Texas. From nightclubs, they went to dance halls and then to recording with a regional label. The big break came in 1987 when at the age of fifteen, Selena won the Tejano Music Award for female entertainer of the year. An encounter with Selena is an encounter with Tejano music, and Tejano music is a reaffirmation of the Hispanic's proud heritage and their assimila- 286 Recent Times tion into mainstream America. Tejano music is a mix of traditional Mexi- can, pop, polka, country, and sometimes jazz, rhythm and blues, rap and cumbia. El Pueblo de Bryan remember the last performance of Selena's life, on March 19, 1995, at Denim and Diamonds. Dressed in jade -green brocade shorts, bustier, and a long coattail, she put on a full show. Julia Ramirez, a local event promoter and friend of Selena's, tells how Selena happened to come to Bryan for that performance. She was at Selena's house where offers for $75,000 to 150,00 kept coming in by fax from New York City, Mexico City, Guatemala, etc. Julia told Selena's father how much she wanted Selena to come to Bryan, but he said, "Look at all these offers....Selena can only do so much...We need to save her for the bigger events...not because she thinks she is too good, but because we don't want to hurt her vocal chords." About that time Selena came in the room and said, "Dad, we're going to Bryan...I like the people there, so give her a booking." From this conversation, Julia concluded that Selena came to Bryan not for money but because she really enjoyed being with the people of Bryan and wanted to come. Julia believes that at this last performance of her life, Selena drew about 1,200 people, the biggest crowd to ever attend Denim and Diamonds. So it was that on March 19, 1995, Selena came to Bryan for the last visit of her life. Mayor Marvin Tate proclaimed that Sunday as Selena Day in Bryan. That night she was presented with the proclamation by Mayor Pro Tem Lonnie Stabler. Stabler later commented that Selena was friendly, open, and honest that she loved this community and loved being here. He felt that she wanted to bring the community together and to bridge the cultural gap. "She realized that she might not have the opportunity to come here again. Her career was moving so rapidly. I was totally shocked by her death. I miss her, for she had so much more to give. I listen to her sing...I see her...so beautiful...I look forward to hearing her newer music." Selena touched the hearts of young and old. As the news of the shooting and death came that Friday afternoon of March 31, 1995, el pueblo re- sponded with disbelief, hurt, anger, and denial. Friends called friends; par- 287 Bryan Legends and Legacies ents consoled children; el pueblo wept. They wept openly and unashamedly. For the pain they felt was heart- wrenching, unbearable, and all they could do was hope that in her music they would find healing. Mr. Felix Torres, owner of KBMA -FM radio station, responded as he always does when there is a need. At his instructions, Selena y Los Dinos songs were played continuously that weekend. That Friday night, his staff handed out black ribbons. And el pueblo came, grieving for their fallen star. They called in to express the hurt they were feeling, to read poems and to find consolation. As they heard Selena's voice singing their favorite songs they began to heal. Some of her fans from Bryan were among the fifty thousand people who traveled to Corpus Christi in April to pay their respects to Selena at a day long wake. They made a pilgrimage to her home, her boutique, and her studio. This senseless tragedy has united and strengthened those who loved Selena. As they cherish her memory, they take a new pride in who they are and where they come from. El pueblo de Bryan will not forget Selena. Her presence is felt every- where: on Main Street in front of La Fabulosa where afficionados gathered the day after her death for a candlelight vigil and where they released bal- loons on her birthday; in the home of Julia Ramirez, where one of Selena's gold records hangs on the wall; at Denim and Diamonds and the other clubs where she performed. Her Bryan friends saw Selena blossom like a lovely flower - -from a teeny- bopper beginning to sing at Emiliano's to the beautiful, confident enter- tainer at Denim and Diamonds. For local Hispanics, Selena was one of them. She was del barrio; she ate tortillas and frijoles, pizza and Whataburgers. This brown - skinned Tejana taught that you could embrace the traditions of the land that your family came from while still being hip and modern. After her death, Selena finally reached her goal of becoming the first Tejano artist to cross over to pop. Her pop single "I Could Fall in Love" was released to radio stations nationwide on June 15, 1995 and fast became the top requested song on both Tejano and Top 40. Salena had bridged the cultural gap. El pueblo de Bryan will never forget Selena. Raymond Pedraza, KBMA 288 Recent Times broadcaster, spoke for them when he said on that dark weekend, "We love you, Selena, and we thank you for all the joy and happiness that you have given each of us. You will always be our brightest star and you will always be remembered as la reina de la onda (queen of the times). The author acknowledges the following resources: Interviews with Julia Ramirez, Lonnie Stabler, Roy E. Lopez, and Raymond Pedraza; People Weekly, May 1995; Article, April 1, 1995 and Editorial, Bryan College Station Eagle; Article, Austin- American States- man, June 17, 1995. Nightmare In Bryan Cecelia Conitz Heinrich On the afternoon of March 27th, 1995, Clara Mounce straightened her desk as she prepared to leave her office for the day. She breathed a satisfied sigh as she placed a stack of papers on the corner of her desk. The application for funds from the Astin Charitable Trust Foundation was now complete and ready to be picked up. She was looking forward to the restoration of the Old Carnegie Library, automation of the Bryan Library, and establishment of a new branch of the College Station Library. She left her second floor office in the Bryan Public Library that Mon- day evening with everything in order, her mood echoing the serenity of the lawn and street that lay below the plate glass window. She passed the antique grandfather clock, the antique doll house, paint- ings of a farm and cotton pickers in the field, maps on the wall, rows of shelved books, the check out counter, and display cases as she headed home for a quiet evening. Clara could not know that this would be the last time that she would see the library as it was that day. In a few hours, a unique series of events would change her life and deeply affect the community. Tuesday morning, three o'clock. Smoke drifts across downtown Bryan. A lone newsboy notices and reports. Screaming sirens shatter the peace of the morning and flashing emergency lights pierce the darkness. 289 Bryan Legends and Legacies Near Wellborn, Clara and her family are sleeping peacefully until the ringing of the telephone brings them back to a shocked state of wakeful.. ness. "Mrs. Mounce, there's a fire at the library." The dispatcher's words on the telephone are calm and lacking in detail. Clara dresses and hurries to the library. The twenty -five minute drive into Bryan gives her time to imagine all sorts of terrible possibilities. When she arrives, Clara finds that her friends from the fire department have already extinguished the blaze and have sealed off the library. They cannot allow even Clara in while fire fighters and police search through the rubble to discover the cause of the fire and the condition of the building. The firemen ask her if they can bring her anything from inside. Clara asks for the application to the Astin Charitable Trust Foundation and the keys to the book drop. These are retrieved, covered with soot and ash. Later the papers will be cleaned and decontaminated. They will still bear black scorch marks from the fire when Clara submits them to the Foundation. Clara stays at the library the following day, wondering who could have done such a thing. Some people, not knowing what has happened, stop by for a library visit. She meets them, telling the sad news. Many well - wishers offer help. As morning light arrives and people begin to arrive for work, police discover evidence of vandalism at the Masonic Lodge. Someone has slashed the tires of six city vehicles. For days afterward, Clara suffers through shock and grief and feelings of great loss. She cries easily. She cannot sleep, so she reads in her favorite spot at home during the early morning hours. The nightmare of this night will be with her forever. The entire community pours out help and encouragement. Clara is quickly caught up in the work of reorganizing and restoration. She learns many things never taught in library certification class. Because asbestos is confirmed as a contaminant in the building, the city of Bryan calls in an air quality specialist. The library staff and eager volun- teers feel frustrated when told that they are not qualified to enter the build- 290 Recent Times ing and help with repair efforts. The nemesis, asbestos, while it has contaminated, has saved many books y providing a barrier to the fire. Beard Moving and Transfer brings in a 40 -foot storage van. Volunteers carefully clean each book with chem wipes and store them in boxes in the an. A warehouse provides book storage and office space for Clara and her tall. The Friends of the Library set up a fund at First American Bank. Other usinesses and organizations join in the effort, including Half -Price Books, Randall's, First American Bank, and Brazos Writers. On April 25, Clara is able to present to the Bryan City Council a check for $22,000, which she alls a down payment on the cost of repairing the damage. The Friends of e Library's fall book sale provides for library purchases that the city can- ot cover. During the months to follow, area residents turn to the College Station ibrary and the Bookmobile for services while Clara and her staff work rom temporary offices and the College Station branch, preparing for the eopening of the library. Decontamination and clean up proceed behind yel- ow barrier ribbons. The small College Station Library has no space for Saturday morning ovies and the popular summer program of stories and crafts. The summer reading program continues, however, and local bookstores provide story me for youngsters. By late July, Clara is back in her office where she can once again look ough her window at the tree shaded lawn of the library and the old bell at children love to ring. In the midst of boxes piled on the new carpet she s pleased that she can enjoy lunch at her desk again. Antiques and paintings are still out being cleaned and boxes of books e coming in from the warehouse where volunteers have cleaned them with hem -wipes and Murphey's Oil. Clara sets herself a quota of five boxes a ay to clean. Some carpet is yet to laid, shelves must be moved, equipment d furniture brought in. Wiring and plastic light fixtures have been re- laced and the air conditioning is cooling down the Texas summer heat. Clara feels deep gratitude that the firemen were able to save the papier 291 From an interview with Clara Mounce. Bryan Legends and Legacies mache bear and dinosaur made by school children, the antiques, and paint- ings because they so quickly extinguished the fire and confined most of the damage to the periodical section where it began. The asbestos in the wall saved the antique grandfather clock. When eager residents ask Clara when the library will reopen, her answer is, "It will open when it opens." Clara is greatly encouraged when the Astin Foundation approves the application and grants the requested funds. This will provide for new carpet and furnishing and for updated equipment. It is late summer; the disaster is over. Many people in the community have poured out gifts of time and money. They have supported Clara through a terrible time. They have shown that their library is of great importance to them. From this time on only a hint of fear in the night hours or a bad dream once in a while may yet recall the disaster that Clara Mounce has called "my worst nightmare." Bryan Library Reopens Its Doors Hugh Simonich The Bryan Public Library reopens this morning for the first time since a fire charred and blackened its insides early in the morning on March 28. The doors open at 9 a.m. ...everyone is invited to attend a ribbon- cutting ceremony at 6:30 p.m. Thursday on the front lawn of the library. Anyone who wants to participate in the cutting can do so by supplying his own pair of scissors. An open house will be conducted immediately afterward. Several hundreds of people are expected to show up, and Mayor Lonnie Stabler will...honor Demetrio Dichoso, a newspaper carrier who first spot- ted the fire and called the police with a citizen's award. In an extraordinary turn of events, Dichoso's newspapers were deliv- ered to him early on the morning of the fire, allowing him to begin his paper 292 Recent Times route about 30 minutes earlier than normal City of Bryan fire officials said if Dichoso had not spotted and reported the fire when he did, the damage to the library would have been far more extensive. Clara Mounce, head librarian, said when she thinks about the timing ...it sends chills up and down her spine. "He's our hero," says Mounce. "You can imagine what the fire would be like if he wasn't early. He happened to be in the right place at the right time. Immediately after the fire, hundreds of volunteers, city staff and com- munity organizations joined together in a unified effort to restore the li- brary. During the library's 161 -day rehabilitation period, citizens, businesses and civic organizations contributed more than $50,000 toward its restora- tion. ... Mounce said the library will resume its programs, including story time for children, on Oct. 2. Wednesday, September 6, 1995, The Bryan- College Station Eagle. 293 Celebrate the diversity of the people of Bryan,Texas from early days to recent times. Find out what life was like when: • Harvey Mitchell was "The Boss of Boonville" • African Americans survived their refugee status following the Civil War • Early Italians labored in cotton fields and celebrated St. Joseph's altars • The Watts sisters were "Growing up in the Manse" in the twenties • Grandmother was a girl in the forties Meet interesting people from our area: • The "Tom Sawyers" who roamed the "Jack -Ass Prairie" in the early fifties • David Bunting who graduated from grocery delivery boy to respected educator in the area • The recent immigrants who founded the Health For All Clinic • The Polish- American descendants of Florian Stetz who still enjoy the "Beauty of a Dog -Trot House" • Bryan Librarian Clara Mounce during her worst nightmare Enjoy poems, stories, and letters from more than sixty writers: Harry Alter, Jeff Carroll, Jim Dozier, Haskell Monroe, Harvey Mitchell, Sunny Nash, Frances Kimbrough, Shirlireed Walker, Peggy Hope, Jack Maguire, Regina Opersteny, Stephanie Colunga, Josephine Arevalo, and others. 1871 -1996 .441k