Monthly Archives: February 2024

Thoughts and Ramblings: Hugo and James DeBretagne; Giving Bigfoot the Boot; Hacking into Radio; Sundays Were for Cajun Bandstand; Rest In Peace Stan Bowles #WeRQPR

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Last weekend, I went down a few rabbit holes linked to a couple of newspaper archives and Fold3, which is a military database offered by the website Ancestry. This is where I initially discovered the war diaries of the Marine Scout Bombing Squadron 931 (VSMB-931) dive-bomber squadron that trained in Jefferson County. My goal was to find a bit more information on Hugo DeBretagne, a Port Arthur marine who died in Tarawa in 1943. Since this week is the anniversary of Operation Detachment (the invasion of Iwo Jima), I wanted to search through what war diaries were available, if any. What I ended up finding were the diaries of the Second Marines concerning their part in Operation Galvanic (the siege of Betio Island in Tarawa), as well as a few more questions and scenarios.

In the pages of the Beaumont Journal and the Port Arthur News, I did find a few mentions of Hugo DeBretagne’s death and the fate of his brother, James, later in the war in Iwo Jima. I believe James was also in Tarawa, but I don’t know what unit he served in. The information regarding Hugo was inscribed on his memorial stone at Greenlawn Cemetery in Groves, Texas, so I could follow a bit of a paper trail for him, but not in James’s case. One thing I did find out in the newspaper archives was that James was wounded in Iwo Jima, but without knowing who he served with, I can’t find any answers.

Luckily, James DeBretagne survived the war. He spent time recovering in a Corpus Christi hospital from the wounds he suffered in Iwo Jima, for which he received the Purple Heart. That’s where the military history ends. I won’t get into other aspects of the family, but I will say that he lived a long life, and he passed in 1993 in Hardin County.

Before reading through the war diaries of the Second Marines, I had assumed that Hugo DeBretagne died on D-day 3—the third and last day of fighting on Betio. However, since there was little resistance that day, and given that he was buried at sea, I am beginning to think that he was wounded in the initial battle or on D-day 2. I doubt this question will ever be answered, but if I manage to do so, I will let you know. That’s the problem with research—when you think you have the right scenario, something changes it. But if the result is correcting our historical knowledge, that’s okay.

The last thing I will say about these brothers is that they were also on Guadalcanal, which would make a whole other major story. SETX gave a lot for the war, and it doesn’t matter what county you reside in; there are heroes in every hallowed ground of our area.

I’ve finally cut the cord, so to speak. Seven years ago, I was so fed up with the cable provider Spectrum that I switched to Dish (Latino). Oh, those World Cup memories! You could watch TV after a hurricane as long as you had a generator bringing the power to the TV and all the hookups. Now, the only thing you can watch on Dish that you can’t get anywhere else is the Dishscapes. Although nice, I will not pay $173 a month to see Bigfoot either boating or mowing the grass in his dapper Smokey Bear hat.

I remember that, back in the day, we had four channels: KJAC, KFDM, KBMT, and the Public Broadcasting Network (PBS) out of Houston (sponsored by the Getty Oil Company or the DuPont Foundation, of course). PBS had a big influence on me because of—yes—Sesame Street and The Electric Company. Later, in the ’80s, Soccer Made in Germany would put me on the weirdly inevitable path of becoming an English-football supporter and, even worse, a fan of Queens Park Rangers (QPR). The main reason was PBS’s coverage of the 1982 World Cup and the dreaded Football Association Cup final between QPR and Tottenham Hotspur. Probably the worst mistake I’ve made in my life, but “We R QPR,” and the pain continues.

 R.I.P. Stan Bowles (24 December 1948 – 24 February 2024)

Around that time, we also discovered that we could cross wires and antennae to actually broadcast over the air—so to speak. A walky-talky may have been used, and the Federal Communications Commission had no idea we did this, but in 1982, we started our own radio station. Truth be told, we could only broadcast over a couple of blocks in our neighborhood, but you could listen to it on any radio in that area. Ninety-nine point something was the frequency. Regarding content, Rush, AC/DC, Judas Priest, Iron Maiden, and Ozzy Osbourne were played to no one. My cohost was worried that his mother may be listening because his house was a block away, but he was the one doing the things we shouldn’t have been doing in the first place, so there you go. It was fun, and I did see Ozzy Osbourne in Beaumont and lived to tell about it. I saw him a couple of times, but the one with Randy Rhoades at Fair Park was the best!

When we weren’t hacking into the airwaves, our radios would be tuned in to 104½ FM or 101 KLOL. I think I still have some cassette tapes of Linda Silk’s show on Saturday nights. Of course, Sunday mornings were strictly for KLVI 560’s show Cajun Bandstand, hosted by Johnny Janot. After Johnny passed, A. J. Judice stepped in front of the microphone for a couple of years. I miss Johnny. I know his dog gave him a hard time, but when you name your dog Sex, things usually don’t go smoothly in everyday life. (Story below!)

You know, everyone that has a dog either calls him Rover, or Boy, or Fido, or something.

Well, I call mine Sex. Sex is a very embarrassing name.

One day, I took Sex for a walk, and he ran away from me. I spent hours looking for that dog, and a cop came along and asked me what I was doing in this alley at four o’clock in the morning. I said I was looking for Sex. My case comes up next Thursday.

One day I went to city hall for a dog license for Sex, and the clerk asked me what I wanted, and I told him I wanted a license for Sex. And he said, “I’d like to have one too! “

But I said this is a dog, and he said, “ I don’t care how she looks.”

 Then I said you don’t understand. I’ve had Sex since I was two years old.

And he said, “Boy, you must have been a strong boy.”

Well, I decided to get married and told the minister I wanted to have Sex at the wedding. He told me to wait until after the wedding. I told him but Sex has played a big part in my life, and my whole lifestyle revolves around Sex. He said he didn’t want to hear about my personal life and would not marry us in his church. I told him that everyone coming to the wedding would enjoy having Sex there. The next day, we were married by the Justice of the Peace, and my family are all barred from the church.

My wife and I took the dog along with us on our honeymoon, and when I checked into the motel I told the clerk I wanted a room for my wife and I, and a special room for Sex. The clerk said every room in the motel is for sex. Then I said, you don’t understand, Sex keeps me awake at night, and the clerk said, “Me too!”

One day I told my friend I had Sex on TV, and he said, “You show off.” I told him it was a contest. He said, “You should’ve sold tickets.”

Well, my wife and I separated and went to court to fight for custody of the dog, and I said your Honor, I’ve had Sex before I was married, and the judge said, “Me too!”

Now I’ve been thrown in jail, I’ve been married, I’ve been divorced, and had more damn trouble with that dog than I ever gambled for.

Why, just the other day, when I went for my first session with my psychiatrist, and she asked me what the problem was, I said, hell, Sex has died and left my life. It’s like losing a best friend, and it’s so lonely.

The doctor said, “Look, mister, you and I both know that sex isn’t man’s best friend.”

Go get yourself a dog!

 Johnny Janot

Until next week, We still R #QPR

Johnny Janot:

Stan Bowles:  https://www.bbc.com/sport/football/68394453

Thoughts and Ramblings: D. A. R. Talk; Ezerbet Says Hi; Three Millionaires Want to Build Mansions in a Swamp; Vuylsteke House

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Many thanks to the Captain William Sanders chapter of the National Society of the Daughters of the American Revolution (NSDAR). I was again honored to be a speaker at their February meeting this week. More people showed up this year, but they weren’t there to listen to my ramblings. This chapter reaches out to the local high schools and asks the faculty who the outstanding students are, and the faculty and counselors give their shout-outs. The students receive one hundred dollars in cash, a certificate, and information on obtaining a scholarship through the NSDAR. I think this is an outstanding idea for local organizations, and they deserve to be mentioned whenever possible.

The talk went well, but the refreshments were better. I only had one heckler this year. My two-and-a-half-year-old granddaughter Ezerbet was in the audience and greeted everyone, repeatedly (“Hi!”). Thanks to the person who sent a bag of Fritos her way. She enjoyed them, along with anything that caught her eye and her stomach after the meeting. By the way, her name isn’t Ezerbet, but when I mention her in future blogs, I will refer to her like that just to irritate one of her parents.

One of the advantages of being part of the Jefferson County Historical Commission is being around people who know a lot more than you do about a subject or how to do certain things, such as presentations. Shout-out to Dr. Steven Lewis, who is a wiz at creating PowerPoint files and Excel spreadsheets. He is the only reason I can produce some of these things. I’m pretty savvy when it comes to technology, but not this type of stuff. I think that, deep down, I just hate Mister Softy (MSFT), a.k.a. Bill Gates.

Speaking of another Mr. Gates, part of my talk was about some of the old houses in Port Arthur, especially the few ones standing on Lakeshore Drive—the Vuylsteke House, the Pompeiian Villa, and Rose Hill Manor. One that is no longer there is the John W. Gates House. It was located one house down from the Pompeiian Villa. The John Gates House burned down in the 1960s, but the carriage house is still there, as is the Texas Historical Commission (THC) marker placed in 2001.

Here is the story of the original plan by a few millionaires who wanted to build some pretty nice homes in a swamp.

The Pompeiian Villa is a replica of a Pompeiian home from AD 79; it was built by Isaac Ellwood, the “Barbed Wire King,” in 1900. It was one of three structures to be built on the eight-acre stretch of lakefront property in Port Arthur. The second home was John Warner “Bet-a-Million” Gates’ twenty-room Georgian Revival mansion, a pre–Civil War Gone with the Wind-style home with a carriage house at the back. A third home was planned by an investor, Mr. James Hopkins (president of the Diamond Match Company, St. Louis, Missouri); sadly, Mr. Hopkins could not come up with an idea for a suitable structure, so the land between the two aforementioned homes was never built upon.

After the Pompeiian Villa was completed, Mr. Ellwood lived there for a year. In 1901, he sold it to Mr. Hopkins, who loved the house dearly, so much so that he sent for his wife in St. Louis to live with him in this great abode during the winter months. Mrs. Hopkins took the train down from St. Louis, expecting to see paradise. After the train ride, she boarded a carriage and was taken to her new winter home. When she arrived, she saw the great villa in all its glory—built in muddy marshlands next to a lake. She was not impressed. Without hesitation, she returned to the train station and traveled back to St. Louis without setting foot inside the villa.

I also mentioned the Vuylsteke House, which was built in 1905 by J. E. Alexander in the space of seventy-five days for Adrianus Jacobus Maria Vuylsteke. Mr. Vuylsteke immigrated to the US in 1893 and moved to Texas in 1894. After his marriage to Nettie Minerva White in 1898, they settled in Jefferson County. Mr. Vuylsteke was appointed to the Dutch consulate for Port Arthur in 1906.

In 1908, the Vuylsteke family sold the house to John Tryon, a manager at the Gulf refinery who would eventually become Port Arthur’s mayor between 1917 and 1921. After having multiple owners, the house was moved to its current location on Lakeshore Drive, renovated, and used as a rental property. Finally, after years of deterioration, it was bought by the Port Arthur College Foundation and restored in 1986.

I also showed a couple of pictures taken by Port Arthur News photographer Don Larson, which I purchased at an estate sale. To me, they are iconic because of who is in them. The first one is from the Babe Zaharias THC marker dedication in 1979. (Yes, Beaumont, the Babe was born in Port Arthur!) It shows Sydalise Fredeman holding her hat while Bum Phillips takes the cover off the marker and Bob Hope looks on. The second photo shows Bob Hope looking on again (I think he did that a lot) while a lady with a shovel breaks ground for the new Bob Hope School. And yes, that is Wayne Newton in the background! If anyone knows who the lady with the shovel is, please let me know.

Well, I’ll end this blog the same way I ended my PowerPoint—with a photo of my fat cats and a link to my website. By the way, Ezerbet says, “Hi!”

Danke schoen. Until next week!

Thoughts and Ramblings: A Sunday Drive through Port Arthur; What’s in Your DNA; the Only Time I’ve Ever Been Sorry for a Politician; Maggie’s Drawers; Galveston Historic Homes Tour; Rabbit Holes

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Two weekends ago, I took a drive through Port Arthur with a friend who hadn’t been here in many years. Many landmarks are gone, especially the hospitals. Park Place has been gone for years, and St. Mary’s has recently become a grassy field, but at least they left the flagpole. One thing that is left in this area, between Pioneer Park and the water tower, is a concrete circle that I assume was built to walk on. I don’t know why this circular cement path was constructed, but I remember the nuns from St. Mary’s walking on it. My friend Millie told me that there used to be a building in the center of it; I cannot confirm this.

During the drive, we argued playfully about where the restaurants used to be and whether the spirits burned down the nice house on Sixteenth Street (Gulfway Drive) because Madam Dora lived there. On a side note, I wonder if Madam Dora (Port Arthur) and Madam Pearl (Bridge City) knew each other. I guess it’s all in the cards.

Every once in a blue moon, I read through my DNA report, which seems to change yearly. What’s up with that Ancestry website? Am I not still 24 percent Spaniard? The whole world is 24 percent Spaniard, by the way. The dirty little—I digress. In my family history, years ago, someone wrote that my great-great-grandfather Etienne was from an island that doesn’t exist—Lil Decout in Italy. He was from Corsica, a French island that thinks it’s Italian, and that’s ok with me. His mother was Latvian, which may explain my obsession with the weather. Latvia, I believe, is the home of the European hurricane forecast-model group. I will add that Etienne came to this country in 1868, after you guys got your crap together! (This statement never goes down well when I talk to some groups, but the usual reply is “We still haven’t.”)

I’ve looked into family history, and it is about as messed up as my database, so that fits. I have a family member who is in the census 20 years after he passed. Of course, I’m going to mention some sort of vampire link, or even better, an “I’m from a long line of serial killers; I have no proof because they were good serial killers.” This is why I usually go down the rabbit holes of other families and research everyone else on Ancestry! Maybe this is why my account is so screwed up.

According to Ancestry, I’m related to everyone! I say this in jest, but two of my friends are really related to everyone, at least in Magnolia Cemetery. One, one half of the cemetery; the other, the other half. However, I don’t think they are related to each other. It’s true, but it is a pain being from older families in this area. I guess that’s the difference between knowing something about your history and having it laid out in front of you for everyone to see.

I remember that one of my uncles basically harassed Jack Brooks—a politician—because he was mad at the Veterans Administration (VA). I will ask the veterans reading this, “Who isn’t mad at the VA?” Yep, he went to Mr. Brooks’s office in Washington. Jack didn’t see him, though. I’m glad that my family wasn’t remarkable; this was the only time I felt sorry for a politician. I do have something that my uncle wrote about this event. I may put it out at some point.

My uncle also spoke of his time on the firing range. He frequently spoke of “Maggie’s drawers.” I guess this was because he kept missing his target. That’s all right, though, because he ended up on permanent KP duty. This is the reason he introduced us to SOS. His recipe was ground meat in cream gravy. During the Great War, this was called Save Our Souls or Same Old Slop; in the ’40s, though, they just called it what it was—S**t on a Shingle. I was told that the only people who knew about this delicacy were those in the military or in prison. Regardless of whether this is, I still think it is comfort food, and at my age, I’m thankful that I’m in neither of those sectors.

Well, the emails have started rolling in. Galveston’s 50th Annual Historic Homes Tour is currently looking for volunteers, and I’m already lined up with Bev, “the candy lady,” for Sunday on the first weekend. The house list hasn’t been released yet, but there is a rumor that something special is scheduled for this year. Stay tuned! If you are interested in volunteering for this event or want to learn about all things Galveston, you can click on this link: https://www.galvestonhistory.org/support/volunteer-opportunities.

For the past couple of weeks, I’ve been going down many rabbit holes. I want to put out most of this research in March, for Women’s History Month, but darn, if we hadn’t had to endure a Port Arthur/Hee Haw moment in a county school-superintendent election in 1930. I’ll add the newspaper clipping to the blog. The journey was a somewhat positive ride until politics showed its ugly head. Sorry Jack—at least you wore a cowboy hat!

Until next week. RIP Toby Keith. You know that your friend Wayman (Tisdale) has the stage set, and Barry (White) is in the audience. Time to sing it again. Never, Never Gonna Give Ya Up. By the way, we’re not crying for you, we’re crying for us who liked your songs. See you on the other side, Superstar!

Never, Never Gonna Give Ya Up:

Toby Keith – Cryin’ For Me (Wayman’s Song) ft. Arthur Thompson, Marcus Miller, Dave Koz

Maggies Drawers:

https://bulletin.accurateshooter.com/2017/06/maggies-drawers-at-camp-perry/#:~:text=Origin%20of%20’Maggie’s%20Drawers’%20Term&text=This%20term%20%E2%80%9Crefers%20to%20the,on%20long%2Drange%20rifle%20targets.

S.O.S Recipe:

S.O.S.

Thoughts and Ramblings: The Five People Who Have Positively Influenced Me During My Life.

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This week, I listened to a few oral histories I collected back in the day. I’m not a good interviewer, but these oral histories did bring out many insights into how people thought and acted in the 1930s and ’40s. The five people I interviewed have since passed, and I will say that they all positively influenced me during my life. The first two, for sure.

I mentioned Roy Temple and his impact on my life a few weeks ago. Roy was a product of the Depression and lived his life accordingly. He also lived the way he wanted—doing what he wanted to do and not bothering about anyone else. Roy may have come across as mean and ornery at times, but under that gruff demeanor, he had a heart of gold. Roy would help anyone who showed up on his doorstep, and there were many who showed up.

Roy was a carpenter by trade and a farmer by habit. He grew up in the 1920s and worked on his parents’ farm from a young age. He spent countless hours tending the fields and learning the art of agriculture (there is an art to it, as he explained to me one day). He also attended school, learning the basics—even some Latin. Later in life, he dropped out of school for a short time, but a teacher convinced him to go back, thus changing his life. Roy was no scholar, but he learned early in life that hard work and an education (in any field) could only help you succeed. And he did succeed—he worked in many fields during the more than 90 years he lived.

One thing I remember from our numerous talks was his involvement in the New Orleans shipyard during WWII. Roy helped build many a ship to the specifications of the naval fleet. “Everything had to be perfect, or they would make you do it again and again,” I remember him saying. I also remember him telling me of ships that had headed out to the Mississippi delta and to sea only to end up at the bottom of the Gulf of Mexico courtesy of a German U-boat torpedo.

I’ve left a link to Roy’s story at the bottom of this blog.

Charles Irwin was a client-turned-friend of mine for 19 years. A true Texas historian, he was born in San Antonio and moved to this area in 1957. There was nothing about Texas history that he didn’t know, and he wrote three books about it: The Creed Taylor Story, Alamo Courier Benjamin Franklin Highsmith 1836, and Peerless Texas Empresarios. He even introduced me to the Republic of Texas Navy—I had no idea. (My second-grade teacher failed to mention this detail about Texas history, but we did look at the moon through a telescope on Woodrow Avenue in Port Arthur.) Yes, Texas had a navy, but it didn’t have any money. I’m sure hilarity ensued when the New Orleans shipyard needed payment to release one of their ships.

I remember our 2012 trip to the Chambers County Historical Commission in Anahuac, when we toured the T. J. Chambers House. In my files, I have many historic entries that Charles fed me. Sometimes I have to recheck who these people are and if they pertain to Texas history or SETX history.

We had other similar interests, including World War II aviation. Charles grew up in San Antonio, and he saw many planes from the war fly daily. He even attended the 50th D-day anniversary in Normandy, France. We were also both interested in English history. I will add that I believe this doesn’t connect to my Welshiness because Welsh history is different. Just ask a Welsh person—they’ll answer in Welsh and not care if you don’t understand. Because they’re Welsh!

Archie Wallace was a client of mine, but we would end up reminiscing about Port Arthur, the interurban, those rich people in Griffing Park, our mutual friend Roy Temple, and Port Arthur Mayor Bernis Sadler’s annexing quests. When asked how the city would pick up the offshore rig’s garbage, Bernis said, “Just leave it on the curb; we’ll pick it up.”

Archie was one of the few people I asked about their life during World War II. He was a child then, and the main thing he remembered was the sugar rationing; also, he had no idea where Pearl Harbor was. I’m sure those rich folks in Griffing Park had encyclopedias, but I digress. In his younger years, Archie worked on the streets in Griffing Park, so he knew the answer to my question of another road leading into Griffing Park. Back in 2015, I found a photo in the Beaumont Enterprise, taken where it is now, at the intersection between Thirty-Second Street and Twin City Highway. It was a then-and-now photo. The first one was taken in 1929, while the second was from 1959. It was nothing special, but it did show that looking south in 1929, you saw nothing, and the road curved to the right instead of making a 90-degree turn like it does today. In 1959, you could see the newly constructed auditorium and gymnasium in the background. There were no trees, and the road still curved to the right. If you stand at the traffic lights on Thirty-Second today, you don’t see the school, but if you glance to your right, you notice a street leading into Griffing Park that was blocked off by a barrier long ago. Since Thirty-Second Street runs west to east, and Twin City Highway runs north to south, you really couldn’t have a fifth road there. Hell, most drivers in Port Arthur can’t figure out a four-way stop.

Millie Rougeau was another person from my past who gave me the real deal when it came to stories of growing up in the ’40s during World War II. She even gave me her uncle’s ration book. I will leave a link about her at the bottom of this blog.

Another link I will add is for the interview I did with my uncle Roy to find out what life was like in Beauxart Gardens. I love these interviews for the history they contain, but the best thing in the cases of Charles Irwin, Millie Rougeau, and my uncle Roy is that I can still hear their voices. I have other interviews that I cherish, and I hope to bring them here fully in the future.

Until next week, reach out to a family member or friend to talk, and you may rediscover some good stories and history that you had forgotten. Do it!

Remembering Roy:

Remembering Roy

Life in Jefferson County During World War II:

Life in Jefferson County during World War II

Living in Beauxart Gardens in the 1930s:

Living in Beauxart Gardens in the 1930’s

Rediscovering Anahuac / Wallisville:

Rediscovering Anahuac / Wallisville