Author Archives: Paul

“Thoughts and Ramblings: 1929: Florence Stratton and Family; Louise Stratton; Willie Cooper Hobby.”

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Back in January 1929, Florence Stratton’s new year didn’t begin well. Her sister Louise died on January 9 from pulmonary tuberculosis, then her best friend Willie Cooper Hobby died suddenly from a stroke on January 14. Like Louise, Willie had been ill for a while. There were no more Susie Spindletop’s Weekly Letters for the month of January.

First, I want to get into the Stratton, Stevens, and Stephens families; then I want to talk about Willie. Florence didn’t arrive in Beaumont on her own; she came here because her sister Emily and husband Walter H. Stevens moved here in 1900, as far as I see in the timeline. Both Walter H. and Emily are in the 1900 Beaumont census. Louise is also living with them. This is a trend I see with this family. They always live together. I know that Florence, Emily, and Louise’s mother died in 1895, which might explain why Louise was with her big sister Emily, as Louise was sickly her whole life.

Florence moved to Beaumont in 1903 and took a teaching job here. She had taught in Alabama since graduating as a valedictorian in 1900 from Troy Normal College. Florence began her journalism career in 1907 with the Beaumont Journal and would hone her skills in the coming years. As for the family, they would live their lives and move around into a couple of residences.

Walter Stevens, Florence’s brother-in-law, was a drug clerk at E. L. Clough Drug Store; some kind of partnership must have been in place because he was vice president in 1906–07. It is possible that he bought the store or opened his own because in 1909 he was president of the Stevens Drug Company, which was located in the Perlstein Building. I haven’t researched this. I’m only going on city directories, but I know that he retired from Magnolia Petroleum in 1938 as a caseworker for accidents at the refinery. So that would have ended his business, or he sold it, in 1915. I guess I could ask George W. Carroll, if I had a time machine, because he was vice president. Like I said in the past, historical research is very time-consuming if you want to be accurate.

I don’t know much about Walter’s wife, Emily, except that she was Florence’s older sister, but she gave me the most helpful clue to determine Florence’s birthday. I remember contacting the Brazoria County Historical Commission (BCHC) and asking for some sort of info about Florence Stratton. I had contacted them two years before and did receive a few things on Asa Stratton, Florence’s father, but this time the person on the other end of the phone replied, “Stratton? I have a scrapbook from a Stratton that someone in Conroe, TX, found at an estate sale. It’s here on my desk.”

I asked what the name was, and it was Emily. I visited the BCHC that week and had a great time. But it wasn’t until I had a similar experience with the Tyrrell Historical Library.

At the time, I had been doing research for five years and was spending hours on microfilm on the Weekly Letters. Then, out of the blue, I mentioned something to Bill Grace about Florence Stratton, and he replied, “Oh yeh, there was someone who donated a bunch of letters from the Stratton family six months ago.”

Hmm. He did know that I had spent over three years researching Florence, but I guess something like that slipped his mind—we won’t get into that. I did find two interesting letters though, one from Florence and the other from Emily. Emily’s letter was to her father in February 1883. In it, a ten-year-old Emily said that Florence could say her name. That’s amazing if you consider earlier information that states Florence was born in March 1883.

I will cherish the ten-year-old Emily, along with the person who sent the letters to the Tyrrell Historical Library, for this, because there is only a mention in a 1900 census that Florence was born in 1881, and her birthdate is not problematic because Florence mentioned it six times in her Weekly Letter.

That leaves me to Eunice Stephens, who married Arthur Stephens. She was Emily’s daughter and Florence’s niece. I don’t know what Eunice would think of me; I always try to get the facts straight on her aunt. In Florence’s history, details such as her day and year of birth were just plain wrong. Most of it came from Eunice, but I still can’t blame her because Florence always lied about her age. It’s difficult to do research when you have only one source that throws everything and everyone off. So any research that states that Florence was born in 1883 is wrong. Sorry, Eunice. I’ll shut up now, but I still think you’re awesome for bragging about your aunt and taking care of Florence’s house, which stands catercorner to the McFaddin-Ward house on McFaddin Avenue.

Sam Bronson Cooper

Willie Cooper Hobby was the daughter of Sam Bronson Cooper (SBC). Sam was the reason that Beaumont had a deepwater port. I may get into some of SBC’s history at a later date because it is notable in many respects. In the years that he served as a US representative, Florence was with Willie in Washington, DC. Willie was a bit of a socialite and even attended White House parties. I do know that Florence attended one with her in 1909.

In 1915, Willie married W. P. Hobby and went on to become the first lady of Texas when Hobby was governor from 1917 to 1921. I’ve written before that Florence wrote a book of recipes of famous women. Willie was the source of information for the book during her four years of entertaining at the mansion.

One thing I will note about this time is that Florence basically moved into the mansion and lived with both the governor and the first lady, who were her best friends. She went to all the events that the governor attended. She even went to the inauguration of Álvaro Obregón in Mexico in 1920. Florence had her ways, and I believe she enjoyed her life. She loved family and friends. I’m sure that this week back in 1929 was painful for her, but she survived and did even better things. Stay tuned, Della.

Sam Bronson Cooper:

https://www.tshaonline.org/handbook/entries/cooper-samuel-bronson

Troy Normal College/ Troy University:  

https://www.troy.edu/about-us/historical-timeline.html

William P. Hobby:  

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/William_P._Hobby

Willie Cooper Hobby:  

Willie Chapman Cooper Hobby

“Thoughts and Ramblings: Susie Spindletop’s Weekly Letter; Magnolia Cemetery Tour; Ellwood, California; Was Mothra at the Battle of Los Angeles? Ancient Astronaut Theorists, It’s Your Call!”

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It’s a new year and time to set my goals for my research and this blog. One of my main goals this year is to digitize all the Susie Spindletop’s Weekly Letters. I have most of them, and I should be able to obtain the others with the help of a newspaper archive and the Sam Houston Regional Library & Research Center. I will add that all my research is stored at the Jefferson County Historical Commission.

The second goal is the Historic Magnolia Cemetery Tour—I want to talk about the origins of where we came from and where we are. In 2013 and 2014, the Liberty County Historical Commission (LCHC) created a superb program to raise funds for its work. They went all out on history and even dressed in period clothing. To me, this was spectacular, so I wanted to bring a history-based tour like that one here. I got my chance to bring history alive in 2015 with the help of Judy Linsley and the McFaddin-Ward House. We did a cemetery tour for the docents of the McFaddin-Ward House. It wasn’t like the LCHC  program, but it was a start. It was me and Judy, who knew a lot more than I did, taking a tour of the cemetery and telling stories of interest to the residents. Afterward, Judy and I did a couple more cemetery tours for the Beaumont Heritage Society.

At first, the Beaumont Heritage Society didn’t want to do a “happy hour” in a cemetery, but after not finding any other place to hold it (I assume), they changed their minds and went ahead with it. I guess it was a success for them because about thirty-five people signed up for membership of the society. It’s amazing how money changes your perspective. We did the second tour in 2016, and it went well, but after Hurricane Harvey happened, we stopped the event. At the time, Magnolia Cemetery was not in a good state. There were many problems, and management is correcting many issues that shouldn’t have happened in the first place. It is getting better.

In 2021, Kelli Maness, Magnolia Cemetery Board President, reached out to me to bring back the tour. I saw they had a new board and were making a significant effort to turn things around, so I agreed. We planned the event and it went great. For those who have taken the tour, we did a Thursday evening from five to seven, and a Saturday morning from ten to two. Our attendance was excellent on Thursday, to the surprise of a friend who thought no one would come out. Saturday was also good, and we achieved our goal of promoting Beaumont and SETX history.

In 2022 things were no different, except for the love the Beaumont Enterprise andKBMT showed us when promoting the tour. I’ll also give kudos to the folks at KFDM, who promoted the Magnolia Cemetery lecture at the McFaddin-Ward House Museum. The tour went well and we are planning the third Historic Magnolia Cemetery Tour for October. This will not be an October ghost tour but a history one. We have grown from two people presenting SETX history on a walking tour to ten to eleven presenters stationed throughout the cemetery. The great thing about this is that the presenters are either researchers who have studied the people they talk about or relatives who are proud to tell their families’ stories. We don’t give 3 x 5 index cards and tell someone to speak for four hours. (Sorry Galveston Historical Foundation—I know you changed your evil ways but I only volunteer with the Candy Lady.) We want the history of our area to be known through past residents, and so many good people volunteer their time and research to help out. I am grateful to everyone who helps out because no money is collected from the printed program, tour, water, or snacks during the event. This is education for the public, and you’re welcome because it’s free. I want to thank everyone who gives their time and knowledge to make the tour possible.

I also want to thank Kelli Maness for caring enough to provide the guys with the proper equipment to tend to the cemetery grounds. She is also the one who is trying to save Magnolia Cemetery, which is a not-for-profit organization. Her work will not go unnoticed.

This week I did a bad thing. I changed the channel from DISH scapes to the History Channel. And boy, they were on a marathon to throw in all kinds of ancient astronaut theories. Some of the Sumerian gobbledygook—I can see the point. But then they mentioned the Battle of Los Angeles (1942), and that’s when the expletives came out. I know a bit about this time, and I want to use the good people of the Port Arthur News as references because the Los Angeles Times from 1942 is not digitized, as far as I can tell. Hmm. Aliens? I think not, but I will reference a John Belushi movie later.

On the night of February 24 and the morning of the 25, 1942, all hell broke loose in the sky over Los Angeles, California. Antiaircraft positions opened fire, and they hit nothing. No, I’m not going to pin the gunners as storm troopers from a galaxy far, far away, but when you shoot at ghosts, the bullets fall to the ground, and it rains metal over a panicked civilian population. The total number of deaths was five; three car crashes and two heart attacks. So, what the hell happened that night must be explained by what happened the evening before. I knew nothing about this story until I heard it mentioned on Dan Carlin’s podcast. Dan Carlin is not a historian; he is a diehard history researcher who gives his opinions on certain subjects with added factual content. He grew up around Ellwood, California, and this is where the story begins.

On February 23, President Roosevelt prepared to make one of his fireside chats that all the US would listen to at the time. In the meantime, the Japanese ordered their submarine I-17 to fire upon a refinery in Ellwood, California. Its mission was to attack the facility, but there was not much damage. The main issue was that a foreign power attacked US soil. Something that hadn’t happened since the War of 1812 and the Battle of Baltimore. The submarine was huge. Some accounts compared it to a cruiser or a destroyer, but since it had only one 14 cm/40 11th Year Type naval gun firing at the shoreline, people quickly figured out that there was no mass invasion of the Western United States. Actually, the whole point of the action was to mentally screw with the civilians along the California coast. And it worked. They were scared, and then February 24 happened.

The Battle of Los Angeles was covered across the nation; I added a few headlines and articles from the Port Arthur News. I’ll also add that in one of the articles, L. E. MacDonald, a clerk at the West Los Angeles police station, was quoted as saying,

“As I watched the searchlights, anti-aircraft fire broke out. I saw a plane that seemed to be up at least 20,000 feet. It looked like a butterfly.”

A butterfly? Could it be that L. E. MacDonald mistook a plane for something even more ominous from Japanese lore? Could that “butterfly” actually have been a 怪獣 kaijū awakened from its sleep in the 1950s by nuclear testing? Could it be the creature that goes by the name of モスラ Mothra? If so, how did it time travel to 1942? I have no idea, but since I brought it up, maybe the ancient astronaut theorists will run with this new possible finding. Hell, it’s at least worth an episode.

No more History Channel for a while. All this talk of Ellwood, California, makes me want to rewatch that classic 1941 movie, which is loosely based on the events above. John Belushi was an ace in this movie, but Slim Pickens was the best.

Until next time, Aliens or モスラ Mothra?

“Thoughts and Ramblings: Digging into the Bee’s Knees of the 1920s; Back to Researching Susie Spindletop’s Weekly Letter; Beaumont’s Daredevil; Did I See Yanni at Renfest? The Cowboys Game on Thanksgiving Day in 1976; Kim Hendrix Ate at Monceaux’s Too; The Weather Gods Don’t Care about Your Alma Mater”

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Beaumont Enterprise January 17, 1926

I hope everyone had an enjoyable Christmas and had no broken pipe issues (this is another reason why you shouldn’t wish for a white Christmas). Here it was quiet. We did the thing on Monday because everyone except me had to work. I spent my time flipping through the digital copies of the Beaumont Enterprise archives. One reason I’m spending my research time in the 1920s is that I CAN!

For my research on Florence Stratton, I spent many hours and a good amount of money on a microfilm machine at the Tyrrell Historical Library because Lamar didn’t want to take my money since I wasn’t an alumnus. Their loss. I don’t use Lamar for anything except maybe Gladys City, as they are an undiscovered jewel for the university. I have almost all the copies of “Susie Spindletop’s Weekly Letter,” which ran from 1926 to 1938, but some of those from the microfilm are illegible. So, I am going through the papers again because I can access the Beaumont Enterprise digitally and by date. My first search was for 1926, when “Susie Spindletop’s Weekly Letter” began, as far as I can tell, on February 28. I’ll look into 1925 again later, but this is the date. I aim to find all the letters and obtain a good digital copy of them. Of course, all my research is stored at the Jefferson County Historical Commission office, in case I eat too many Zummo sausages and expire. Florence will live on!

Going through these Sunday newspapers gives me time to look at things other than the weekly letters. There are a few nuggets of our history that I’ll be throwing out. One example is Mr. Louis A. Sacker, a daredevil who would “feast on horseshoes.” Sacker was a 27-year-old Beaumont strong man who would have probably made a killing on the wrestling circuit in the 1990s, but this was 1926. Still, he seemed to be doing good in the first two months of 1926. I added the photo of his article because “Gr-r-r,” “Gr-r-h,” and “Gr-r-R-RRRR!!.” These are actual quotes. I hope I see more of him in the later issues—iron, I assume, is good for your diet. Notice the ad in his article? 6 6 6 was a cold medicine that was advertised throughout the 1920s. I’ll throw out another one: the ads for Dr. Caldwell’s constipation medicine always targeted women. These ads are everywhere. I don’t think he was the bee’s knees when it came to women’s health. Snake oil comes to mind. Based on his photo in the ads, he looked like a disgruntled captain of a non-profitable fishing boat.

I’ve never really met someone famous, but there was that one time at the Texas Renaissance Festival in 2014 when I was at the back of the Magic Garden standing in awe of the bejeweled relic of St. Felix in a glass coffin. I began taking photos of this inspiring event when, lo and behold, I believe I saw Yanni in one of my photos. I have no idea if it was actually Yanni because I’m not Wanda and won’t start awkward conversations of which I would be the only beneficiary. If it was Yanni, he would have probably smiled and thrown in a hand gesture (I usually do this when Wanda and I converse). He looked like he was enjoying a nice day out, and I wasn’t going to mess that up.

Bob Lilly

Back in 1976, I met Bob Lilly in a hallway at a hotel in Dallas before the Thanksgiving game in which the Cowboys played the Cardinals. I have only a few memories of this time. One is the crap seats. The second is the Hare Krishna peeps asking for money as we were leaving, and the third is the briefcase full of alcohol guy on the bus back to the hotel. He was a little giddy about Dallas winning. It’s all a good memory, but when I see the video of the game where some Cardinal player put his cleats on the back of Preston Pearson and no flag was called, I realize that today’s American football sucks in 2022. I’ll leave a link to the video of the only professional American football game I ever attended.

Kim Hendrix

One thing that I always bring up is Monceaux’s Drive-In. I spent many dollars on that cheeseburger deluxe white box with fries and onion rings. At this time, I watched KJAC and always enjoyed Kim Hendrix’s newscast. There was this one time when I was waiting in line for my order, and some gofer came in and said that he was there to pick up “Kim’s” call-in order. My brain went to “Oh, Kim eats the same heavenly food as I do! I must be blessed.” I must have been around eighteen or nineteen because after I left, I went to a convenience store and a conversation on the weather came up with a woman. I answered her question, and she was impressed that I knew about radar. I guess she thought I worked at the station because she was unaware that a primitive radar was available on cable TV. I told her this, but she praised me all the same for knowing about the technology.

Speaking of radars, one July Fourth I watched Bob Becker’s forecast on KBMT, which informed me that we had great weather for the firework presentation in downtown Beaumont. “So go enjoy all the festivities.” Twenty minutes later, an ominous blip on the radar showed up. Apparently, a thunderstorm had formed over downtown Beaumont, and a gully washer ensued. Of course, there was no way I was going to miss the ten o’clock forecast! Poor guy. The weather gods always leave them holding the bag. I saw this again after Tropical Storm Imelda. One weather person clearly stated that this hurricane was not Harvey. I watched their next newscast from their new location because the station had flooded during the storm. Mother Nature hates to be fooled, and the weather gods don’t care about your degree from Texas A&M or Mississippi State.

I want to say that although I rant about millennials and Generation Z people, some of them did an amazing job during Hurricane Harvey. While on the air, they answered questions from people on the phone who didn’t know what to do in the flood and needed guidance. Kudos to y’all for knowing that people needed help in a dire situation.

Well, I’m done for this week, but I hope to be hanging with Susie this month, and we may even see what Beaumont’s daredevil Louis’s next gig is. “Gr-r-r” for now, because I don’t want to scare anyone with the full “Gr-r-R-RRRR!!.”

Rest in Peace Bob Becker:

6 6 6 cold medicine:

https://www.si.edu/object/666-cold-preparation%3Anmah_209858

Dr. Caldwell:

https://nationalzoo.si.edu/object/nmah_71544

2014 Texas Renaissance Festival photos:

9.04.14

1976-11-25 St. Louis Cardinals vs Dallas Cowboys:

“Thoughts and Ramblings: England Always Bottles It; Witches, Not Messi, Are Why Argentina Won the World Cup; Selena, Emilio, and Jay Perez Got Me through Houston Traffic; Snow Miser Sucks; There Are Consequences to Having a White Christmas; Susie Spindletop Gives You the Rub on Xmas”

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Well, the World Cup is over, and we can all go back to work and be productive again, at least until Euro 2024 begins. As a Three Lions supporter of forty years, I assumed England would bottle it. I must say, though, that I expected more from #Cymru. Wales’s heart is strong, but the team has no depth. El Tri looked horrible going in, but Memo Ochoa will always be remembered as the heart of this team because he cares about being there. Japan were also not on their game going in, but the Samurai Blue showed up! Pride, fair play, and victory! The US looked a lot better than they have in a while, but I hate Pulisic and half the team, so here we are.

Apparently, Argentina won not thanks to Lionel Messi, but because of thousands of Argentinian witches doing their thing. I find this ridiculous as everyone knows that Strega witches are always on their game, and yet Italy didn’t even qualify for the World Cup. I guess Mount Etna was still inactive and enjoying England’s loss to Italy in Euro 2020. See, I told you England always bottles it. It’s never coming home.

Beaumont Enterprise 12.25.1903

Last week on “Thoughts and Ramblings,” I acknowledged my love of Tejano music. Back in the 1990s, I enjoyed a few artists—Selena, of course, followed by Emilio and Jay Perez. We’ve lost both Selena and Emilio, but Jay is still the voice! These three got me through Houston traffic in the ‘90s while I was driving a truck, usually to Julian’s Machine Shop in Sugarland. The radio would stay on 108 Super Tejano until I got back to the shop, and then it was probably pop country from my Caney Head coworkers. No, it wasn’t! There was one guy, who every damn time the song “My Heart Will Go On” by Celine Dion came on (which was about six times a shift), would turn it up. This is why I always volunteered to drive to Houston for a pickup or delivery. To this day, I will not listen to that song, and dare anyone to play it in my presence. I still blame this on my anger management issues. Or is it my current problem with libraries taking my signage before a cemetery tour? I guess I need to delve back into some Jay Perez music to find the answer. To quote one of his songs: “Eres Tú.”

December 2008

Okay, I’m just going to say that Mr. Snow Miser sucks, and I don’t want him in my area. I was always in favor of Heat Miser. Maybe it goes back to some of my DNA from Mount Etna. I want to remind everyone who wished for a “white Christmas” that the last time we had one of those we also had Hurricane Rita, in 2005. The next time it snowed was in 2008, after Hurricane Ike. It snowed three times after Harvey in 2017. Hurricanes Laura and Delta in 2020? That ice thing that happened in February 2021? Is it all related? Ancient astronaut theorists from the History Channel may agree that something is going on, but I have no idea. Do you really want it to snow? Sorry if I’m channeling the Witch of Endor, but you can’t have yin without yang. So, Saul, if you want snow, go to Sonic and buy that terrific bag of ice they sell and use in their slushies, then post videos of your dog with antler ears on Facebook. That way, we will all live Hurricane- and snow-free like we did for thirty years before Rita.

#Cymru #QPR

Wow, that’s a lot of football, witches, Tejano, and hurricanes/snow. Sorry, but I tend to ramble on with what I know. But it’s Christmas Day, so I guess I should mention something about SETX’s origins. Nope, I’ll let Susie Spindletop do it because she’s not as brash as me and had fewer anger management issues. Seriously now, I hope all of you and your families have a safe and happy Christmas. We’ll get into your merry New Year’s Day next week. Until then, here’s Susie getting into your family’s gossip.

Dear Della,

It is no scoop to tell you this is Christmas morning and allegedly the happiest time of year. Sometime during the night Santa paid us a visit, and left me a wealth of stuff, among it, four sets of pipe cleaners, a pair of boxing gloves, a tire tool and a trick doojigger used for shining shoes. I am not one, Della, to take the old fellow to task, for goodness knows he would pay a little more attention to his addresses he would avoid no end confusion.

I am writing him a letter with a few suggestions for next year, hoping to get in an order well ahead of time. I propose to him that he give Mr. Duff and artificial flower for his boutonniere as soon as possible, for Miss Clint’s stock of fresh flowers is sorely being sorely taxed. I propose that he give Dr. Williams a new philosophy of women, the Santa Fe switch engine that hangs around Calder a new whistle, Cecil Easley something to talk about besides golf, and the city of Beaumont more sidewalks for Willie Kinsloe to exercise on. Of course, I am mentioning a few things for myself, Della, figuring on the law of averages to produce results.

Incoming Christmas card have wished me, by actual count:

Merry Christmas, 42 times.

Happy Christmas, 24 times.

Joyous New Year, 35 times.

Prosperous New Year, 27 times.

Season’s blessings, 14 times.

An early remittance, one time.

Enjoy myself and then come around and buy some Blank insurance, two times.

A check on the First National bank, only one(I regret to say) time.

My records show that last year I was Merry Christmas-ed and prosperous New Year-ed only about two-thirds this amount, so I am sure that 1928 will bring an improvement. N’est-ce-pas? As tourists from Waxahatchie say.

Reports have it that the mistletoe crop in Texas is a dud this year and that little of the famous kiss foliage is on the market. One wonders, Della, of course, if the absence of mistletoe nowadays will slow up a party of the young-uns any.

And how long is it since you saw mistletoe hanging from a ceiling?

Had you ever stopped to think, Della, that each stage in our progress from cradle to the grave has it’s different Christmas? Old age forgets itself, the ghosts which haunt us memories, and enters into the young creatures happiness with a relish second only to the childs. The grandmother no longer wishes sleds or hoops or gingerbread monkeys for herself, but she looks with love and wonder upon little beings who respond so radiantly to these objects of domestic manufacture. Between these generations stand the parents, with their own lives of bustle and responsibility and desire, their own games and gewgaws to pursue, but yet with a beginning of the change, from living for themselves, to living in their young.

It’s a very happy Christmas and all that for me, Della, but I can’t be perfectly so until a measure has been enacted providing capital punishment for all those who still persist in writing Xmas.

Before saying good-bye, must tell you somebody gave me a subscription to “Time.”  That’s what’s worrying me now, Della.

And also in conclusion I regret to announce that there ain’t no Santa Claus.

Yours for bigger and redder cranberries. Susie

“Susie Spindletop’s Weekly Letter,” Beaumont Enterprise December 25, 1927

Thoughts and Ramblings Evening Edition: Mari Lywd, Ol’ No. 503, and Bryan Park

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Christmas is a week away, and it’s time to guard your food and alcohol. The Mari Lywd is on the prowl and here to challenge you. Actually, you’ve probably never heard of them because it’s a folktale from Wales. I believe it began around 1800, but I’ve not gone in depth into this history. Tradition holds that the Mari Lwyd was a group of men with a hobby horse made from a horse’s skull mounted on a pole. One man dressed in a sackcloth and held the pole, and the entourage would accompany him to local houses and request entry by way of songs or poetry. Of course, many homeowners would deny access by the same means. The group would thus continue until one side or the other relented. If the Mari Lywd were permitted into the house, they would be given food and drink, but if the homeowners were victorious, then the Mari Lywd would have to go to the next house. To me, this is akin to trick-or-treating, and I love the Welsh for this.

Here in SETX, we’ve never had to rap battle some drunkards with a horse’s head on a stick, but if anyone else has, I want to know about it. #YmaOhid #Cymru

To be honest, I was aware of a movement that wanted to move Ol’ No. 503, but I wasn’t paying attention. The City of Port Arthur wanted to scrap it, as they always want to focus on historical things; that’s how Port Arthur operates. In the day, you could ask Sydalise Fredeman, savior of the Pompeiian Villa on Lakeshore Drive, for help. This treasure would have been torn down if it wasn’t for her, but Sydalise took no crap from local politicians, and she also had friends with deep pockets. A docent who conducted tours of the Villa in 2012 stated that if Mrs. Fredeman had run for president, she would have made a great one, and I tend to agree.

Again, I haven’t delved into the research on why the 503 was moved from the corner of Gulfway Drive and Augusta Avenue 100 feet away to look centralized at Bryan Park. I know there was talk of asbestos, and I would assume they remedied that with the donated money from a GoFundMe page. I assume this because the 503 is still there. The city of Port Arthur hasn’t thrown it into the scrapyard.

The best thing I saw today on my visit to Bryan Park on Gulfway Drive, where the 503 is located, was a family there doing park-like things: Having fun while other kids were also having fun in this well-groomed part of Port Arthur. The engine might not be up to speed, but this park is. I’m glad to see that the kids are taken care of, but if possible, work on the history.

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“Thoughts and Ramblings: Praise the Lard and Pass the Tamales; Mi Ranchito; Selena; Toodlum; Ol’ 503”

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Ol’ No. 503

It may be because I’m hungry, but all I’m thinking about right now is early eateries, which I enjoyed. I’ve already rehashed this, so I won’t go into my love for Pie Face, Fish Net, Guadalajara, or Monceaux’s Drive-In. However, I will state that you can put a cheeseburger and three greasy onion rings in a white box, but it’s not the same as the original. So, there’s your Gulfway Drive memory for today; you can share it with your Facebook friends. And I will add that those three greasy onion rings were divine. Only the Lard knows how they were prepared.

Speaking of the Lard, it’s tamale season, and I’m happy about that. Growing up, Christmas dinner was never a thing. We went to parties, and that’s where I got my love for olives, but a proper tea cup-sipping meal was never on the menu. However, as you evolve as a human being and marry into a Hispanic family, you quickly figure out that Mexican food is not the Patio TV dinner on which I grew up. You know those aluminum trays with the three tacos, beans, and rice? Tamales are divine but a lot of work. Because of this experience, I know what real Mexican food is, yet I always have a can of Hormel tamales in the cupboard. They are part of my hurricane rations and go with no other type of food, except maybe Wolf Brand chili, but my stepchildren rightfully judge me on this.

Thinking back, I remember that my friend Adam Troy Rodriguez, the owner/operator of Mi Ranchito in Groves back in the 1990s, made an immaculate fajita potato, which I indulged in. Still, I want to tell a couple of truths. The first one has to do with when Selena Quintanilla Pérez died on March 31, 1995. I went to his restaurant expecting a fajita potato, but I discovered that Yolanda Saldívar had murdered la Reyna de Tejano. We both were distraught. I remember the weather that evening was dark and thunderous, almost like it was here in SETX when Jack Kennedy was terminated near a grassy knoll, back in the ‘60s. The second one is I was and am a fan of Tejano. Eventually, I hope that Yolanda rots in hell for what she did, and if hell doesn’t exist, I’m hopeful that she ends up serving eternity inside the ghost of St. James School in Port Arthur. Shout-out to Sister Mary Perpetua—I digress.

I will admit that Mr. Rodriguez makes the best dirty rice. Haters can line up and shill their granny’s stuff, but Adam Troy Rodriguez is the best dirty rice chef and a fajita potato extraordinaire. My condolences to the chefs of other eateries that think they bring the baked potato to new heights. And I’m not the only one to rave about him. Toodlum, a.k.a. Martha Ferguson, rambled on about him in one of her articles in the Port Arthur News back in the ‘90s.

Speaking of Toodlum, I want to dive deeply into her articles this winter to uncover any nuggets of history that she graced us with. For those who didn’t know Martha Ferguson, she was famous in Port Arthur for being Martha. She was the ultimate cheerleader of sorts for the city, and she dearly loved the Ol’ No. 503 Kansas City Southern Engine, which is located in Bryan Park on Gulfway Drive. She wanted very much to have this engine restored and was chair of the Save Ol’ No. 503 Committee back in 1985. Today, the 503 hasn’t been restored. A few years ago, there was a movement to relocate it because the city wanted to scrap it. As I really don’t have all the facts, I’ll just say that the engine wasn’t scrapped and was indeed moved—about one hundred feet. I’ll leave a link at the bottom of this blog to a video the company made while moving it. Years from now, when alien archaeologists come across this video, I’m sure they’ll have the same reaction I had. (This sentence has been left out because it contained nothing but profanity.) One hundred feet?

Well, in case you missed it, here’s my “Food for Thought in Port Arthur” post from 2013.

Bon appétit for now!

Growing up in Port Arthur in the 1970s did have its finer points to some degree. As a kid I had no idea what Bernis Sadler (then the mayor) was up to nor did I care. My main concern was whether or not Monceaux Drive In had those delectable and greasy onion rings with my cheeseburger deluxe served in a cardboard pie box. Truth be told, there is nothing that comes close. Similarly, onion rings are unbeatable one ! (Baby Boomers will remember Monceaux’s for the root-beer among other things.)

Over the course of two decades, I have discovered many eateries in my hometown, and there were many. One that comes to mind is a little takeout place called Hartman’s, which was located on Bluebonnet Avenue. If you loved home-style cooking, then this was a gem. I can remember walking in and feeling as if I was in someone’s house, except for the screen door attached to the kitchen from which an elderly man emerged with your plate lunch after you had ordered it from a very nice elderly lady.

These two people were delightful. As far as I could tell, these were the Hartman’s, and one could believe this except for their heavy Cajun accents. One thing that sticks out in my mind is that, when I would call ahead, the lady would ask what I wanted. My answer, of course, was the Étouffée, but there were many things besides the main course. “So what are the sides?”

“Well, we got lima beans, string beans, pinto beans, red beans, white beans, and (it always ended with) black-eyed peas.”

Whatever the sides, this was something to treasure. Speaking of treasure, I also remember a place next to Roy’s Food Center on Lewis Drive called the Brisket Room. The chip beef sandwiches were the best barbeque—or at least they were until I found Billy Joe’s in Port Neches.

Port Arthur seemed to always promote itself as the friendliest city by the sea. Well, Port Arthur is not by the sea, it’s by a lake, but I will give credit to the seafood. There were three restaurants that I enjoyed. The first and foremost was Leo and Willie’s. There was no place better in the 80s—except on Thursdays. On Thursdays I would order a seafood platter from the Texas Fish Net Restaurant. There was no one who had better catfish than the Fish Net!

And let us not forget about the Farm Royale on Memorial. Back in the day, most knew this place to be an upper-class eatery, and they weren’t mistaken. Other eateries offering decent seafood (technically I do not know if they are in Port Arthur, but they are worth mentioning) are Domingue’s on the Neches (under the Rainbow Bridge) and of course, Esther’s. Yes, I do know the latter is in Groves, Texas, but it was just a great place to eat back when.

Finally, sometimes we craved Mexican food, and there was no better place at the time to treat ourselves than under the train bridge at Taco Rey, or my favorite, Guadalajara on 9th Avenue. Both had pretty good Tex-Mex food. Nowadays Taco Rey can be found in Nederland, and Guadalajara still has a restaurant in Orange Texas.

Please forgive this minor indulgence because this blog really has no historic value other than me remembering those greasy onion rings, chip beef sandwiches, plate lunches, catfish, and tacos from places and times long since passed.

Food for Thought in Port Arthur Texas (70’s- 80’s)

Selena:  

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Selena

St. James school photos:   

https://flic.kr/s/aHsjHbBt2P

Ol’ No. 503 video:

Thoughts and Ramblings: Pearl Harbor Meant the Age of No Candy; Audie Murphy; Cecil Bordages; The Gates Memorial Library; Interurban; Bill Quick.

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The eighty-first anniversary of Pearl Harbor was this week, and all those I’ve talked with, who were children at the time of the attack, have similar memories. Most didn’t know where Pearl Harbor was and didn’t understand what was happening, but later, when the rationing of sugar and candy began, as children, this really hit home. The older folks, from age fifteen to people in their thirties, who understood what had happened, signed up for service soon after the attack. And yes, many fifteen-plus-year-olds attempted to serve their country. Some even made it to the theaters of war. Audie Murphy was sixteen when he infiltrated the US Army with the help of his older sister, who falsified documents for him. I guess the US Army should be glad that they got duped because no other soldier was decorated more than that little underweight sixteen-year-old.

Audie Murphy

During the Great War, a fifteen-year-old from Beaumont named Cecil Bordages was attending a private school in New York but decided to enlist to serve his country in 1918. Being large for his age, Cecil looked older than he was, so he was accepted into the Mounted Service Field Artillery 162nd Ammunition Train Twenty-Seventh Division; I would assume he then went off to France with Company F 102nd Ammunition Train. His actual age was discovered, and the army was ready to send him back, but his mother basically told them not to bother, as he would just go back to his unit if they did. He served a year and made it back to the United States. Based on some of the Beaumont Enterprise articles I’ve read, he lived a good and fruitful life with many mentions of helping others. I even saw an article that said he helped the Empty Stocking Fund.

A couple of other anniversaries that occurred in December were the opening of the Gates Memorial Library in Port Arthur and the inauguration of the interurban. The Gates library opened to the public on December 1, 1917, but wasn’t dedicated until May 18, 1918. The library, a gift of Mrs. Dellora Gates to Port Arthur, was in memory of her husband John “Bet-a-Million” Gates and her son Charles. The dedication coincided with another event called “Gates Day.” This event began in 1912 to pay tribute to the late Mr. Gates on his birthday for his contributions to Port Arthur. Gates died in Paris on August 9, 1911. The annual celebration took place each May 18 until 1921, when the Gates family requested its end.

I’ve mentioned John “Bet-a-Million” Gates before, and I stand by the fact that if he hadn’t been here, nothing in Port Arthur would have been built. Arthur Stilwell was all hat, no cattle, and a bit of a loon. But I digress.

December 15 will mark the 109th anniversary of the opening of regular service on the interurban line between Beaumont and Port Arthur. Yes, the Texas Historical Marker in front of the building that used to be its starting point says August 16, but all evidence states otherwise. Would I dare talk smack about the Texas Historical Commission? Of course I would, because it’s wrong. As the final piece of evidence, I’ll throw in a photo of a plaque in which William D. “Bill” Quick’s name is at the bottom, which gives the same info. So, what is an interurban you might ask, and who is Bill Quick?

First, the interurban was an electric train that serve Jefferson County residents from December 15, 1913, to August 15, 1932. The tracks extended from Austin Avenue in Port Arthur to Orleans Street in Beaumont. The train would make nineteen trips per day with an early start at 5:45 a.m. and a midnight finish. Tickets cost ninety cents for a roundtrip or fifty cents one-way and were prorated for the ten stops between the two cities. Stops along the way included South Park, Spindletop, Nederland, Rice Farm, and Griffing/Pear Ridge.

I’ve always found the fact that our county had an electric train in 1913 fascinating. Even more intriguing is how someone in Jefferson County could make ice in August in the 1900s. I’m not a scientist, so I don’t know how that’s possible; I’ll leave it to you engineers who run the great ice Illuminati.

William D. Quick was a historian who lived in Nederland. I never met him, but I guarantee you that every time I do some research, he is in my head, guiding me to try to be as accurate as possible. I attended my first Jefferson County Historical Commission meeting a year to the day that Bill passed. He influenced many people in his life as a researcher/historian, and I talked to many of them in the last ten years. I was honored and excited to be able to go through his research at the Sam Houston Research Center in Liberty. He was very thorough in his work, and I often draw on his example. I was told that when doing research, you should have at least three sources. Bill didn’t go for hearsay; he wanted facts, not content with publishing books.

Bill Quick’s interest in history was vast; he particularly loved Sabine Pass, the beach, and the Sabine lighthouse. Hell, I believe he owned the latter at one point. There is so much information on the Sabine lighthouse in his research at the Sam Center—it’s a researcher’s dream. I’ve used a couple of articles he had in his notes that I’ve never seen anywhere else. One is the 1932 article on the abandoned Lewis Cemetery; the other talks about when Magnolia Cemetery used to have barge funerals because it was too wet and muddy to get to the site. Although I never met Mr. Quick, I follow what he brought to historical research. No one is perfect, and I usually suck at dates and details, but I do want my research to be accurate for others to use. I like to think that Bill Quick is still guiding those of us who care about our history.

Well, that’s it for this week. If you’re in a giving mood, please donate to the Empty Stocking Fund.

https://www.paypal.com/donate/?hosted_button_id=X94T5X2AMU82S

Life in Jefferson County in World War II: https://www.rediscoveringsetx.com/2013/05/25/life-in-jefferson-county-during-world-war-ii/

Audie Murphy: 

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Audie_Murphy

John “Bet-a-Million” Gates: 

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Warne_Gates

The Interurban:

Interurban Railway
100th Anniversay of the Interurban

Sabine Lighthouse:

Sabine Lighthouse

Thoughts and ramblings: Santa is a mobster, so meet his henchmen, Krampus and the Belsnickel; The Milk and Ice Fund, the Empty Stocking Fund, and Florence Stratton; What the hell is Vichy water?; The dog got a military funeral; Kaitlin Bain.

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Photo credit: Beaumont Enterprise

December is here, and I assume Santa is tuning up the sleigh and flight-testing his reindeer for the big event this month. A dodgy elf, to whom I venmoed twenty euros for his secret dentistry school fund, told me Saint Nick is also giving marching orders to Krampus and the Belsnickel. They will deal with those not-so-good children who don’t like to be judged by an old fat guy who keeps tabs on them. If you don’t know who these two Santa mobsters are, there is a link at the bottom of the blog. Basically, these two are doing Santa’s dirty work. Yes, I’m calling Saint Nick a mob boss. Sorry, not sorry!

December is also a time when people tend to be in a giving mood. You might have read Florence Stratton’s reference to this in last week’s “Thoughts and ramblings.” As part of my research, I found many examples that suggested she had a big heart and cared about those who were less fortunate than her. The last “Susie Spindletop’s Weekly Letter,” which Bill Beaumont wrote because Florence died after undergoing surgery in January 1938, mentions her philanthropic side. Florence always gave money to those who sought her out. This was the ‘30s, and there were many people in need. One thing I will add is that this area didn’t suffer as much as the rest of the country during the Depression, but SETX wasn’t immune to the global downturn. People suffered. Bill Beaumont brought up a reference to Florence’s worries about the Chinese people. Again, this was the 1930s, and the Japanese did all kinds of things to civilians in the Chinese territories they invaded.

Florence was a single woman who lived from 1881 to 1938 and who relied on no one to feed her. Although she was not rich, she was self-sufficient and made a good living. She cared for those around her, which is why she started the Milk and Ice Fund at the Beaumont Journal in 1915. The exact date of the beginning of the Milk and Ice Fund is currently lost, but someone who cares is presently in charge of the Empty Stocking Fund at the Beaumont Enterprise, which followed Florence’s fund, and I’m happy about that! I assume that the Milk and Ice Fund began in San Antonio in 1915. There was an active fund at the San Antonio Light newspaper, and Florence had ties to San Antonio, Brazoria County, and the whole country. Throughout her life, Florence used other people’s ideas for the good of others and herself. She made a profit on her book about O. Henry’s postscripts, which rehashed old William Sydney Porter’s (O. Henry) collection of articles from the Houston Post, owned by her good friend W. P. Hobby. She also published a book entitled Favorite Recipes of Famous Women. Willie Cooper, her best friend, who was also married to W. P. Hobby, would siphon off these recipes to her. The book starts with Florence being ticked off because a man wrote Favorite Recipes of Famous Men. In her forward, she rails against this book’s recipes and its author. She was right in doing so, but I want to know what the hell is Vichy water,” which she mentions in her book. The recipe for how to boil a potato by Alice Robertson, a former congresswoman from Oklahoma, is pretty much in line with that of the original men’s book, but at least no one died, unlike when Florence tried out one of the recipes. I’ll put the full text at the bottom of this blog, but at least she gave the dog a military funeral.

I’m happy that someone at the Enterprise cares about revamping this project—it should be done. Florence would have loved this, and I’m all in if she is behind it. Thank you for your efforts in updating this charity, Kaitlin Bain.

And with this, I hand over the reins to Susie Spindletop, because no other person could rant and ramble here.

A Foreword

I am going to be frank with you. In a misguided moment I began a study of dietetics. This comes into every person’s life at some time and I was not immune. I purchased a cook book, and took it home filled with conflicting emotions.

It was assembled recipes of noted men of this country. I took the compiled ignorance of the intellectuals of America and went singing into my kitchen to indulge my gustatory proclivities on a feast of fat things.

I hummed in a business like manner as I opened the book on the page where Thomas H. Ince gives his famous recipe for chicken halibut and I sang in melodious unison with the teapot as I “boiled some slices of halibut in court bouillon.” The instructions then required that I “have a layer of bechamel on the bottom of the dish.” I have never heard of bechamel, and it sounded like a trick ad in Health Hints. I didn’t know whether it meant another fish or was a Latin name for table soda. I looked at every bottle and box in the pantry and I couldn’t find any, so I asked the cook if she had any bechamel in the house and she said: “Naw, m’m, Ah use vanilla and it’s jes’s good” So I flavored the dish well with vanilla and went back to my book for additional instructions, and found that I had to sprinkle with “parmesan.” I hadn’t heard of that. I never even dreamed that a cook required a college education. Again I turned helplessly to the cook and asked her to find me some parmesan. She looked as blank as I felt or rather as I wanted to express myself. I could have used several blanks. “We don’t never use dat stuff; jes a little coconut in it and let it brown.”

I did it.

I guess I must have let the “slices of halibut boil too long in the court bouillon.” Something was wrong. It didn’t jell. I threw it out of the window and the dog ate it.

The next day I gave the dog a military funeral.

Florence Stratton

Krampus:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Krampus

Belsnickel:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Belsnickel

Donate to the Empty Stocking Fund: https://www.paypal.com/donate/?hosted_button_id=X94T5X2AMU82S

Thoughts and Ramblings: don’t go to Bobby Boucher’s house for Thanksgiving: Iron Chef and the great turkey battle; seventy-ninth anniversary of the Battle of Tarawa; Murray Anderson; Welsh calculus; Susie Spindletop’s my closer.

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I hope everyone had a Thanksgiving of plenty and a decent nap afterward while someone in your household watched some foosball. Bobby Boucher’s mother would not be happy with this situation, but then again, I wouldn’t want to have dinner at her cabin. I’ve seen some of her slithering dishes, and nutria nourishment is not something I would wish to partake in either.

Here under the oaks at Ye Olde Block Farm, it’s been an annual event to begin preparing Thursday’s feast on Wednesday, starting at 1 p.m. It’s almost a cosplay of the original Iron Chef series from the ‘90s. But here it’s the “great turkey battle,” and not some other weird stuff Mrs. Boucher would probably like. There is a difference between Iron Chef America and the original show. I remember a friend who tried to watch the Japanese version in the 2000s. Unfortunately, he saw the “great piglet battle.” If you’ve seen the show, then you know they highlight an ingredient. Chop, chop the piglets. They weren’t alive, like the “great sturgeon battle,” but it took him a week to recover from seeing that one. The dinner turned out well, and I’m glad it’s over. As far as my friend is concerned, he knows to stay out of my kitchen.

This week was the seventy-ninth anniversary of the Battle of Tarawa. Port Arthur native Hugo DeBretagne gave his life on D-day three of Operation Galvanic. It was the final day of the battle, and only his comrades know what happened; I couldn’t find any specific information in the war diaries released in 2012. I know nine marines were killed that day, compared to the 1,000 that perished in the first two days of fighting. This wasn’t the first battle that Hugo had been in. I assume he was in the Guadalcanal campaign with the Second Marines (I want to look further into this). I do know that his brother was. Thankfully, James DeBretagne made it out of WWII alive, but not without receiving the Purple Heart.

Both Hugo and his brother James weren’t the only ones who had a tie to this area and fought in the Battle of Tarawa. Murry Anderson, born in Whitney, Texas, grew up on his family’s farm in Deport, near Paris (also Texas). On the Tyler Knows Everything podcast, Murray said he “was doing a man’s work at the farm at age six.” Whether cutting or picking cotton, milking the cows each morning, or picking the corn, it was a rough life during the Depression. When he was seventeen, his father died in the spring of 1942, and the farm became financially unviable. He moved with his mother and his sisters to Dallas. He had six sisters (four got married and lived in Dallas).

Murray’s dream was to fly planes for the Navy, but he didn’t pass the examination. So, he joined the Marine Corps hoping to fly in their corps. The day he was to depart for boot camp, he got a telegram from Washington stating that there had been a mistake in the grading of the exam and that he had passed. He was to report to Hensley Field Naval Air Station in Dallas for flight training. He contacted the Marine Corps about the mistake and was told, “Sorry, but you are in the Marine Corps.” I guess this is why their slogan is “The few, the proud.”

Murray Anderson moved to Beaumont in 1958 and wrote a book about his time in the Marine Corps. The Unrelenting Test of War is an excellent recounting of the history of what he and his fellow marines faced. It is also a gem for understanding what people actually felt and went through back then. I’ll also give a massive shout-out to Tyler Troutman for his interview with Murray in 2020. He has many other stories on the podcast, including how Murray met his wife.

Murray Anderson passed in June of this year, so I want to include the podcast to tell the story in his own words. Our veterans from that era are dying, and every story should be told. Thanks to all who collect the oral histories of these men and women, because I hope that someone in the future will have enough sense to learn the hell this generation endured. Many people complain about their lives and how hard it is nowadays. I see boomers, Generation Xers, millennials, and Generation Zers crying about one thing or another, but try living through the Depression as a child and then fighting a two-front war that didn’t really affect your family, even though you went through a lot of crap that they would never experience and wouldn’t understand. This was the greatest generation, and don’t ever let some boomer tell you otherwise, unless it’s a Vietnam vet, because they got the shaft from the other boomers. Change my mind!

Well, I have to cut this week’s ramble short because I’m currently doing Welsh calculus before Tuesday’s match with the Three Lions. I’ll leave you with an excerpt from “Susie Spindletop’s Weekly Letter” dated November 27, 1927, because Susie was always a strong closer.

Dear Della-

Thanksgiving has come and gone, as you may have noticed, and now for the greatest convention week of the year. I refer to that season commonly known as Christmas when folks do exactly what they are supposed to do because they are supposed to do it. As currently conducted the Yuletide period could not be more stereotyped were it the work of a luncheon club. It is very cut and dried.

But there, there! I mustn’t be dampish. I may believe that persons give presents they have no right to give, and grind their teeth while doing so; I may believe that thousands of stupid cards are sent out every year, with engraved sentiments mailed out to a long-list of friends; I may believe that every household, with very, very few exceptions, labors earnestly and usually unsuccessfully to retain that old timey spirit, but it is rather unbecoming for me to say so isn’t it?

One thing is gloriously beautiful- about Christmas as ever, Della, and that is the steadfast illusions of the children. Anything we can do to continue this charming deceit is effort well spent. Any invention we can supply that will make old Santa invade a snowless country with reindeer and sleigh is an invention which though one of the most impossible frauds ever imposed on an unsuspecting and trustful juvenile, ought to be continued.

And that reminds me of a commercialized Christmas story told in newspaper circles. Seems that an ambitious automobile agent in a southern city wanted to advertise old Nick as coming to town in a limousine Eight, or whatever make of car it was he represented. He had a commercial artist draw up a picture showing Santa at the steering wheel, just lickety splitting into town. He took the ad to the local daily. And the daily would not accept it.

“No, sir,” said the advertising manager, shaking his head, “that won’t go with the kiddies. You may have the best car in the world, but Santa isn’t supposed to know it. He still travels behind reindeer in this paper.

So said Susie November 27, 1927

Iron Chef: Suckling Pig Battle Chen vs Stelvio

222 – The Costliest Day in US Marine History – WW2:

The Unrelenting Test of War by Murray Anderson

Tyler Knows Everything podcast: https://youtu.be/JN-z-QB9TOg

Thoughts and Ramblings: transferring prisoners on a cemetery tour on Veterans Day; cemetery symbolism; Brandon and Skipwith may have been a thing; Woodmen of the World; International Concatenated Order of Hoo-Hoo; Yma o Hyd

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Blue skies and tailwinds

This is the last time on Thoughts and Ramblings that I’ll mention what happened last week, but I wanted to include the faces of the people and a few words. I will digress more on this subject on Mondays if needed. Every time I came upon the B-17 Texas Raiders at the airshows, the crew was out there greeting the visitors with a smile and their history lessons. When I first went inside the old girl as a child, I was mesmerized by the plane. A fortress indeed. After many years and crew changes, the guys’ attitude remained the same. They always put the history of the B-17 Texas Raiders front and center. At every airshow I attended, those who manned the Texas Raiders were cutting it up with the kids who showed up for their first event. Even today, that’s something that impacts children. I know the airshow will go on, but that B-17 with only one wheel trying to land during the Tora Airshow will never happen again, and there’s history to that (link below); unfortunately, though, those guys are no longer here to explain its significance to you. We lost six great men on Saturday, and here are their names and faces.

https://warbirdsnews.com/warbird-articles/texas-raiders-one-wheel-tribute.html

Terry Barker, Craig Hutain, Kevin “K5” Michels, Dan Ragan, Leonard “Len” Root, and Curt Rowe.

Without any knowledge of what happened, I’ll add that Craig Hutain was usually the guy in the P-40 that chased the zeros during the Tora shows. He had been flying since he was ten years old (that’s not a typo). As you can imagine, with over fifty years of flying experience, he was an expert. Here, under the oaks on Ye Olde Block’s farm, they will all be remembered. Please keep the families of these men in your prayers.

Blue skies and tailwinds.

Thoughts and Ramblings: transferring prisoners on a cemetery tour on Veterans Day; cemetery symbolism; Brandon and Skipwith may have been a thing; Woodmen of the World; International Concatenated Order of Hoo-Hoo; Yma o Hyd

On Veterans Day, we did a Magnolia Cemetery tour for those who signed up for the McFaddin-Ward House and Museum lecture series. It went really well. Those walking tours are good because you can discuss history in a different setting compared to when someone is stationed at their spot. I love our Historic Magnolia Cemetery Tour, but unfortunately, I’ve never taken it because I’m too busy at my station. Still, I did have spies out with digital recorders, and I must say (again) that I love our presenters!

Inside the Norvell Mausoleum

That day, the tour was originally meant to consist of two tours that would last an hour each, scheduled at different times, with Judy Linsley and I as the guides. But things got crossed in the timey-wimey email universe. In the end, though, we did it. We decided that the short tour could be split into two areas. One covered the hill and the original plots of the cemetery, while the other included its lower portion.  Since Judy knows the hill better than me, she would take her group up there and talk for thirty minutes while I took my group around the lower part and talked about those residents. It worked out well because if you want to know about those on the hill, Judy is the one to listen to. I know my people and stories around the office and the flagpole. We agreed that we would do a prisoner exchange at the thirty-minute mark in the middle of the tour area, at the Keith plot where Tom the Tramp is interred. Yes, it was my idea to transfer the people on the tour between the two of us. I thought that by listening to guides who know their subject, the visitors would have a better experience. It was also me who called it a prisoner exchange. This is how my mind works, so consider it if you want me to speak at your event. Thanks to all who participated. I assume you enjoyed the tour because you were a great crew.

One thing that I brought up on the tour was the cemetery’s symbolism and some fraternal features. A funerary urn, for example, represents immortality. If there’s a drape over the urn, it symbolizes the veil between life and death. A broken obelisk or column means a life that ended prematurely. One obelisk on the hill was put there to memorialize Brandon Chaison, who died aged twenty-one when he was thrown off his horse. Family tradition holds that he and Skipwith McFaddin, W. P. H. McFaddin’s daughter from his first wife, were in love. I will also add that one of my favorite names is Skipwith. The other two are Seawillow and Fannie. My stepdaughters are thankful that I was not around in the naming department, but they might make a fantastic Brady Bunch reboot if anyone’s interested. I threw that out to you for free. Sorry if you’re named Marcia, Jan, or Cindy, but those names rock!

Woodmen of the World

When you scan over the many acres of headstones in Magnolia or any old cemetery, you may see ones that look like tree stumps. They are the product of the Woodmen of the World, an insurance company back in the day. The company is still around, but I believe they’re not as prominent as used to be. The Woodmen of the World derived from the Modern Woodmen of America, a fraternal group founded in 1883. The Woodmen advertised themselves as an organization for the “Jew and Gentile, Catholic and Protestant, the agnostic and atheist.” In other words, they didn’t care who you were; they just wanted your money.

In Magnolia Cemetery, you can find many different fraternal groups. The Odd Fellows are a prominent one; they even have their own section. I’m always wondering if today we could bring back to SETX some sort of fraternal order, such as the International Concatenated Order of Hoo-Hoo, Inc. They are still active but have too many restrictive rules that I don’t agree with. However, I’m game for using a Cheshire cat as a mascot. Anyway, this order was founded in Arkansas in 1892 during a layover by some guys from the timber and lumber industry whose train had broken down. I’m sure debauchery ensued, and we had another order that today lives on as a webpage. They were big back then until the depression hit. Who knows what the actual order is up to now? Illuminati stuff probably, because their symbol is a cat, and cats want to take over the world. Please tell this to the Dogtober people in Beaumont; Catvember is all they ask for, but I digress.

The World Cup begins today in Qatar, and I was just informed that no beer will be sold in the stadiums. I blame FIFA for this; my condolences to the English, the Germans, and the Welsh for this tragedy.

Until next week, cheers mate! Gott ein Bier! Yma o Hyd (we’re still here, and to hell with everyone else, because we’re Cymru!).

Craig Hutain flying the P40:

One Wheel Tribute by Kevin Michels:

https://warbirdsnews.com/warbird-articles/texas-raiders-one-wheel-tribute.html

Gravestone symbols:

http://wolfememorial.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/11/GRAVESTONE-SYMBOLS-and-THEIR-MEANINGS.pdf

Woodmen of the World:

https://www.woodmenlife.org/about/history/

Odd Fellows:

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International Concatenated Order of Hoo-Hoo, Incorporated:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Concatenated_Order_of_Hoo-Hoo

Dogtoberfest:

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Yma o Hyd: