Our Dad had hired out to a shipping line, as a crew member that was to take a load of mules to Italy and Holland. After he returned, during 1939, our mother separated and filed for a divorce. At that time we were still living in Diamond Hills, Ft. Worth, at the Homestead. Now, Mother is to take us four children with her and leave the big old house. Only later would it penetrate these incomplete brains that we were gone for good.
Of all of the family members, only our dear aunt Myrtle understood why Mom was doing this.
We moved into a dinky little place in another part of town. There was no such thing as a furnace nor even a fire place. The whole house was heated by a small open flame, gas heater in the living room and the four burner gas stove and oven in the kitchen. We owned a cat and it would sleep on the open oven door, when it could get away with it. Mom would leave the stove door open to try and heat the house. The door was very touchy and would sometimes slam shut at the slightest vibration. In case you haven’t noticed by now, I was a loud, boisterous, hyper active child. So running through the house and slamming doors was a snap for me. Unfortunately that caused vibrations. I’m sorry cat! I didn’t realize what happened.
While we were living there, we had a roll up bed in the living room. It was heavy steel with coil springs and only a two inch mattress. After Mom would be gone to work, us kids would fold up one kid in the bed and the other three would roll it around the house. There were so many things to keep us busy.
Our country became involved in the war of Europe, and all the cities in the state were practicing night time "blackouts." It wasn't called World War Two until December seventh 1942, when the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor. That would be another three years. Men from the neighborhood, volunteered to take on the responsibility of Civil Defense officer. One of their jobs was to be outside during a blackout and make sure all the people turned off their lights. They would knock on your door with their flashlights and tell you to turn them off. Some of them were very macho and demanding. One time the Army Air Force made a practice night attack on Dallas and dropped all their paper bombs on us in Fort Worth. We all laughed at the stupidity of them, not realizing it was us (in Ft. Worth) that showed the light.
Mom was an excellent seamstress so it didn’t take her any time to get work for supporting us. But it was very hard for a woman alone to raise children in those years. There was no after school child care, and baby sitters were out of the question. So it’s no surprise, that she soon agreed to marry her friend Walter Little. He was ten years older then mother, a short man and went by the nickname of “Shorty.” But he had a heart of gold and it was big enough to take on the responsibilities of raising four more children. He had lost his first wife. They had two children. James Daniel and Frieda. James went by the initials JD. JD and Martha were not yet married. Martha had two girls. Their names were Anna Lou and Betty Helen. Dora Francis was to be born later this year. After Dora Francis was born, JD and Martha had two other girls. They were; Willie Caroline and Anita Vivian. Frieda had just married Bishop. They had no children.
Walter was to become my best friend, my Mentor, and my Dad. All of which he carried off without a hitch. Had I not been raised by Walter, maybe I wouldn’t have succeeded in raising my family that I have today. That is to say; my step children, all love and respect me for what kind of person I became. He took the place of my dad and treated me as his own son. He was truly everything to me that a growing boy could need.
It wasn't long before Walt found work in Eastland Texas. That's West of Fort Worth about half way to Abilene. There wasn't much there. It must have been summer, I don't remember any schools. The days are long and the weather is just hot. Eastland, as I remember it, wasn't more then a wide spot in the road. If you went five blocks from the highway, you would be in the open country. We lived in a house with a screened in back porch. That's where us kids slept on pallets on the floor. I could see the sky at nights and it was as clear as a bell. JD and Martha live just down the street, so there are at least Anna Lou and Betty Helen for us to play with us. There is lots of open space in this part of Texas. I don’t remember any fishing there, so I guess there wasn’t much water.
I do remember one excursion that Anna Lou, Betty Helen, Margie and I made down into one of the dry wash canyons. There is lots of Mesquite bush in these parts of the state. They have very dangerous thorns all along the branches. Well the shoes we wore were very thin soled. Poor Anna Lou stepped on a thorn that went through the sole and into her foot. Each of us had our turn at trying to remove it. But nothing worked. None of us had the strength to squeeze the thorn and pull at the same time. I had a great Idea!
I had been in the cub scouts at one time for long enough to get a scout book. So I quoted a statement out of the book, referring to removing a thorn from a shoe sole.(even though I know it wasn’t in there) The quote was “If do not have pliers, two rocks will do” Wasn’t I brilliant? So she let me do it. I grabbed two rocks and sandwiched the end of the thorn with them then pulled. Low and behold! The darned thing came out. Well Anna Lou was in real pain, so Margie, Betty Helen and I helped her hobble back up the canyon side and home.
As I said, We didn't stay in Eastland long. Walter had a brother named John who had a farm near Seymour. That's due North of Eastland and too far to drive comfortably in a days trip, still leaving time to visit. You need to remember that all the roads in the country are dirt top. Only the main highways are blacktop. So our next move was to Olney Texas. That put us about three fourths closer to John and Julia's farm. I said Eastland was small. But Olney is even smaller. Compared to Eastland, I don't think Olney even had five blocks in four directions. It was on one of the state highways. Texas 79. We lived in a Tourist Court (Motel to you) on the highway. I think that’s also where we were living when Gerry fainted. That scared me more than anything! I thought she was dead! We were getting ready for school and Gerry was ironing something to wear, when she managed to burn herself real bad. Moma hurried and got some ointment, Ungentine or something like that. Mom and Gerry were standing alongside the bed when Gerry passed out. She just went limp. Mom and I guided her to the bed. First time I ever saw anyone with their eyes wide open but not seeing anything, and her arms just wouldn't stay where you put them. They would just fall down to the bed. She may have been out of it, But I was, flat out, scared!
I don't remember much more about Olney. I think we were living there when we went to visit Walter's Brother John and his wife Julia. The barbwire fences are all that designated where a road would be. They were there only to keep the livestock in the pastures. Although the rains had long since passed and the dirt was dry and powdery, the wheel ruts were still very deep in the roads. So deep that the bottom of the motor, transmission and rear end of the car would bottom out.
Aunt Julia had put on a real "Spread" for us. She had baked pies and had roasted chickens with all the trimmings and a ham. Maybe it was Thanksgiving. I don't really know.
They had three boys. These boys were raised on the farm and had no girls in their part of the family. So I guess you can imagine what it was like to have Gerry and Margie around for a day or two. Our Mom had taught us not to use cuss words or be vulgar in any way. But these boys seemed to revel in embarrassing the girls. Female dogs were "bitches" and the stories they told about the farm life were down right nasty to us. Aunt Julia had set the table with Fiesta Pottery and these boys had to tell the story of how the yellow plate had been used to feed one of the animals some raw guts while an animal was being butchered. They were very explicit about it. All of that conversation took place at meal time and while it made the men folk laugh, it was really a downer for us. The yellow plate was passed from person to person until someone finally removed it from the table.
Walter had a 1938 Ford sedan at this time. It was maroon. While the dinner was being prepared by the women, the men went outside with a beer (or ten) and polished their cars. Both Walter and John tried to make their car shine more then the other. Obviously, the new maroon was better then black.
The youngest boy was about my age, so he and I went out the driveway towards the main dirt road, and started piling up dirt in the middle of the drive. When we completed, it would have been impossible to drive over it. We found that out when it was time to leave and we were all in the car heading for the gate. Walter stopped and made me go back to Uncle John's house, get a shovel, level the drive, and return the shovel. All this while the family sat in the car waiting for me to finish.
At one time Bibber got to go stay with Uncle John and Aunt Julia, during one of the harvest times. Of course that was to work.
After a few months in Olney, we moved back to Fort Worth. Mom and Walt rented a wood framed house across the street from the Trinity river. JD and Martha lived real close by. I mention that because their children were girls also. As for me, I had my two wonderful sisters that played with me, and in California there were Lillian and Marcy (closest to my age) and now in Texas there are Anna Lou and Betty Helen and later on, Dora Francis. I think she was born while we lived here, around 1939. Brother George was old enough that he didn’t really like to play with me and always managed to find other friends. So I either played with girls or played alone. Sometimes I could make friends with other boys, but none of the friends I ever made lasted very long. My cousin Jimmy (Aunt Pearly’s son) was the nearest boy friend in my life. All others seemed to disappear from my memories, after we moved from wherever they lived.
That place in Fort Worth is where I really honed my fishing skills. I learned that if you cut an extra long pole from the willows or cane if you could find it, then tied a line from the handle out to the end and back to the handle, that would be the right length for fishing. A short piece of line tied out at the end and made to dangle a small loop, would let the main line slip back and forth. Or as in most cases, you would just tie the line all the way out to the tip, so if the pole broke the line was still tied back to the handle and you didn’t loose the fish. The longer the pole, the deeper into the river you could fish. You had to drop the line in at the up side (to my left) and let the current float the baited hook down to the end of the line. (to my right) The method was so natural, that usually you would catch a fish before it would reach the end of the limits.
Bibber had a twenty two rifle. He and I did lots of rabbit hunting. Once we were hunting out near Lake Worth. Going through some tall grass along a cattle trail and trying to thrash out some cotton tails. The grass was only a foot or so high and you could see the rabbits as they ran through it. I was in the lead and Bibber followed with the rifle. I was moving kind of fast and noisy and looking out rather then down. Sure glad Bibber wasn’t too close when I stepped over the rattle snake. I thought it was a cow pie. He was far enough behind to take aim and shoot it, before I even knew I had stepped over it.
Times were hard there. Mom and Walt both worked five and a half days a week. I remember them coming home from grocery shopping, after work on Saturdays, with arms full of bags of groceries. Once Walt complained that they had spent a whole five dollars on groceries. Let me remind you that, the minimum wage in those days was thirty five cents an hour. I’m sure Walt made more then that as a peace work auto mechanic, but I doubt Mom made more as a seamstress in a factory.
Our school lunches were peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, an apple or orange and vanilla wafer cookies. Isn’t it wonderful that we can only remember the good things?
After the river rose enough to scare Momma, and all the rest of us, we headed for California. This time it would only be Margie and I with Walt and Mom. Gerry got to go stay with Aunt Myrtle and finish her school term in Texas and George got to stay at Aunt Ida's Hotel, where Dad was living. They were to join us in California after Gerry's school was out.
So the marriage breakup didn’t stop the highway travel. Mom and Walt are to marry on this trip before we leave Texas, as we passed through El Paso. I don't think it really happened that way though. I remember Margie and I staying in a motel in Las Cruces New Mexico, while they went to get married. I think that fear of losing Margie and me in the divorce proceedings, are what created the "El Paso" marriage story.
When we arrived in California, Mom and Walt rented a house in Mount Washington, on Pheasant Drive. It was the one that used to belong to Aunt Pearl and Uncle Jim. Just across the street from Aunt Velma and her family. Aunt Velma and Uncle Marshall had the four girls. Anita, Ardith, Lillian and Marcy Lee. Marcy was called Minnie, as in Minnie Mouse. These are the same kids we had spent the first part of our California life near. They were like sisters to us. When we were living here with our Dad, everything we ever did, we had done as one big family. So that made it easy for us to re-settle in Mount Washington.
Walt got work pretty easy as a mechanic, in Highland Park and Mom as a Seamstress in a sewing factory. We would spend no more then two months in this house.
Wagons were a very popular toy for a boy of my age. The only problem was the roads were steep and the canyons were deep. The roads were paved and if you (in the wagon) were going down hill, the only way to stop was to turn back up hill. Let me tell you. “That was hell on wheels!” The rubber just couldn’t stay on the wheels. After all, it was only a piece of rubber hose, with a twisted wire inside, sitting in a groove of metal. It didn’t take long for me to learn that, wheels with no rubber, would go faster and skid better. Turning however, was another story. You could turn the tongue of the wagon, but the wagon wouldn’t go in the direction you wanted until it slowed down enough to quit skidding.
Please note here. “I was a Laugher.” Once I started I couldn’t stop. Most of the time it was combined with “Hick ups”.
I think the whole canyon must have rumbled the day I was riding my rubber less wheeled wagon, down Quail Drive about twenty MPH, with no brakes and very little steering control, freckled faced and red-brown hair, laughing my foolish head off. Here I was, heading for Wren, and laughing so hard I couldn’t think of how I was going to stop. I tried to turn to the right onto Quail Drive and couldn’t quite make the turn. But my Shoulder Angel was with me that day. It put a huge pile of dirt between me and the steep canyon to Wren, that had just veered off to my left then bent sharply back to the right, about a hundred feet below me, and parallel to Quail, where I had just crashed. I sure had a brave angel.
Freida had moved out here too and had her own place in Highland Park.
Soon Mom and Walt rented a two story house in Highland Park and Bibber and Gerry joined us again. At last! Our family was together again! I remember when Gerry fell down the steps. My poor Gerry. She was always getting hurt.
Superman was the top radio story for young boys that year. So naturally I had a cape. Darn it was hard to make the wind blow that thing out behind me. There was a tall tree stump in our front yard that I used to jump from. But even from there I couldn't get enough air to make it billow. Once I tried looking back to see it billow, while jumping off that stump. Now listen up all you youngsters. Don’t look back while jumping off an object. The ground comes up way too fast and it’s too hard on your nose. Makes it hurt like crazy and gets blood all over the place. Say nothing to what it makes the Shoulder Angel do.
We lived here for all the rest of that year and some of 1941 .That’s where we were living when I got a wind up train for Christmas. Wind ups were better then electric because you could take them outdoors to play with them. I had a simple figure eight track but was able to run it around a bush and a rock. One winding would take it around the track several times. The cowboy movies of those times frequently showed a train wrecking or crashing through something. So it was only natural for me to build a bunch of weed cuttings for the train to crash through. It worked too! Except, I think Mom didn’t like it the time I struck a match and set the pile of dry weeds on fire before running the train through it. Grass sure makes a lot of smoke. It hurts when you get a spanking too!
That’s the same Christmas that Margie got a doll with tin sleep eyes. It always fascinated me how they would work. Some how I managed to punch them out, while trying to see what made them work. Mom thought I should have to fix them. I would have too. Except to fix them, I would have to remove the head and I didn’t know how to do that. Maybe if she gets another I’ll be able to see how they work. Poor Margie! All she remembers is that every doll she ever had, Joe Bill would punch the eyes out. I’m sorry Margie. I know how to fix them now. Now is it okay?
Walt bought a used, Model A, Flat Bed, truck and started working on it with every spare moment he had. He said he was tired of having to buy furniture every time we moved from one place to another. Besides JD had been trying to convince him to move us back to Texas. A city called San Marcos. Being the mechanic he was, it didn't take him long to have it operating like new. It had wooden stake side rails and rear gates. He stretched a canvas tarpaulin over the sides and top and made a drop cloth for the rear, that we could raise and lower from the inside. When we were all loaded for travel, Mom, Walt and Frieda would ride up front and us kids would be on a pallet behind the furniture and other stuff, next to the back gates.
Once, Frieda decided to ride in the back with us kids, and Mom took Margie up front. Knowing that it would be a hot trip for any one in the back of the truck, Mom asked Walter if we could take the Northern route. I was in the room when she asked and I can still hear the words in my ears today. It was the "sing song" accent that she had inherited from her mother, that she used when she asked; Walter? Do you think we could take the Northern route through Albuquerque? I'm so afraid of the heat, with the kids in the back of the truck and all. Of course he agreed, even though it would be harder on the ten year old truck. The route was highway 66 through the El Cajon pass,(4300 feet high) to get over the Pacific Ridge of mountains. It was a cooler route and besides Uncle Earl and Aunt Louise, with their boys lived in Barstow. Barstow was on the highway, between the mountains and the Mojave desert. It would take us through Needles,Flagstaff, Albuquerque. About fifty miles beyond there we would turn south on US 285 down to Vaughn, Roswell, Carlsbad, Pecos, and Fort Stockton where we could take US 290 into Austin. The roads from Fredericksburg to San Marcos were un-improved and they decided to go to Austin first, then down US 81 to San Marcos. This would be the route that would bring us to Austin for the first time.
Here is some information about that area over the mountains of California. Compliments of the California Historic Rte 66 Assn. This should be interesting to you, since most of the Brunner side of our family are Mormons.
Route 66 in California traverses 320 miles from Needles to Santa Monica. For 214 of those miles, from Needles to Cajon Summit, you are traveling through the Mojave Desert. The wonder and beauty of this region can only be appreciated by remembering what Majestic Beauty it had in the late thirties and early forties.
In 1851, Amasa Lymand and Charles Rich led a band of Mormon settlers from Salt Lake City across the Mojave Desert. A smoother route (rather than the original Mojave Indian Trail) was needed to enter their "Promised Land", the San Bernardino Valley.
For centuries, Native Americans had approached the mountains on foot and horseback along the Mojave River from the north. They continued up Sawpit Canyon near Crestline, and entered the Valley by Devil's Canyon behind the site of the present state college.
Early explorers, including Jedediah Smith, Ewing Young and Kit Carson traveled this route. But with the gradual build-up of wheeled traffic as part of the young United States' westward expansion, "the box " or "El Cajon " began to acquire its importance for generations of Americans.
For the first several decades of its use the Pass was known for the presence of marauding Utes, under Walkera, " Hawk of the Mountains " and for Anglo and Mexican horse thieves.
The arrival of the Mormons and others helped stabilize the Cajon area which remained at the edge of civilization. As commercial contact increased with other states, California was annexed and railroad track laid through the Pass to the south land became a mainline for California's growth.
Today, 50 freight trains and four passenger trains push through the Pass daily. The Southern Pacific and the Santa Fe railroads, US Highways 91, 395, 66 and 1-15, natural gas and oil pipelines, electrical power transmission facilities, and hydraulic facilities at Lake Silverwood, have made the Pass a virtual lifeline for the huge urban population of Southern California.
The Mormon Rocks area is one of the youngest and most active geological regions in North America. The Pass is formed by the overlapping of two mountain ranges (the San Gabriels and the San Bernardinos) rather than by the activity of an ancient or defunct river system. This overlapping is due to the grinding and clashing of continental (tectonic) plates in the Earth's crust, producing earthquake and other seismic activity along the San Andreas Fault line in Lone Pine Canyon.
Here is a picture of the Mormon Rocks taken in 1997 by Walter Feller
I don't know if it was the ride in the back of the truck or just my age. But! This turned out to be the most memorable trip of all that we made. It probably even took us longer. After all, the truck was old and the steep, winding roads were hard on it. When they weren't it was a hot desert that was hard on the tires. Tires were not good in those days. If they were new, you could only hope that they would last the trip. So we had lots of flats. Once while we were in the desert section of the trip, the universal joint broke. Walt made a canvas lean too off the side of the truck, while he made the repairs.
There was an accepted method of travel back then called "Hitch Hiking or Thumbing." You were to walk towards your destination,(sometimes it was a walk all the way) and if a car aproached going in the same direction, you could hold out your hand with the thumb extended and hope the driver would stop and give you a ride. The more cautious ones would let you stand on the running board and hold on through the window opening. Walt had to Hitch Hike into the next town on the route, that was large enough to have a place where he could buy the repair parts. Then he had to hitch hike back to us at the broken down truck.
In 1941 the running board on the side of the Chevrolets was inside of the door opening and the side metal just had a bump out over the area where it use to be. I mention that because, during one of the break downs, Bibber was permitted to Hitch Hike on to the nearest service station for some more tire patch and return to us. Well he got a ride with the first car, and it was a new Chevy coupe. They rolled down the window just enough to get his fingers in and told him to hold on. And hold on he did! This driver was in a hurry and in a new car that could go real fast. But it didn’t have any running boards to stand on. Lucky for Bibber the station wasn't too many miles. He was only fifteen. I know it scared him enough to still be able to tell of it fifty years later.
The trip to Texas in the Model A truck was in no way uneventful. A book could be written about it but this is not the place or the time.
We were approaching Fredericksburg before Mom and Walt decided that it would be too risky to take the State highway into San Marcos, so we went on to Austin. Guess it was a good thing too. The truck was acting up to much to go on, so we got a place to stay at the Riverside Tourist Court, located at the foot of the Congress avenue bridge and around the corner on Riverside Drive. The gravel pits were all that separated the courts from the river. While playing alone on those high piles of sand, I lost one of the big cap guns that Dad had given me.
Walter went into town the next morning and met a mechanic named Shorty Green. He and Walt hit it off like old lost brothers. He agreed to let Walt make repairs to the truck there in exchange for some mechanic work. Then he convinced Walter not to go to San Marcos. Before I joined the Navy, Walt told me that Shorty was the best damned mechanic he had ever worked with. He said they could work together, on the same car, for a couple of hours and never have to say one damn word to each other. Each one knew what the other was doing and what he needed in the way of tools or assistance. The must not have had any trouble with names either, Since they both answered to "Shorty".
As you approach Austin from the Fredericksburg highway. The first glimpse you get of the city is the capitol dome, the University Tower and the Driskell Hotel building sticking up above the trees..
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxAustin in the Fourties xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Austin is the capitol city of Texas and has been given all the attention that a city can receive. There are really high towers throughout the city that provide artificial moonlight. They are placed about every six blocks apart and therefore there is no need for street lights at intersections. There is plenty of big green shade trees all over town. The yards in the north side of town look like city parks, with their plush thick grass lawns and huge oak trees. Congress Avenue is the main street. Cars used to park in the middle of Congress and the traffic moved up and down either side. That was changed just before we got here .It is twelve blocks North from the Congress Avenue bridge to the capitol building. That constitutes the main downtown district. The cross streets are numbered 1st through 12th and they run East, West. Congress Avenue is also US 81. It runs right into the Capitol building and then has to jog around to the left in order to pass. After that and out a ways would be the University of Texas and even further out, is the School for the blind, and just inside the city limits is the Insane Asylum. It has a six foot chain link fence with barbwire crown all the way around the property. I'm sure books have been written about that big dark side of Austin.
The Colorado River wraps around the South side of downtown. If you take West Sixth street from Congress it would become Lake Blvd. That's how you would get to the dam or lake and Bennett boat dock. It's right at the dam, which creates Lake Austin. Below the dam, the river continues around the south side of town and back to the East. Therefore if you take East Seventh from Congress Avenue, you would cross the river on US 183 headed for Lockhart Texas.
The Congress Avenue bridge was built in the early thirties after the first one was washed out by a flood. All of the rivers in Texas used to wash out and flood cities somewhere until a Governor "Ma" Ferguson (the first woman governor of Texas and the second in the nation) had all the dams built. Ma was an acronym coined by a reporter who took it from her initials. Mariam Amanda. She was Governor from 1925 to 1927 and again 1933 to 1935. I remember seeing pictures of the old bridge with water over it and another with the new bridge, (also now replaced) with water all the way up to, but not over, the roadway.
So this is Austin. The city I claimed as my home through out my Navy Career. I don't know why, unless it's because I was able to make some male friends there. Although I do still like the city more then any of the others I lived in. Including Los Angeles where I was born.
We moved from the Tourist Courts to a place out on the San Antonio Highway. This place had been a beer and dance hall, before we moved in. It use to sit back off the highway, with parking room closer to the road. Then just before we moved in, the owner had it moved and turned into living quarters instead of dance hall. The well water had been piped into the kitchen but there was no gas or indoor toilet. The source of heat and cooking was a kerosene stove for cooking and an iron, wood burning heater in the front room along with the floor model radio and Mom and Walt's bed. There was another room alongside that one, that led to the kitchen. That was our room and it had bunk beds again. We use to go to bed very early because electricity was costly. The radio would be on shows like Amos n Andie, Charlie Mc McCarthy. Except on Saturday nights we listened to The Grand Ole Opry.
The house sat alongside Turtle Creek. It was almost a dry wash, unless it rained. Then it became dangerous. It did have a dribble of water year round though. There was a "Cow Tank" that would collect water and provide drinking water for live stock. A cow tank is a low spot in an field or area, that has been dug deeper by horse or mule drawn skids, pulling the dirt to one side. It need not be in a creek bed as this was though. Tanks were frequently found in the lowest spot of a field and only got filled when it rained. Some would have a wind mill pumping water from a well and adding to the dirt bottom tank. It was never left with deep banks because you wanted the cattle to have a smooth approach to the water.
One time and I don't know from where, a top to an old car showed up on the tank. It was turned upside down and made an excellent boat. I could row it all around the tank with a board. There was a willow tree growing in the tank and I would row out to it and pretend to be on a lost island.
We had no live stock. Although we did have some chickens and had raised a pair of white ducks that one of us had gotten for Easter. The drake had grown big and mean. Mostly to Walter. Every time he would go to the out house, located way back at the rear of the property, the drake would attack him. He always had big old black and blue marks on his legs from it. I'm sure it (the drake) must have tasted good at some time. But I don't remember!
Alongside the property, opposite of the creek, was a large fenced in field. The people across the highway from us use to graze their cow and it's calf there. They would lead the them through the culvert under the highway and passed through our front yard to get to the field. I made friends with the people and the cow and calf. Eventually they let me lead them through the culvert and to the field in the morning then back in the evening. I can't remember any paydays, but I'm sure this was the first job I ever had.
The middle of town was considered 6th and Congress. The city limits had just been extended out to the four mile line. Our house was about four and a quarter. Between us and the city limits the highway made a long straight climb. Coming the other way, towards San Antonio it was a real launch site for the speeding cars. They would pass our house at seventy or more if they could. The speed limit was only fifty, so that was the exception.
Well one time I decided the cows could cross the highway instead of going down through the culvert. They were tethered only by a short line from my hand to the rope halter on each of them, and me in between. These cows really liked me and would come and go for me at any time I asked. So I led them from the pasture to the roadside, then stopped them and waited as the cars passed. One of the cars was a hot v8 without any muffler. The people that owned the cows were waiting for me to bring the cow and calf and hearing the car started looking for me. When the old man saw me standing at the edge of the highway and heard the car roaring, he almost had a heart attack. The noisy car passed and the old cow just turned sideways towards me but she never tried to pull away or run. Sure glad my shoulder angel doesn't sleep very much! So I led them on across the highway to the white faced owner and had to vow never to do it again. He also made a point of telling Mom and Walt so they could re enforce the seriousness of it.
We went to school at Pleasant Hill from that place. It was about a mile further out the highway. It was a neat little country school back then. The Third, Fourth, and Fifth grades were all in the same room. Each row of seats was a different grade.
It must have been spring because in the mornings, walking to school we would have to wear coats. By the time we came home it was so hot you would have the coat sleeves tied around your waist.
Just before getting to the school and across the highway, was the remains of a burned down house. The rock chimney and the fire place were still in tact. There was a set of concrete steps, with rock borders leading up to the floor level and the floor was a flat concrete slab. There were bluebonnets growing in the field with an occasional Indian Paint Brush splashing through here and there.
I've tried to find pictures of bluebonnets in a field to show you here, but so far none.
Once when I was alone, I went there and investigated the ruins. After a while I found myself laying in front of the fireplace, looking up at the blue sky, daydreaming of rebuilding the house on it's remains. There must have been at least twenty acres fenced in with it. Some, down from the house, were post cedar and live oak and hickory, but most was just beautiful open field.
Pleasant Hill School was just a few hundred feet of the main highway but there was another road first that paralleled the highway. The school was at that corner. The name of the road was Circle Road. If you followed it to the top of the hill, about a quarter mile, you would be at the church we went to. The Pastor's name was Brother Eberhart. It was a one room church, not very big at all. Sunday Mornings would find a whole congregation of local farmers and their families in attendance. Best that none of them had done anything wrong during the week, or it was sure to be preached about in church on Sunday. The church was nestled in amongst life oak, hickory and post cedar as was most everything, except for the cleared fields. You could usually find someone with a bottle of liquor and a pair of dice in the woods behind the parking lot. Us kids were not allowed to join them, but we could sneak through the woods until we could see them. As soon as someone rang the bell, everyone made a bee line for the front door.
That's the church where Arthur Kelly and I got up in front of the congregation, and performed a song. "Peace in the Valley" I think. Arthur could play the guitar but not too good at singing. I on the other hand, could not play a guitar, but could sing pretty well. Together we managed to pass some of the time for the Pastor.
There was also a roping pen between Circle Road and the Highway. That's a place where ranch hands and would be cowboys would practice roping and bull dogging one night a week. It was the in thing for the young boys to help get the calf's up to the chute and ready to enter the pen when a loud horn was blown. So I from California thought I too could help. After taking all the razzing about the way I talked and what a sissy I was, I was finally permitted to do it too. As a calf would be next to go, we would slap them on the rump and shout "get in there". Sometimes that wasn't enough and you would have to get a hold of the tail and twist it. It was not always that the calf just didn't want to go out. Sometimes it was because the poor dumb things were trying to have a bowl movement. That's the part the other boys didn't tell me about. So there I was pushing against the rump with my chest and twisting on the tail when all at once the poor calf cut loose with the makings of one great cow pie. Needless to say, those young Texans all had a great laugh at the young California Yankee covered in B. S.
Pastor Eberhart had a couple of sons, one a little older then I. They had several "ole coon dogs" and just loved to take them out on a hunt. They were the flopped ear beagles. When they howled, you could hear them for miles. They took me with them once, on an all night coon (raccoon) hunt. JD was with us, as well as most of the young boys who attended the church. There was a ten acre wooded area on JD's farm and it was connected to other wooded areas even larger. That's where the hunt took place.
We built a large wood fire and kept it burning all night. Many hot dogs and marshmallows were consumed that night. The dogs were released to roam the woods on their own. We all sat around the fire, talking softly so we could hear them, until one managed to tree a coon. When it did, the pursuit and hunt barking, turned to a howl that meant only one thing. It has a coon treed! Then everyone went thrashing through the woods trying to be the first to get to where it was. Once there, some one would shoot the coon out of the tree. That morning all the raccoons were given to the black men that worked for Pastor Eberhart. They were also with us on the hunt. I guess I never developed into a hunter. It just doesn't make sense to kill for the sport of killing.
Williamson Creek was on the other side of the pasture where I brought the cows. It crossed under the highway too, just below the long hill. I remember Williamson Creek as one of the most enjoyable spots of my growing up. The water in the creek at this point, was about thirty feet wide and stayed that wide for the equivalent of a couple of city blocks. It was nice and deep too.
On the down stream side, after passing under the highway, the creek made a bend. At that bend and on the deep side, there was a huge pecan tree over hanging the creek. The tree trunk it's self was about six feet up a bank. Someone had tied a thick rope to one of the overhanging branches. That branch was about twenty feet above the water, so it gave a very long swing out over the creek. There were knots tied at the end of the rope to enable holding on. It was also very hard to get to, because it could not be reached by any one in the water.
That's when I met Ruben Copeland. Ruben was to become my lifelong friend. I would contact him each time we mooved back to Austin. He was older then me, but by less then a year. Like me, he didn't have many friends, and those he did have didn't want to do anything fun. I on the other hand was willing to do just about anything, and would laugh with joy about most of it. Together, determined to swing on the rope, we figured out that we could reach it with a stick, cut from a willow, and start it swinging, until one on the bank could grab it. Once you got a hold of it, one would always have to be on the bank, to catch it on the return. At this time I had not yet learned how to swim. But I could do a frog stroke under water, while holding my breath, come up for air and go back under. I would swim with my eyes open so I could see where I was going. The rope on the tree was long enough, to run with it, parallel to the bank, then swing a big arc over the water. That gave us more air time. This method of the rope being too short for the younger kids was an un-thought of safety feature. Even if you did get it, there had to be a second person with you, in case anything happened. I have more exciting memories of the Williamson Creek swimming hole then I do Barton Springs. We spent many days there. There was wild grapes along the bank at one place. You could hide under the highway bridge. You could swing on the rope and jump from it into the water. You could just lay on the sandy slope at the bend or you could go up stream along the bank and find all kinds of stuff to do. Kill snakes, catch grass hoppers, lizards, horned toads and crawdads. Or chase rabbits. All that and only one cow pasture from home.
Once Ruben and I went up stream to where the running water entered the wide portion. There were crawdad mud piles all up and down the muddy bank. Under each mud pile there was a deep hole with a crawdad. We found some string and tied a minnow to it, then lowered it into the crawdad holes. One at a time the crawdads would hold onto the minnow for dear life until we could pull them up to the top and grab them. There was an old coffee can that we were putting them in. After a while Ruben said if we had a match and some Tabasco sauce, we would cook and eat them. It was a long cow pasture away, but not much later I found myself going home for matches and hot sauce. Soon I returned with two peanut butter and sugar sandwiches, some matches and Tabasco. We built a fire and cooked the tails in the coffee can with stream water and Tabasco. I can still taste it today. So Delicious! Many is the time that I have tried to repeat the taste, but have never been able to achieve it.
One day, the girls and I were standing on the bridge, looking down at a few boys swimming by on their backs. They were three brothers. Joe, Carl and Edgar Pittsford. Later we all met down at the bend, across from the rope tree. The one named Carl James, was a real "heart throb" for Gerry. He had neat black wavy hair and friendly looks to say nothing of his friendly attitude. And he was the right age for her too!
Okay! So we made some friends. Now it's time to move. This time into West Austin. At least we knew how to get in touch with the friends we made. No. Not by phones. We would take the bus to the city limits and walk down to Williamson Creek and meet them. Until it got too cold.
Gerry, Margie and I enrolled at Pease Elementary School. Austin had several elementary schools but only one high school. That was Austin High of course. Maroon and White.
That's where we were living when I got my BB gun. It was a pump and could hold a whole package of BB's in reserve. The bore times you pumped the air pressure the more powerful the shot would be. It could be deadly. I use to go in the wooded areas of west Austin and do bird hunting. Truth of the matter is, I did more target practice then hunting. But one time I killed a Redbird. I brought it home and Momma cried. But she was a smart Momma. She made me pick and clean it then she fried it and I was the only one that got to eat any. I never killed anymore birds.
It must have been winter when we lived there. Once I had taken a bus to South Austin, and when it came time to go home I was walking, for some reason. I had developed a tooth ache and an ear ache at the same time. There was an extremely cold wind blowing. My coat must have been thin. I had no hat or ear muffs, and no gloves. I was crying, runny nosed, alone, and a long way from home. So I was really bad off. Guess I'll never forget the man that came by in a car and slowed down, looked at me, started laughing and then sped away. Trials and tribulations!
We never stayed there very long either. Soon, all the furniture was sold to an aunt of Carl James. She was a very nice lady, and even took our cat for us. We were on our way back to California.
This time we went back to Mount Washington. We lived in a small house on Rustic Drive. That would be the first street to your right, after passing the store and church on Museum Dr. It ran the in the opposite direction of Museum, but still going up, instead of down.
For a change, there was a boy my age down the street from us. We became real buddies. His name was Melvin. Melvin and I use to spend a lot of time on the Southwest Museum property. It was at the foot of the hill where Museum Drive started. The main building was way up high on the hill and the entrance was down here. As you entered there was a very long Hall to the elevator which ran a couple hundred feet up to the Main Structure. Everything was free. The walls of this long hall had window displays of pre historic man. There must have been a dozen of them. Each display was as large as a small room. Some had a whole family squatting around a fire, roasting a pig like animal. Others were of hunting parties searching and killing animals, and some of gatherers gathering berries and fruit. All were properly placed around original artifacts found throughout the Southwestern states. Up in the main hall of the building was a skeleton of a dinosaur. The place was just loaded with all kinds of neat stuff to intrigue a young boy. Now the outside was a steep hill with pine trees and wild oats that ran down to Marmion Way and Museum Drive.
Now you must learn what Melvin and I learned. If you opened a cardboard box, you could treat it like a sled. And if you think you can travel fast in snow, you should try it on dry pine needles sometimes. The only way to stop was to crash on purpose. I don't know how boys ever grew up in those days!
Also at the Museum, a great pastime of ours, was to sit where we could look at the traffic on to Marmion Way and try to identify cars as they went buy. At least that was a safe thing to do.
When we first moved in that house, there was a wooden shed out in the back. The house was built on the side of a hill, so the front, being about fifteen feet below the road, was on one level and down stairs was the back on another level. I slept on a single size bed located in the main entrance. That room was so tiny. I think it was intended for the entrance hall. Mom and Walt both worried about the old shed falling down and doing dammage to the house below ours, on Marmion Way. So one day, he went out and KICKED it down with his boots. I was there to help clean up the mess, pull nails and stack the lumber.
This is the house we were living in when Mom and Walt brought my dog Desert home from Uncle Earl's for me. Desert was a german shepperd mixed with a wild desert dog. He was marked like a Shepperd with Black, Silver and light Grey. But he was only about half the size of one. Although he was stronger then any large dog I have ever seen, before, or since. Walter named him before they got home. The name was very appropriate. Uncle Earl said it was part cayote.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX ADD WWII, 1942 TO 1945 XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX This is also where we were living when the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor in Hawaii.
One block away from our house was the little grocery store. The owner hired me to do cleaning and re-stocking for him sometimes. I was only twelve.
Upstairs from the store was our little comunity church. The preacher kept it opened for three days, after the bombing, to make sure everyone had a chance to come in and pray.
I didn't know then what an important time in history that this was destined to be. But I do remember it like the back of my hand. I just thought that was the way it should have been. As I look back on the time now, I remember the comanding voice of President Roosevelt giving his many speaches over the radio.
