Whenever the city needed the fire plugs or something else painted Doc would arrest Willie or Percy and fine them for drunk in public. Then he would let them work there fine out painting the fire plugs, curbs, or whatever else needed painting.
Anyway, this is not being written for laughs. What I‘m trying to get across grandson is that some guys take advantage of someone else‘s handicap to try and entertain or impress others. The only thing they are doing is making themselves out to be exactly what they are…..big bullies! They don‘t usually have guts enough to make fun of someone that is their equal. Remember; take up for the less fortunate.
• • •
One morning I was walking home with my bike because I had a flat tire and my repair kit was at home. I was just walking across the railroad tracks near my home when Doc Dedeker and Quill Stagner pulled up and asked why I wasn‘t in school. I started crying and told them, ―Cause my mama‘s got T.B.!‖ then I took off running home. Doc was a real good officer and he never ever bothered me again.There was about five of us guys that hung around with each other in Luling and like most young guys we were always looking for something to do for excitement.
Sometimes we would go over to a church I‘m not sure where, but I know it was in the rich guys‘ neighborhood. We would get in the church and ring the bell for about one minute around midnight. We knew someone would call Doc Dedeker the only officer at that time in Luling. We would hide out and go up town somewhere while Doc would be looking for whoever rang the bell. He usually knew who it was, but we would be up at the Wilson Hotel making like we wouldn‘t do anything wrong.
Then one night about two A.M. one of the guys suggested we make a Blivet and put it on this rich guy‘s porch, set it on fire, ring his doorbell, run like hell and hide out and watch him come to his door and stomp out the fire. A blivet is a paper bag filled part way up with fresh cow manure; of course Doc was called and right away started looking for us.
Fundy and me had got to the Wilson Hotel and started out the side door. There sat Doc in his car. He said, ―Cunningham, you and Bowen come over here!‖ Of course, we didn‘t disobey Doc for he was not a mean officer. He said, ―You boys been in any trouble tonight?‖ I started to say, ―No sir.‖ And he said, ―Now, you guys may as well fess up cause I already talked to Leroy.‖
Anyway, Doc got all five of us and the next day we had to report to the fire station where we had to go before a Justice of the Peace. I don‘t remember his mane, but he had a peg leg. The judge fined us ten dollars each then told Doc to collect it anyway he wanted to.
Two or three of the guys‘ folks paid there fine. Doc asked me how I wanted to pay my ten dollars. Since I was working for the Nehi Bottling Company and throwing papers, I was making six dollars a week, I asked Doc if I could pay him two dollars a week. He said, ―Yes, that would be okay.‖ Every Friday evening Doc was parked at the soda pop plant waiting for me to get paid. That‘s the only time I ever did get into anything like that again.
After that, when the guys were going to do something wrong I would drift on off by myself. I was called a lot of names like yellow dog; you got a yellow stripe down your back. But, that was alright I was able to stand out front of the fire station the next time while they had to see the judge again.
• • •
The Night Hawk Café is where I met this man, Roy Jackson. He wanted to know if I would like a job as a swamper on the RC Cola, Nehi Soda Pop truck that he was driving.I took the job quick! I now had two jobs, the paper route, which paid me fifty cents a day, and the swamper that paid me fifty cents a day plus my lunch. The pay scale being what it was during those days and times, I was making wages equivalent to a man. The going wage was one dollar a day for the W.P.A.
My first day as a swamper for Roy was on the Seguin Route. He was driving the largest truck that was in the fleet at that time. It was a 1940 Dodge that was known as ―Big Bertha.‖ There was also a 1940 Chevy, a 1939 Chevy, a 1940 small Dodge, and a 1940
Ford one ton panel truck for quick deliveries.
Big Bertha was too tall for me to get the cases of pop off the top without climbing up the sides. A case of pop weighed forty-eight pounds, so I would climb up the side of the truck bed, pull a case of pop over the side, and let it down one shelf at a time until I could reach the ground. We were in the process of making a delivery to a grocery store in Seguin and while Roy was making out the invoice I had to take the pop into the store. I was twelve years old at the time and a case of pop weighed almost as much as I did. I had a case of R.C. Cola almost down to the ground when I dropped it and broke eleven bottles. Roy came out and saw the broken bottles. He said, ―Well your first day on the job, and you owe me a nickel already.‖ Roy was joking with me, but I didn‘t think so. All those drivers gave me a tough time.
Since I was the only kid hanging around working and not going to school, those drivers would make my life miserable. They would tease me and do all kinds of things to harass me. Sometimes this one big truck driver would catch me, then; one of the other guys would pull my pants down and pour soda pop on my privates. They told me this would make them grow big. Of course, as soon as they turned me lose they knew not to hang around. They would run like hell because I started throwing bottles of soda at them.
Sometime I would hit one. All this time I was usually crying because I was mad and my feelings were hurt.
This story is not told to make anyone feel sorry for me. Those guys watched out for me.
No one else could touch me or make fun of me while they were around. I think with all the teasing and harassment, I became tough enough to make my way through life and be able to have compassion for anyone else I saw being picked on.
• • •
Some of the other people who were employed at the time were Sam Zumock, Alexander, Pinky Ivey, and one other driver that I can‘t remember his name. The men who worked in the plant were Alex Schumann, Gene‘s brother who was the plant supervision Todd Ivey and Pete Mendoza.On our next trip to Seguin, it got passed lunch time and I was getting hungry. We were headed out of town to a country store to make a delivery. On the way out we had to pass by a cotton gin and a plant where they processed cotton seed into cotton seed cake.
During the processing of the cotton seed cake they had to cook it.
Anyway, I thought it smelled like Bar-B-Q. To let Roy know I was hungry I said, ―Roy I smell Bar-B-Q.‖ He didn‘t say anything. On our way back we went by the same place again and I repeated the same phrase, ―Roy, I smell Bar-B-Q.‖ Roy sill didn‘t say anything, but when we got to the plant, he started telling all the guys how the only thing I had on my mind was Bar-B-Q as I had kept repeating to him the same phrase. From that day on, my nickname was BBQ.
At first this name caused me to get fighting mad when they teased me. After awhile I accepted it and started scratching on walls everywhere…Bar-B-Q was here.
• • •
After the war started, most of the drivers and Gene‘s brother Alec moved away from Luling going to work in the defense plants or joining the service.Gene put me to work in the plant where at fourteen years old I oversaw the production of the soda pop. Along with Pete Mendoza we were the plant crew. Pete and I kept all the pop flowing right on out the doors.
Sugar was hard to come by and it was also rationed, so Gene had to go over to Mexico where he bought raw sugar to make extra soda. Raw sugar isn‘t as sweet as granulated sugar. Sometimes, I had to deliver the soda since Gene couldn‘t find drivers. Defense jobs paid lots more and it was patriotic. The sale of the soda pop to the stores was rationed. We could only fill up what the store had in empties. One case of empty bottles equaled one case of soda. Since there wasn‘t a lot of soda to go around, the stores would try their best to get some extra. There was a lot of money in those days, but not enough raw materials. We had to save all the used soda bottle caps, then take them to San Antonio once a month where they were recycled and we would use them again.
• • •
Gene Schumann was a good man. He would help anyone out. Lots of times he could have prosecuted a driver for failing to turn over the day‘s receipts. Sometimes they would drink them up or gamble them away. Anyway Gene always tried to give them a chance to redeem themselves. I remember him to be a good man.In 1939 or 1940 when Lyndon B. Johnson was running for congress (my dates could be way off here). Gene went all out for him. I understood that he and Johnson were friends in school. Anyway, when he came to Luling for a political rally, Gene was all over the place. One of my jobs was to take a couple of soda ice boxes and a few cases of soda, set up a soda stand at all the football games that were played at home. I got to sell pop and see the games for free. Another time, I was swamping for Roy Jackson, and we were making the Gonzales run. We left Luling, went to Ottine, then to Gonzalez, and then back to Luling. Roy had been making me learn how to drive. Now remember I was about twelve or maybe thirteen at the time.
Anyway, he wanted me to learn to drive so that while he was in the store collecting the money for the delivery I was to drive up the street to the next stop and start sorting the bottles, and getting the soda off the truck and into the store. This way Roy and I working together like that made for less time for our days work. We stopped at the first store in Harwood and put off the order. I then drove up to the next store, which was Spear‘s Market. I went ahead and got the bottles and the soda loaded and unloaded while Roy walked up the street.
In Harwood at that time there was a constable there named Judge Hammon. He was known as a real tough guy on traffic offenders. Well, Judge Hammon was standing out front of the store when Roy walked up. Roy said to Judge Hammond, ―Did you see that kid driving that truck?‖ Judge Hammon says, ―I sure did.‖ Roy then told him, ―Well, he don‘t have a driver‘s License, what do you think should be done about that?‖Judge Hammon made like he was going to arrest me and take me to jail. Of course, I was scared to death about ready to start crying when they all started laughing. One of those times when you think maybe one of these days I‘ll grow up big and come back and kick the shit out of those guys!
• • •
It was the first part of December when Roy had to take a truck load delivery to a store in Seguin. Roy had me as his swamper, but he needed some additional help. James Logan (A.K.A. Bo Hunk) was also a swamper for one of the other truck drivers and he had already finished for the day. So, Roy asked Bo-hunk to go with us. We delivered the soda and for some reason I don‘t remember what, Roy and Bo-hunk got into an argument. Roy told Bo-hunk he couldn‘t ride home in the cab of the truck with us. So, Bo-Hunk climbed on top of the truck and Roy said, ―O.K., but you can‘t ride with us in the cab.‖ Roy took off for Luling and it was pretty cold that day. Bo-Hunk decided to ride it out. Roy was so mad at Bo-Hunk when we got to Luling, he told Gene what had happened, but he said the thing that made him so mad was because the damn fool sat up there and sang all the way back freezing his ass off.
• • •
I quit working for Roy and started working for Sam. Sam had a pretty good drinking habit. Lots of times I had to drive the truck home. One time on our way home from the Kennedy Karnes City route, Sam was pretty tipsy. We were on the North side of Nixon when a young cow came out in the road. Sam hit the cow, but not straight on. He hit it a slanting blow and the cow spun around like a top, but it didn‘t seem to hurt the cow. It didn‘t damage the truck because in those days truck fenders were really tough. So I had to drive on home because Sam decided he was not capable. The roads then were mostly all gravel.When Sam and I worked the Kansas City route there was this beer joint out on the highway that Sam always made it the last stop. There were several girls working there as prostitutes. Sam, to have himself a bit of fun used to sic the girls onto me. I always stayed with the truck until Sam decided to leave. I would climb on top of the truck and throw soda pop bottles at them. They would harass me for awhile, but always stayed out of range. All those guys in the bar thought that was great fun. I guess it was for them, but scared the hell out of me.
• • •
After I turned fifteen years old Gene took me one day to Lockhart and got me a driver‘s license. This was a commercial operator‘s permit. This allowed me to drive trucks. Gene then made me a full time truck driver. Gene assigned me the 1940 Chevy, which I thought to be the best of all the trucks. Sam was driving the 1939 Chevy. Like I said, the 1940 Chevy was a very good truck and one day I was making the Seguin route.
I didn‘t know it, but Gene was also going to San Antonio that day. He always took his wife to San Antonio once a week for singing lessons. When I got in that evening Gene got really hostile with me and said that he had caught me that morning going seventy miles an hour with his truck, and he wasn‘t going to allow me to cowboy his trucks.
Sam came in about the same time and we were both checking in with the day‘s receipts.
Gene told Sam that from now on he was to take the forty Chevy and Bar-B-Q can take the thirty nine Chevy. The next day I had to go to Gonzalez. I didn‘t know it, but Gene followed me out of town.
That evening Sam and I were checking in about the same time again. Gene said to Sam,
―I thought you said that old thirty nine wouldn‘t go but thirty five or forty miles an hour.‖
Sam says, ―That‘s all I could get out of it.‖ Gene remarked, ―Well maybe you can get only thirty five or forty miles per hours out of it, but Bar-B-Q had it up to sixty five going out of town this morning. That‘s the last I ever heard about my driving.
Somewhere along about this time Gene took me off the truck and put me back in the plant because I knew how to make the pop run, the bottling machine, plus the inspection of the finished product. I seemed to always be in trouble of some kind with him. But Gene was having problems that I didn‘t know about.
Some days I couldn‘t do anything right. Almost every day or at least two or three times a week Gene would fire me. I would go home and it wouldn‘t be but a few minutes until Gene would show up at our house and raise all kinds of a fuss about me not being at work and for me to get back to the plant and go to work. It got to where I would walk around to the corner Texaco station and wait for him. One day he fired me four times. I know I must have caused him a lot of trouble because I was bull headed and wasn‘t going to let anyone bully me around. We remained friends even years later.
Pedro and I worked long hours together as we had to do the whole work load. Pedro would bring tamales and other Mexican food that he would share with me at lunch. We would always sit on the old elevator to eat our lunch and Pedro would try to teach me Spanish. I got to where I could speak a little bit then I forgot it all after joining the service. Pedro was a real easy going guy and a lot older than all the other men. We always had a good time. He really treated me like I was the boss, when in truth there wasn‘t really any boss. We both knew what had to be done and we did it. The last time I ever saw Pedro was in 1949.
I was in Luling to see my mom while I was on furlough. I took off to find the soda pop plant closed. I remembered Pedro and his wife ran a little café down on the old Lockhart highway, better known as the bottoms. I went down there, and his wife told me Pedro was working at the graveyard. I drove up there and sure enough Pedro was working. We had a little reunion and I never got to see him again. – Pedro was a friend of mine.
• • •
I‘m going to write a little story about where we lived and some of my friends that was raised in the same neighborhood. All of us was raised in what today‘s standards would be considered abject. Let‘s take in a few blocks around the lower east part of Fannin Street.
There was my mother with three kids. Our dad had died when I was six and my oldest sister was ten. My brother Olan had left home at sixteen and joined the CCC and after that he joined the regular army at eighteen.
There was Jack Graham, his mom and dad both died. His sister Alice and her husband Luther was raising Jack. They had a cow they kept behind the house, so Jack‘s job was to take the old cow down by the railroad tracks where she could graze. Most of the guys would hang around down there with Jack when we could. Then there was Willie and Oscar Benner along with I think another brother and sister. Their dad was gone dead I think. Anyway, their mother was single and trying to raise this family. There was also Brandy Ferguson, his dad and mom both died. My uncle William Blundell helped Brandy as much as he could. Brandy just moved around a lot. Brandy was very successful from all that I ever heard about him. Now we have Pinkey and Todd Ivey along with their sister. There dad had also gone on. So, Mrs. Ivey had to raise these kids. Then how about Mr. McGlothin? He was a dad trying to raise several boys and girls. I think about six in all. Then there was Billy Roamell a very good friend of mine and his family. His dad was dead so his mother had to raise several kids.
There was many more that I can‘t remember too much about. I‘m just trying to give you a glimpse of the many families living on faith and the best they could! I never ever heard anyone complain about their circumstances.
We didn‘t have bathrooms. When we wanted a bath we heated a pot of water on the stove and took a number ten wash tub and filled it up about half full and then poured the boiling hot water in. Most houses had an icebox.
The ice man came around once or twice a week. Mom would get a twenty- five pound block of ice when he came. I don‘t remember how much it was, but I think fifteen cents.
There was a pan under the ice box called a drip pan where the ice melt would run into it.
It was necessary to empty it every day.
If you could see a picture of old Fanning Street as it was then, you would see an alley that ran the full length of the block with outhouses for each house. Some one holers and some two holers (I guess in case you wanted company). I know that all of us did not understand how poor we were. We had lots of fun and made up our own games. We had to entertain ourselves.
• • •
I never was poor because never had anything to be poor about.-Old Harold 2010
• • •
Anyway, the gist of this story I suppose that I want to convey to someone else is that I‘ve never read or seen anything that has been written about these women and men who were single parents for the most part raising a bunch of kids in one of the worst periods of our nation‘s history. These were the kids who became known as the greatest generation. Most of those kids went on to become great success stories in their own right. I‘ll take that back, not most, but all of those kids became a great success in their own right. Some died in the war. Most of the boys served and survived. At best they were the most patriotic of our citizens we have ever produced in this country. But the main thing is their moms and dads raised a bunch of kids that never got into serious trouble. Not any of them that I know of. They were tough kids, but fair as fair could be. Also honest in a way you could hardly understand. We used to have fights among ourselves, but we didn‘t‘ try to maim each other. No one even allowed more than one guy to jump on another guy. Fair was fair, no cheating. Maybe that‘s why they were called the greatest generation. But they left out one of the most important things; the greatest of moms and pops that raised them.My thinking is that the members who are still with us from the ―greatest generation‖ are still right to this day trying to lead our new generation back to the freedoms to proceed with your life as they see fit. This is our last battle, after this someone had better raise another greatest generation or we won‘t ever have another country like we once had. –
Freedom, liberty, honesty, courage, and love of our country. All it takes is good old common horse sense. This country up until now has never been run by a bunch of intellects. I sometimes wonder how much smarts does it take to become totally dumb.
Anyway, with just a small amount of education one can see we have had the best or have created the greatest place to live in all of history. It‘s as close to utopia as anyone has ever gotten to yet. Why do people that claim to be Christian, are supposed to be smart, want to change a winning hand?
• • •
Anti protesters are like a wrecking ball, they only swing in the direction the operator directs it to go.Old Harold 2011
• • •
I never will forget the day of December 2, 1941. I was walking back from my friend‘s house about two blocks distance from mine. All the houses on the street that had a radio turned them up as loud as they could. The thing I remember most was that we were at war and Kate Smith singing God Bless America.Soon after August 1943, one of the guys I ran with heard about a welding school in San Marcos. We checked it out and about six of us decided to go. All of the guys quit but me.
I went ahead and graduated from six weeks training and got transferred to South Houston for an advanced welding class. After six weeks in this school I graduated and was immediately given a job at the Houston Galveston Shipyard in Pasadena, Texas. We were started out at two dollars and ten cents an hour. I thought I was rich.
There was this lady in South Houston that owned this real large house. She rented out the rooms for twelve dollars a week for each person. Some rooms had two people, some only one. For this twelve dollars we got room and board. She even packed a lunch for us.
There were twenty eight guys and gals who was renting space from her. We worked ten hour shifts. We would catch a trailer truck the shipyard provided every morning to work and in the evening when the shift was completed. The trailer was a van type trailer with benches down each side and down the middle. The driver had to make several stops to pick up people who gathered at certain locations and then go to or from the shipyard.
I had been working about seven months when one day I got up late and missed the bus. It was about fifteen miles to the shipyard, so I remained at my apartment. The next day when I reported to work the superintendent, a man named Smitty, with one leg shorter than the other came by and saw me working on one of the after deck houses. He was one of the union bosses. There were several unions at that time that you could join. I would not join a union since they were always going on strike or threatening to and were delaying work. I told them that my brother was fighting in the South Pacific and I would not support them. Anyway, he didn‘t like me for this reason. Smitty told me he was going to lay me off for two weeks.
I didn‘t mind because it was about one week until Christmas and I had not been home for the seven or eight months while going to school and working. I wanted very much to see my mother and sisters. I had saved some of my money so I went down to Sears and some of the other stores and bought a lot of things I thought would make my mom and sisters happy. I was happy also because my mom and sisters had not enjoyed a decent Christmas in a long time. When the two weeks were up, I caught the old Greyhound back to Houston. I went back to work and then I came down sick with the flu. I remained at home for one day because I was so sick. The next day (still sick) I went to work. I was welding on one of the after deck houses along with a girl that was going with my friend that lived at the same boarding house as I did. We both lifted our hoods up about the same time and lit up a cigarette and she was telling me about a date she had with my friend the night before.
That‘s when Smitty came by. He called both of us down from where we were working.
He then told us he was going to lay us off for two weeks. The girl was also non-union.
Anyway, I told Smitty that I was not going to accept any more layoffs. He got real mad and started cussing me out for being a smart son-of-a-bitch.
Like I said before, he was a short guy and one leg was shorter than the other. When he called me an S.O.B. (which back in those days was a real no-no), I hit him with my welding lead and knocked him down between the rails we were using as a platform. I then hit him two or three more times. One of the guards ran over and pulled me away.
Smitty got up and told me I was fired. I told him he couldn‘t fire me because I had quit the minute he called me an S.O.B. I cleared out, left the shipyard, and went back home.
• • •
The only thing the welder could not repair was the crack of dawn.Old Harold 2010
• • •
I was hanging around the Night Hawk Café, and one night about two o clock in the morning when Boone Johnson (I knew him when I went to school in Harwood), drove up and came in the café, saw me and asked me if I wanted a job driving for Air Line Freight Lines. I said, ―Yeah!‖He gave me all his shipping invoices and told me his truck was outside and that he wasn‘t going to drive it any further. I took the truck and trailer on to San Antonio. When the dock foreman arrived about six o‘clock I told him what had happened and asked for Boone‘s job.
I was about sixteen and a half years old, but was licensed to drive a tractor trailer. Clark, the dock foreman, said he would talk to the owner of the fright line. He came out in a few minutes and told me I had the job. I worked for Airline Freight lines for about six months.
• • •
There was this little lady about fifteen years old named Betty Davis that worked as a waitress at the Night Hawk. I was totally in love with her. We ran off together to Houston, had another truck driver named Bob to go get us a marriage license. We then found a Justice of the Peace and got married.I got a job driving a truck for Brown Pipeline Contractors out of Oklahoma. They were installing the entire pipe for a new Navy Ordnance Depot sight near Camden Arkansas.
The job was completed at Camden. The company then sent me back to Houston where I picked up a new Chevy with five welding machines mounted on the flat bed. I had to proceed to Rankin, Texas where the company was repairing and rewrapping a pipeline for Conoco Oil Company from Pampa, Texas to San Angelo. My job was to keep the welders serviced and drive along the pipeline where they were needed. Keep the welders supplied with tools, welding rods, and any other equipment they needed.
We were working out of Rankin, Texas when I got my notice from the draft board notifying me to report to Houston for my physical and my entry into the service. My boss wanted to get me a deferment, but I said, ―No.‖ By this time my little Betty had ran off back to Luling. We got a divorce.
• • •
Welders are good fire detectors.
• • •
January 23, 1946 I reported to Houston where I got my physical with a lot of other guys.We were put on a train and shipped to Fort Sam, Houston. I remember going through my home town Luling about two or three in the morning and thinking my mom and sisters were only two blocks from me as I passed by. I remember thinking two blocks was just the same as one hundred miles. After about ten days, they assigned us to groups to take basic training. Since I had re-enlisted into the regular Army I could choose regular Army or Army Air Force. I chose the Air Force.
From Fort Sam, Houston we were loaded onto a troop train and sent to Wichita Falls, Sheppard Air Force Base for basic training. After we arrived there, the base was going to close down as a basic tracing facility so we were loaded back on another train and sent back to San Antonio, Lackland Air Base for our basic training.
We got six weeks of basic training then we had to apply for some type of tech school. I chose the military police school. One of the guys that had been inducted into the service with me at Houston named Edward Klimpel from Sugarland, Texas was still with me through basic training and the military police school.
Edward couldn‘t read or write so in the evening we set on my bed on the lower bunk and I would read to him the text book. He could remember nearly everything I read to him.
When it came time to take the test for passing this course, instead of a written test they
gave him a verbal test. He passed with a hundred percent! We got our orders for our next assignment and Eddy and I got the same assignment again. We were transferred first to Kerns Air Base, Salt Lake City, Utah.
Harol