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Collegeport Columns and Articles 1928 |
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THOUGHTS FOR
OUTLANDERS By Harry Austin Clapp
"Cling to thy home, if there the meanest shed Yield thee a hearth and shelter for thy head, And some poor plot, with vegetables stored, Be all that Heaven allots thee for thy board-- Unsavory bread, and herbs that scattered grow Wild on the river bank, or mountain brow, Yet e'en this cheerless mansion shall provide More heart's repose than all the world beside." From the Greek of Leonidas, By Robert Bland
Webster defines outlander as "a foreigner" but it is not used in that sense in these thoughts but to define those who having once lived here now dwell in marble halls on South Shore, Blackstone Avenue, San Pedro Avenue, Topeka, Phillipsburg, Cleveland and a score of other places. These thoughts are thought to give some news of those who are now and known by all the Collegeport Outlanders.
My Gold and Blue Sanctum Rorum was honored this week by a visit from Kay Legg and Viola, his wife, and Mrs. Merck and also came Oscar and Ora Chapin, and the latter announced they were moving back to Collegeport.
Mrs. Welsby still handing out hamburgers at the old stand, and Hattie (Haisley) and Hugo [Kundinger] shaking up cold drinks.
Margaret Holsworth home for the vacation, looking like a full blown rose.
The Chiles family in Lane City for a few days.
Mr. Conover home from the Boling sulphur field. Looks prosperous.
George Braden and family here for Christmas turkey with the Nelsons.
Seth Corse and Mrs. Corse hustling holiday mail with smiles as ordered by the U. S. Department of Posts.
First section of cement road for the "nine-foot sidewalk" let and concrete will be poured shortly.
Burt Hunt very ill at Mt. Belvieu with typhoid fever.
Anna Van Ness married and a mother lives at Dallas.
Mat Pierce at Edinburg.
F. L. Hall still conducting the Portsmouth limited.
Jim and Mrs. O'Neal guests for dinner at the Ackermans on the Slough Ranch.
Mrs. Wright and Stanley back for keeps.
John B. Heisey collecting auto numbers. Just a fad but he collects them alright.
V. R. Haisley breaking land for an enlarged cotton planting.
Robert Murry milking cows and buying cattle on the side. Still rolls his own.
All Outlanders should ask the Bay City Chamber of Commerce for a copy of the beautiful booklet just issued covering Matagorda county.
Louis Walters and family enjoying life and Louie still smoking a curved stem pipe.
Gus Franzen, one of the best farmers, happy with his children at home. Arnold and Dorothy at Rice and Clifford at Bay City High.
The Liggett family at the old place enjoying electric lights.
Roy Nelson rounding up cattle.
Two girls in the family now, not counting Grandma Shuey, who is some girl herself.
Mrs. Luce visiting in San Antonio.
Mary Louise home for a visit. Mighty proud I am of my girl. None sweeter, more self-possessed or reliant and doing so well in her studies.
Ed Regnier is here for the winter.
Paul Braden, a well-developed, handsome, well-behaved young man.
Tom Fulcher has fallen hard for the beautiful female shown on Tetts calendar and wishes one would be sent to him. Says he will hang it on the foot of his bed and then enjoy sweet dreams.
I have tried my best to avoid reference to legs, but along comes another string of dope from a woman reader who lives in Illinois. She sends me a moustache comb, the handle of which represents a female leg. Sure, it has hose and shoes, but it is a leg after all, but only a representation. It don't begin to be as charming as the legs of the donor, for I have seen them and they are graceful, becoming, comely, elegant, charming, flowing, rounded. I wonder if you know what I mean. Her legs are as luscious, delightful to the eye, graceful, curving and look toothsome. This gift has put me in a tough position for if I grow a moustache, the miserable wretch who is my wife will leave me and if I do not the donor will be offended.
A tag attached to the gift has this: 'Tis ever on your thoughts, A sheen--a curve, An ankle slim, You're just as Gay as Uncle Bim.
Thank you, sister. I shall use the comb, but in my dreams, I will see your beautiful legs.
Had a letter from Doctor Van Wormer and he is still the same splendid "Doc Van." Now, if Samuel B. Sims would write me approving of Sam Sims there would be no clouds in the New Year and I no longer would fear the influence of Mr. L. of Chicago.
I notice that D. P. Moore advertises "reducing women's clothing." Ye Gods! Have they not gone far enough without such a staid citizen as D. P. urging that they discard?
Zack cracked another cracker but missed out for I never touched the Prince's lip. It was the lips of the Princess that coaxed me across the garden fence. Lips that are red, ripe, sweet, moist, giving off a sweet, sugary, pleasing, fragrant, delightful, luscious flavor to the receiver--those are the lips that tempt me, and I would be a real cad were I to pass them by. No Prince's lips for me but come on you Princess.
Mesdames Ash, Boeker and Brazil
certainly served delicious raisen pie to the League last Thursday night.
Had some of each and must say "could be happy with either were tother
dear charmer away." We have in our employ five men known as the County Court and they have employed two or three first class engineers. The business of these men is to build about $3,000,000 worth of roads. If we have confidence in them why not allow them to build? If we have not, the time approaches when we can fire some of them. The building of the lateral roads as well as the main highway is simply a matter of business. They should be built the shortest distance, for the least money and to serve the most people. We should all turn in and aid these men in conserving the money derived from the bond sales.
Forty-seven braved the north wind Saturday and attended the annual New Year's community dinner. Those present were well repaid by partaking of the splendid dinner served. The new five-burner stove was used for the first time and chief cook Mrs. Nelson's eyes sparkled. As usual the faithful few included Mrs. Liggett, did most of the work.
Well, Mary Louise has came and went. Back to her studies in San Antonio, but what a happy holiday time we had. I loved her before she came home but my love has grown the last few days until it actually hurts. God keep her clean, sweet, wholesome and grant that she may grow into a useful woman.
"I must enjoy you while I may! Oh, little girl, how fast you grow! Just now I am the world to you-- How long a time will this be so?
You need me now just as you do Your hands, your feet, your eyes, your ears, Your little greedy petal mouth Mine is your laughter and your tears.
But I must give you to yourself; A part of you I must resign; You have the right of growing up, The world wishes a part of mine.
Yet though it tears my life apart, I must not show it in my face; Yes, she is quite grown up, I'll say And smile as at a commonplace." Apologies to Abigail Cresson.
And Burton says, "No cords or cables can so forcibly draw, or hold so fast as love can do with a twined thread."
I read in the Houston papers that the mercury went down to 32 in the Valley. I mean the Magic Valley, not Caney Valley, and yet right here in Collegeport it touched 16 Monday morning and on Tuesday morning stood at 20. If being in the Houston trade territory means higher temperatures, let us pray that Houston will take us in even if we are one hundred and twelve miles away. Some day Houston will wake up to the potential possibilities of the Midcoast and then they will send visiting delegations as they do now to the Valley.
Well, anyway, January 2 brought me a new heifer calf. The poor thing came into a 22 degree atmosphere and nearly died but Tuesday it was kicking about in fine style. Mary Louise named it Squeeze, and it is well named for it did have a hard squeeze to live.
Said a certain young lady, Mary Louise, The calf's name shall be "Squeeze." Of course it's not a husky fella, But it will soon be tough And learn to be rough So what the hella. --Fragments from Hack.
Now that Ora Luce Chapin has returned I shall have more copy for she always furnishes some thought for me to revamp.
Minnie-ha-ha hangs on the wall, but up to date George Serrill has forgotten the miserable wretch. Wonder who he sends beautiful calendars to this year?
Wonder also why Tetts won't send me one of those female forms, so that I, too may have dreams?
Several years ago I promised Mrs. George Culver that I would visit Matagorda and preach a preachment. I have not kept the promise for I felt that there was little need of it, for George Culver, I felt, was safe as he was a working member of the Episcopal faith and Mrs. Culver seemed to be saved in the Methodist fold. It looks now as though it was my duty to go over there and preach a little for I read in the Tribune that "Mr. and Mrs. George Culver led the Grand March at the opening of the BayTex Hotel." Looks as though Mrs. Culver had fallen good and hard and in my opinion the Deacons and Elders of the Methodist church should haul her up for confession. After she has confessed her sin, will be a good time for me to preach.
The year 1928 has been filled with disappointment and yet it has held hope in abundance and after all what would we do without hope? We all hope for better things for the year 1928. It is the hope that springs eternal.
As I write these words it is 12:02 a. m. January 1st, 1928. I stop pecking the types and step out on the gallery and look up at the sky. It is a brilliant blue and the stars glitter in the frosty air like diamonds. The moon winks his left eye at me and seems to say:
"If the Man in the Moon was a coon, coon, coon, What would you do? No spooning in the park at night, No sitting in the pale moonlight, If the man in the moon was a coon, coon, coon." And so Adios, good old year of 1927.
Matagorda County Tribune, January 6, 1928
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By Harry Austin Clapp [Collegeport information was abstracted from the longer article which included the experience teaching a calf to drink--thus the title.] Hattie [Kundinger] circulating a road petition, or I might say a partition, for by means of it she separates the goats from the sheep. Hugo [Kundinger] selling denatured alcohol for radiators. The thought comes that if he could eliminate the "de" from one end and substitute "al" for the "ed" on the other end he could work up a lively and profitable business. Dr. Van Wormer operated on a beautiful young lady for appendicitis and the young lady said, "Doctor, do you think the scar will show?" Doctor replied, "It ought not to." Is there anything in the world sweeter than a new-born babe, I know it not. Fresh from God that giveth all life, delivered through he hands of angels to the loving earthly mother, sinless, stainless, free from passion and guile, just a bundle of treasure to love. Such a one came Tuesday, January 3rd, 1928, to the home of Mr. and Mrs. Eisel. Its name is Harry Louis Eisel, Jr., and Elizabeth is the proud possessor of a little brother. Here's hoping it will grow into as fine a boy as Elizabeth is a girl. "Behold my Lords, Although the print be little, the whole matter And copy of the father; eye, nose, lip, The trick of his frown, his forehead; nay, the valley The pretty dimples of his chin, and cheek; his smiles; The very mould and frame of hand, nail, finger," Winters Tale--Shakespeare.
"O, 'tis a parlous boy; Ora [Chapin] is back again with her pigs. They have guinead until she now has twelve. Shipped one car lot of one whole pig. The booklet written by Doctor Harkey, issued by the Bay City Chamber of Commerce and printed at the Tribune shop reflects credit on the author, for it is a safe, sane, conservative statement of conditions in this county. It bears out the good reputation of the Chamber of Commerce. It is printed on excellent paper, a paper that gives one a pleasure to handle and as an example of the printers art it could not be equaled at any shop or by any craftsmen. I had one, but sent it north to an inquirer. Disliked to part with it for I like fine printing, but I hope the good Doc will read this and send me two or three more--one for my files and the others for distribution. Am waiting, Doc. Thinking of taking a trip to San Antonio, asked the local agent about the price of berths and he said "the lower is higher than the upper. Take your choice, but most people take a lower even though it comes higher. When you take an upper you have to get up to go to bed, and down when you get up. The upper is lower than the lower, because it is higher, and--" Am I glad that I understand all about it. Isn't life strange? Isn't life wonderful? Isn't it past our feeble understanding the way God plans our existence? Here is an instance of His sending joy Tuesday to the Eisel family with the birth of the only boy and then the next day He sends sorrow to the Nelson and Braden families in the death of the mother, Mrs. Shuey. Only Saturday I talked with her at the community dinner and wished her many more Happy New Years. A fine wife, a devoted mother, a splendid character, the world is better for having her in it. Everybody loved Grandma Shuey and she in turn loved everybody. Her crossing of the river came suddenly. She had little warning, but she, like the Christian that she was, was ready for the crossing. The boatman had little time to wait and the journey was short, and now we can be sure that she is with her fathers safe on the other side. Requiescat in pace. "So when the Angel of the darker Drink At last shall find you by the river-brink, And, offering his cup, invite your Soul
Forth to your Lips to quaff--you shall not shirk. Why, if the Soul can fling the Dust aside, And naked on the Air of Heaven ride, Were't not a shame--were't not a shame for him. In this clay carcass crippled to abide." --Omar After recording the passing of this beautiful character it seems almost sacrilege to record the very, very common things happening in this community but--
"The Moving Finger writes: and having writ, Moves on; nor all of your Piety nor Wit Shall lure it back to cancel half a line, Nor all your tears wash out a word of it." --Omar The Texas University examined 1,201 students in English grammar, rhetoric and composition and only 21 made a grade of 90 or better. Four hundred and nine couldn't make a grade of 60. The institution is going to take up with high schools a proposal to remedy this condition. Hope they begin with the pupils of Bay View consolidated high school, for their language as heard wherever they gather is awful, appalling, horrible, frightful, direful, terrible, if you understand what I mean. Heard one of the tenth grade say, "I hain't never saw her since." Wonder how a teacher can listen to such murderous English and remain silent. Paul Poiret, Paris couturier, says, "why dress both legs alike?" As a result Deauville had an outburst of legs displaying contrasting stockings. Paul should visit Collegeport. Then comes Mrs. Christine Frederick who declares "the woman of today is no longer a cook. She's a can opener." Wonder which is right? Judging from some of the back yards, Mrs. Frederick said a truth. Wonder how many of us ever think of Matagorda county as a little nation all by itself. It's true in the last analysis and we have some problems to solve that are ours alone. Some of our problems are the same as other counties, the State, the Nation are obliged to solve but we have our own. Here is where the Matagorda County Development Association can do a great work by holding monthly meetings to which every one is invited, whether he be a member or not. Make these meetings open forums and discuss the problems that confront the people of the county. After all is said, most National problems begin in the county organization and such meetings will be able to point the way to a solution of what otherwise might be vexacious. If E. E. Wood offered a dairy ration costing thirty-five cents per pound, how much would he sell? Yet the cow milkers all over the State are feeding butter fat worth that much money to young calves. A woman reader writes to ask "how in the world do you think up the titles of your thoughts?" Titles are easy. It's the dilution, the writing of the slum that taxes at times. My column is not as easy as cracking crackers.
The Daily Tribune, January 10, 1928 |
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By Harry Austin Clapp
The recent freeze did considerable damage in truck and citrus trees but so far as I can observe did not effect the Opuntia Engelmanni. I had one plant of Opuntia Ellisiana frozen to the ground. Figs not damaged much.
Soon as the engine whistle announces the coming of the evening train, bearing the mail, the burghers congregate. Fifteen to twenty autos parked in front of the post office causing traffic congestion which calls for mounted police.
Mr. Eisel busy putting up groceries.
Seth Corse busy handing out mail. This done the autos begin to cough and sputter and disperse, and silence reigns. The burg is dead until another day.
Hope I will have one more mess of quail before the season closes.
Sunday, the eighth, opens bright and sunny, but with a chilly wind blowing. Can't have everything we desire in weather. If I had my way I would move to the Island of Tahiti.
Five quail appeared back of the house today. One month ago there would have been twenty-five.
A flight of cranes overhead. Don't see any babies with them.
An armadillo grunting along searching for grubs and bulbs.
A cat standing at attention in the grass. Presto! She jumps and emerges with a big rat.
Terminal Café must be a chilly place these days.
Socrates once said, "Bad men live that they may eat and drink, whereas good men eat and drink that they may live."
Impossible to pull the "twilight zone" and "complex" stuff on Governor Smith. What criminals need most is an "easy chair" in the twilight zone with an abundance of electric complex.
In each issue of the Tribune Cashway speaks the language all people understand. Wonder what has become of the "PDQ" grocery? It started out as a brave advertiser but seems to have been taken with a case of slumps.
Wonder if the McDa will ever meet in Collegeport? If so they will be well entertained.
Ora [Chapin] has bought a new papa guinea and has eleven momma guineas. She better read Ellis Parker Butler's "Pigs is Pigs" before going too far.
The writer of the Palacios column of the Beacon bewails the fact that the readers show little appreciation. If he will take my advice and write something from time to time on legs he will receive all sorts of letters, some of appreciation, some pretty strong cussing, but he will have the appreciation. He is foolish to write the column for love. Love is all right in its place but it buys no bread. Ought to join the Tribune staff. Zack Zackers and Harry Austin Clapp receive their checks every little while. People, especially men, are interested in legs, but few of them give a cuss whether Palacios is articulated or inarticulated. Webster defines articulated as "united by, or provided by articulation: jointed." There you are. Legs are articulated but I doubt if any community is every fully articulated.
For the second time Zack asks: "Suppose your wife wired: 'Have another chill' and the telegrapher made a 'd' out of the last letter." Now, for the second time I give the answer: "Say what the French soldier said." If Zack will read these thoughts he will pick up, now and then, some very bright fragments. Zack is a lucky dog to have a vacation. Wish Carey Smith would raise my dole so I could take one.
Woman's Club and Woman's Union holding joint meeting at the Carrick house. Subject for study, "The Old Missions of Texas."
The last of my dream for a creamery at Collegeport flitted Tuesday when the churn was shipped to Morning Glory Creameries. Collegeport will now ship its cream to Houston where it will be churned in that machine and the resulting Morning Glory shipped back for local consumption. It will be good butter.
Wonder why some of our folks do not subscribe to the Weekly Tribune? Every week they scurry about to borrow one so they may read "Thoughts."
E. R. Wood advertises calf meal, but when I wish to buy some, find it is not in stock.
Wonder how long Cecil Millican will "wish you a very merry Christmas?"
Mrs. Ash running her auto with a dry radiator.
Dr. Van Wormer writes that he will visit us this month with a party of Collegeport fig orchard owners. The League will give them an opportunity to absorb oyster soup from the new soup bowls.
These beautiful days the waters of the bay sparkle in the sunlight, dancing in the breeze and sing a song of Spring. Hope it comes true, but the pessimist says, "watch out for freezing weather Saturday." Guess God made the pessimist so the optimist would have company. Don't see any other reason.
Advices from fashion centers decree that skirts for women will be one inch longer. This is a move in the right direction. If it continues it will not be long before the sight of an ankle will be worth seeing.
Some of our folks might well take a lesson from Rio Hondo people. For years they have been isolated in the mud, nine miles from Harlingen. When the recent bond issue was passed they naturally wished to be on the main road, but using their good business sense of economy and the right spirit, they decided to make no effort in that direction and so will have a spur from the main road to their community. It lets them out and brings them home in safety and comfort, on a ribbon of cement. They threw no obstacles in the way of the county court but turned in to a man and gave aid to the project and now receive the thanks of everyone in the Valley.
Sorry the new Houston weekly is called The Gargoyle. I seem to see those fierce eyes gazing down from their high perch and it is a fearsome sight. If the new Gargoyle, will, like the original, frighten away evil, well and good and perhaps I may become accustomed to the name.
Dr. J. Torrance Rugh says that high heels destroy shapely knees by causing the muscles to be thrown out of balance. Wondered why we had so many homely knees in this community, but by observing I now find that in every case the girl wears high-heeled shoes. Take warning gals if you wish to preserve the daintiness of the knees.
The McDa is making an effort to bring this county into the sunlight, and as J. G. Holland so aptly says, "The expenditure of vital effort in some form is the measure. Nay, it is the maker of values." For years Matagorda county has jogged along in contentment. The time is here when we should blow our horn loud and strong and bring others to a realization of the potential possibilities we possess. With proper support the McDa will do it. When done there will be one more feather in Doctor Harkey's cap, for after all is said "he done it."
Ask Myrtle Fulcher if Spring is here. She knows.
Mrs. Corse has developed into something of a humorist. At least they say her report of the last meeting of the County Federation gave listeners that impression.
The old time rule of "ladies first" was observed at the Sing Sing prison Thursday night and Mrs. Ruth Snyder was first to sit in the chair. This gave Judd Gray very little advantage as indeed it should not. Wonder if the lesson will have a salutary affect on the many other women who carrying on an illicit love affair wish to be rid of their husbands. Hope so far the husband's sake.
Friday Collegeport was a female town, all right, for no mail arrived. Mail carrier at Bay City forgot to place it on the train. Cost him about five or six dollars and he will no doubt remember in the future.
Train crew ordered to take the engine to Kingsville Saturday night. S'all right for it means extra coin in the pay check.
Glad the quail season is closed. My bunch of one hundred and fifty now number less than twenty--Nuff for seed," as Jack Holsworth says.
The Braden family moved to Dunbar so guess we will see them oftener or perhaps sooner.
Adna E. Phelps, the new Fig Orchard manager, expected to arrive in few days. Congratulate him on the promotion. Fine, clean, capable young man, very active in community affairs. His intimates call him Red. Since I got the calling down from Mr. L. of Chicago, I hesitate to become familiar with Adna E.
Looks as though the route for our "nine-foot sidewalk" was settled at last and we thank God for it. The entire commissioners court was here yesterday rubbering around and decided to start the road at every one's front gate and built it past every one's farm. Stops all discussion, pleases all of our citizens and enables the Court to go ahead with letting of the contract. It will cost considerable money but whatthehell do we care so long as it is public money. The thing about this decision is that there will be no necessity for circulating petitions. A petition is an attractive affair and it takes a hard-boiled citizen to refuse his signature. Don't see any use in adding to the already heavy burdens of our county court. We want that "nine-foot sidewalk" and we want it damn pronto or the sooner the better.
"You have petitioned all the gods for my prosperity."--Shakespeare
Matagorda County Tribune, January 17, 1928
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Honor Roll For Bay View School, Ending Month Of December
Roberta Liggett, 1st grade
Palacios Beacon, January 19, 1928 |
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Collegeport, Jan. 18—Adna E. Phelps, a graduate of the American School of Landscape Gardening, has arrived to succeed S. B. Sims as manager of the Collegeport Fig Orchards Company. He has a force of men at work pruning and replanting. Trees were only slightly damaged by the freeze and the outlook for a big crop this season is promising. The Briggs Company of Pharr, Texas, the successful bidder for the Collegeport lateral cement road, started work Tuesday.
Daily Tribune, January 19, 1928 |
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By Harry Austin Clapp The title of these thoughts was suggested by Hugo Kundinger and criticism should be addressed to him and not to me. Inquisitiveness is only a polite term for "nose trouble," the desire to nose into other people's business. Webster defines it as "disposed to ask questions, especially in matters that do not concern the inquirer." "(We) curious are to hear what happens."--Milton
"Nor need we with a prying eye survey Well, anyway, the delayed mail came in Saturday night and all the burghers were loaded up with parcels, letters and papers, I had enough of the latter to keep me busy for two days. For the benefit of my Springfield readers will say that the five-gallon hat, worn by Adna E. Phelps, while he was in that city, is the exception and not the rule in these parts. Adna just wished to show them that he had been down in the wild and wooly South and mixed up with the gun-toting cow boys. Even with that Adna is all right, and I predict good success for him in the fig orchards the coming season. He is what I believe to be a dependable sort of cuss. Glad he has returned for I can once more read the Beacon and gain some new inspiration. Here is some advice to a certain young fellow: If you want to win her, loosen up. Take her out. She can use the cat for a fireside companion. I might add, buy her one of those sodelicious drinks that Hugo shakes up. Wonder if Tetts sent Tom Fulcher one of those beautiful maidens which adorns his calendars. Guess he does not read this column. They say, and now before I go farther remember, I start with "they say." Anway, they say that John Merck, finding his radiator dry and no water handy, filled it with milk and then was obliged to dig out the butter. It may not be true, but they say it is. Oscar Barber down here making his regular before-election calls and wearing his usual charming, enchanting, fascinating, winning, pleasing smile. Oscar always wears it and I know that when his time comes his face will still smile in the face of the boatman. His smile won my vote, and, of course, that of the miserable wretch, for she votes as I dictate. Four years ago, Joe Mangum visited me for an hour, but that was the last time. Have met him on the streets several times but he did not know me. If Joe wants two good votes, he better make us another visit. There are other fellows we may vote for. There is one fine thing about this electioneering, and that is, that, as a usual thing, applicants for office are glad to see the "rabble" once very two years. We must vote for Mrs. Pollard for we received a definite order from San Antonio and dare not disobey. As to the balance of the ticket it depends on whether we are visited or not. Oh, yes, we will vote for friend George [Harrison], for we believe that he has been of more benefit to this side of the bay than any commissioner we have ever had. This makes George perfectly safe. No cigars or cold drinks necessary, although the miserable wretch dotes on the peanut candy Hugo offers for sale. The King's Daughters met with Mrs. Liggett Thursday and suffering tripe, how I wish that time would turn back in its flight and make me a daughter. Eats? Yum, yum! Could smell those Nelson noodles a mile and that Wright fried chicken and all the other things they served. L. E. Liggett was a lucky dog to be at home. Wish they would organize a King's Sons auxiliary. One of our young matrons has turned snake charmer. Of course in doing this she loses some of her ability to charm men. She has taken on a pet snake of a brilliant green color, which indicates that it is of a poisonous and dangerous variety. Of course, as this column aims to state the truth, when it does not do otherwise, I must say that the snake is not a real live one, although it wriggles and squirms, but this lady seems to enjoy much sport with it as the snake frightens people into spasms. For me, give me a "running nose," for 'tis much more humorous, provided it runs well. Cecil McNeil is the busiest man in town. He not only operates the Bachman store, fires up and delivers the engine to the waiting crew, but works over autos in his spare time. Thursday night, the 26th, the League will meet in regular session and entertainment will be provided by Mesdames Chiles, Corse and Clapp. The League is still doing little things like buying stoves, soup bowls, etc. A Chicago reader has written a letter to the Miserable Wretch and I will comment on it next week. Wonder what I'll think about. Looks as though Zack had gone out of the cracker business.
The Daily Tribune, January 21, 1928 |
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By Harry Austin Clapp John Merck bringing in a truck load of eatables for the Bachman Grocery. Girls waiting for the mail or perhaps the male. Lips colored a brilliant carmine, cheeks covered with powder and paint. Trying to look like Indians. Mary Louise enjoying many fine lectures, plays, receptions and all the time plugging at shorthand and typing. Ben R. Mowery giving out radio weather reports. John Ackerman making some more fine pork sausage. Gus Franzen reports 1800 acres all plowed and ready for a cotton crop, with a possible 400 more to be put in. Looks like a gin for this burg. All of this bull, to this word, was written before last Tuesday night, so it need cause no worry for Dr. Harkey. That night he visited this community and held a meeting which was attended by about fifty men and one woman (miserable wretch). I presume Doctor has a bull, most all agricultural and chamber of commerce workers do have, but if he has one of the animals he sure tied it up and left it at home. Instead of handing out a bunch of bull he told our folks some of the straightest Lord's gospel truth I have heard in many a day. He told in no uncertain language that the day for an individual was past and that only by community and co-operative effort could accomplishment be expected. He tried to organize a rural credit union, which under the law requires ten or more members but much to his surprise only three of those present expressed a desire for credit. Collegeport cotton farmers must be in right good financial condition. A postal from George Serrill explains the delay in receipt of the calendar for the miserable wretch. He says he loaned it to a good looking young lady so she could copy the picture. Leave it to George to pick them young and easy to the eye. The job of precinct commissioner must be very profitable. I understand that seven men are willing to sacrifice themselves on the public altar. Wonder if this is the result of a surge of patriotism, a desire to serve the people, or do those men crave to handle some of that $3,000,000 road money that is being spent in the county. If we have crooks and grafters on our county court this is a good time to send them into oblivion and that means Huntsville. If they are the honest, capable men as I think they are, it seems to me a mighty poor time to swap horses. It is very easy to step into the shoes of another man, but damned hard to walk in them. The Industrial League, at its meeting Thursday night voted the sum of ten dollars as prize money for the school kiddies. Three dollars will be given to the boy making the highest average grade, and two dollars to the second best. A similar sum will be given to the two girls who make the highest grades. Just one of the little things the League is doing. About forty present participating in the meeting and enjoying the hospitality of Mesdames Corse, Chiles and Clapp. Mr. Harry Louis Eisle, our local grocer, was taken by auto to St. Joseph's Hospital, Houston, Thursday night and will be operated on Saturday morning. It is hoped that this will result in permanent relief from the ailment that has caused him so much suffering. Heard while waiting for the mail: "I had something nawful good today." "What was it? Norage." "No," "Was it napple?" "Not, 'Twas a negg." Lots of funny things in this world, for instance, when women hung their clothes from the waist, men hung theirs from the shoulder, but now that women hang their clothes from the shoulder men hand theirs from the waist. Must be tough on the suspender business. This spell of mild weather must be appreciated by the owner of the Terminal Café. Portsmouth Limited in Friday night fifteen minutes ahead of schedule. Executive Board of the Woman's Club meeting with Mrs. Liggett and arranging program for the year. Jim Hale moving into the Urban house and McNeils moving into the old Theo Smith bungalow. Very few empty houses in this burg. This is not bull. A man from Angleton writes Clapp & Son, Holstein Breeders, asking price on a young bull. Wish I had one on hand but as yet have not taken the matter up with my son for he, as a rule, has plenty of different ages. Adna E. Phelps and his crew busy pruning fig trees. Rabbits have done considerable damage. Adna should organize a drive on Mr. Sylvatica. Frank Carr is the first candidate to honor my home with a call and, of course, that puts him in pretty good standing. He made quite an impression on the miserable wretch. We are now ready for the other four. We desire to listen to all the political bull. While Frank did not promise that in event of his election that he would not arrest me, he did give me to understand that if he had to arrest me, he would feed me well and that is something that makes me feel real friendly. The same day one of my cows dropped a heifer calf. Had it been a bull would have named him Frank. As it was a mama calf, will call it Francis. This should bring out a good vote for Frank Carr. A woman reader living in Kingsville cuts out "Thoughts" and mails them to a Collegeport friend. Something like "carrying coals to Newcastle." A woman reader living in Illinois writes the miserable wretch, "do not think that we are mad with the versatile Harry Austin Clapp or have ceased to look for Monday morning's paper because of his column in the Tribune, along with Arthur Brisbane's column in the Herald-Examiner. All this is improbable and quite impossible. Hide or burn this deeply from H. A. C. Blessings on him even if his continued 'legging' things does annoy some as is." I'll bet money that Arthur Brisbane feels mighty proud to be classed with the writer of these "Thoughts." I notice that Zack Zackers has suffered from another eruption. Hope he is enjoying his vacation and if he finds any good leg stuff that he will pass it along to me. I see the same legs every day and they are getting a bit stale. Wish I could view some others. Wonder why girls will pull on a pair of three dollar hose, meaning stockings, and put the seam on the side of her leg. Don't improve the view in any way. I warn all fellows to give Adna E. Phelps a wide breath, especially when he has a gun with him. Any man who can shoot a sparrow in the head at thirty paces is some dangerous guy. Hattie [Kundinger] has not decided who she will vote for, so all candidates take notice and call on her and have her shake up a few drinks. After they are paid for she will be able to decide. Peanut candy buys the vote of the miserable wretch. Personally, I would vote for Hugo for any office if he would sell three bales of R. J. R. for two bits. If Hugo Kundinger, or Ben R. Mowery or Bachman & Son have a spark of love for fellowmen they will sell R. J. R. at the right price.
The Daily Tribune, Thursday, February 2, 1928 |
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By Harry Austin Clapp
"Go boldly forth my simple lay, Whose accents flow with artless ease. Like Orient pearls at random strung."
Hugo [Kundinger] selling Aladdin chimneys for Raydo lamps.
Adna E. Phelps shooting sparrows with a rifle.
The Fusom family due here in thirty days.
The miserable wretch going to Sunday School.
Them that wants, may, but as for me, give me a good book, my purple and black humidor pipe, and Lady Nicotine.
Mary Conover still with her white sweater.
The girls all say that Lera Hunt will cop of that three dollars.
You can't open an oyster with a mallet, but if you study the shell, you can open it with a pen knife. This applies not only to Ostria Virginiana but to the human oyster. Any man will be your oyster if approached in the right way. Don't use a hammer. Study his shell and he will open easily.
Engine crew take the engine to Kingsville for inspection.
Seth Corse dispatching the mail muy pronto. We have enjoyed several post masters, but Seth is a post master, in shoving out the mail which is delivered to him by a female.
Hope the Lord will put in the head and mind of some of our candidates to give a new reason why they should be chosen to handle county affairs. So far, they all sing the same old tune. I need the job or if I am defeated, will be obliged to move. I will build good roads, or I will give good service, your vote and influence will be appreciated, and lots more of the same old bunk. Is it not possible for some man among the mass to rise above the mass, to sit on the shoulder and see farther than the giant? We, meaning the miserable wretch and her manager?, could enjoy voting for men who could give at least one new and good reason why they should be elected.
And now comes a "Board of Regents," whose duty it will be to keep evil out of the church house and good in. People once said that he came to call sinners to repentance and not the righteous. That was many years ago, of course, and times are different, so now he must "_____" if by our standard they are evil.
Quite a howl went up from readers because "Thoughts" were not printed in last week's Trib. Some of them used borrowed papers. Don't blame Carey Smith for using space for a paying legal advertisement, instead of the drivel he has to pay for.
W. S., Leslie, or Bill, William, or Willie must be pretty sure my two votes will go in the box for him, for he drove past my gate Sunday and never looked my way. There is another candidate on the books, so better look out Bill.
Some of our burghers must need food. Unknown persons entered the Bachman & Son store Sunday night and carted away potatoes, onions, flour, sugar, canned beans, tomatoes, and also some small change, left in the drawer. Guess after all the board of censors is needed.
Bud Conover is the village plowman.
Mrs. Ackerman should advertise Boarders Wanted. She gets 'em any way and might as well make a business of it.
Woman's Union packing boxes of garments for an orphan's home. Mrs. Heisey being the packer.
Any person having a buggy they have no use for may send it to John Heisey. He can and will use it.
Well, anyway, half of one per cent drinks are about as satisfying as the hole in a doughnut.
Sunday night I went out on the back gallery and looked up at the moon. He looked like a big, half silver dollar. I looked beyond the moon and saw many stars. Some shone with a steady light, while others glittered and flashed as though swept by consuming flames. I took an opera glass and with it could see more stars beyond and I longed for a more powerful glass for I knew that others would show and the more powerful glass the more stars would I see and so on to infinity, for there is no end and as I looked I said, "Where is God?" As I looked, the thought came to me, that the spoutings of the infinitesimal atom we call man are of little consequence and of little value. God, the God I love to commune with is in the stars, on the sea, on the land, in the flowers, with the birds, but not always to be found in the heart of men. Where He should be found He is not, but He is always where He is and any man can commune with Him at any time, in any place. Once I visited the observatory of the University of Illinois and was allowed to look through the big telescope at the moon. It showed the craters plainly, the mountain ridges, the valleys and most of all it gave me the great privilege of seeing God, and I knew that it was not the man in the moon, but God, the creator or all things that I saw. I saw other moons and other planets and the same feeling came to me as when I stood on the top of Pike's Peak 14,640 feet above sea level and looked at all creation. I felt my smallness and the greatness of God, and I said, "There is no God but my God and Jesus Christ is his prophet." It is a tough proposition to visit the stars, see God in them, and then come back to earth with it's petty bickerings, pretensions, deceptions, pharisaisms, sanctimoniousness.
E. H. Holsworth strolling about the village.
A large Lebo wolf appeared at the slough ranch Tuesday morning, but escaped before guns, dogs, horses and men could be assembled. Probably the rascal kills many calves.
The Warehouse store closed January 31st, and Vernon Bowers, much to the regret of our people, will probably leave Collegeport. Vernon is a fine young man, capable, clean and honest.
The Woman's Club has arranged a very comprehensive program for the year, mostly educational.
As I puff R.J.R. in my Italian Bruyer I think of many things and among them is the fact that a fog sticks to a fellow thru thick and thin. Friends should do the same.
I have read with interest Dr. Harkey's report on his activities during the past year. He enumerated many projects, all of value, but the thing that interested me most was the fact that he had driven abut 6,000 miles over the county in an endeavor to promulgate a better feeling, and secured cooperation among the people of the county. It is a big thing to build Bay City, but much more important to build Matagorda county. So far as I know, Dr. Harkey is the first Bay City Chamber of Commerce manager to stand on the shoulders of the giant and look afar. He is a man of vision, a man who recognizes the potential possibilities existing, and dreams of the time when the present generation may pluck the fruit. When this county supports a population of more than one hundred thousand people, there will be no worry for Bay City. She will then be a real city and entitled to the name.
It must be a great strain on mental and physical powers to teach school six hours each day and then operate a grocery store six hours. Takes a strong person to do it.
Mrs. Ruth Wood drifted in on the Portsmouth limited to visit with her kin folk. She comes from Kansas City where they raise potatoes, alfalfa, Coburns and beautiful women. She is the mother of the brilliant young violin player, Faye Wood, and sister of she that once upon a time was Hattie Haisley, but now by the grace of God and A. B. Buchanan is Mrs. Hugo Kundinger.
Buckshot has disappeared and it begins to look as though some fellow had a mighty fine pooch. Buckshot was a home dog and seldom ventured outside the place.
Mr. Harry Louis Eisel is resting easy, confined to his room, but on the gain. All hope that he will be out soon.
It is reported that work has started on the Palacios-Bay City highway by government engineers.
The Collegeport "nine-foot sidewalk" route has practically been determined. If so, we will have a cement road when and where it is completed.
For the second time men have been ordered to clean off the old hotel site. Wonder why?
Dr. Harkey thinks the Declaration of Independence was a good thing for the nation, but he also says that in a community it should be a declaration of interdependence.
Hugo [Kundinger] keeps two kinds of cigarette papers--the "pay" and the "gimme." The way he hands out the latter one, one thinks they cost more than the former. He has hiked the price of B. M. __ from two cents each to three and 1/2 cents. What cares he for, as usual, the customer pays and pays, and pays. Something like the "light" that lives in women's eyes and lies and lies.
There is a little power in the printed word. Witness "Keep off the grass," "Don't park here."
Has anyone seen Buckshot? Connect with Mary Louise Clapp, 316 San Pedro Avenue, San Antonio, Tex.
The Daily Tribune, February 8, 1928
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Collegeport is doing some interesting work in science and in history. The second and the third grades of that school did some excellent story telling work for us on the occasion of our last visit. We noted in the principal’s room a beautiful picture of a dog. This picture is hung every second week in the room that has made the best record in deportment for two weeks.
Matagorda County Tribune, Friday, February 10,
1928 |
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By Harry Austin Clapp [Collegeport information was abstracted from the longer article.] On the window of Oscar's Barber Shop appears this notice: "Shop open Monday, Wednesday and Friday only." Guess this means no more cutting of alfalfa on Sunday. Great hardships to some of our delinquents. There was a time when man could hide behind a woman's skirt, but that was once upon a time. Ora Chapin going to Bay City on business. Guess she is planning the shipment of another car of pigs. Other people may present their views of the modern woman so long as they allow me to have a good view. The worlds of that good old hymn, "Brighten the Corner Where You Are," came to me Monday when Frank W. Ives, brother to E. L. Ives, made me a visit all too short. He sure brightened up our corner and it was a joy to talk over early times in this burg. Said he would like to come here for his winter vacation if there was a hotel that would supply comforts, and also stated that many of his friends would also come. Wonder how Doctor Van Wormer is getting along on that project? Bob Thompson is in the market for window glass, which he proposes to place in the post office. Mud slinging is always a bad business, especially when said mud goes through a big glass. Tuesday, the 14th, the Woman's Club gave the annual feed at which time they fed their husbands. A well-fed brute is never a dangerous animal. The affair was held at Mrs. Holsworth's, so nothing more need be written. Ora Luce goes to Bay City on business. Wonder if she is ready to ship another car of guineas? Mrs. Cap Allen bringing in a load of those famous Matagorda Bay oysters, also feed for cows, that they may produce more of the cream Morning Glory is made from. Some of the oysters were nineteen inches long, or, maybe less. The Conover family will soon be riding in a new Chevrolet. Mrs. Postmistress Corse breaking into the post office. Harry Louis Eisel improving slowly. If one wishes to know what oysters will do to a man, read Dr. Harkey's report of the oyster feed at Matagorda. They caused him to tell the truth about George Culver. I do not know of a more lovable character in the country, and if he is ambitious to go to Austin, he is entitled to very voting box in every precinct. I hereby prescribe more oysters for Doc. Oysters are all right when taken from Matagorda Bay. A colored boy went into Hugo's the other day and asked for "Perjurized Imagination." Hugo gave him pulverized magnesia. The Duffy boys killed 17 rattlesnakes in two hours all on a small area. Some of them were six feet long. Some snake story, but Hugo vouches for it, for he seen, or saw, or see the tails, or tales. It seems the "young business and professional women" of the Texas Y. W. C. A. are organized and hold their next meeting in San Antonio. Several hundred will be present at the conference fro all parts of the state. The sessions last two days--Feb. 11-12. I and the miserable wretch are mighty proud to know that Mary Louise has been chosen a delegate to represent the San Antonio Y. W. C. A. Just another splendid opportunity, and our girl is like the devil in this respect, for she "grabs opportunity." Here comes Arthur Collins for a visit, and incidentally informing us that he wanted to collect taxes for the next fifteen or twenty years. As he has a girl away at school the conversation between him and the miserable wretch consisted mostly of throwing bouquets at each other, but just as he was leaving he thought of his mission. Glad he remembered, for it may mean two votes, meaning mine and the one I control. Seth Corse should arrange for a larger lobby for the post office. It was so crowded last night that the gum chewing brigade had difficulty in working their jaws. Mrs. Carl Boeker distributing flower plants. As they come from the Hurd place we naturally think of Dena H. If Doctor Van Wormer postpones his visit much longer he will miss out on an extra super-fine oyster supper. Perhaps we can locate a few chickens (meaning chickens that wear clothes). Arthur Mathis [Matthes] here on oil business. He says that he and George Braden will do some dirt work on the "nine-foot sidewalk." In my opinion, the mules will do the work. Arthur and George will not even say "whoa or "gee." They will have others to do that. No mail delivered Saturday night. No joke when people travel miles for their mail only to be disappointed. This has happened twice this year, and this event will be reported. Some one will be taught a well deserved lesson. There is no loss without some gain, and so with no papers to read, I fill up my cob pipe with fresh R. J. R., and as the smoke rings rise I see the smiling, beautiful face of Mary Louise; I hear her whistle, her voice, I feel her presence, but I realize that she is far away, braving the great first adventure and I am glad of the sacrifice that comes to me and the words of the old song float in the air-- "If you could know when night descends And desolation o'er me falls, If you could know what anguish rends The heart that vainly for you calls, Perchance, in pity for my woe, Once more you'd come and whisper low-- I love you, daddy." If you could know--if you could know!
The Daily Tribune,
Wednesday, February 15, 1928 |
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Miss Myrtle Fulcher has been visiting her sister in Mont Belvieu. Mr. Verner Bowers has been visiting relatives and friends in Mont Belvieu. The Woman’s Union entertained with a reception at the home of Mrs. Holsworth Tuesday evening. The Washington Banquet will be held in the Community House February 22. All friends of Collegeport are cordially invited. Plates 35c. A school program will be given in the Community House, Friday evening, Feb. 17. Proceeds will be used for school equipment. Admission 15c and 25c.
Palacios Beacon, February 16, 1928 |
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By Harry Austin Clapp [Collegeport information was abstracted from the longer article.] It is certainly pleasing to know that these "Thoughts" are of some value to others. For instance, a woman reader in Bay City reads that Ora Chapin has returned to Collegeport, and buys from her a Rock Rooster. I have been trying to aid Ora in selling guineas--the pig variety--but so long as a sale has been made "Thoughts" have a value. Sometimes men enter a political race for honor, others for money, a few for graft, but not every man is forced into a political campaign. Zack Zackers, the cracker man, announces for County Dog Catcher and defies me to enter my name. A word of explanation is necessary. George Harrison told me that if I would support him, he would have the county court create the new position of dog catcher and that he would have me appointed. Now the only men who knew of my ambition are Harkey, Barnett, Baker, Brown and Porter. I wrote each of these men but none of them replied so I considered silence as consent, and rested easy, thinking I had the office cinched. I suppose they did not reply for fear they would be mixed up in a nasty political campaign. I opened it last night at the annual feed of the Collegeport Woman's Club. I promised to give half of the fees to the club, and every man and woman present endorsed me and promised to vote and work. That gives me this box. Mrs. George Braden will look after her territory, for I agreed to send her the first rat dog I catch. This actually closes three boxes to the ambitious manufacturer of crackers. I am sure of Judge Harris, for I agreed to vote for him, provided he would assist me in my campaign. J. S. Lewis is also a strong supporter for reason between us. Carey Smith will turn his force my way, else I will send my copy to the Beacon, and he knows what that would mean to his subscription list. Well, anyway, all that is necessary is to count the votes. This election is going to be "subject to the woman's union." That means a clean box and a fair count. I want it understood that the office is seeking me, because I am a horny fisted son of the soil and not a mere maker of crackers and cracked ones at that. I am in accord with my opponent on the hot dog question, but I do not believe in putting them down until their bellies are split open and a liberal dash of mustard is applied. Al dogs owned by those who fail to vote for me will be run in or out as soon as I am ordained. I also believe in plenty of licker. This is a drink that will make the drys wet, provided they fail to use bibs. I cannot understand why Doctor Harkey would give me away, for I have always supported him in every way. Maybe he is not guilty. I hope not. My record is not open for inspection, for there are some pages of my life that even detective bureaus have never seen. I have no brother in prison, but I have served time in at least six penitentiaries. (This will give me many votes.) I believe firmly in supporting any firm that will give a can of malt free with each six gallon crock purchased, provided they will buy the bottles from me. The other day I saw a man sitting on a box in the attitude of Rodin's Thinker, and I wished he was not clothed, for then, indeed he would have been the "thinker." A girl with bright carmine lips chewing gun, and to make things worse, she had bow-legs. Mrs. Welsby considering moving the Terminal Café to the center of the world. If she does, the hamburger business is bound to boom. The King's Daughters met with Mrs. Wright. The Woman's Club met with Mrs. Holsworth and they all brought their men, fed them well and amused them with different stunts. Mrs. George Braden took the first prize and shared it with the writer. Voliva, the master of Zion City, believes the world is flat and to prove his claim takes a trip over the world. He will find it mostly flat. The show given Friday night by the children introduced several dance numbers. Time for the board of censors to get busy. I don't believe dancing is quite proper for a community house. Wonder why Bachman & Son need two or three clerks in their store. Cecil can run it without so much help. Don't look at the eyes of the girl so long you can't see her ankles, and you will lose out if you look at the ankles too long. H. B. Clapp sends H. A. Clapp a bundle of magazines from Chattanooga, Tenn. Seems to be keen competition among the school kids for that ten dollar prize offered by the League. For the benefit of the curious, will state that the new stove recently placed in the community house was bought by the League. Oh, yes, it has been paid for as can be ascertained by asking Ben Mowery. Monday, the 6th, I sent a small order to a Dallas mail order house and the goods were delivered Thursday night. The same mail carried an order to a Bay City house and the good were received the second Tuesday. This is one of the reasons why the people buy from a mail order house. Surveyors at work on the "nine-foot sidewalk" route. That sidewalk could be useful this week. A man is here looking up a location for a gin. With 2,000 acres in cotton, it should not be necessary to look long. Mr. Eisel is in Marshall, Texas, for treatment. Wonder if Nancy likes figs? Two armadillos lumbering along. This interesting little animal, as a rule, gives birth to four young, and in this case they are always of the same sex. When it happens that an odd number are born at the same time they are, as a rule, divided as to sex. A crane standing in the waters of the slough. Several white gulls floating over head, with a buzzard drifting along. The first robin. A mocking bird looking for an apartment. A meadow lark with his vest of yellow and black cravat. A crawfish digging holes in the earth. From looks of the damp we will have plenty of rain this spring. A jack rabbit scurrying across the fig orchard. Already done damage a plenty. A slim, long, brown snake with spots of red along his back. A dog barks. The low moo of a cow looking for her calf. Buckshot barking at a passing auto. Comes in with tail erect, proud that he has driven off a possible intruder. A big hole in the pasture that looks like a groundhog hole, and hope it is. Like to see animals about the place. A big redfish splashes in the waters of Pilkinton Slough. Low tide, and oysters peep above the waters of the bay, seeming to invite some one to come and get 'em. A dead calf in the pasture. Looks like Welsby's. Perhaps fifty quail rise in a whirr and fly away. Blackbirds, some with red wings, swaying in the limbs of a tree. A little brown wren on a tree limb. Her bright eyes a sparkle she turns her head this way and that way as if listening for the call of her mate. Never mind, little wren, he will come and then will begin housekeeping. Bill Leslie sends 2 cards, one marked "The Miserable Wretch," and the other, "The Master." Glad he recognizes that I control two votes. Says he will come down "when it appears that certain chickens are ready." My advice to Bill is to bring one of the Alaskan Chickens with him. If he does not, the best he will get is hot dogs. Will not make up my mind until I see the chicken, but I think Bill would make a first-class County Attorney, for "Turn him to any cause of policy, The Gordian know of it he will unloose, Familiar as his garter, that, when he speaks, The air, a chartered libertine, is still." King Henry, V, Act. 1, Sec. 1. --Shakespeare
The Daily Tribune, February 21, 1928 |
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By Harry Austin Clapp [Collegeport information was abstracted from the longer article.] The Center of the Heart of the Midcoast is now a very busy place. At the retail business center we now have the post office, barber shop, the Terminal Café and the new grocery store of Vernon Bowers. We needed the latter very much for its presence may result in the Bachman store being open for morning trade. Hugo is now all by himself and Hattie way out in the suburbs, but we all wish he would hitch a tractor on his store and move back to the center. Bill Leslie is a wise bird, and other candidates might take lessons from him. He first visited us when the League was in session, the second visit was Sunday, and he took in the church and Sunday school, and now, Wednesday night, down he comes to attend the annual Washington Birthday banquet. He brought no chicken with him, so I have made no decision yet, but if I cast my two votes for Bill it will be on account of Jane, for she can have my two votes any time. About 150 people attended the Washington banquet Wednesday night and were bountifully served with chicken pie, plenty of trimmings and a topping off with ice cream. This has been an annual affair for nineteen years, and those present were glad to have as a guest Rev. M. A. Travis, who used to be the pastor of the local church. I was hoping that he could be induced to come back, but the Miserable Wretch informs me that Rev. Travis has outgrown this bailiwick, so, that's that. Joe Mangum visited the village last Wednesday, attended the banquet, but he passed me by and that means that my two votes will have to look around a bit. Most all I know I find in the Beacon for instance, here are two items: One informs me that Vernon Bowers has been to Mt. Belvieu on a visit to relatives. It is a shame that Vernon and Myrtle could not have known of these trips. They might have made the trip in the same auto. Two had to run two autos when one would have done much better and save considerable gas. When I was a lad, going to a hospital was an event that stirred the village life to the very depths. If the person returned alive and could tell the tale of having the referendum, or panatage, or some other important organ removed said person at once became very important in the village life and her presence was desired at all social affairs. On these occasions she would relate with plenty of trimmings, the hours she was on the table and how they found the antipligestine badly involved which necessitated the removal of the entire paradox. Her friends would look on in wonderment and each wished she would have had a similar experience. Once upon a time we had one of these wonders in this burg. She delighted in recounting her many serious operations. If she told the truth her body was simply "rooms to rent." Wonder why a cow can easily crawl through a wire fence into the next pasture but never able to crawl back? Any one tell why? Cecil handing out hot dogs with one hand and with the other keeping an eye on his many assistants. Vernon Bowers stocking up with feed. Probably selling at the same old price--all the traffic will stand. Don't see any necessity of this last norther that sent the mercury down to 30 or maybe below. Have about made up my mind to sell out and go to Tahita Islands where northers are unknown. The Fig Orchards Company should buy a new disc for cleaning up the orchards this spring. Old one non compus mentis, or something like that. "Just praise is the only debt, but flattery is a present."--Johnson "The Owl and the Pussy Cat Went to sea in a beautiful pea green boat, They took plenty of money And lots of honey, All wrapped in a five pound note. So they sailed away For a night and a day, By the light of a ronciman moon." And just so, the good ship Ruth B. with a merry crew sailed from this burg. Captain Merck, First Mate Boeker, Deck Hand Merck. All but the captain dressed for tropical weather. In two hours the Thursday norther struck the waters of Matagorda Bay and the ship was in great peril, but owing to the skill of Capt. Merck shelter was found under the lea of Portsmouth harbor, and aided by Mayor O'Neal, the crew was saved. Rescue parties were out early Friday morning and brought the crew to town. The beautiful pea green boat with its outboard motor will be brought to port later. It is reported that when Capt. Merck realized the danger he called the crew on deck and said, "can any of you fellows pray?" Carl Boeker replied, "I can," and then Capt. Merck said "we have only two life preservers which Dean and I will use and you had better pray. Carl prayed long and loud and promised all sorts of things and the prayer was heard and answered. It is reported that when Carol Boeker arrived home, his wife, realizing that he was chilled, mixed a cocktail composed of different colored liquors and told him it was a "Stars and Stripes." Carl drank it and said the stripes were there but where are the stars? Mrs. Boeker replied, "Drink the cocktail and you will see the stars." Whether it is true or not, I dunno. This column makes no pretensions to always tell the truth. Thursday night I received a big, long package addressed, "Hon. H. A. Clapp." This, of course, put me in a good humor, for all men like to be addressed as an Honorable, whether entitled to the name or not. It was a beautiful calendar from George Serrill. Two months late, but George explains that a beautiful young artist wished to copy it, and no wonder, for it was worthy of the skill of a beautiful artist. A Japanese scene printed on a back of woven bamboo strips; green foliage, flowers, two or three castles, a bridge (looks like one on our nine-foot sidewalk) crosses a stream, the waters of which sparkle in the moonlight. George must possess a strong sense of the artistic for he always selects for his calendars subjects that are appealing. I have a Mine-ha-ha still on the wall, and this Jap scene will hang there for years. Why will a cow insist on breaking through a fence to get into the fig orchard where she roams about on plowed ground with scant fee? Any one tell why? Say, boy! What do you think of the Beacon printed in seven columns. A great improvement, but I don't wonder for I have known Dismukes ever since the days of the Francitas Bee. A swell paper and of more value to Palacios than its people realize. Ora is now considering the rabbit business. Still advise the reading of "Pigs Is Pigs." The Terminal Café doing a good business since moving in the business center. This has been a hard string of slum to write. Not much doing in legs, for legs are so common that I hardly look at them now. Wish a pair of beautiful ones would flash into my optics range.
The Daily Tribune, February 28, 1928 |
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By Harry Austin Clapp [Collegeport information was abstracted from the longer article.] Mrs. Welsby, manager of the Terminal Café, taking a trip to Bay City for new stock. Parents will do well to look after their children. It is reported that they tell the parents they will go to the Christian Endeavor and then sit out in the autos the entire evening. At least one does this, who should be setting an example to the younger ones. Cecil McNeil has been called to railroad service as has also his father Tom McNeil. Sorry to lose Cecil from the Bachman store, for he is a courteous and obliging store keeper. Maybe we can arrange for his first assistant to remain in charge. Vernon [Verner] Bowers opens his store in the Chapin building. Wonder if he also will have lady helpers? Mr. I. T. Taylor of Clemville calling on me. He desires to occupy the office of county superintendent of schools. Says all the territory east of the Colorado is strong for him. Very likely he would make a good Super, but we have already reported in this column that we have definite orders from a certain party in San Antonio to vote for Mrs. Pollard, and of course, we must obey. Mrs. Pollard has given the people of the county more information regarding the schools than all the Supers we have had for the past twenty years. Yesterday we were surprised when we saw over two hundred autoes coming down the road towards Homecroft. On they came until they finally turned into our yard and unloaded more than one thousand people every son of a gun a voter. They came from all parts of the county to congratulate me on coming out for the most important office of dog catcher, and to promise me their votes. This exhibition of loyalty and patriotism was very gratifying, especially when it was prompted by love and good feeling for me. They brought with them hot dogs, licker and a few crackers and we proceeded to enjoy eats. Most of the crackers were fed to Buckshot and they almost choked him. The miserable wretch fell hard for the hot dogs and licker. The chairman of the party, a man named Jed Prutz, made a statement in which he assured me that I need have no worry, that none of those present would think of voting for a cracker for the important office of county dog catcher and that I might consider myself elected. The local teat pullers received good news Friday when Mrs. Crane announced a 39c price for butter fat. It is a good thing for a couple of people I know that love is blind. Wonder if women are pretty, generally speaking, or pretty generally speaking? Much to the disgust of Ben R. Mowery the Houston Chronicle was not delivered Friday night. The shell game has broken out in several places the last few days. A representative of a Galveston shell concern spent two days looking over the ground. He stated that his company planned to put in a shipping dock at Collegeport and would have a pay roll of about $2,200 per week. The Palacios Shell Company also at the same time announced that they were ready to begin operations on this side of the bay. Now comes a representative from a third shell company. Wonder under what shell Collegeport will find the little green pea? North Cable and Jimmy Fusom piling brush as they clear ground for new planting. Looks as though we will have a big bonfire soon. The sharp barking staccato of a tractor's exhaust and soon it appears dragging a disc to the shops for a general overhauling. From its appearance it looks as though a new one would be cheaper. Ora's guineas have guinead and she how has three new ones. Well anyway, Vernon [Verner] Bowers store opened clean and sweet with a bright new stock and the entire establishment was brightened by the presence of his lady assistant. Vernon [Verner] and his boss are fine young people and we hope he will make a great success in his venture. What I have often termed the Terminal Café and others have called the Stockyards Restaurant, I now call the Idle-ease Café. It seems to be doing a fine business, judging from the many I see at the counter chawing hamburgers or absorbing abdominal wash. The peanuts are extra fine quality, as I can testify. Mrs. Welsby ought to buy two or three hot dogs to make her stock complete. From the Beacon I get many fine ideas. The last edition, thanking me for a bouquet, intimates that when I next meet Dismukes he will open a box of twenty-five centers. If it is all the same, Brother Dismukes, make it three bales of R. J. R., at three bales for two bits. Well, anyway, the Beacon is a damn fine sheet and Palacios owes it a debt she never can pay. Dismukes says, "when H. A. comes over we will probably open a fresh box of twenty-five centers." This word "probably" does not appeal to me.
The Daily Tribune, March 7, 1928 |
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Honor Roll For January
Honor Roll For February
Honor Roll For The First Semester
Palacios Beacon, March 15, 1928 |
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By Harry Austin Clapp
The Bachman store has a new manager and he appears to be a real groceryman. If he keeps prices down so our people will buy, he is.
Girl at post office with pretty face, if left unpainted; long, skinny legs, skirt three inches above her knock knees. Not worth looking at.
The United States Female gets in on time nearly every night.
Ideal Cafe is doing a real business.
Mrs. Crane taking in cream at 39c per pound for fat.
Oscar Chapin shaving the burghers.
George Welsby planting cotton.
Jack Holsworth drifted in the other day looking like a world-wide traveler. Jack always was easy to look at, so say the gals.
Mrs. Roy Nelson buying groceries and getting more than she can carry for sixteen bits.
Bob Thompson at last has given up his independence. He will now be known as the husband of Mrs. Thompson.
It is reported that one of our burghers oiled up his six gun the other day and went out after "long pig" but came home with an empty bag.
The new pastor of the local church arrived Tuesday night. Hope he will make a hit with all the people and he will, if he is not content with saving the good people of the village, but goes out after some of the sinners, which are in the majority. The last census reported only six Christians in this place. Ought to be at least a dozen.
Wonder why Cap Allen does not come over with oysters? Only a few weeks left now of the oyster season.
The statement issued by the County Judge showing condition of the Road Bond Fund is a clean cut, comprehensive statement which should satisfy all the Prying Pauls in the county. It shows where every penny went, how much received and total on hand. The only chance I can see for graft is in the item "various small sums," amounting to the sum of $146.46. Wonder how much George Harrison got out of this sum?
Verner Bowers' new stock shines and dazzles the visitor. The store is neat and sweet and he is adding new goods every day.
Hugo [Kundinger] suggested that I title my dope this week "Thoughts While Dancing." It does not appeal to me, for I do not dance. Have danced several times around the world, but this new style of hopping about, body twisting, necking, cheek to cheek, muscle jerking does not appeal to me. I mean it does not appeal to me in public. Necking, nestling, cheek to cheek business is dandy swell stuff in privacy, and I always enjoyed it, but I never have an opportunity nowadays, for the miserable wretch watches me too close. Wonder if she is jealous? If you don't believe necking is swell stuff, ask Hosain ben Denib.
A robin, with red breast, lights on the ground. He turns his head from side to side as if listening. He is--to the sound of a worm working under the ground. At last he locates Mr. Worm and begins digging with his bill and presto! out comes a big fat angle worm.
George McQuaide passed away the other day. Another lovable fellow gone over the way. Way things are going it won't be long before all my old time friends have taken the trip across the river.
A. H. Millican's statement in the Tribune giving reasons why he should be elected to the sheriff's office is interesting reading. Interesting because he gives several new reasons why he should be selected. None of the other candidates so far as I know have gone beyond "your vote and influence will be appreciated." "My motto: better school" or "better roads, better service" or "better co-operation" and some similar bunk. Hope Mr. Millican will dispense with the bum cards that are being scattered about and go out holding meetings and telling the people in his audiences just what he wishes and what he promises. If he does this he may land. If he uses the usual methods he will never know that he ran.
Mr. Cummings did not last long as Bachman's manager, for Cecil returned Wednesday night and went on the Bachman extra board once more. Guess it is not because he loves the Mopac less, but crystal more. Huh? Well, anyway, he is a dandy fine fellow to buy groceries from.
School election in a few weeks and about time for candidates to bob up. I am sure that one individual will be on the card, for he is always out for some local office.
Woman's Club meeting with Ora Luce Chapin where they will discuss "Scientific Achievements of the Past Year." Pretty big subject, but then we have some big women.
Mrs. Homer Goff is the expert paper hanger and Mrs. Hattie Kundinger the expert paster for the job at the Presbyterian Manse.
Mrs. Frank King selling eggs and Frank buying the feed.
John B. Heisey building culverts.
Six red winged blackbirds, bathing in a pool of water.
Buckshot chasing a big blue crane.
George Harrison calling on me and reports that the contract for our "nine-foot sidewalk" has been let and that grading is in progress. This being so it seems to me a very poor time to exchange George for some unknown quantity. His card carries on the back some interesting facts about our bond issue.
The Idle-ease Cafe is rightly named, judging from the number of females who make it their hangout.
Jiminycrickets! Why will girls paint their lips in unnatural brilliant colors and make themselves look like an Indian in war paint? Anyone tell?
Saw four girls waiting for the mail each painted with colors and all chewing gum. Only one had straight legs and they were not much to look at.
The Fig Orchard Company's discs have been revamped and are at work cleaning out the orchards. About five thousand new trees have been set. This made necessary by Mr. Jack Rabbit and the freeze.
Something happened in this village the past week that I hope the "cognoscenti" never hears about.
The village Saturday was an Eveless Adam for most of the women went to Bay City to attend the County Federation meet. The miserable wretch was one of them, so I am this day rubbering about for some susceptible female who would appreciate a real loving man.
Sunday, the new pastor, Rev. Smith, will preach his first preachment. The same day and for the days thereafter the critics will tell what he should have said but did not.
Those who have enjoyed the pleasure of eating at Rectors in Chicago or the later Rectors in New York will read with pleasure and interest the stories by George Rector in Saturday Evening Post entitled "A Cook's Tour." Delightful, enjoyable, but no more so than the dainty dishes and exquisite service one obtained at Rectors years ago.
The winged ants are on their annual love trip and following a queen to their death. In this they are no different than the human, for he often times does the same. Last year I wrote at some length about this queer love migration of the ants. This day it is on again and I view it with the same interest.
Thinking about legs, recalled the old saying that "a woman is as old as she looks, but a man is only as old as he feels." 'Tis true, except that, in my opinion, a man is never old so long as he can look. Even then if blindness prevents rubbering, if he can still feel, he is still young. When he is paralyzed and can no longer feel, the only thing to do is to make his will and call "Day Phone 101, or Night Phone 104-53," or in other words prepare to ride in the first buggy.
A few days ago I wrote "the first dewberry blossom." Now the ground is covered with the delicate white blossoms of this plant.
Mushrooms, (agaricus campestris) springing up in the pastures. These delicate plants, always found in clumps of horse or cow manure, know where to find the plant food they need for their development. Sometimes in groups of three or five. So far, I have never observed an even number in a single group. Wonder why?
Buckshot following the cows as they go to pasture has discovered something that excites his curiosity. He barks, jumps about, strikes with his paw. Examination shows he has run to earth a land tortoise which, closing the door of its portable house, is indifferent to his capers. When Buckshot leaves, it slowly opens the door, peeps out and finding the coast clear, goes lumbering about its business. An interesting, harmless little reptile. How can any person destroy it? Yet I often find one with its shell crushed by some careless boy or man who never sees animal life except with a desire to kill. Thank God, I never was a killer.
This morning as I took the cows out I counted eight different kinds of flowers. Some very small with four petals making a four point star which gleamed on the background of green. One of our beautiful flowers is that of the cactus. A brilliant yellow, a flower to be plucked only by the bold and courageous hand, for nature, realizing that it is an attractive bloom, armors it with prickers a plenty.
Each morning my cow procession goes down to the pasture gate, always in same order and when I open the gate, come first Nancyann, the boss; then Paulina, Baby, Happy, Squeeze and Bjane in order named. If one of them attempts to break this order a vicious poke of Nancyann's horn puts them back in their place. I tie King of Collegeport Aggie, head of the herd, way back, for unless I do a charming young matron refuses to call on me and that I would not miss. It is not, of course, generally I know it, but we are quite sticky with each other. She is quite a foxy young woman and says she calls on the miserable wretch, but I know, I know.
The miserable wretch returned from the county federation meet bubbling over, and long after I was sleeping she continued to tell me all about it. She had a very happy day, thanks to Mrs. Liggett.
Dropped in on Carey Smith and they exchanged compliments which left both feeling fine, thank you.
The Federation has some mighty ambitious plans. Some seem almost impossible, but the impossible fades into insignificance when one remembers that the world is what it is, because of the ambitions of women. The greatest thing about these quarterly meetings is that women of the county meet each other, give, receive and carry home impressions that are slowly but certainly changing the culture of Matagorda county. The miserable wretch tells me that Bay City looks like a sweet lovable young girl which sparkles and glitters with overflowing love.
The reader, no doubt, wonders what all this slum has to do with dog catching. Nothing at all. It simply discloses some of the things in a dog catcher's head. Shows that even a dog catcher sometimes thinks.
P. S.--The miserable wretch says that Bill is all right. No, this does not mean Bill Leslie. It refers to Bill Smith, Collegeport's new pastor. His name is Merriman Smith, but, says he, "if you say Bill loud enough, I'll answer." We no longer have to go to Bay City for a Bill.
Matagorda County Tribune, March 16, 1928
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Collegeport, March
21.--Surveyors are running lines for the extension of the Missouri
Pacific industrial track from the end of the present warehouse track to
Pilkinto [Pilkington]
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By Harry Austin Clapp
I read in the Tribune the other day that Mr. H. L. McEnery representing the E. C. Palmer Paper Company, spent the day in the city. That item takes us back to the good old happy days in Cripple Creek, when the camp was a roaring seething mass of humanity that never ceased to boil and bubble, when doors were never locked on sporting houses, when night was day and day was night, and this same McEnery operated a shoe store in the camp. We both belonged to the Clover Club, the Cripple Creek Club, took tea Sunday afternoons with Mrs. Robert Lynes.
Don't know whether they know it or not, but in my opinion the Central Power and Light Company made a ten strike when they kidnapped Mrs. Emma Lee Lewis Carlton and took her into their camp. Have known her for many years. She is not only an efficient office aid, but her presence will add grace and dignity to the company affairs and gatherings.
Was riding in an auto the other day while the driver was talking with his hands. Made me almost as nervous as when I rode with a driver who manicured his nails while speeding at around fifty.
In Manitou there lives a man named Charles Dickens who operates a shop for the sale of curios which he very properly calls "Charles Dickens, Old Curiosity Shop."
Last week I wrote that Mrs. Goff was the expert paper hanger at the Manse. I retract that statement and give the credit to that old-time, dependable, Mrs. Roy Nelson. Mrs. Goff was not on the job.
The paying up of some delinquent taxes insures us a nine months school which brings joy to all.
The King's Daughters meeting with Mrs. Holsworth, and, as usual, feeding themselves on the best of the land. Wish they could ask one of the King's sons to meet with them.
The Nelsons and Wrights installing a Colt's lighting system on the co-operative plan.
Surveyors at work running lines for the Mopac spur to the Collegeport ship channel. If it goes through many cars of shell will be loaded at this point.
School dismissed Friday and all hands attending the county interscholastic meet at Bay City. Hope they bring home a few scalps as they have done in the past.
Last night Buckshot tackled Senor Don Spilogale Putorius and as a result he is now a stinkpooch.
Posted in the postoffice is a petition asking that a road be opened clear to the bay shore near Portsmouth. I am for it, if it means Cap Allen will bring some oysters before the season is out.
It is reported that Adna E. Phelps, the local manager for the Fig Company, has resigned and will leave here the last of this month. This is not enjoyable news, for he will be missed. The orchards have been well cared for under his administration. The company may secure a better man but most of us have our doubts. Phelps is a modest man and knows that he does not know everything about fig culture.
A. K. Eaton of the Morning Glory Creameries here looking for more of that selected cream from which the "Aristocrat of the Breakfast Table" is made.
Oscar Barber calling on me, and as I bask in the genial warmth of his smile, I almost promise that I will cast my two votes for him.
Am sorry Bert Carr could not find some office to run for. Always liked to vote for him.
Have studied the matter at all angles and can find no reason for the brisk norther that fell upon us Friday. Brisk did I say? It was hellapoppin for twenty-four hours. A few more exhibitions like this and I will move to the Tahita Islands.
How I wish my feeble pen, I mean my Corona, could depict the glory of the rising sun in the east, this Sunday morning. The sky a pale turquoise, shading into tones of gray at the horizon, the sun peeping like a globe of yellow gold.
"Then felt I like some watcher of the skies. When a new planet swims into his ken; Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes, He stared at the Pacific and all his men. Looked at each other with a mild surmise-- Silent, upon a peak in Darien." --Keats
Suddenly it popped above the horizon, the day dawned. Its beams glittered on the dew drops which shone like myriads of diamonds. The promise of a perfect day.
Three kildees running about the barn lot. A snipe rising from a pool of water. A crane rising from his bed and lazily, with flapping wings, floats away. A fish rises from the waters of the slough. An armadilla carrying his armored house. A tortoise climbing over the clods. The first blackberry bloom. A buzzard floating in the sky, his eyes alert for carrion. A new flower in bloom, a delicate, pink shading into white with a yellow center. The Cheyenne rost a budding. A rooster crows. A dog over at Ackerman's barks. The bay silent and looking like quick silver glistening in the sun rays. Palacios, all white and gold, silent, sleeping peacefully. The bark of a motor boat. These signs of morning I saw and heard this day of our Good Lord, March 18th, 1928. It is the beginning of my twentieth year in Collegeport.
While giving thanks to God for life, peace, our daughter, the miserable wretch and loving kinfolks, I must not forget that it was Burton D. Hurd who placed me on Lot 50, Block 1, of the Ace of Clubs Ranch.
Nice little bouquet Dena D. Hurd sent to Carey Smith. Bet Arthur Brisbane feels puffed up having his name associated with the writer of these "Thoughts." Huh? Mrs. Dena has a generous heart and I thank her.
Mr. Fusom, a Wabash conductor, has moved here with his family. He bought the Duckworth home, lately occupied by S. B. Sims.
When Lowell wrote "The only argument available with an east wind is to put on your overcoat," he had never lived through a norther.
If the woman reader who does not believe a man is only old when he can no longer see or feel, will ask Ali Ben Abi Talch, she can have the proof.
Matagorda County Tribune, March 23, 1928
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By Harry Austin Clapp [Collegeport information was abstracted from the longer article.] ...Mrs. Wright brought me a big mess of spare ribs, roast and sausage. I absorbed the sausage along with some of the superlative griddle cakes my miserable wretch makes, and could feel Poise filling my soul, and with it came strength and power. Mrs. Wright sure made a big hit with us Homecrofters and my two votes will be cast for her any time she cares for political office. The next day, along comes Ora with a plate of flounder. Ora is all right without the flounder, but with it she is simply irresistible, and I am not to be blamed for falling in love with her. Four of the local lady gamboilers took a trip over the sea, to Palacios Tuesday and attended the card party at Hotel Palacios. The Morning Glory Creameries now pay a premium of five cents per pound for fat delivered that is not over four days old. This, with a base price of 37 cents, makes a very satisfactory price for those who comply with the requirements. Mary Louise visited Kelly Field the other day and writes about climbing into four big planes. I have no serious objections to her climbing in and looking them over, but prefer that she keep far away from a plane. She is just about the sweetest angel living, and my ambition does not require that she wear sandals, white robes, play a harp and have a "hello" about her head. So I wrote her to keep far away from them there airships. I think she has more sense than her mother. The miserable wretch is crazy to fly away in a plane. When, if, and as she does, I will simply give her a goodbye smack and watch her disappear in the azure sky. Oh, yes, writing about airplanes makes me think that Ora came over Wednesday and brought me a nice mess of California dried fruits, figs 'n everything. 'Tis nice to have sweets from the sweet. A man can keep another person's secret better than his own; a woman, on the contrary, keeps her secret though she blabs all others."--La Bruyere. It is no secret Mrs. Roy Nelson making sausage the other day managed to run two of her fingers through the grinder. Hugo Kundinger gave first aid in two good size glasses and then second aid in a wash basin. I am thinking I will grind up a finger or two, for that first aid sure looked good to me. The addition of a finger or two instead of damaging the sausage, added to its extra fine flavor. It simply beats hell that nowadays if a man wants a drink of good booze he is compelled to mash a finger, break a leg or dislocate his spine. A. K. Eaton back again with new scales for the weighing of that selected cream from which Morning Glory is made. Mesdames Mowery, Boeker and Chapin out after flounders. They took in six. No wonder, for if I were a flounder I would be willing to be took in by that bunch. F. P. Vaughn calling on me soliciting my two votes for assessor. Had a very enjoyable visit which lasted about one and half hours. This man Vaughn has a keen sense of humor which caught the miserable wretch, but, of course, nothing doing so long as Oscar wants the job. Told Mr. Vaughn if he could get rid of Oscar I would cast my two votes for him. He tried to bribe me with a "Me Too" button and a promise of free entrance to his watermelon patch, but it did not go. I have the button and will, no doubt, visit the patch. I think he would make a good assessor, and advise all who do not like Oscar to vote for F. P. A friend mailed a letter addressed to me. It left Chicago at 8:00 p.m. Monday, March 19, by "air mail." It informed me that a package of perishable nature was sent by same air mail. The letter reached me at 5:30 p.m. The package arrived Friday at 5:30 p.m., nearly ninety-six hours on the way, while the letter required about seventy-two hours. Looks to me as though this here air mail is not so sudden. This letter and package is received with gratification, enjoyment, pleasure, delight, satisfaction and will serve as the subject for my next column next week. Not space enough this week. Wonder why Rosalie Nelson opens so many boxes at the post office? That girl takes home more mail than any other patron. Hamburgers made with pork sausage is a rare dish as some of our burghers can testify. The ladies of Patagonia never think of meeting strangers until they paint their faces and arrange their hair. With that done, they appear without one stitch of clothing. Flopping flounders! We don't have to go to Patagonia. Our girls doll up in the same way, except they do put on one stitch. Mary Louise writes, "Don't worry, daddy, I won't (I don't think) go up in an airplane. Even if I do, and find I don't like it, I can drop out any time." Helluva lot of comfort in that. T. C. McNeil home for a day or two. He is on the conductors' board, and running out of Kingsville. It required nine inches to report the athletic events at the Interscholastic meet recently held at Bay City and three inches to report the literary events. 'Nuf sed. The Ackermans living on the Slough Ranch gave an old-time barn dance Saturday night which was well attended. The Ackermans may be depended on at all times to provide good entertainment. The "Come Inn" is doing a splendid business, and mine hostess, Mrs. Welsby is busy most of the time. A grocery store, the counters of which are covered with loafers, both male and female, is not an attractive place in which to purchase groceries. We have one grocery store where these conditions are not present. We simply must ask the government to install a light house at this port. The other night one of our good ships, although in charge of a first-class pilot, in trying to make the home port, ran plump into the Palacios B. Y. P. U. dock. "At its nearer approach it seemeth him to be a ship; The ship mates, in sore distress, would fain throw the whole guilt on the Ancient Mariner." --Rhyme of The Ancient Mariner. But it was only the dock. "A speck, a mist, a shape, I wist' And still it neared and neared; As if it dodged a water sprite, It plunged and tacked and veered." And not a drop of rum on board. A light! A light! At last the port of Collegeport.
The Daily Tribune, Tuesday, March 27, 1928 |
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Collegeport, March 27. Collegeport needs a gin to handle the cotton which will be picked from the 2200 acres now planted. Some of the acreage will be replanted because of poor stand, but a large percentage is coming on in good shape. Feedstuffs and corn are up to a good stand. Pastures are in splendid condition and cattle are fat. Considerable truck is being planted and all garden stuff is in fine condition.
The Daily Tribune, Wednesday, March 28, 1928
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As intimated in last week's column, it will not be necessary for me to do my thinking this week, for that wonderful woman reader way up north, sitting at her desk, in a marble palace on the shores of a great inland sea, supplies the dope for this week's run. She wrote me that it was for home consumption only, but it is too good stuff to be selfishly enjoyed, so I'll pass it around. She wrote me to be sure and take it from the post office, as it was perishable. She told the truth. It was a most cleverly arranged booklet containing pictures--advertisements--taken from different magazines illustrating, first "Thoughts" and second, "Why Thoughts had been Omitted from recent issues of the Trib." The book was bound in the latest De Luxe Paprika. The pictures were mounted on the finest of Evangeline Tobasco. Then came pictures of legs, of all sorts, kinds, shapes, varieties with clever comments on each. The frontispiece was a typed sheet "Just Thoughts"--a beautiful tribute to my column. It is difficult to describe this booklet. It must be seen to be appreciated. You bet it will be preserved, as it is really a work of art and makes visible the patience, skill and artistic sense of the maker. No wonder she asked that it be taken from the post office quickly, for it was, indeed, perishable. Well, anyway, as I feel lazy this day. I shall take full advantage of this wonderful gift and give to you, dear reader, some of the "Thoughts" this woman thought, in hopes, as she writes, "might help thoughtless critics to think." Just Thoughts Any way, the above is read or defined or emphasized it very aptly describes what one man in a certain city of teeming millions of humanity has been thinking for the past few weeks. Again the "pen" of the family was importuned to "do something" about the absence of "Thoughts" in a certain otherwise meritorious paper that has been wont to make its entry into the domicile of a certain wise man each Monday evening. Weary of being compelled to digest Arthur Brisbane's axioms on Monday only and venting his comments upon the other part of the family finally induced the writer of these lines to "do something." The fact that a paper so well edited, so generously serving the people of not only his home town and county, but some far away exiles in the cold north who are warmed by its flames of enthusiasm and optimism, could and did send forth several issues in one calendar month containing no "Thoughts," was an act entirely unworthy of one so capable and discerning as Carey Smith. Can any newspaper live long enough without any "Thoughts" whatsoever? True there are countless columns of material about "leagues" so laden with the dust and mould from county records long untouched that the record or citation almost smelled of a court house, and any one knows that it requires fewer "thoughts" to write such copy than it does to furnish copy about "Legs," but a certain wise man does declare that "legs" as so much more interesting than "leagues." It is also dull work copying "leagues," but exciting and painstaking to try to copy "legs." It also requires no "thoughts" to read and digest all that a page might contain about "leagues" but, be it said by one who knows such is not the case about the other "Thoughts." If it is to copy "leagues" and banish all "Thoughts" about legs or copy legs and banish all copy about leagues, the certain wise man thinks "legs" should be given first place. If, perchance, the "copy" is difficult to find you are advised to turn thru the following noted publications all of which are highly respectable and commendable: Literary Digest, Saturday Evening Post, Woman's Home Companion, Ladies' Home Journal, Chicago Tribune, Evening American and others, and there you will find expressions from the artists who made the illustrations only last week for all these and other reputable publications. So, my friend of long years and deep, interesting if sometimes light and airy "Thoughts" turn these pages and delve for yourself into the light of "thoughts" others, noted artists and authors have given to "legs" I found the word "leagues" mentioned but once. There are many ideas and ideals embracing the subject directly or indirectly, but never once did I find anyone deriding the use, benefit or display of the subject. If the choice of the commendable were to rest between "leagues" and "legs" for "Thoughts"--then would your admirers ask that the editor be importuned to choose the latter. I hope the reader of this week's column enjoys "Just Thoughts" as much as I have. Seems that at times everything comes at once. Tonight in the mail I found a letter and on the northwest corner of the envelope was this: "From the League to Improve Bare Knees, Suite 1004, 1650 Broadway, New York." I have long felt the "knee--d" of some sort or organization to undertake this work. A graceful curved leg rising from a slender ankle is always admired, but what is easier on the eye than a round, dimpled, pink, rosy knee? Some knees, of course, are dirty, skinny, warty, disgusting to the eye, and for that reason there seems to be a great field for the new society. Gobs of 'em should be improved, at least for as long as they are to be exposed to public view. Writing about knees makes me think that today I saw the first horned toad of the season. He looked pert and vigorous. Geese by the thousands going south both night and day. A. K. Eaton, the Morning Glory man, breezed in again with the makings for a strawberry short cake. The miserable wretch made it up and when covered with Holstein whipped cream it was a dish that would call the gods from their thrones. The "ad" of the Central Power and Light Co.'s new toaster is a dandy but their toaster is already passé, for I have developed one that will throw the toast out on your plate already buttered. Bill Smith, by some called Rev. Mirriam [Merriman] Smith, called on me the other day. Don't know when I have had a more enjoyable visit. From my observation, I think he is going to be the pastor of all folks and not of a few of the inner circle. Carl Boeker on his way to Petersburg, Illinois, for a visit with his folks. The Fusom family packed their freight and pulled out to Springfield. Did not take long for them to become satiated, surfeited, glutted, gorged, satisfied, filled, palled with our climate, people and community. They should have stayed at least two weeks. Ben R. Mowery says that it looks as though the burg would have a gin some of these days. Ora always thinks of me. Last night she brought me a fine, large cake which is quality, character, cake attributes, was something most wonderful and as I ate of the cake I naturally thought of the river. Sixty-eight (count 'em) attended the regular meeting of the League last Thursday night. Good business was transacted. Good prospects for a gin. The League ordered cement markers for the graves in the cemetery. Jim Fusom and Bill Smith came to the mourners' bench, confessed their sins and were saved. Refreshments consisted of chicken sandwiches which were superlative, consummate, surpassing, supreme, transcendent, incomparable, while the hot dogs were pre-eminent, peerless, juicy, toothsome, and all washed down with coffee which was extra superfine because Mrs. Ash had her right hand in it. Messrs. Hale, Harrison and Hall were the entertainers. George Harrison gave a talk on the road situation which was illuminating and of real interest. By his talk he demonstrated that he had made a study of our road conditions and necessities. George Harrison has acquired contact with road engineers and authorities and information which is priceless. Had a dandy, fine, long letter from Dr. Van Wormer. The most interesting thing was a check for four bucks, being Leagues dues from two of the out of town members. Hope Doc (excuse me, I mean Doctor) attaches a check to each letter in the future. All we can do to repay the Doc for his interest in this burg is to give him fine moral support, knock croakers and croak knockers. The Katy Legg house has been moved down to the corner lot, formerly owned by L. E. Liggett, and directly across the street from the Scholl home. When put in repair will be an addition to that portion of the burg. I have about decided to join Mrs. John Ackerman in the goose business. She says it costs nothing to raise them and they bring at least thirty-five cents each when ten years of age. Zack Zackers states that I am shaking legs for the purpose of getting into politics. "What matters to me whether leg or hand, So long as the voter's vote I land. If only some comfort to dogs I can give; It will be of value to them that I live." If Zack Zackers would make dog biscuits instead of crackers, and cracked ones at that, he would be of some value to the dogs of Matagorda county, and I would withdraw, but so long as he continues in his present business, I shall appeal to all friends of our noble dogs. I wear spectacles about 5, 844 hours ever year, and with their aid I have yet to find one single moment when I could discover why a maker of crackers would be a good dog catcher.
The Daily Tribune, April 3, 1928 |
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A snail marching across a cement walk carrying his house with him and leaving his tracks in silvery spots that glisten in the light of the morning sun. Saturday the Woman's Union (not underwear) thanks to the kindness of Adna E. Phelps, manager of the Fig Orchards Company, held their annual pre-Easter sale in the canning factory. Our people responded in generous fashion and a big sale resulted. School election passed off quietly. No extra police force was required. For local trustees F. L. Hall received 14 votes, Roy Nelson 52, Oscar Chapin and Mrs. L. E. Liggett each received 29 and Homer Goff 17. Ben R. Mowery, president, called a meeting of the board for the same night to canvas the vote. For county trustees C. S. Douglas, representing Precinct No. 3 and William Cash for county at large, received most of the votes. Rosalie Nelson and Elizabeth Eisel invited me to visit the school museum. I saw a live rabbit and was afraid of him for he looked wicked at me as he winked his left eye. A snake about five feet long, preserved, of course; a centipede; one tank with live fish and another with turtles, horned toads, and several animals testify to the taste of our pupils for the study of nature. The girls handled the rabbit as if they were lion tamers and exhibited no sign of fear. Rev. Merriman Smith led an early rising bunch to the Ackerman pasture on the Slough Ranch for a sunrise service Easter morning. Must have been a chilly a chilly service. I have seen the Navajoa and Pueblo Indians at sunrise. The men standing on top of the houses, arms stretched, palms toward the sun, their faces rapt with adoration, voices mute. To me it was the worship of the Great Father and an impressive sight. Wonder of those who went out this Easter morning were filled with the same adoration for God and His wonderful works? Mrs. John Ackerman, my partner in the goose business, reports a hatch of twenty-four goslings from twenty-six eggs. Now all we have to do is to wait ten years and then we can sell them for thirty-five cents each. Looks like mighty good money. Here is some good news: Paris decrees that skirts shall be lowered three inches. This change, alteration, variation, deviation modification, commutation was wrought by matured women shoe legs had lost some of their former fascination. Makes no difference by whom or how, it's a move in the right direction. Well, I finished Easter in splendid style, being invited to the Oscar Vernon Chapin's home for dinner. Persons who have eaten dinner prepared by Ora know something of the gustatorial delights that it affords. Chicken with some more of that wonderful gravy, new spuds, beans, salads 'neverything. Oh, boy! I wish Easter came every Sunday in the year. Well, anyway, it was a great Easter, and as the day closes, I am more than ever impressed that Jesus was the most wonderful man who ever has walked this earth. He took twelve men from the very common walks of life and placing them on the anvil of his spiritual eal, eh forged and welded them into the greatest and most efficient organization the world has ever known. With this organization He has conquered the earth. You may not love and adore Him as the Son of God, conceived by the Holy Ghost and born of the Virgin Mary, but you are compelled to give Him admiration for being the world's greatest administrator. Oh, say, isn't life wonderful? P. S. --Pardon me for writing--"Spring and Life is here." Life is but spring is not. Temperature 46--strong norther--rain--low tide. oh, for the Tahita Island.
The Daily Tribune, April 11, 1928 |
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Collegeport, Texas, April 11.—Following are the names on our School Honor Roll for March:
Minnie Lee McNeill, 10th grade.
Palacios Beacon, April 12, 1928 |
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It is the morning of the day after. The temperature is about 46. Thank God, that means above zero and not below. A strong norther is blowing and the cold rain pours. "Remorse, the water wagon is the place for me," sang that delightful comedian Frank Daniels, and today I join him in the song. Easter was not a day for straw hats and summer dresses, but for overcoats, I mean top coats and furs and hugging a hot stove. Not one bird sings this day. Flowers bow their heads. Dewberries stop their growth. As I bring the cows in for milking, I see no gulls soaring through the blue. The bay is dry land, that is, almost dry. The cows shiver, calves bleat, chickens humped up. Seth Corse grumbles with a cold as he sorts the morning mail with frozen fingers, but our daily letter to Mary Louise goes out just the same. Sorry I took the stove down, when in the middle of March we were promised that Spring with life was here, and so we huddle about our little oil heater and long for our friend, the good south wind. We desert our out door room tonight and sleep in the room of MBF. Hark! What was that? It sounds like a pussy cat. It is the note of a bird and it seems to say "a better tomorrow." Thank you, little bird, for the note. Next day. That was a very naughty little bird for it told a lie. It is still cold, the north wind blows and the rain falls. Oh, for the Island of Tahiti. Wednesday morning the sun rises to a cloudless sky. The clean, pure turquoise runs from horizon to horizon. The sun, a ball of fire, quickly bathes the earth with its warming rays. In short, 'tis "brite and fare." The south wind blows. The birds begin to sing their song, vegetation looks up and smiles. Winter has went. Spring has come. "Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet, With charm of earliest birds pleasant the sun. When first on this delightful land he spreads His Orient beams on herb, fruit and flower. Glistening with dew!" --Paradise Lost, Book IV, Milton Mrs. Crane reports sending out 190 pounds of butter fat the week ending Tuesday. About $77.90 distributed among a few teat pullers. Ora's guineas have guinead and she now has eleven new ones--fat little devils. Soon carload shipments of pigs will go from this port. No matter how Judge Harris decides the tie vote of last Saturday's election, we will have a strong board of trustees to handle our school affairs. The Woman's Union cleaned up a very nice sum at their annual bake sale. The "Come-Inn" is serving some extra juicy, delicious, dainty, refined, tender hamburgers. A light frost appeared Wednesday morning, but with no damage to vegetables or field crops. Yesterday I saw the first swallow and picked the first dewberry. Mrs. Carl Boeker will soon be ready to supply genuine German police dogs. Our new pastor, Rev. Merrian [Merriman] Smith, is fostering the organization of an American Legion Post. Splendid movement which all of us should support. The vine on the gate post which Mary Louise planted is now about three feet high. (San Antonio papers please copy, especially the Express, if it is still published.) Five men are asking for the position of precinct commissioner. I only know two of them, but will wager that only one can read a blue print, only one would recognize a contour or profile if met on the road. The ability to know these things requires some technical education. We are fortunate to have a commissioner at present who can read a blue print, knows profiles and contours, cross sections, as he knows his home and family. He was brought up on 'em. At this present stage of our road building program he is too valuable a man to discard. No man in private business, no contractor, no engineer would shelve such a man and take on one that had to be educated. Why should we do so in public business? Let's use just a bit of common sense, a trifle of the same business judgment we would use in our private affairs and retain the services of this man who has served so well and is so fitted for the duties during the building of these roads. A vote for George Harrison means that you take full advantage of the knowledge he has acquired and of the business connections he has made with the State Highway and Federal Commissions. Some preachers I have known try to be good fellows and fail because they don't know how. Their attempts are superficial, a sham, a mask, easily seen through. The Rev. Merriman Smith don't have to try to be a good fellow. He is. The State of Texas and the balance of these United States will be glad to know that "telefone" communication has been re-instated so that they may all call Collegeport. I am glad to know that the Express is still being published in San Antonio. Received a copy of the paper yesterday. Miss Ruth Mowery, winner in the girls' declamation contest at the county interscholastic meet, goes to Houston to enter the district contest. William Goff also enters the contest as he won first place in the boys' division. Collegeport is justly proud of these two young people. Mary Louise sent me an Easter box full of good things, but among them was a new cob pipe and a supply of old reliable R. J. R., so I filled my maroon and black humidor, loaded my pipe and was at peace with the world, for Lent is over and season of denial is past. R. J. Reynolds & Co may now speed up on production of R. J. R .but I still hope it will sell for three bales for two bits. A pupil who will graduate from our school next month brought her two graduation dresses to show me. They came in a box eight inches long, two inches thick and three inches wide. I took them out and weighed them and found that the two dresses weighed exactly seven ounces. Never tell me again that our girls wear no clothes. A tenant farmer says this is the method to handle a landlord. The first year get in debt about one hundred dollars, the second year run it up to three hundred and the third year run it up to at least two thousand. This, he calls "ying yang." He says that when you are into the landlord for more than one thousand dollars, you have him hooked. After that you can do as you please. Fine system, and I wonder how long land owners will stand for it? A jury appointed by the County Court here Thursday to view the Collegeport road, and assess damages for right-of-way. Thus does our "nine-foot sidewalk" progress. "The hungry judges soon the sentence sign, And wretches hand that jurymen may dine." Rape of the Lock--Pope While the road jury was here the "Come-Inn" did a splendid business. They inhaled a few of those delicious hamburgers and pushed into their faces wedges of the famous "Come-Inn" pie. I read that a man was killed in a feud the other day. That's what comes from riding in cheap cars. The Woman's Club meeting with Mrs. Ackerman. I hope Mrs. Ackerman has not killed any of our goslings for the entertainment. Bill Smith and a bunch of his buddies met Wednesday and took preliminary steps for the organization of an American Legion Post. If, when, and is organized, it will receive the support of most of our people. It is not generally known that I am a wonderful swimmer. I tried to keep it from our local people, and especially from the miserable wretch. Now comes this damn cracker manufacturer with a clipping from the Los Angeles Times telling all about how Austin Clapp shatters the 500-yard Pacific Coast record. I did not want the miserable wretch to even know that I had participated, and she gave me hella-poppin for leaving home with[out] permission. I wish Zack Zackers would confine his operations to the making of Cracked Crackers. Cecil McNeil, cut off the Mopac board, has been cut in on the Bachman board, and is now home for an indefinite stay. The Mopac may not want him, but he is a good fellow to buy groceries from. Some one said that Mr. Coolidge did not choose to run because he knew that he could walk. Maybeso. Who knows? Mesdames Boeker, Mowery and Chapin, chaperoned by Oscar, out after the flounder, and bagged twelve, one weighing three and a half pounds. I will have fish for dinner. Hope they go again. The story George Lovering wrote about our "nine-foot sidewalk" printed in the Tribune, was a comprehensive, all-embracing, extensive, capacious, broad statement of conditions and should be read by all of our citizens.
The other night I left five sheets of copy on my
desk. The next morning I found that a mouse had eaten most of the good
stuff and carried it to her nest. Shows that even mice appreciate
"Thoughts." I wonder why folks do not. Wish our Springfield people would keep those northers up north where they belong. Will ask Dr. Van Wormer to arrange the matter. At the Holsworth home Friday night our citizens not only welcomed Merriman Smith, but gave him a well deserved pounding. With this initiation we now consider him one of our elite. "Of right and wrong he taught Truths as refined as ever Athens heard; And strange to tell! he practiced what he preached." --J. Armstrong Old timers will remember Joe Walters. He spent Friday here. Frank and Joe are married and have families, but the girls are still single. Mary Louise has a position with Phelps and DeWeese, architects of San Antonio, and is making good. Nothing strange about that.
The Daily Tribune, April 17, 1928 |
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"As I look back on the has been trail, In my hand the full milk pail, I think of the things that might be, And planning for them can plainly see, That the past is far in the past, It's the future, we must hold fast." Fragments From Hack I sometimes doubt if it is wise to indulge in retrospection, or, looking back, think of the things that might have been. I know that if I did indulge, that I could write pages on what might have been, but thinking about the "Trail Ahead," I am forced to look back on the "has been trail" and give some of the thoughts that flitter though my mind. I remember well the night we (the miserable wretch and myself) left Chicago. It was the last week in January, 1909. One of those famous Lake Michigan blizzards was blowing and the wind was howling across the lake and blowing around Masonic Temple, tossing the dresses of women, piercing one's vitals and freezing the marrow in ones bones. The La Salle Street station was full of frosty air, and all about the spacious waiting rooms were groups of people waiting for their trains, huddled about the steam radiators. Outside in the long train sheds, train after train stood waiting for the signal that would send them off into the black night, into the storm. The air was heavy with smoke, frost and the odor of a city and the frosty rails squeaked and shrieked as train after train arrived or departed. Cab horses (this was before) stood in the area heavily blanketed, heads hanging low, their breath forming miniature fountains in the freezing air. We were tired of city life and anxious to put it in the past and begin the work of building a new home in the Southland, and so we hastened to locate Burton D. Hurd Company's private car, "Land," where we were welcomed and made comfortable by Victor Brasfield. Soon we felt the wheels moving and we went out to the car platform for our last glimpse of good old "Chi." The great clock in the train shed faded from our view. We were off. On down through Kansas City, Dallas, Houston, Bay City and at last where the future Collegeport was to be. Bright warm and balmy breezes, no hint of frost or snow. We listened to Burton D. Hurd's land oratory, eloquence, rhetoric, fell under the spell and signed up. After that Burton and us had a drink from a tall bottle (but this was before)! For twenty years we have seen people come and go and have seen the burg grow and shrink and we know that had Burton D. Hurd been successful in his ambitions, Collegeport would have been some village. Many things that might have been, "hain't" been.
But what of the "trail ahead?" What is to come to
those who stick in the next five, ten or twenty years? The community has
had its rises, its falls, its levels, but now it seems that an upward
turn is here or about to be here. A spirit of optimism is in the hearts
of most of the burghers. Some of this is due to the activities of Dr. W.
W. Van Wormer in his development work on the town site, some to the fact
that soon our "nine-foot sidewalk" will put us out of the mud in an easy
contact with the county and state. Most of the feeling has its source in
the minds and hearts of those who have lived here long enough to be
satisfied that soil, climate, water, access to sports, combine to make
this particular section as good as any, and better than most, for home
building, family rearing, independent living, and the attainment of the
things in life which are much to be desired. A sort of "discanso" or
heart's desire as they say down in Mexico. In my humble judgment the new
road system and the coming use of our bay for transportation will
revolutionize the Collegeport life. These two things will increase land
values, bring greater population, among it being desirable people which
will provide abundant fine material for community building. I have often
written ":like hell, we need people," and I repeat it in these thoughts,
but we need the right kind of people--people of progress, advancement,
improvement, development. "The Trail Ahead" leads to a community that
will amaze our present inhabitants and it will not be for long--perhaps
ten years. God never set this fine site down here to be whittled away to
a fine point by community dissension, by lax farming, by ancient
business methods. He put it here for man to use and enjoy and realize
on, and by the sweet spirits, this is its destiny. No man or set of men
can postpone or prevent it. It's coming, so, good people, get ready. You
folk up North around the village where Lincoln once lived, better wake
up, hang onto your fig properties. You people at home better begin to
realize the worth of what is now yours and plan for a higher type of
development. "The bell strikes one, we take no note of time, But from its loss, To give it then a tongue, Is wise in man. As if an angel spoke. I feel the solemn sound. If heard aright, It is the knell of my departed hours. Where are they? With the years beyond the flood. It is the signal for dispatch; How much is to be done! My hopes and fears Start up alarmed, and o'er life's narrow verge, Look down--on what? A fathomless abyss; A dread eternity; how surely mine! And can eternity belong to me, Poor pensioner on the bounties of an hour?" --Dr. Edward Young. In the development of Collegeport I have known only two men with romance in their souls, with vision, who were dreamers of what might be on "The Trail Ahead." One was called Burton D. and the other William Walter. We need a few more like them. Men who can visualize and put their vision in to concrete form. Will we encourage the coming of such men or will we continue to tell doleful, dismal, lugubrious, cheerless, somber tales? It seems to me that it is largely up to us who now live here. Well, anyway, the fig orchards which have recently been turned over to the purchasers are a disgrace to the owners and an eye sore to our residents. Growing up to weeds and grass, neglected, they will soon be ruined. Don't these guys have any pride in what they have paid good money for? Guess not. If is reported that the road viewing jury allowed Mr. Merck the sum of fifteen dollars for the ten-foot strip across his land. This necessitates moving his house which will cost perhaps ten times the sum allowed. This verdict is on a par with that which gave a woman who killed her husband a five-year suspended sentence. Shows that sedate, sober jurymen are sometimes jokers. An auto rolled into my place Wednesday and from it alighted a fashion plate. A tall distinguished man, dressed in the height of style, new sombrero. It was Charles Langham, our county treasurer. I enjoyed the visit for he is an entertaining conversationalist. Guess I will throw my two votes his way, for it appears that he has been a diligent, faithful servant of our people. Fifteen minutes later came Mr. Mann? on the same mission. I heard his story, but say, the way they watch the box in this precinct, I can vote for but one. How I wish more of my readers would write me a letter. To me it would be applause. It's the only kind I can get and it helps me to know that somewhere, someone reads what I write. Rev. Merriman Smith, with Mesdames Crane, Holsworth, Smith and Mr. Haisley in Port Arthur this week attending the Presbytery. Picked the first lot of dewberries today. Great when smothered in thick cream, provided it is Holstein dream. Saw two land tortoises eating berries, a bull snake about five feet long. Stepped on his tail to hasten his journey and allowed him to slide for he is a great friend to man. A mockingbird sang his song on a fence post and I asked, "little bird, is it dawn or dusk?" and he leaped into the air and warbled, "'tis neither, it is Spring." A cardinal spent some time gorging on the ripe berries but he was not very friendly and flitted away at my approach. Joe Mangum and Thomas H. Lewis down here but never came to see me about my two votes. Oscar Barber must have worried for fear my two votes might be lost to him, for he brought me two big fat cigars. If Kleska realizes the fine impression his letter to voters made this side of the river, he would send another similar one out just before the 28th. Mrs. Pollard, our efficient, cultured, educated county superintendent, visited Bay View school not long ago and soon after school was dismissed two little girls burst into their home and exclaimed, "Oh, mama, we wish we could vote so we could help elect Mrs. Pollard again. We just love her." I, too, wish they could vote. Commencement exercises the week of May 18th with Ella Mae Chiles, Minnie Lee McNiel and Dorothy Crane playing the leading parts. Blackstone Avenue readers take notice. I am glad to learn that Bill Leslie has more than one shirt. A woman reader in Urbana, Ill. is worried for fear my campaign for the office of county dog catcher is not going along as it should. Don't worry sister. It's a cinch. No use to even count the ballots. A high tide not only fills the flats with sea water, making great lakes, but with it comes flocks of gulls, their white wings flashing in the sunlight. Wading birds of which I could distinguish several kinds. Three big cranes stood like sentinels, motionless until at my approach they flapped their wings and slowly flew away. Kildeers are nesting and soon the ground will have plenty of young scurrying about like teenie weenie chickens. About two score of the young folks held a picnic Friday night and roasted dogs, until they were hot, when they became hot dogs, a most succulent, wholesome, salubrious, nutritious, invigorating, strengthening fruit. How Mary Louise would have enjoyed enhaling a few. Maybe she did in San Antonio. Any one tell?
The Daily Tribune, April 21, 1928 |
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About twenty Collegeport ladies, members of the King’s Daughters, held their regular monthly meeting on Wednesday of this week at the home of Dr. and Mrs. Cairnes in this city, in response to an invitation extended them some time ago. It was an all day affair. The guests coming early in the morning and staying until late afternoon. Each lady was to furnish two different articles of food for their lunch and the hostess the drinks; and at the noon hour two large tables fairly groaned beneath the load of good things to eat that had been brought. When everyone had eaten all they wanted and more too, the fragments were gathered up, dishes washed and… Then real work and business followed as the ladies were there for work as well as play, and a comfort was tacked besides numerous other pieces of work done. The devotional service and program was an interesting and enjoyable feature and the day will long be remembered as a most happy one by guests, visitors and hostess. It was a delight to meet these ladies from our neighboring town across the bay and if these get-to-gether community affairs could be made a more often occurrence, a closer feeling among us all would be the result and a more united people for the Master’s work as well as in the development of our county and making it a better place in which to live.
Palacios Beacon, April 26, 1928 |
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Collegeport, April 24.--G. A. Duffy shipped four cars of fat stock to New Orleans and Fort Worth. All range stock is in excellent condition this season. Dairy stock is doing well and about 200 pounds of butterfat goes from this place each week to creameries in Houston. Matagorda County
Tribune, April 28, 1928 |
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Honor Roll For April Willard Baird, Principal.
Palacios Beacon, May 3, 1928 |
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Collegeport, April 28.--The twentieth annual election of the Collegeport Industrial League was held in the community house. The following were elected for the coming year: E. L. Hall, president; S. W. Corse, vice-president; H. A. Clapp, secretary; Hugo Kundinger, treasurer, and E. L. Liggett, Frank King and Ben R. Mowery directors. Arrangements were made for the annual observance of the opening of the townsite, which will consist of a community dinner and auction. Roping contests, horse riding and races and a baseball game will provide amusements.
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Thoughts While Picking Berries [Collegeport information was abstracted from the longer article.] This week the King's Daughters go a visiting to the home of Mrs. Cairnes at Palacios. Another great feed and no King's Sons along. For the first three days of this week the local station sent out one hundred and ten pounds of butter fat, all first grade, drawing a premium of five cents per pound. Mrs. Louis Walter has a fine bunch of hens that are steady layers. Mrs. Walter has a permanent feeling of eggstasy, and no wonder. Oscar Chapin is this week painting the post office building. He is doing such a good job that he plans to do some portraits next time. By the Gods of the Passamaquoddys that raisen pie Mrs. Emmitt Chiles sent me was some good eats, especially after I smothered it in thick, heavy, whipped Holstein cream. Yesterday I saw the prettiest, sweetest pair of legs that I have seen in many a day. The young lady, in her innocence, and I may say pride showed them to me clear up to her hips. Say, but they were soft as an angel's breast, as sweet as the morning dew, fat, dimpled, rosy, smooth as satin, and shaped in delightful curves. No wonder she was proud of them. Her name? Bobby Mildred Chiles, aged 12 months. Writing about legs makes me think that our school pupils brought home three silver cups from the county interscholastic meet. The essay cup was won by Lera Hunt and now becomes the permanent property of Bay View school. It was first won by Mary Louise Clapp, then by Jessie Murry. Ruth Mowery won the junior girls' declamation cup, and William Goff won the _____________. The names of the winners are being engraved on the cups and they will soon be on display in our school. Almost had a walk-out among our teachers the past week. Those implicated evidently belong to the union and do not intend to work extra hours. Cecil McNeil, so rumor goes, will play ball for Austwell this season. If Cecil does not watch out some big league scout will grab him some day. A green worm with black markings, feeding on a dewberry. Along comes a big, black and gold furry monster who disputes the rights of Mr. Green and launches an attack. The battle is brief but sanguinary. One could almost hear the crunching of the jaws as the fight proceeded. At last Mr. Green weakened, gave up and finally dropped to the ground while Mr. Black as all victors do, proceeded to enjoy the spoils of battle. Now also comes Miss Mayfield, county nurse, all dolled up in her nurse bib and tucker. Doing a splendid work for the people of Matagorda county. She is always a welcome visitor at Homecroft. Emmitt Chiles thunders into our yard bearing C. E. Moser. This party has an ambition to become the sheriff of the county. Himself was out picking dewberries, so was unable to control the miserable wretch, and she fell good and hard for Mr. Moser. She said he was, by far, the handsomest candidate (no reflection on Oscar Barber or Charles Langham) who had called during this campaign and so she committed, pledged, implicated herself. If being handsome is a required qualification for the office of sheriff, I reckon from the description given me that Moser ought to receive our two votes. Miss Ethel Nelson Wright forbids me to use her name in my column. It is not my desire to annoy, pester, worry, disturb, provoke, irritate, but so long as my "Thoughts" are not libelous and pass the Censor, I will continue to write Ethel "a beneplacito." One of our girls wears her skits about as scant as she can and get by the law, so some joker sent her by mail a pound or two of skirts weights. Here is a true story and worthy to be placed in the joke column. One of the candidates for a county office approached a lady on the streets of Palacios and tendered her his card. She glanced at it and said: "No, thank you, I have a good deck at home, and besides, I never use the joker." Arthur Collins called on me the other day and we had a fine, long visit and I noticed that the back of his auto was filled with fence repairing tools, stretchers, staples, hammers, etc. Asking what he carried them for, he said: "I branded a number of Mavericks when I was down here the last time and some of them have broken the fence and escaped. I will rope 'em and run ''em in again and fix up the fences." It is the noon hour of our primary election, and looking at the polling place I seem to sense that for this box it is a quiet day, for not even a dog is visible. Ho, hum, why don't some one pull a gun and start a bit of excitement. Mrs. Pollard was a guest at the meeting of the League Thursday night. From what has been said to me since then, I guess she fixed her fences in good shape. The League held its 20th annual election. The report of the secretary showed a good financial condition with fifty-three members. Mr. E. L. Hall was re-elected president; S. W. Corse, vice-president; H. A. Clapp, secretary; Hugo Kundinger, treasurer; L. E. Liggett, director; Frank King, director; and Ben Mowery, elected to fill the place of S. B. Sims. Plans were made for the annual birthday celebration of the town which will be held Friday, May 25. A community dinner and auction with suitable sporting events will fill the day. Well, it seems that the voters of Precinct No. 3 used their good sense, intelligence, discernment, judgment, appreciation in voting another term for George Harrison, the man who has made good. Our people will not be obliged to play with the joker the next two years. The Woman's Union served lunch during the day of the election and held a bake sale. Rumor tells me that Carl Boeker is to succeed Adna E. Phelps as manager of the Fig Orchards Company. Sorry to lose Adna, for he was a good man for the community, but Carl Boeker will properly manage the company affairs. Our station agent, E. R. Brazil, has taken another similar position down the Valley way. In the local box George Harrison received about 72 per cent of the votes cast. Shows what our folks think of him and his work this side of the bay. Time now to place our personal animosity, enmity, ill will, hostility, malice, grudge in a bundle of moth balls and all turn in and back efforts to push our "nine-foot" sidewalk to completion. By combined effort, we may have it by Christmas, but without this aid, it may take another year. Which shall it be? The miserable wretch went to Bay City Saturday with the Merriman Smiths, where they met for the first time another member of the Royal family in the person of Carey. Doc Sholars plugged a tooth for her. Glad of this, for she can now speak better English. Listen to this: "I have found so many beautiful things in your 'Thoughts' that I find it difficult to express my appreciation for what I have received from reading the Matagorda County Tribune." Flowers while I live, Roses on my casket do me no good.
The Daily Tribune, May 5, 1928 |
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"Yes, social friend, I love thee well. In learned doctor's spite, Thy clouds all other clouds dispel. And lap me in delight." --C. Sprague. Not many days ago one of the local burghers watched as I loaded and fired my cob pipe and as I began to emit a smoke screen he remarked, "the use of tobacco is a filthy and disgusting habit." Hardly had the words dropped from his lips before he indulged in a personal habit that is not only disgusting, nauseous, loathsome, sickening, revolting, offensive, abhorrent, but nasty, filthy, gross, vile, repulsive. As to his opinion of smoking 'tis only relative and before I quit the habit, like Shakespeare, I say: "I'll have grounds more relative than this." You see it depends on the viewpoint, whether one stands in the valley or on the peak. This happened before I lost the cob pipe "MBF" sent me for an Easter gift. I hate to think of what will happen to me when she finds it out. Last night I received a picture postcard showing in colors the causeway at Corpus Christi. Pretty picture, but on the other side I found, "Always enjoy your column. Write about the different folks and the real people; their ways and every day life. All their little mannerisms are so interesting to me. After all, cities are only towns grown up. This is an answer to your request for applause. One of your readers." This listens good and to the unknown writer I will say that it is my intention to write of the very things named in the communication. Try it again some time, dear Corpus reader. Ora, by all means, should start a zoo. She has one already for that matter, for going into her back yard one sees caller ducks, chickens, turkeys, guineas, dogs, cats, and in a box are three little kittens. They rest in a hen's nest and Mrs. Hen when the time comes to produce another egg simply gets in with the kittens, lays her egg and looking about cackles loudly for in her innocence she no doubt thinks she not only laid an egg, but kittens as well. It is said that one of the teachers asked this question to the arithmetic class: "With steak at 45 cents a pound, what would four and a half pounds come to?" One of the pupils answered, "It wouldn't come to our house." Some bright kids in Bay View school. "A friend that you have to buy won't be worth what you pay for him, no matter what they may be." --George D. Prentice. Well, I lost my cob pipe the other day while riding with John B. Heisey and maybe I will find friend John has taken up the vile habit. Hated like sand to lose that pipe for it was sent to me by Mary Louise and I enjoyed smoking it, especially when loaded with RJR. I would light it up and "As the smoke whirls and spirals in the air, I see the red, gold glint of her hair, Come thoughts of her, dream impearled, To me the sweetest daughter in the world." --Fragments From Hack. That's what a pipe does and so I will wait until I can once more load up and light another cob. The fig orchards owned by the Orchard Company are rapidly becoming clean and will soon look like sweet dreams. Even now they promise an abundant crop. The fig appreciates loving care as few others do. I know no crop or fruit that responds so rapidly to individual attention as does the fig. A little inattention and it droops, a little care and it looks up and laughs. Rupert Hughes protests against a stamp picture showing George Washington praying in the snow at Valley Forge. Says George should have done his praying in his hut. What difference does it make where he prayed? His prayer was answered. Bob Henry states that he has engaged in more than 2,000 debates. I can name a dozen married men who excell that puny record. From an unknown source, but I suspect from the Lake Front, comes a clipping that gives me some valuable information. I have made a study of legs for sometime and have longed for a scale by which I could classify them. Now I have it and here it is for the benefit of my male rubber necks. The article states that "only one out of every ten pair of legs on public exhibition can escape classification under one of the five general heads:" Knock knees - 18% Sack legs - 20% Bow legs - 9 % Grand Piano legs - 14% Spike legs - 29% I am familiar with them all except "sack" legs and seek more information. If it is true that women's legs are ninety per cent ugly, whyinthehell do they insist in placing them where the public must gaze on them? The writer says, "If only some of the women who depend upon unsightly limbs to carry them through life could see themselves as others see them, there would be a general movement downward of the hem line." One of our local girls wears her skirts so short that they are simply a girdle and by doing so exhibits a pair of stakes that could by no language be called beautiful. My partner in the goose business, Mrs. John Ackerman, called Thursday a vision in pink and in her hand a beautiful bouquet. A bouquet of red, green and yellow. I wonder how she knew I liked those colors. Florists have a slogan "tell it with flowers," but boy, Mrs. Ackerman tells it with beets and snap dragons. During the month of April, Mrs. Crane, managing the local cream station, shipped 750 pounds of butter fat. As most of it was first grade it means about $300.00 was distributed among our cow milkers. Some extra quality Morning Glory is being made from this fat. Woman's Club meeting with Mrs. Holsworth and combining regular business with a shower for Miss Crystal? Thompson, who, rumor says, will be known as Mrs. Cecil McNeil after May 12th. Robert Murry rolling his own with bull and roping the bull. Frank King bringing in eggs. John Carrick with a batch of day-old chicks. Vernon [Verner] Bowers dickering for some calves. The usual bunch eating hamburgers at the Come-Inn. The school kids enjoying a picnic on the school grounds Friday morning. Mrs. Conover organizing a dance for Friday night. No more "Thoughts" for my Corona is on a strike and 'tis impossible to think "Thoughts" without it. You readers will enjoy a rest.
The Daily Tribune, May 15, 1928 |
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A large crowd attended the Commencement exercises held at the Community Church Friday evening, May 11th. The graduates were Ella Mae Chiles, Minnie Lee McNeil and Dorothy Crane, and those graduating from the seventh grade were, Ruth Mowery and William Goff. Mrs. Claire Pollard, County Superintendent, was present and gave the address to the class. Mrs. Pollard spoke quite favorably of the graduates in particular and the school in general. She also made the awards to those who won the cups in the County Contest. The building was beautifully decorated with flowers and moss, giving a very touching effect to the exercises of the evening. American Legion A Post of the American Legion has been organized at Collegeport, and meetings are held every two weeks. The Commander is Jack Holsworth, Post Adjutant, Oscar Chapin. The meeting last week was held at the home of the Post Commander, Mr. Holsworth. The Post invites all ex-service men to come and join with them to make a strong Post in this community. Remember the National Convention at San Antonio in October, Yea Boy. Church Services Last Sunday, Mother’s Day was observed at both churches, with special music and sermon at Collegeport, and a full program at Citrus Grove in the afternoon. Though the rain came in the afternoon quite a number were present to observe the day honoring mothers. The pastor is preaching a series of sermons at Collegeport in the mornings on the theme, “Personal Faith in a Modern World.” Next Sunday evening the theme is “Modern Homes.” Young Peoples meeting every Sunday evening at 7:30. Church School with classes for all ages every Sunday morning at 11:30. Increased interest is being shown in all lines of Church activity. McNeil-Thompson Mr. James Cecil McNeil and Miss Chrystal Lee Thompson, both of Collegeport, were united in marriage Saturday night, by Rev. M. L. Smith, the ceremony taking place at the parsonage. Mr. McNeil is the son of Mr. and Mrs. Thos. McNeil and has lived at Collegeport for a number of years. Miss Thompson taught in the Collegeport school. Last Thursday at the home of Mrs. Holsworth a shower was held in honor of the bride to be. The number of presents received indicates the popular esteem in which these young people are held by the people of this community. The best wishes of the many friends of Mr. and Mrs. McNeil go with them as they begin their home making. Mr. H. L. Braly, a former resident here, and Miss Minnie Lee McNeil, sister of the groom, accompanied the bride and groom. Road Work Progressing Mr. Emmett Chiles and his corps of master plowmen are working daily to give this community a hard road, and if the good work continues as favorably as it being done at present, we may use the expression, “It Won’t Be Long Now!” This week the men are grading near the stores and post office. Please Mr. Chiles, see to it that the weather man doesn’t turn loose for a month, while you are “cultivating” our roads. Health Clinic at Citrus Grove Community Tuesday, May 15. Miss Mayfield, County Health Nurse is directing the work. Kings Daughters meet this Thursday at the home of Mrs. Fuson at Wadsworth. Boy Scouts meet on Monday nights at the Church. Scout Leaders Fuson and Smith in charge. The Woman’s Club met with Mrs. Holsworth last Thursday. A number came to the meeting of the Club, also to honor Miss Thompson with a shower. Mrs. Holsworth served delicious refreshments. Newly elected officers at the Citrus Grove Church are, Mr. Douglas and Ira Corporon, elders; Earl Hill, deacon; and Mr. Corporon, Sr., trustee. Mr. Clyde Ware and Mr. Leon Bullington were elected ushers. These are in addition to present officers.
Palacios Beacon, May 17, 1928 |
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Collegeport, Texas, Dear Sir: I read in the paper you are going to discontinue the Children's Column. I for one, enjoyed reading the fairy tales of Tommy and his Godmother's adventures she prepares for him. I hope you will continue to print them.
Your friend,
Palacios Beacon, May 17, 1928 |
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Following is the
program rendered at the commencement exercises of the Prelude--Mrs. Harry Austin Clapp. Invocation--Rev. Merriman L. Smith. Salutatory--Minnie Lee McNeil (28). Class History--Ella
Mae Declamation--Ruth _____ Piano Duet--Mrs. Clapp, Dorothy Crane. Class Prophecy--Minnie Lee McNeil. Class Will--Ella Mae Declamation--William Goff (31). Valedictory--Dorothy Crane (28). Piano Duet--Mrs. Clapp, Dorothy Crane. Address--Mrs. Claire F. Pollard Presentation of Cups--Mrs. Pollard. Presentation of Awards--Miss Wesley Baird Presentation of Prize Money--E. L. Hall Presentation of Diplomas--Ben R. Mowery Some months ago the
Industrial League offered $10.00 as a prize for high school grades to
the pupils of the Bay View school. This is a list of the winners: First prize, $3.00, Arthur Liggett, highest average, including deportment. Second prize, $2.00, Ray Hunt, next highest average. First prize, $3.00, Lera Hunt, highest average, including deportment. Second prize, $2.00, Dorothy Crane, next highest average. These prizes were presented by E. L. Hall, president of the Collegeport Industrial League.
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The King's Daughters voyage to Wadsworth for the May meeting, guests of Mrs. Fanson. Mrs. Crane in charge of the Bachman store. We now have two clean stores besides the Come-Inn. Emmitt Chiles with his grading crew at work to the end of the "nine-foot sidewalk." Looks like an eighty-foot boulevard. It is Mrs. Cecil McNeil now. Grabbing off our young people seems to be the favorite pastime for some of our teachers. Rev. M. A. Travis here for a week, building a bungalow for personal use when he visits the community. Not needed, for every home welcomes him. C. A. Duffy shipped three cars of fat short calves to Fort Worth. Friday, May 25, is Collegeport's 20th birthday. The usual community dinner, an auction, games and sports, is the program. Under the management of Dean Moore, the fig orchards, owned by non-residents, are rapidly improving. The school trustees organized by electing Ben R. Mowery president and E. L. Hall, secretary. The cream station is now located in the Bachman store. No advance in price.
The Daily Tribune, Tuesday, May 22, 1928 |
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By Harry Austin Clapp
A headline in the Minnesota News has this: "Four Girls Chosen to Display Calves During State Fair."
Stinking lizards! 'Tis not necessary to advertise. All that is required is to come to Collegeport. Here we have daily displays of calves and some of them are peachy. High heels are rapidly destroying the beautiful curve that makes calves easy on the eye, but the gals insist in teetering about on spikes and continue to look like the Chinese women who hobble about on bound feet.
Writing about these animals makes me think of shirts, and I read that Lindbergh has lost more than fifty shirts, taken by those who wish souvenirs of the Eagle. Maybe Bill Leslie got his extra shirt that way. Any way I hope he will now provide himself with at least one of those garments.
They say that bathing suits will be full color this year. I'll bet they will be full of girls as well.
Once upon a time I took a girl to a bathing beach and when she appeared she was wearing a creamy white, skin-fitting suit. Gosh, even I, a hardened sinner, was shocked. And so was a policeman, for he took her by the arm and told her to skidoo to the bath house and appear in more decent garb. Tough on the girl, but a delight to the eyes so long as she was visible. She had Venus faded.
My income from "Thoughts" enjoyed a fine increase this week, for I received from one successful candidate a box of fine cigars. The latter not from "Smiling Oscar" for he gave me two only.
"And when the smoke ascends on high, Then thou behold'st the vanity Of wordly stuff, Gone with a puff; Thus think and smoke tobacco." Written before 1689--Anon
It is perfectly proper to express appreciation by a notice in the Trib but them there chimneys and seegars sure tell the tale. Flowers while I live. Hope Bill Smith sends me a shirt.
Woman's Union held their monthly gab fest and feed with Mrs. Franzen. The hostess is well known for her ability as a provider of good things to eat and her Angel Food was delicious, while her daughter, Mamie, carried off the honors with the Devil's cake.
A storm from the northwest comes suddenly but it brings a needed rain and all nature looks up and smiles. More berries tomorrow.
"Now the dreadful thunder's roaring, Peal on peal contending clash, On our hearts fierce rain falls pouring, In our eyes blue lightenings flash.: --Geo. Alexander Stevens.
As I listen to the crash of thunder, to the fierce rumble of the falling rain, to the brilliant lightning flash. I feel the presence of my Creator, the God who rules the universe, a great powerful force that is not content with ruling the forces of nature, comes down on earth and looks after us poor specimens of humanity and cares for us, loves us and at last takes us into His arms.
Mrs. Oscar Vernon Chapin was hostess to a dinner party in honor of the Bay View teachers, Misses Baird, Thompson and Walter. Not being a teacher, and only a scribbler, I was not present, but having been at Ora's table so many times, I can vision the dainty table arrangement and delicious food served.
Old residents will remember Mrs. Daniel Jackson who used to live on the Slough Ranch. Mrs. Jackson died at Gulf and was buried in the Collegeport cemetery Thursday. She leaves four sons, three of them married, and two daughters, both married.
With receipt of the Tribune my primary election worries are past, for it informs me that Judge Seth W. Corse has been re-elected to the bench of the seventh judicial district. The office pays little in fees but is rich in honors and who cares for filthy lucre, gain, profit, emolument, pelf when honors are abroad.
I read with interest an article in the Tribune "Eccentricies of the Great" by J. Marvin Nichols. Dandy stuff, but he evidently never heard of me.
I am, during this berry picking time, very eccentric. I write "Thoughts" with one hand and use the other for scratching. If J. Marvin reads this, no doubt, he will enroll me among the great.
A reader in Jamestown, Kansas, writes: "I have been reading in the Tribune your "Thoughts," concerning legology and numerous things, and so will send this definition." The article is entitled "Thought: What is It?" Space forbids running the article but this is the meat: "Thoughts are wave lengths and human bodies are broadcasting and receiving stations. Soul waves--waves of hate and love. A wave of energy--that is thought. We generate, we transmit, we receive." Interesting reading and I thank Mr. Fulmer for sending it to me.
If the non-resident owners of Fig Orchards will employ a chemist to devise some plan by which the silk of the thistle may be spun into cloth and the stalks made into paper they stand a first class chance to take off a fortune. The stand is luxuriant, exuberant, redundant, profuse, super-abundant.
Mrs. Ackerman, my partner in the goose
business, reports the youngsters are coming along in fine style. Quite a
snap for me. She raises them, feeds them, stands all expense and gives
me half the profits. Of course, I advertise her in "Thoughts."
Heard at the post office: "I just ain't got no use for nothin' she does." "I just can't hit nothin'." "If Al Smith is elected this here country goes plum to the devil." "At first I didn't mind to vote for Geo. Harrison, but I am sure glad I did for I like to be in the major--ity." "The engine has done gone to Kingsville."
The oil men who are blasting in these parts, boost business for the Come-Inn.
Dance at Tom Fulcher's Saturday night. Wonder if Tom did not shake a foot or two?
If anyone knows of a warmer climate, on earth, write Seth Corse. He wants to move. These northers are too frequent, common, usual, general, repeated, continual to suit our Judge and P. M.
Other day found a quail nest and in it four eggs. Two days after saw the nest again but all eggs broken.
A scizzor tail carrying material for a nest.
A mamma oriole assisted by her beautiful husband weaving a nest. Mamma seems to be the weaver, for papa is busy bringing strings, bits of fibre and sometimes the little wife rejects what he brings and scolds him. He drops the burden and flys away and soon is back with material more suitable. She takes it without thanks and soon it is part of the future home. Queer thing, but so far as I have observed, the always begins weaving at the same end of the string or fibre. Guess she knows her business.
Saw this week the first toad of the season. It was the common toad (bufo lentiginusus) with a rough, warty, dirty skin. Caught him in the act of catching a fly by simply shooting his tongue out. Good-bye, Mr. Fly.
A field mouse nest, made from bits of grass and in it four little mice, blind and about as large as a blackberry.
Buckshot caught another rabbit this day and he must have felt the pangs of hunger for he devoured it in short order.
A small, slim, thin snake about 12 inches long, dark brown with brilliant red markings. Made me think of the coral snake of Mexico, and presume it was close kin and perhaps venomous.
Well, anyway, if Adam did eat some of that apple it could not have cost much for he only paid one bone for Eve.
Matagorda County Tribune, May 25, 1928
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Ora shipped a car load of pigs to Kansas City the other day. Did I say a car load? Pardon me, it must have been a crate. Thus does the guinea pig business grow. V. J. Swansey borrowed the Tribune many times so he could read "Thoughts," but that dope about animals got him so good that he hurried up to Bay City and entered his subscription so he will not miss a number. Any man who sells 150 pounds of butter fat is able to read the Trib. Rev. Travis tells me that he wishes publicity for the name Hollywood for his new addition. Why call it Hollywood? Too many Hollywoods all over the nation. Better name it "Green Gables By-the-Slough." If any of you folks have a desire to be real hellish, drop into the Come-Inn and absorb a bottle of that red pop. In five minutes you will be seeing pictures. One hundred years ago Samuel Coleridge wrote "A Day Dream" and penned the line, "My eyes make pictures when they are shut." I doubt if he ever saw a bottle of red pop." Farm and Ranch, commenting on careless drivers of automobiles says: "There were just as many careless drivers in the old days, but the horse had good sense." Some burgher was examining the wonderful strawberries produced by Seth Corse and asked, Do you use fertilizer on them?" and Seth replied, "No, just Holstein cream and sugar." For many years Mrs. Frank King has been annoyed by cackling hens and has made attempts to do away with the annoyance. She at last solved the problem by crossing hens with parrots. She calls the new breed parrochicks. This is the advantage--when one of them lays, instead of cackling, it comes to the house and says, "Mrs. King, I have laid another egg; come and get it." She hopes to breed them up to the point where they will lay in dozen lots, all in cartons, and make delivery at the house. Once upon a time there lived in Simpsonville a woman named Mrs. Ray King. She moved to Liberty county, but the Tribune, being a necessity, followed her. She writes me a most interesting letter, one that reads easy, in which she says: "I am one of those readers of 'Thoughts' who is going to tell you that I really enjoy 'Thoughts.' In fact, it is about the most interesting part of the paper, but don't tell the editor. We're a long ways off now--in Liberty county--and can't see any of my old friends, so look forward with interest to the coming of the Tribune and 'Thoughts.'" Now, I ask all you readers of this column if that was not mighty nice of Mrs. King? A postal from Zack Zackers with this message: "It won't be long, now." As I read it, I wonder when. It may be news to Zack, but I won out in the dog catcher contest for county dog catcher, receiving 97.5678 percent of all the votes cast, and the remarkable thing about the vote is that while only 2856 votes were cast for the highest candidate on the regular ticket, more than 3900 were cast for me as dog catcher. It shows that about one thousand people indifferent as to who filled the other county offices, realized how important the office of dog catcher was and came out and voted for me. I bet Zack is sorry he started the contest. Mrs. Braden is the person I owe an unpayable debt to, for she handled her precinct in such a manner that I received 150 votes more than there were voters in the precinct. Simply shows that an honest vote can be honestly counted. One hundred seventy-five people assembled Friday to observe the birthday of Collegeport. One hundred seventy-four had a delightful time--a happy, joyous day meeting old friends. The other one was wet all day, full of grumps, and enjoyed not one hour of joy. Too bad when there is so much of joy, gladness, charm, rapture, ecstacy in life. Just to illustrate the population change will say that probably one hundred fifty of those present never heard or saw Burton and Dena H[Hurd]. The other twenty-five, thought of them, talked about them, wished they were present to share the pleasures of the day. A table at least forty feet long was loaded with food of all kinds and description from meats to salads, pies and cakes and the important thing was that 99 per cent was home grown. Doctor and Mrs. Harkey with Eugene came over from the City by the Bay and joined in the festiverous time. Doc said he could not eat much as he was having trouble with his stomach, or maybe it was his pantage, but anyway, he could not eat. From the looks of his plate and the frequency of its refilling. I say, God help us if he ever comes down here when his internal organs are working normal. Mrs. Ash was elected Grand Coffee Maker for His Majesty the Collegeport at all future affairs. Mrs. King acting for the Woman's Club, handed out ice cream cones all day and half the night. At the Boeker home, fifty or more couples danced until the next day began. So ended the twentieth anniversary of the founding of the village opposite the "City-by-the-Sea." Nearly forgot the baseball game, when the local team flogged Citrus Grove by about 20 to 9, or somewhere near that. Must have been terribly exciting. Rev. M. A. Travis was present and it seemed good to have him take his part in the program. Merriman Smith, the local pastor, is some fellow putting up tables with the aid of three women. Fleming Chiles arrived Thursday night and gave his mother such a delightful, joyous surprise that she cried just from gladness. Charles Heck, Jr., has overcome his former bashfulness and chases skirts like an oldtimer. My son, Harry B., must be some traveler. Other day I received a package of magazines from Montreal; in a few days one from Cleveland; and last night another from Kansas City. John B. Heisy has the auto bug and rumor states that soon he will be driving about in his own. Time then to put out warning and detour signs. The Congress having passed the bill for relief of postmasters of the fourth class over the president's veto. Seth Corse has sprouted a new smile which is broad, wide, extensive, spacious, open. I remember hearing a lecture by John Billings in which he made the statement, "wimmen is queer critters." 'Tis true today as evidenced by one young lady of this burg who resents the use of her name in this column and has agreed to give me a chocolate bar each week if I do not use her name. Well, I will keep the bargain so long as the chocolate bar arrives. Fable: Once upon a time there was a man who didn’t like to see his name in print. But that was a man and still "wimmen is queer critters."
The Daily Tribune, May 31, 1928 |
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By R. M. HARKEY Twenty years ago on the 25th day of May, Collegeport Day was established, and each year since that time the citizens in that territory have met together in their annual meeting to celebrate the beginning of Collegeport, Texas. History repeats itself. We understand from citizens who are now living in Collegeport that at one time at their celebration there were more than 2, 000 present at the annual dinner given by the people of that neighborhood. Many things have happened in the past twenty years and Collegeport has not derived a very great benefit out of a good many of these different matters. Many people used to live in and around this little town, but owing to circumstances and different calamities, many of these people have gone. But it is now a fact that Collegeport is coming back like many other towns in the Gulf Coast of Texas. The writer has spent
a great deal of time and has investigated the farm lands in the It has been just a little over a year ago since we first visited there, having been away for more than twelve years. We found the citizenship in a strained condition. No one seemed to know or care just how things were going, but during this wonderful dinner last Friday, May 25, we could not help but notice the different expressions on the faces of the ones attending Collegeport Day. The one great thought that was bringing about this pleasant feeling was the fact that a good road that will be of concrete and shell, is now an assured fact, and is being built at this time, so that the citizenship of Collegeport and this part of Matagorda county will have direct connection with the outside world. Many of the people who purchased land years ago and have gone away, are contemplating moving back and putting the farms into cultivation, that have been lying idle all these years. In talking to one gentleman and land owner during the day, he said: "My farm has never brought me any revenue. I did not have any hopes of ever seeing a road built in Collegeport, therefore, I returned to the northern states where I could have some conveniences in life." This man is now back in Collegeport and arranging his affairs so he can return to the north and begin life over again. It is a great pleasure for any one to associate themselves with a group of people who have the "do or die" spirit in them, and many of these people who are now living in Collegeport have gone through their darkest days and the time is not far distant when the population will increase; when farm lands will be cultivated and all properties will enhance in value. Transportation facilities are being placed in the reach of all. We found one of the most wonderful spreads a man or woman could think of, partaking of and practically all of the dinner was served was raised on the soil in and around Collegeport. There is a great future to this little town, as it has diversified soil and crops of any nature can be grown in this territory. Collegeport, like many other little towns, will come back and the people who have worked so faithfully and stood by the interests, will receive their reward by watching the good citizenship increase and prosperity reach those who live there. The Collegeport Industrial League, for twenty years, has been doing a great deal for the betterment of this little town. We learned that more than $300 a month is being placed in the hands of the people from the shipment of cream alone. This will increase as conveniences for market will be established before many months. It is to be hoped that we may live to see Collegeport come back and be one of the best neighborhoods in all the Gulf Coast country. Matagorda County
Tribune, June 1, 1928 |
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Collegeport, June 6.—At last Sunday’s service at Collegeport, Mr. and Mrs. Harry Eisel brought their young son, Harry Lewis Jr., for baptism. Little Harry is their youngest child and a dandy little fellow, too. Miss Frances, eldest daughter of the Eisels, is home from Marshall, Tex., where she has been a freshman in high school during the past school year. Mr. Homer Goff recently made a visit to Houston on business. Crops are looking fine in this community. The rain was indeed a “million dollar rain.” Mr. Jenkins is improving his home with a new coat of paint, which adds greatly to the appearance of this fine property located on the new highway. James Hale, M S. Holsworth, and Mr. Hall are new members of the committee for the Boy Scout Troop No. 1 at Collegeport. There are now eleven boys in the Troop. Rain and threatening weather made it necessary to postpone the Boy Scout meeting on last Monday evening. The boys meet every Monday night at the Community House. Mr. Thomas McNeil and family, who resided here several years have moved to Houston, where Mr. McNeil will be near his work. The best wishes of all go with this family to their new home. Rev. M. A. Travis, of Alamo, Tex., back renewing old friendships and erecting a building on his property near the shop. While here he preached for us, and we are always pleased to have Mr. Travis visit Collegeport. Mr. Boyd, the new express messenger is moving his family and household goods to Collegeport this week and is occupying the house vacated by the McNeil family. Collegeport welcomes Mr. Boyd and family, who come here from Corpus Christi. Work on the new road is progressing rapidly. Grading is completed on the lower division from Collegeport to a point north of Mr. Hailey’s residence. Concrete is being poured at El Maton. It is thought with favorable weather the grading will be completed all the way through at an early date. The new “Kumjoinus” Class at Citrus Grove met with the Hill family Wednesday night. Through recently organized, this promises to be a real working group of the younger people at Citrus Grove. Many others have expressed their desire to work with them for social and community development. Mrs. Homer Goff recently entertained her Sunday School class of young people, the “Be Square Class” at her home. These occasions are always enjoyed with games and fine eats, and a good social hour. The Goffs are royal entertainers and an invitation to their home always means a grand time and we wish for them often. Little Ethel Nelson entertained her friends at her home Monday afternoon the occasion being in observance of her fifth birthday. The Nelson home was beautifully decorated for the affair and Mrs. Nelson served delicious refreshments. Ethel received many gifts of remembrance from the guests who congratulated her and wished her many more happy birthdays. The Payne-Wickham Post of the American Legion held its regular meeting Tuesday night with a goodly number present, several coming over from Palacios. The Post is putting on a membership campaign. All who join now will have the privilege of being charter members. The next meeting will be at the barber shop on Tuesday, June 19th. Each ex-service man is asked to bring another. Monday morning’s showers did not dampen the enthusiasm of many who gathered to clean the church and grounds at Citrus Grove. With the prospects of a re-modeled building in the near future, everyone is anxious that the grounds be in keeping with the other improvements. Some of those men can surely wield a shovel and hoe and my! how the women can give directions. They surely knew know how to keep the men on the job. The Woman’s Union meets this week with Mrs. M. L. Smith on Thursday afternoon. It is thought that the Union will plan to serve the banquet for the Fathers and Sons, which is being fostered by the League and is open to all men and boys. Each father is expected to bring his son or sons. In the event of his not having one, he is to borrow one from his neighbor for the occasion. Watch for announcement in next week’s Beacon. League meeting was held at the home of Ben Mowery last Thursday night. During the business session the matter of a gin for Collegeport was discussed. The sentiment of the group was that a gin is needed for the benefit of cotton growers here. Considerable acreage is under cultivation this season with prospects for more next year. The secretary is willing to correspond with anyone interested in bringing a gin to the Collegeport community. At the close of the meeting Mrs. Mowery served refreshments which were greatly enjoyed by the large number present.
Palacios Beacon, June 7, 1928 |
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[Collegeport information was abstracted from the longer article.] Reports state that the Republicans will stage an old time torch light parade at Kansas City. Torches burn oil and for that reason I doubt they will pull off any such stunt. Why, the only Republican in Bay City was in Barnett's barber shop the other day, and when Ack was through operating on him he asked, "will you have oil on your hair?" and the kuss fainted away. Ora shipped twelve guinea pigs to Kansas City this week and now has two real peaches from Markham visiting her. Both girls are easy on the eye, and when they go in bathing, O, boy, talk about bathing review. V. J. Swansey has given me a few tips, among them the fact that they feel the need of a Sunday school in his neighborhood. If Mr. Swansey will come to Collegeport Sunday he will find a first class Sunday school in operation with an average attendance of about sixty. He needs rain, and whointhehell don't? He wants screens for his windows and any hardware store will furnish them. His cows are doing well, but could do better. Same thing can be said about mine. Swansey will take his cotton to Wadsworth unless a gin is built here. He has 125 acres in cotton doing well, considering the backward season. The McNeil family moving to Houston. But thank God, another family is moving in to take their place. Minnie Lee bucks on leaving this burg, and don't blame her. Mrs. Crane taking in cream with one hand and dispensing groceries with the other. Rev. Merriman Smith making me a pastorial visit and telling me about his great fishing expedition, but I do not believe a word of his talk, for he brings no fish as proof. Bet his wife scolded him for staying out late. Tom Fulcher filling an auto tank. Road grades fixing up our local streets in splendid shape. Had Geo. Harrison ordered this work before the primary he might have made a few Christians out of the immortal twenty-two. Hate to have that bunch number more than fifteen. Sunday school party at the Goff home. As I do not go to the Sunday school, was not invited. John B. Heisey hauling feed. Francis Eisel home for vacation. Looks like her daddy. Interested in Zack Zackers' travel suggestions. He fails to mention Klinger Lake in Southern Michigan. A pool of blue surrounded by hills of green. Great place for a small mouth bass. Big hotel, dancing pavilion, many real cottages, heaps of folks. E. H. Hall going to Galveston for a peep at the bathing beauties. Not necessary, for he has only to go down to our "swimmin' hole" to see the female form divine, with hardly a damn rag on. He is a fascinating, enchanted, captivating, bewitching, entrancing old boy and I bet he will capture some foreign beauty. O, joy! The new station agent spent two bills for a ninety-day box rent at the P. O., so guess he will stay until October at least. The miserable wretch not content, satisfied, pleased with her home, has taken to riding the "caterpillar" tractor which is doing the grading. Next thing I know she will be going up in the air. When she does I will accept offers from other wenches. Can offer a warm heart. Send foto and full physical description and sufficient cash to pay my railroad fare to place of inspection. Eugene Harkey favored those present at the Collegeport Day celebration with a reading. Some speaker is Eugene. Some day he will be almost as good as Doc. The new tax bill knocks off the 3 per cent tax on autos. I have on hand $7.70, so if they will knock off ninety-five percent more, I will buy a Ford roadster. The Bay City Ford agency ought to pay some attention to this proposition for it might make a sale. Looks to me as a dandy good prospect. You Springfield folks should come down here and take a "looksee" at your orchards. Carl Boeker is making them clean for the first time and the trees, as they emerge from the tangle of grass and weeds, stretch, lengthen, expand, spread out and looking up into the turquoise sky smile with the promise of a bountiful crop. The Youngblood orchard opposite Homecroft, is putting on fruit. Why do some folks call a store where they offer goods for sale a "Shoppy?" Wish we could have a "Shoppy" in this burg. The Come-Inn is pretty close but don't quite make the grade, for it is more like a "Salon." Saw the first red-headed woodpecker this week. He flew onto an old limb, braced himself with his spiked tail and began to sound for a grub. The noise disturbed Mamma Scizzortail nesting near by and she made an attack. Who can withstand the enraged female? Red head, like the rest of us "hemales," flew the coop. Eighty-four in the shade this day and 'tis some hot. A vicious dog attached Ruth Mowery Thursday, inflicting several bites and tearing her clothes. It did not interfere with her being a sweet and charming hostess when the League met in her home. A certain young lady pays me a kiss each week to keep her name out of this column. She left for a trip to Kansas the other day with Mr. and Mrs. Roy Nelson and Rosalie Nelson. Rev. Merriman Smith is chairman of the committee on arrangements and Ben R. Mowery of the program committee for a Father and Son Banquet which will be held in the near future. This is strictly a "he" affair. Tickets which will admit to the entire show will cost fifty cents each and no man will be sold a single ticket, for he must buy one extra for his son. Those who are so unfortunate as to have no son will bring some other fellow's son, for each man attending the banquet must have two tickets and a son. More later. It is my guess the Woman's Union will furnish the eats, so use of more space is not required. If Markham has any more sweet girls like the Misses Sherman and Dickson, who have been visiting Mrs. Oscar Vernon Chapin, wish they would send 'em down here. These girls are not only sweet but also soothing to the eye. Well behaved, lady-like, intelligent and altogether adorable. Bacon says, "A beautiful face is a silent commendation." Here is a sample of some advertisements: "Wanted--Apartment for a single man looking both ways and well ventilated." Gus Franzen, chairman of the League Committee to make a survey of the cotton acreage, reported Thursday night that 2,000 acres of cotton was up to a stand and he estimates a crop of 1,000 bales. Collegeport needs a gin to handle this crop and the Industrial League will be glad to hear from men who are seeking a gin location. The gin we need is no kin to "Old Tom Gin." "Old Tom" is a genial old soul and I would not mind renewing his acquaintances. In the June Ladies' Home Journal appears an article by Olga Clark which begins thus: "There is a tantalizing fragrance from the fields, enticing us to go berry picking." Fragrance is apple sauce, Olga, but there is something else waiting for you in the fields and that is Mr. Polex "epnetrans," for he sure penetrates. Can get along with him during the day but when I go to bed and have to use one hand to scratch myself and the other to scratch the miserable wretch, I say, is not enough, sufficient, plenty. May Olga has to do her own scratching.
The Daily Tribune,
June 11, 1928 |
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Recent rain great for crops and makes the figs glisten and show green. Oscar Chapin growing a ninety-pound watermelon. Train crew go to Kingsville with the engine. Jim Hale better train his dog. Found a dirty face powder puff in my mailbox. Seth Corse suffering from "tizit" in the back. The Come-Inn afloat with water Saturday. Four kittens playing in the mail sacks. Mrs. Ash gets the mail in on time rain or not rain. Freshly graded roads impassable. John B. Heisey buying groceries with eggs. School board holding a meeting and electing teachers for the next year. Emmitt Chiles is now a member of the ancient order of grandfathers. Came Saturday, and a nine pound boy. Worms feedin on the cotton crop. Time to use a wormacide. By parcel post--twenty-five Jersey Black Giant chicks from Ohio. Arrived one hundred per cent. The sun is trying in vain to peep between the heavy clouds. Frogs croaking. A goose on the slough ranch sounds its rasping call. The something that makes an onion grow; an auto run; a man move and act; a bird sing--where is it generated? Anyone answer? The mourning dove made her nest in the low tide ground. Foolish bird. your eggs are now covered with water. The oriole's nest swinging high in a tree is safe and dry. The latest fad from Paree is to tie a black silk ribbon around your ankle. For girls only, of course. Two and half miles of cement laid on the Collegeport road in less than three weeks is some progress. Thus does our "nine-foot sidewalk" grows. Mrs. Roy Nelson buying groceries. Rosalie and her sister buying candy. The extra engine crew eating breakfast at the Come-Inn. Old Sport coming home for an extra meal. Buckshot catching a rabbit. The recent heavy rain insures a good crop so says Gus Franzen. A mocking bird bringing material for a nest. A little late, but it will soon house four eggs. A big crane walking in the slough. A road runner hastening across the new road grade. A horned toad crushed under the wheels of an auto. Wonder when they will have some road sense. Mrs. Mowery sending a bouquet of sweet peas to Ora. A mourning dove calls its mate. Way off yonder a dog howls. Reading the life of Catherine II of Russia--a fiend incarnate. Buckshot standing on a big water turtle. About ten inches by eight in dimensions. Smart dog. Amarillo feels insulted because Lindbergh did not stop there, and now they claim he has a case of swell head. Collegeport feels the same way so we can sympathize with Ama. He should stop at all important towns. Nothing else to do. It takes a strong man to knock down an elephant. An auctioneer did the trick the other day. Governor McMullen of Nebraska is a great joker when he proposes that 100,000 farmers march to the Republican convention at Kansas City. They will ride in Pullmans or autos and not one son-of-a-gun will march. Congress, not Coolidge, is to blame for the failure of the "Mary Haugen" bill. Mr. V. J. Swansey milking twenty cows, with three fresh ones this week. The American Congress has developed into a body of snoopers, pryers. I read in Tuesday's Tribune this statement. "A milk cow is worth to the owner what she will produce over and above the cost of production in butter fat." I beg to differ with the author and to state that a milk cow is worth over and above the cost of maintenance what she produces in fat, skim milk for feed, her annual calf and her manure. I will also state that a cream test is of no value in determining the productive value of a cow. Such a test is only the test of that particular sample of cream. To arrive at the value of a cow one should weigh the milk morning and night, test the milk for its fat content and thus arrive at her monthly productive value. Many milkers think that if their cream test is high that it is something to be elated over. High testing cream is simply a matter of regulation of the cream screw on the separator and it can be made as high or as low as the operator desires. Weigh milk, test milk, keep records of feed and care. This gives tangible results. Cream testing means nothing in the valuation of a cow's ability to yield a profit. Here is an example. Two cows, one producing fifty pounds of milk testing 4 per cent and the other forty pounds of milk testing 4 per cent. The cream from these two cows is delivered to the cream station and the cream separated from the milk of the forty pound cow tests forty per cent while the cream from the fifty pound cow test thirty-five per cent. Which is the better animal? The Houston Knife and Fork Club of Houston will give a dinner to "Who's Who" among writers. The dinner will be given June 23rd, and reading an advance list of the guests, I fail to see the names of Zack Zackers, Lurline Mallard or Harry Austin Clapp. Ah, well, perhaps these names will be printed later. The dinner will not be a complete success without the presence of the Tribune's 3 writers. I suspect Zack's name was left off the list because he only writes for amusement and makes crackers for a living. The other day I received a communication without date, salutation, superscription or signature, but it is from a Tribune reader and here it is: "Herd at our post office. Deer Ankle Gazer: I ain't had no letter offa you. Your thots are fine all about legs. Thank God, my deer husband is out of town most of the time. I burn the thing right up so he won't get no funny idees. He's got funny idees enuf. Your poor wife--she ain't got so much fun. Her innermost thots held up to public ridicule--her hopes, her fears, her aspirations all brought mercilessly out in your column. Ah, woe, woman's life is never held deer. Let my few words of advice fall not upon deef ears. I pray you, heed my humble words. Lift up your eyes, your thots and your ideers. Legs is to walk on, to ware shoes on, rubbers on (not the rubbers you've turned out). Think of stars, other worlds, clouds, cornets, mountains. How glad I am that my man has not your vice. I doubt if he ever considered legs except as necessary pedal extremities, to guide us hither and yon (principally yon). His thots are higher, on a flashing smile, a naughty eye, a come hither look. Would he have your simple-bland, child-like admiration for a pretty curved leg, a delicate ankle. His vice is much worse, I tremble. Please, oh, please teache him your system. He's a devil, a demon, a man about town and not his own town. I weep, desolate, alone the forsaken wife of a traveling salesman." I advise that the husband keep his eyes on the ground instead of the flashing smile and naughty eye. He will see things as beautiful and will evade the come hither look. If this does not prove efficacious, writ to Dorothy Dix or read Venus and Adonis. "Without the smile from partial beauty won, O, what were man? a world without a sun." Pleasures of Hope, Part II--T. Campbell A birthday party in the home of Mr. and Mrs. Roy Nelson last Wednesday in honor of Miss (full name verboten). Miss Rosalie Nelson was present and many other girls and boys and the usual enjoyable time was had. The young lady in whose honor the party was given is about six years of age and bribed me to keep her name out of the paper with a kiss. (Nothing but a Hershey kiss, but I accepted it.) The Father and Son Banquet is a community affair to which all men are invited provided each brings a boy. This requires two tickets at fifty cents each, and no man will be sold a single ticket for they are numbered and delivered in pairs "Sequiturque patrem, baud possibus adquls," or in plain United States, he walks in his father's footsteps, but not with equal steps. The citizens of this burg are indebted to Doctor Harkey for the splendid report of his recent visit to Collegeport at time of the birthday party. It was almost as good as if it had appeared in "Thoughts." The school trustees have engaged the teachers for next year and I am wondering who will be the next groom. Friday I accompanied the miserable wretch to the cleanest, sweetest drug store and cold drink place in Texas and presided over by a genial, goodhearted fellow in the person of Hugo [Kundinger]. The miserable wretch developed a corn on the way over the rough newly graded road and was obliged to buy some corn cure. At noon sharp the Bay City program started over KPRC. I make no pretensions of being a musical critic but will say that the program was a credit to Bay City or any other burg. I am not a lover of jazz. To me it is a mess of discordant, blaring, squeeling, inharmony. Occasionally it drops into a strain that soothes my soul, and just as I become restful--biff! bang! blare! screech and torment racks my musical soul. Some folks go crazy over it, but I being totally uneducated musically, cannot appreciate it. It whispers not of passion or romance, or the voice of an angel. The sextet was appealingly musical to me. Roland Harkey's voice came pure and sweet as did Jap Magee's, but the latter lacked enunciation. The piano number by Miss Huebner was well rendered, but the softest notes came clearest. Lurline Mallard must be a very accomplish young lady for her violin solo was well rendered and no lover of music could fail to enjoy it to the last note. The uke novelty came strong and to me was a revelation of the musical powers of that instrument. The song sung by Mrs. Vogelsang was a feature of the program, the voice was sweet and well modulated. Doc Harkey's talk on Matagorda county was a comprehensive statement and the only fault I find is that he forgot to mention Collegeport and therefore will ask him to return the fifty bones I sent him. Doc's voice was as strong and as clear as that of the official announcer. I closed my eyes and thought my old friend stood at my shoulder and I almost stretched out my hand in congratulation. Great publicity for Bay City and Matagorda county. What other town can send out such an array of talent from non-professional people? I was proud of every number. The piano work of Mrs. Wadsworth and Mrs. Highley was superb, but the latter played softer and for that reason came to my ears more perfectly. The louder notes possessed some blare.
The Daily Tribune, June 12, 1928 |
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Mr. Wright is improving his residence with a new roof, lights and new paper. Miss Mary Louise Clapp came home from San Antonio Saturday for a week’s visit with her parents. Prayer meeting will be held at Citrus Grove on Wednesday nights from now on instead of Thursday nights. The manse has recently been improved with a new screen porch, much to the delight of the occupants. Mr. and Mrs. Roy Nelson are leaving this week for a trip north and will visit relatives and friends in Kansas. Mr. Roy Nelson has been making some substantial improvements on his residence. Lights have been installed and a new roof added. The Woman’s Club is planning to serve the banquet for the fathers and sons to be held soon. The ladies meet with Mrs. Oscar Chapin this Thursday to complete plans and a definite date set. Men and boys take notice and be ready. Miss Dorothy Crane left Tuesday of this week for Amarillo, Texas, where she will attend the State C. E. Convention as a delegate from the Bay City District. Miss Crane won this privilege and honor through a sharp shooting contest a district meeting held in March. She will be gone a week. Sermon subjects for Sunday services at Collegeport, morning, “The Good Neighbor,” evening. “The Value of Exchange in Religion.” At Citrus Grove Sunday afternoon, “The Prodigal Son.” Both of these churches invite all to come and worship with them. The motto is, “Serving All the People of this Area of Land.” Each one can help to make these services the best possible. Boy Scout meeting was held Monday evening. The troop is now fully organized with Oscar Chapin, Scoutmaster; James Fuson and Leslie Craig, assistant Scoutmasters. Work is progressing nicely in the troop and the boys are working to pass tenderfoot tests. James Murry was elected as scribe to fill the vacancy caused by the removal of Scout Conover.
Palacios Beacon, June 14, 1928 |
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[Collegeport information was abstracted from the longer article.] Robert Quillan says, "Baggy trousers at least reduce the hazards of a picnic. It's easier to get at the ants. Wonder if Bob ever heard of chiggers? The local reader who refers to my short sentences as pure bunk ought to read some of Oscar Odd's stuff. Here is a sample: "An oil can with a potato impaled on its spout." "Anna Nichols has bobbed her hair." "Few customers in the Holland." "New Yorkers struggle to smile." "Jim Quirk's salmon-colored roadster." If my stuff is junk what about Oscar Odd's slum? One thing Jesus did well, and that was he minded his own business. If some of our local burghers would follow the example of Jesus we would have a finer community. Dorothy Crane en route to Amarillo to enter the State C. E. Bible sharp shooter contest. Another of those million dollar rains. E. L. Hall driving a new Buick Master Six. A scizzor tail nest building. Beautiful bird. Oscar Chapin selling to a young lady who demands sixteen ounces to a pound and got it plus. Mrs. Ackerman tells it again this week with carrots and beets. I simply dote on those gorgeous colors. Uncle Judd has poor taste when he rejects a carrot. In my opinion, if he would eat carrots he would have more head on his coco. All right, Emma Lee Lewis Carlton, when you come to Homecroft you will find name on the knocker and knocker on the door and the latter swings in for you, day or night. (Dammit. Broke my Corona. Glad to have a pen.) Mary Louise home for two weeks. She came to my arms like a spring breeze washed and cleansed by the tussing spray of a thousand miles of Southern sea. Full of color and fragrance--our dream visualized. The next morning-- "I knelt at the side of the bed And kissed her blue eyes awake. Mussed and tousled the hair of her head, And loved her, for her own sweet sake." Fragments from Hack. The Dad and Lad Banquet Tuesday night, June 26th. Tickets from Rev. Merriman (Bill) Smith. Fifty cents. Mrs. L. E. Liggett, cheferina, with an able corps of assistants, will do the catering. P. S.--If you have no son, borrow one from some other fellow, but be sure and bring a boy. From Houston the only Zack sends this. "You're wrong, as usual. I do not attend the 'Knife and Fork' banquet because it is a violation of my etiquette to eat with a knife." He told the truth for once in his life. The first time I saw him eat he sure had no use for knife. He used a big salad fork and a shovel. Never saw him eat at his home, but away from there he refuses crackers. Hope he visits Homecroft sometime so the miserable wretch could see him eat. Will serve him hard boiled eggs cut length wise and rampant on a plate of spinach. O, look! Saw a girl with a mouth that could be buttoned in the back. One can always see curious sights in this burg. Don’t always have to look at legs, thank God. Jack Holsworth hooked one of them there "Silver Kings" which he declared was twelve feet long and weighed four hundred pounds. That is the way he felt. The scales said seventy-five pounds and the rule five feet seven. Some fish for so small a lad.
The Daily Tribune, June 19, 1928 |
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COLLEGEPORT, June 20.--Plans for the Father and Son Banquet are moving along nicely. The date is Tuesday, June 26th, in the evening. Most of the tickets have been sold, however it will be possible to accommodate a few more. Don't miss it. Good eats, speaking and a fine fellowship. American Legion meeting was held at Oscar Chapin's barber shop, Tuesday night of last week. New members are finding their way into the Post at each meeting. Ye Scribe is in favor of the Post's Commander, (Jack) taking all the members of the Post on a tarpon fishing tour. All in favor say "Aye." The ayes have it. Atta boy, when do we eat? An ice cream social will be held at Citrus Grove on Saturday night of this week. Everybody come. The King's Daughters met with Mrs. Clapp this week on Thursday instead of going to Blessing as was formerly planned. Miss Dorothy Franzen and brother, Arnold, who have been attending Rice Institute in Houston are home to spend their vacation. Miss Dorothy and Arnold are now seniors. The Christian Endeavor social was held at the Community House on Thursday evening of this week, honoring Miss Dorothy Crane who was a delegate to the State C. E. Convention. Women's Club met at the home of Mrs. Oscar Chapin last Thursday afternoon. The subject of study was "Texas History." Miss Muriel Waner [Wainner/], of Bay City, who is visiting with Mrs. Chapin, gave several vocal selections which were greatly appreciated. At the close delicious refreshments were served by the hostess. Church Notes.
Services at Collegeport Church for Sunday will be as follows: Citrus Grove--Afternoon.
Sermon subject, "The Growth of the Seed." Boy Scout meeting every Monday night at 7:30.
Palacios Beacon, June 21, 1928 |
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Collegeport, July 5.—Mr. Frank King is becoming famous as a hunter of wild animals. Sometime ago he ran down two large wolves out on the prairie near his home, and last week he and Mr. Carl Boeker succeeded in killing a big wild hog they had found five miles south of the King home, which had been driven from his haunts in the timber by fire a few days previous. Mr. King says he thinks the hog was at least 14 years old and the weight about 450 pounds. Messrs. King and Boeker spent the following day canning the meat of this monster. On Tuesday evening, June 26, a large crowd of men and boys gathered at the Community House, to observe “Father and Son” night. At the appointed hour all were invited to the dining room where a banquet was served by the Woman’s Club, and it surely was a real banquet. It must have been lots of fun for the boys to watch “Dad” eat. M. L. Smith acted as toastmaster. Following the dinner an entertaining program was carried out in which Mrs. Clapp and Miss Crane gave several piano selections which brought much applause from the audience. Talks were made by Mr. Clapp, Mr. Mowery and Mr. Liggett. All voted the affair a most pleasant and profitable one—each expressing the hope that such events would occur frequently. Woman’s Union meeting this week with Mrs. John Haisley on Thursday. Mrs. Chiles and children have returned from an extended visit in San Antonio. Mr. Gardner, of Houston, has been visiting with the Jenkins family the past week. Miss Margaret Holsworth, who is a popular teacher in Chicago public schools, is home for her summer vacation. Mr. Fulcher and family, of Bellview [Mont Belvieu?], Texas, are visiting with his parents, Mr. and Mrs. Tom Fulcher, south of Collegeport. Mr. Connor, of Palacios, is conducting a Revival Meeting under a tent erected near Simpsonville. Good attendance and interest are reported. Services at the church last Sunday were well attended, both morning and evening. Miss Dorothy Frazier led the Endeavor meeting with “Patriotism” as the subject. Ira Corporon and M. L. Smith drove to San Antonio last week to receive examination at the Veteran’s Bureau. Several flat tires were “enjoyed” on the overnight trip going west. Considerable business was transacted at the Collegeport Church Board meeting on last Monday evening. These meetings are held the last Monday evening of each month at Mr. Kundinger’s Drug Store. It is strange, nevertheless true, that perfectly fine looking watermelons at Verner Bowers’ store have a habit of breaking open at intervals times, it appears, according to the melon hunger of the crowd. Here’s luck, Oscar. American Legion was held Tuesday night at Oscar Chapin’s barber shop. Interest in the Legion is increasing in this part of Matagorda County. There are others who should affiliate with the local Post. See Oscar Chapin, Jack Holsworth or any Service man. The Nelson family, who have been visiting relatives and friends in Kansas the past month, have returned. They report prospects for good crops in both Kansas and Oklahoma. They had a most delightful visit and pleasant trip including the customary experiences of flats, etc., and some wind in northern Kansas. Miss Dorothy Crane gave an interesting report of her trip to Amarillo, where she went as a representative of the Bay City district to the State Christian Endeavor Convention on Sunday evening, June 24th. Miss Crane is sincerely interested in young people’s work and because of this all were anxious to hear her report and enjoyed it very much.
Palacios Beacon, July 5, 1928 |
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That "boys will be boys" is a truth, but it is also true that "men will be boys" if they have the opportunity. This was verified Tuesday night when fifty men and boys attended the "Dad and Lad" banquet. I always enjoy meeting men at such affairs, but the presence of the boys was an inspiration to me--a lasting feeling. I envy the boys, for there is so much in life ahead of them. It is impossible for me to contemplate what the future holds for them. They actually hold the fate of the world in their hands, for remove them from life's scene and the world is finished. I do not subscribe to the idea that "all men are born free and equal." They may be born free, but none are born equal. Every boy is born into the world different from all others. Some are handicapped at birth and never recover, but opportunity is equal and all have the same chance to cultivate the friendship of old man "Op." Some boys will recognize him as the approaches and grabbing, will sail on to moral and financial independence. Others will be blind and fail to grasp the fore lock of opportunity and fall. You know I vision life as a great plain filled with valleys, small eminences and ending in a great mountain. The mountain is the peak of life and from it men who have reached the age of sixty look down on the other valley and are able to see the beginning of the shadows and the river of life and can see the boat and boatman waiting to ferry them across the river of life. What is on the other side? No man can answer. But what is on this side is the experience of the boys and men who are still traveling the valleys. The boy who, making this trip, will stop on the high places and flash his light to the horizon will see opportunities that are hidden from all others. Some boys will do this. As I looked at the boys present on this occasion my thoughts went back to the first Boy Scout troop organized in this county. Nearly all were in the war, and one, Joe Paine, lost his life in France, and his body is still there. One of the Carey boys in the transport service jumped overboard in a heavy sea to rescue his buddy. Louie Powers served in Russia. Cecil Morris in the National Guard. Carl Judin in the submarine service. It is difficult for me to vision these boys who were under me as Scout Master doing these heroic things, but they did. And so as I looked at the boys who sat at the board with me Tuesday night. I wondered if when they call came they would rise as the others did. I think they would for they are the same breed. Thanks to the good women of the Woman's Club, the menu was all that one could ask. The service was superb. The tables covered with snowy linen, decorated with white and yellow, were arranged in a square and in the center a small table with flowers. Rev. Merriman Smith was toast master and introduced each number with a snappy story that brought smiles and laughs to the guests. At my right sat Arthur Liggett, and right by me sat Ben R. Mowery. Arthur represented the boys and when called upon, arose and delivered his stunt in splendid style. Ben Mowery stated that he was not a public speaker and had been allowed no time for preparation. This was old stuff. Ben opened up and proceeded to demonstrate that he had spent many hours, perhaps days in planning his talk and wound up with a Whittier poem that was evidently built to fit the occasion. When my turn came I, in my innocence, thinking that the boys needed advice, discharged a shell filled with such stuff, and bursting, the contents were discharged about the assembled boys. The program was finished and perfected by the piano duets by Miss Dorothy Crane and Mrs. Harry Austin Clapp. Gus Franzen enjoyed the banquet to such an extent that he wants another next year. I second the motion. The League at its last meeting voted to renew their prize offer of ten dollars to the pupils who make the highest grades the coming year and also offer a prize of the same sum for a health contest. The latter will be in charge of Miss Mayfield, the county nurse. Under the plan all pupils of Bay View school will be examined at the beginning of the school year and scored, and again at the end of the school year. The four pupils who make the greatest percent in health gain will receive the sum set aside. Tom Fulcher is in bad in certain quarters. It seems that he agreed to call for a young lady and escort her to his home for a dancing party. The said lady dressed in her best and waited for the faithless Tom until the clock struck five bells in the night watch. I never saw so many dancing fools as this burg owns. Heard a woman say, "Why, do you know I have never been inside the library. When I am through reading True Stories I have no time for other books." Good reading is sure a comfort. I had a birthday last week and along came Mrs. Luce with carrots and cabbage. Mrs. Carl Boeker with red beets. Oscar Chapin with a sixty-pound watermelon, and here comes Callie Metzger and Francis Mayfield, driving from Bay City to bring me a big box of gorgeous cherries and a box full of candy. Now I leave it to Zack and Lurline if that is not a wonderful way to spell "I love you?" Hope I will have another birthday next year. If I do it will be on the 16th of June. Almost always comes on that day. Hope cherries and carrots and cabbage and beets and watermelons will be ripe and hope Callie and Francis will have the price of enuf gas to come down again. C. O. Rona came Friday to make a visit and it is from C. O. that you receive this bundle of slime. I have been enjoying a most delightful two weeks. Mary Louise was home for that time and say, boy, but is was one day after another of joy, happiness, contentment, satisfaction, delight and a genuine smothering in love. Just to hear her laugh, shout, whistle and to play with her as of yore filled my birthday tide with joy. She left last Friday and now-- "She's back in Santone, tapping the keys. Where they call her Sis and never Squeeze." --Fragments from Hack. The King's Daughters met at Homecroft Thursday, and four of us "sonsuvguns" cut in on the deal as "King's Sons" and enjoyed one square meal. One of our girls passing leaves a trail of strong musk. Wonder why girls will use such assertive odors? Girl with a runner on back of stocking. Wonder if the gals know that red paint high up on the cheek bone makes them look like Indians. Oscar Odd contracted smallpox while at the Houston convention. Serves him right for trailing with democrats. Wonder what disease the "Only Zack" caught? Wonder if some girls are really as dumb as they look, or are they only posing? If Zack cares for legs he should visit our bay front any night and he will have an eye full of long, slim, skinny legs, fat legs, bow legs, knock knee legs and several peachy legs, the kind one dreams of. The recent high tides bring in a flock of mermaids every night, some blue, some green, some red, some yellow but all feeling rather frisky, don't you know. Ora [Chapin] is sure in the guinea pig business, with forty mama pigs about to pig. Frank King and Carl Boeker shot a 350-pound wild hog the other day. It now is sweetly at rest in cans. They say that Hugo's Superlative Ice Cream is more consummate, surpassing transcendent, pre-eminent, incomparable than ever. They say, but I do not know if it is true. The "nine-foot sidewalk" is slowly approaching our city. Camp moved to Simpsonville last week.
Wonder why Dick Corporon watched the
piano on the night of the Dad and Lad banquet? I don't suppose it will be of any use to ask some of my Matagorda county readers to send in a recipe for home brew. Several of our local people have asked me how to make it and I informed them that it was doubtful if any one in the county knew how. Feel sure that no Bay Cityite or dweller in the City by the Sea has learned the art. The Weekly Tribune, commenting on the building of a high line into the town of Matagorda has this so say: "These new lines extend to every nook and cranny of the county," and also, "Electricity is not only a great civilizer, it is a hoobinger of progress." According to this, Collegeport is not even a nook or cranny. I wish the C. P. & L. Co., would build one of them there hoobingers into this burg. A sweet, young flapper, chawing gun, ejects it from her ruby lips and it falls on the window ledge of the post office. Waiting for the mail, I drape my frame on the seat and, incidentally, the gum, fresh and gooey. Along came the miserable wretch. Now I ask you readers, was I not in a helluva fix.? A married man walking towards the Civic Center with a married woman. Thinking they were unobserved, he placed his arm about the waist of the woman, but horrors, fears, dismays, consternation, it happened that others saw the spectacle and it was told to others with a warning: "now don't you tell this." Well, anyway, it looks like fodder for a food scandal. Interested readers may obtain the parties' names by asking North Cable, provided he can be urged to talk. Because of the absence of C. O. Rona on a visit to San Antonio, my think tank had a vacation of a week and now he is back and here is the result. Mighty fine string considering the time used. If you doubt it ask the woman reader on Lake Shore Drive. She appreciates, values, esteems, prizes good literature.
The Daily Tribune, July 7, 1928 |
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[Collegeport information was abstracted from the longer article.] One of our locals called on me the other day and asked about the advisability of buying a separator and stated that he was now milking four cows and would take on five more. I gave him the advice asked for and in about two weeks met him again and said, "have you taken over those five extra cows?" and he replied, "No, I have not. I made up my mind that it would be too much work for my wife to milk nine cows. I congratulate this woman on having such a dear thoughtful husband. This is Sunday, July 1st, 1928, and as I tore off the June leaf of the artistic calendar presented the miserable wretch by George Serrill I wondered why the first number was printed in bright red. I wonder no longer for it is all clear to me now. This is a red letter day in my life. On this day came that wonderful woman, Emma Lee Lewis Carlton with her sweet charming mother, her brother, Floyd, and her little son. I always knew that Emma Lee liked me but did not realize that she cared enough to drive seventy miles to see me. And so there is a song in my heart and as the sun sinks into the day I turn on the Edison and join in the song, "The End of a Perfect Day." Say, isn't life wonderful? To me, it is, for I have so much to be thankful for. No boils on me this day. A good friend is the most delightful thing in the world but do you know it seems difficult to be just a good friend. Real friendship lasts, overcomes all adversities, sticks to the end and, like love, it vaunteth not itself. Heeding not slander it continues loyal until death. One friend said: "I would go up to the gates of hell with a friend, Through thick and thin." The other said, as he bit off a concha's end, "I would go in." Dorothy Franzen leading the C. E. meeting. Dorothy Crane and Mrs. Clapp at the piano and Dick Corporon looking at the instrument. E. L. Hall picking up nails with his new Master Six. The Come-Inn doing a swell business with extra railroad crews. Miss Ethel Nelson Wright motored home from a trip to Kansas and brought with her Mr. and Mrs. Roy Nelson and Rosalie Nelson. As Miss Ethel refused my weekly payment of a Kiss of Hershey I am at liberty to use her name. Wonder where Stanley Wright dug up the pipe he hauls. Homecroft gets a much needed coat of paint. Green body and red trim. Looks fine. San Antonio folks, take notice. Margaret Holsworth home for the summer. Have not seen her but it is reported that she is as sweet as ever, better looking and her hair is just simply beautiful. Saw a foto-gravure showing a group of correspondents attending the Houston convention. At last I identified the Tribune's man Zack Zackers. He sat between Will Rogers and Oscar Odd McIntyre. His face was a bit in the shade but he held a cracker in his hand which made identification easy. Looked like a real good co-respondent. Forgot to mention Stanley Wright took little Johnnie Merck to the Father and Son banquet and Percy Corporon took his little brother Dicky. I see by the papers that the national debt has been decreased by nine hundred million dollars during the last year. Now that is quite a lot of coin. If they had set aside just one million of that sum to be used in this burg to help new comers make a crop it would have been a great relief. One can hardly talk with these new comers five minutes without being told, "I am a very poor man" or "I must have help if I am to make my crop, for we are very poor folks." One of the best ways to be poor is to talk poor, act poor, feel poor and by the seven sacred gods you will wake up some morning and find yourself a pauper. I have lived here twenty years and this year is the first time we have ever had poor folks among us Forget it. We are all rich. Let's talk rich, feel rich, act rich and by the same token we will enjoy a comfortable feeling. Doc Van Wormer blew in today like a fresh clean breeze from the sea. He is looking over the fig orchards and as usual full of enthusiasm, optimism, faith, confidence in our soil, climate, people. His work is of incalculable value to each of us. He is a builder, not a destroyer, and deserves the hearty support of every sonuvagun who cares for Collegeport progress. And remember this my fellow burghers, the thing that marks one community finer than another is not in its soil, its climate, its industry or any other material thing. It lies in the spirit of its citizens and their willingness to give their intelligence, courage, leisure and effort. By giving these things each may share in the social overhead, and make a worth while contribution to the general public welfare. This is the measure by which we are judged. The Woman's Union meeting with Mrs. Heisey with Margaret Holsworth as the honor guest. Mrs. Crane shipped six cans of cream Friday. Tom Fulcher still milking via proxy those three cows. Last night the rising moon was covered with a thin, filmy, lacey cloud that not only enlarged it, but gave it a rich coppery red color and brought out the formations in sharp contrast. Soon it rose above the clouds and then changed to a bright silver, a great disk and in my mind's eye it slowly took the form and features of Herbert Hoover's face and as it slowly ascended the heavens he winked his eye and I understood that he, too, is rising. It was half after four the next morning when I saw Mistress moon again and she was pale from the night's dissipation and hung over Palacios like "the morning after." I suppose the same moon shone on Blackstone Avenue and I hope Ann and Nancy saw it and wished they were in the Southland looking at the moon with me. "There does a sable cloud turn forth her silver lining on the night, and cast a gleam over this tufted grove." --Milton I see by the papers that the Houston zoo will have a Galago. A Galago, it is explained is "a species of African Lemur." Now whatinhell is a Lemur? The Galago is very fond of peanuts and by that token we have several Galagos right in this burg. Almost every night one may see them crunching peanuts and scattering the shells on the pavement. They are cute little duds anyway, even if they are kin to the Lemur. Have looked up Lemur and find it is a species of the Galago. Isn't that wonderful. Wonder if the proprietress of the Come-Inn ever eats her hamburgers? A very good ration these days for milk production can be made at home and consists of 200 pounds corn chops, 100 pounds wheat brand and 100 pounds cotton seed meal. It's a good balanced ration and will pasture feed about one pound for each four to five pounds of milk. It's Sunday morning and train after train is arriving at the Palacios Military Camp and in a few hours the camp will have settled down to business. Enjoy visiting the camp and watching the faces of the young soldiers. Each one different and each one presenting a different study. "Yet 'tis not helm or feather, For ask yon despot, whether His plumed bands Could bring such hands And hearts as ours together." --T. Moore.
The Daily Tribune, July 12, 1928 |
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Collegeport, Texas, July 11.—Regular meeting of the Boy Scouts was held Monday evening, at which time five boys passed the Tenderfoot test. All who have not passed this test are requested to meet next Monday evening with the troop, and the Scout committee and parents of the boys are invited. Remember the Legion meeting next Tuesday night at the barber shop. All be present. The Woman’s Club met this week on Thursday afternoon at the home of Mrs. Carl Boeker. Mr. and Mrs. Garner, of the Valley, who own property here, are in town this week having their house repaired. Mr. Frank King is in the hospital at Gulf for treatment and to undergo an operation. Late reports indicate he is doing as well as could be expected. The Kumjoinus Sunday School Class will hold a social at the home of Mr. and Mrs. Walt Myers, at Citrus Grove Friday evening of this week. All are invited to come and enjoy a pleasant evening. Church services were well attended again last Sunday. Attendance keeps up well in spite of the hot weather. Sunday School teachers met for a business session Monday evening, when plans of interest for the school were discussed.
Palacios Beacon, July 12, 1928 |
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[Local information taken from longer article.] Writing about fingers makes me remember that us Homecrofters have enjoyed another Red Letter day this month of July. I knew that when it started out so well on the first day that the entire month would look good. Here comes Doctor Harkey with 56 fingers and 14 thumbs. Of course he had help in bringing all these digits. The help consisted of Mrs. Harkey, Eugene, Mr. and Mrs. Baker of Abilene, Mrs. Fagan and Miss Bessie Baker of Bryan. As I look back now I wonder how fifty-six fingers and fourteen thumbs could pack in the commissary department they unloaded. Doc went fishing and caught a shark and a flounder at the same time. Coolidge caught two fish at one time and got front page, but I suppose Carey Smith will tuck Doc’s feat on the back page. Carey says, “No wonder Doc caught a shark. Shows brothers recognize each other.” At night the bunch went a floundering and, from the way they looked when reporting at headquarters, guess they floundered all right. When Miss Bessie went in bathing, looking like a beautiful Venus, only Bessie has two arms, the tide rose to meet her. Don’t blame the tide, for I would do the same. Only two things were lacking to make the time perfect; Altogether too short a visit and, second, Doc forgot to bring salt. Heard at the post office: “I don’t guess you hain’t got any package for me, are there?” The Woman’s Club meeting with Mrs. Carl Boeker. Mrs. Oscar Vernon Chapin and Mrs. John Gainesborough Ackerman taking a trip to Buckeye to trade Papa Guinea pigs. Rev. Merriman L. Smith eating dinner with a General at Camp Palacios. Airplanes is common stuff for me these days. At times a dozen in the air at one time, but I never turn my head for a look. The miserable wretch drops her sad iron, rushes to the gallery and stretches her neck in her efforts to flirt with the aviator. If they come any nearer I will sic Buckshot on them. Heard at the Collegeport bathing beach: North Cable, interested in a rather plump baby, said, “What do you think of that girl?” and Carl Boeker replied, “She certainly packs her trunks.” One of the kiddies inquired of me the other day, “Mr. Clapp, what is a monologue?” and I replied, “Well, for example, so you will understand, a monologue is a conversation between me and the miserable wretch,” and he replied, “I thought that was a dialogue.” “No,” said I, “a dialogue is where two persons are speaking.” E. M. C. (full name verboten) after being lost for several days has been discovered. So many women and girls wearing pants—I mean trousers—that is different to imitate our male citizens. Jim Hale not only lost his teeth but his cow. That is bad news for the Mopac. Sand and gravel stacked in front of the postoffice for culvert work, and thus grows our “nine-foot side walk.” Figs are ripening and sugar sales increase. Dorothy Crane becoming a first class grocer. Frank King in the Gulf hospital for an operation. Reported making splendid recovery. Oscar Chapin working on an old culvert steps on a rusty nail which penetrates the foot. Getting along fine, but walks with a limp which is rather becoming for an ex-soldier who fought for democracy “over there.” After giving us a vacation for about six weeks, Ora resumes neighborly calling. The miserable wretch at Palacios looking over the soldiers. Strange the attraction a uniform has for some dames. As for me the less the girls have on the more I look. Before both temptations the thing to be is composed, calm, serene, quiet, imperturbable, and above all else, cool. The miserable wretch has been so active this week that much of my copy has been supplied by her activities. Yesterday she visited the army camp at Palacios and, incidentally one of our old friends, Mrs. Duncan Ruthven. The latter told her that she enjoyed “Thoughts” more than any thing else she reads, thinks them clever, hopes that they will be continued, looks eagerly for the column each week, etc., etc., etc. When one writes stuff that appeals to the Scotch as being clever, one can feel that one has arrived. Guess I will have to ask the syndicate that handles my stuff for an advance. Bet if I get it Zack Zackers and Lurline Mallard will have the nerve to do the same. Rev. Merriman Smith and family attending a social at Citrus Grove. Verner L. Bowers looking immaculate in white dress. That superlative ice cream of Hugo’s may be all it is said to be but to date all I can say is “I dunno.” Three tractors working in the fig orchard are rapidly killing out the grass. Figs setting on in abundance. Girl wearing a new dress so short that it resembles a girdle. The girls of the Black Crook dressed more modestly. Kids running barefoot. Wonder they do not contract hook-worm. Three girls sucking a pop bottle. Mrs. Ash wearing a big Mexican hat. Oscar Chapin expecting a second melon crop. My partner in the goose business reports the birds doing fine. Doc Harkey’s shark measured 14 feet with Doc’s rule and two hundred pounds by his scales. Some shark. Dance at Tom Fulcher’s Saturday night. Ben R. Mowery drawing on his jimmy pipe. Carl Boeker all dolled up for pay day. North Cable caring for his two dollar chickens. Ethel Nelson Wright with a compact and lip stick. Received dope from T. A. Walker on cow feed. Wonder why he with holds prices. John B. Heisey still using his horse mobile. Wonder why? Emmitt Chiles and family moving to Palacios. Regret the necessity. Seth Corse employs a stenographer. Kimball Roberts giving the burg a once over. New books in the library. Mrs. Carl Boeker planning a play for the Woman’s Club. Edward Regnier ready to do trucking. Verner Bowers selling soup at twelve cents per can or two for a quarter. Eggs now twenty cents. Wish that army camp would fold its tents and steal away. Butter fat 36 cents. Feed stuff 30 per cent higher. Wonder how Arnold Franzen likes farming? Louie Walter selling watermelons by the bushel. L. E. Liggett repairing his home. Jessie Murry awarded a scholarship by the County Federation of Women’s Clubs. Paul Braden picking up empty oil tanks. Jack Hill with forty acres of cotton that promises one and one half bales per acre, buying wagons to haul with. The Kings Daughters meet with Mrs. Arthur Matthes, Blessing, Thursday the 19th. One of our young girls seems to take much pleasure in exposing her bare knees. They are not much to look at but I cross myself and say “God bless ‘em and God dress ‘em.”
Daily Tribune, July 20, 1928 |
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[Collegeport information was abstracted from the longer article.] About the time I was born my mother's sister came to live with us and from that time until her death she was a member of the family and a second mother to me and to my sisters. Had she been the woman who gave me birth she could not have given more of love, more of unselfish daily and yearly sacrifice. She was, indeed, a second mother. She was what the world dubs and old maid, but what a wonderful old maid she was giving of her heart and soul to those she loved, always generous, never thinking of self, always giving, giving, giving. Although she was my aunt I always called her Hattie, and when she died, I lost my second best friend. The world is always better for having such old maids. Some women seem to feel that to live they must exist in a continuous feeling of ecstasy but this is impossible for sooner or later their feet must touch the ground. When this comes, then arrives the character that makes an old mail lovable, for then she is of service to those about her. To me there are worse things for a woman than living a life of celibacy. It is much better to be an old maid than an unhappy wife, a disappointed mother. Sometimes it seems to me that the old maid is more fortunate than her sisters for she more often stands on an eminence, glistens in the sunlight, sees farther, knows more. Standing thus they are in many cases relieved of the uninteresting and humdrum of life. If an old maid finds the man of her life her real mate, she is, indeed, a happy woman, but until then she better be a happy contented old maid and God will richly bless her. So, I take off my hat to the old maid. I respect and love her for what she is in this life of ours. Here is a good one on Hugo Kundinger. He went to church Sunday and heard the preacher say that even the hairs of our heads are numbered. Since then he has scoured the burg for back numbers. Soon as the Bay City creamery has in operation a truck to this place our butter fat will go that way for forty cents per pound, something our milkers cannot resist. Merriman Smith taking the Boy Scouts to Palacios to see the Army Review. Homer Goff all dolled up in new overalls. Big bunch a picknicking at Portsmouth. I pick figs each day and allow the miserable wretch to can them. Rare fruit this season. Good size and fine flavor. Rev. Merriman L. Smith, first lieutenant, United States R. O. T. C., ordered to the Fort Sam Houston Army hospital. Many of us burghers will miss him. Increased interest in farm lands. The King's Sons are lonesome this day for all the Daughters are in Blessing at the home of Mrs. Arthur Matthes (Ruth Braden). L. E. Liggett drilling a well for Louis Walter. Presume it is a water well. Big bunch in swimming every night and C W. Boeker swelling about in a green bath suit. Mrs. Tom Hale with Tom, Jr., and the goat, visiting with her parents. Tom, Sr., at San Marcos studying how to teach the young idea. Merriman Smith all dolled up in a new lieutenant's suit, Sam Browne belt and all the trimmings. Speck his wife is rather proud of his looks. Found a nest of the mourning dove high up in a fig tree. Two young birds. The mama bird flew away fluttering as if with a broken wing, keeping just out of my reach. Wise bird to build so high and foolish to think she fooled me with her play. Mr. Harvey caught a rattlesnake in the act of killing a young chicken. Snake measured four and a half feet which was almost the size of Doc Harkey's shark. Cement pouring crew moving camp to Citrus Grove and thus our "nine-foot sidewalk" progresses. A woman remarks that Tom Fulcher has peculiar hands. Peculiar hands have cost many men many dollars in times past. Seven boys from Philadelphia drifted into the Slough Ranch the other day and took possession. Camped out on way down and having a large time. The fish having advance information, hiked for the open sea. If any person connected with the Bay City Chamber of Commerce has lost two bottle openers they may obtain information from the writer. Cannot conceive why such person would need bottle openers but one never can tell in these days. The two political conventions demonstrated one thing and that is that all men are divided into two parts, viz, wet and dry. About the only valuable thing pulled off. I hope and trust that the neck of the miserable wretch will settle down to normal now that the soldiers have done gone and taken their airplanes away. Surprise birthday party in honor of Mrs. Crane, our efficient grocer woman. Did not ascertain, discover, detect, determine, learn, find out the number of years, but it was a thoughtful thing for Dorothy to do. As usual, it is a hen party and I am not favored. Ora has five little guinea pigs which the mother refuses to mama, so Ora, knowing the Holstein milk is the supreme, paramount, leading food for babies, orders white nectar from the Homecroft Contented cows. The babies are getting fat, of course. Another of them dawnees at the Ash home Friday night. I have it on good authority that Lera Hunt will finish her education in "Newbrasky." I do not know where it is but that is what I am told. The new owner of the Tolman place has given it a new coat of white paint which makes it glisten in the sunlight. I am sure glad that in the present presidential campaign there will be no Sex Appeal. Booze will suffice. Twenty years ago a glimpse of an ankle filled the male "sect" with thrills but now we pass bare legs without a glance. The world progresses even if some do not think so. The Doukhobors of Nelson, B. C., meaning British Columbia, plan to stage a parade dressed in the natural. That is old stuff, for our women are now so near naked that seeing legs, arms, etc., etc., is nothing. Let the Douks parade with long skirts and they will create a sensation. "Skirts are rising and stockings are falling. The boys look on and with loud voice are calling. The cheeks of the girls at the call are palling Never mind, girls, day is gone and nights are falling. --Fragments from Hack. This week I received a new catalogue from Sears Roebuck & Co, and by return mail sent them an order for a paint brush costing twenty seven cents. Any dealer in Matagorda county would have charged twenty-eight cents. Gives me a very comfortable feeling when I save money. Isn't life wonderful? Bought a dozen eggs from a local dealer. Found that they were a bit passé, plenty old enough to vote, not quite old enough to bury. They were a disappointment just like kissing a girl who has lost all of her front teeth. Expect some of our Christian brothers sold the eggs. If you don't see your name, watch for it next week. Thursday a shower was given for she that was Miss Myrtle Fulcher. It was held at the home of Mrs. John Gainesborough Ackerman, and I hope it was a drowner, for Myrtle is some girl. If you wish to read some first class blah, read Beulah, one of the new books just placed in the library. The committee refused to buy The Conquerer and spent the money on Beulah. Harry Lewis, Jr., taking a paseata in front of the stores, his proud mama looking on. A Bay City feed dealer sends cards with prices of poultry feed to men who own no poultry, never did and never will. Waste of stamps as one may see by the cards left on the P. O. floor. Guess the dealer got his list from the poll list. Woman's Club planning a show to raise coin for their County Federation pledge. Oscar Chapin has truck made up from parts or four different cars and the blamed thing runs. No wonder. It's a Ford. The question is how can he get a license? The engine comes from one car, the wheels from three others, parts of the frame from another, steering gear from still another. Question: Who owns it? Today all is quiet across the bay in "The City by the Sea." No longer do we hear the crash of guns, the rat-a-tat of rifles firing at practice, the rumble and groaning of planes in the air. The army camp is deserted. Train after train pulled away. No breeze stirring and the smoke from the engines went straight up to the heavens. Sometimes four smoke columns visible at one time indicating four trains bearing away the soldiers. Five men dead is only a part of the cost. Wonder if it pays morally--this camp. "O! It's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' Tommy go away; But it's Thank you, Mister Atkins, when the band begins to play.
Then it's Tommy this, and Tommy that, an' Tommy 'ow's yer soul? But it's thin red line of 'eroes when the drums begin to roll." --Kipling.
The Daily Tribune, July 26, 1928 |
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Palacios Beacon, July 26, 1928 |
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The miserable wretch has gone to church so I have a few moments repose, respite, relaxation, quietude, tranquility and able to start this week's string of "Thinks." The birthday surprise on Mrs. Crane was a great and howling success with about twenty-five females present. From beginning to end it was chatter, chatter, chatter. A little bird told me last night that maybe, perhaps, who knows, but anyway there is a possibility that my daughter, Ann, and grand-daughter, Nancy, will make us a visit. The miserable wretch is all excited, but I am calm, undisturbed, serene, placid, impurtable. When, as, and if they arrive, I shall love them and devote myself to their comfort and pleasure. Hope that wonderful, marvelous son, Tod, drops in about the same time. Here comes Ora for some more white nectar for the baby guineas. Impossible to write when Ora is present. Mrs. Welsby at the Come-Inn feeding hungry railroad crews and the advance guard of cement road workers. Robert Murry dealing out the usual bull and rolling his own from bull. Well, well, what do you think about this: Two strangers (count 'em) in town thinking of relocating. This day ends the thirty-four years I have looked at the same face. The miserable wretch will repay me for my constancy, faithfulness, perservering by giving me an extra good feed. She is all full of pep and as beautiful as she was on that day in the year of our Lord 1894. "Jennie, what do you think I told Ben Brown?" Called the farmer from the well: And a flush crept up to his bronzed brow, And his eyes half-bashfully fell. "It was this." he said, and coming near He smiled, and stooping down, Kissed her cheek, "'twas this, that you were the best And the dearest wife in town." Anon. E. L. Hall watching the ball game at Gulf on the Sabbath day. Ought to have been in Sunday school. Seth Corse with a bran new pair of high boots. All right if it speeds him up at mail time. John Merck bringing in a ton of ice to cool the fevered lips of local burghers. Henry Legg, the main ice man. Emmitt Chiles, with his family, spending the week-end with Mayor and Mayoress O'Neal at Portsmouth. Of course they were well fed as all are who go to that restful place. The Eisel family riding about in a Buick Master Six. "Where if thy hand or thy foot offend thee, cut them off and cast them from thee," so reports St. Matthew, and John B. Heisey, having a finger that offended him, took the advice, and going to Palacios came home minus one finger. Nothing wrong with the finger except that it offended him. Will Rogers attended a dance given at the big King Ranch at Kingsville, and writes: "No one drunk and not a drop of liquor present." If he would attend some of the dances held in this neighborhood he would be obliged to change his line of writing. Booze is plentiful. Drunks more than common. Decent women disgusted. General P. N. Krassnof, in Vanity Fair writes that, "the Soviet government prints a paper, The Athiest, which attacks every religious creed, but above all the belief in Jesus Christ." How long will such a government live? 'Tis an interesting subject for study. Mr. and Mrs. Matt Pierce here for a visit. Matt looks about the same, but Mrs. Pierce has shucked off at least twenty years. The Valley seems to agree with her and one wonders if she met a gentleman named Ponce De Leon who lead her to the Fountain of Perpetual Youth. July continues to be a Red Letter month, for Sunday came, Bill and Emily Jane. The former to show me his new shirt, and he sure needed one for as I looked at his increased girth I thought "On what hath this, our Caesar fed that he hath grown so great?" Emily came just to show her own sweet self. She looks exactly like a rich ripe peach and she is that and some more. Oscar Chapin plowing for fall garden. The Mopac moved the road crew to Citrus last night. Twenty-five cars of equipment and material. They are this week pouring cement in front of Haisley's farm. Thus grows our "nine-foot sidewalk." I may have plenty of vulgar habits, but I am innocent of one disgusting habit. I never use my finger to eject nasal secretions from that organ and being successful wipe on my trousers. My mother taught me to use a hanky and always kept me supplied with them. The League was entertained Thursday night by Mesdames Ash and Boeker and Mr. North Cable. Mrs. Cable was not present, but there was plenty of raisen pie, the so-delicious kind that has made Mesdames Ash and Boeker famous. The cement culvert in front of the post office is finished and looks like a real job. Thus grows our "nine-foot sidewalk." If it is true that the powers that be have cut this new road from 17 to 15 feet, some action should be taken. Two cars passing require at least 12 feet which leaves so small a margin that it becomes dangerous. Beautiful cards from Doctor and Mrs. Harkey, Mrs. Fagan, of Bryan, and from Mary Louise served to brighten the corner where we were on our anniversary day. Emmitt Chiles putting finishing touches on his road grade contract and now all is ready for the cement machine. Rosalie Nelson has developed into one of the sweetest and brightest girls. She is a regular post office box hound and takes home more than her share of the mail. Mr. and Mrs. Clarence Mayo were guests of North Cable at the League meeting and Mrs. Mayo assisted in serving. As it seems it is not necessary to be a school trustee to become a member and officer of the county association of rural school trustees, I have planned to join the order. Mr. Francis Spence, a brother of Mrs. L. E. Liggett, is here for a short visit. In reading the June honor roll of Texas cows, I find two outstanding cows. One a Jersey Agnes Laddie's Christel 687,185, owned by Ed. C. Lasater of Falfurrias, produced 1,155 pounds of milk and 71.97 pounds of fat. The other a Holstein Friesian, Paulin Alcarta Butter Boy 405,901, owned by Jack D. Meyers, Dallas, produces 2,490 pounds of milk and 73.82 pounds of fat. Which is the better, more profitable cow. Wonder if the dwellers in "The City by the Sea" can hear the musical notes of the steam train operating out of Collegeport? For some reason unknown to me steam produces a mellower note than when the whistle is operated by air. Mary Louise sent me two bales of R. J. R. and one of Country Gentleman. Only difference I can detect is that one is worse than the other. They say Mrs. Carl Boeker looks real peachy in her blue bathing suit. Oscar Chapin's barber shop ran extra time Saturday night cutting the spinash on the faces of the road boys. Mr. and Mrs. John B. Heisey en route to Kansas for a visit. John leaves his offending finger in Palacios. Bottles in the window of the Come-Inn and on the shelves. Some are filled with red fluid, some with green, pink, yellow, brown. On the cap which seals them is found "artificial color and flavor." These days a girl is not dressed unless she is half dressed. Her gown must be daring, disclosing as much of her person as possible and yet avoid arrest. The hellofitis that some gals disclose nothing worth looking at. But there are others, well--one may dream of the unattainable without aspiring to possess. Well, anyway, what may one expect when two complete gowns weigh but seven ounces? Heard at the post office: "That feller hain't never done nothin' fur nobody."--uttered by a pupil in the 10th grade. Thought grammar was taught in our school. Gosh! I almost forgot about the gate. Well, the cussed thing was about twelve feet long, six bars and weighed about 200 pounds, and it was impossible for me to lift it up and hang it to the post hooks so I yelled, "O, Kid!" and out came the miserable wretch, and with her aid we hung the gate and it swings both ways. Just proves that a woman is of some use if she has a man who knows how to handle her. She is a peach. I mean the gate painted green with red braces.
The Daily Tribune, August 1, 1928 |
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Oscar Chapin after some more Holstein nectar for the baby guineas. Mr. E. L. Hall in the watermelon business. Verner Bowers resting after Saturday night's dissipation. Mrs. Welsby opening the Come-Inn. Only nineteen democrats voted Saturday. Jack Holsworth says the rest were picking cotton to earn money for the republicans to steal. This relieves drums beat and the horns blow. It's when these instruments are hung up that the test comes, that proves the staying quality. Wonder if converts from a religious revival are worth counting? I was fooled that way when I was fourteen years old and have never recovered. I know why. Man holding a woman on his lap and kissing her right on the mouth. Food for scandal, but in this case they were husband and wife, and he was just loving her. Save heaps of sorrow if more husbands did the same. Name and address supplied to those interested. Our steam train usually rests on the Sabbath day, but last Sunday it steamed up to Bay City and hauled in a load of material for our "nine-foot sidewalk." Good work on a good day. Wonder if the whistle could be heard across the bay? My friend Dismukes who prints that newsy paper, the Beacon, published a road map in his last issue that ignored the location of Collegeport. He probably does not know that no road map is complete that does not direct travelers' attention to this burg, and very likely he does not know of the road building activity over here. Margaret Holsworth at Sunday school. Leslie Craig left for parts unknown, to those who mourn. Offering for foreign mission may reach the heathen but I have me doubts. In my opinion most of it goes to a bunch of desk warmers in the main office. Do much more good to put a hot meal under the belt of some nearby down lucker. A friend is capable of all things except to adjust a quarrel between husband and wife. Don't ask a friend for a loan--get such accommodations from a stranger. Many a fellow traded Liberty Bonds for oil stock. Been better had he traded for an interest in the Gulf stream. Holding a $20-bill for a ten cent debt is certainly stretching security and a good way to lose friendly trade. "As I look from my window this bright sunny day. My thoughts come and go, travel far, and oft hurry away! As I look, I can see close to me, but not with surprise-- A sweet young face glorified with two blue eyes!
'Tis a wonderful thing on life's long, long road; To have such a daughter to brighten the trip and lighten the load. I see her smile, hear her laugh, to me 'tis joy and run. For it brightens the way, every hour when the day is done." --Fragments from Hack. Wonder what in heck has happened to Zack? Maybe he got lost with the democrats at Houston. The slough forms a deep hole near the warehouse, and it is a favorite swimming place. I mean it was, for Monday, Dean Merck shot an alligator in this hole that measured six feet and a half in length and weighed 250 pounds. Glad MBF does not swim in that hole. Oh, boy! oh, joy! found a nest of black republicans yesterday. Five voters in the family of my goose partner, Mrs. John Gainesborough Ackerman. No use to send insidious, intriguing democratic propaganda to this outfit. This will offset the nineteen democratic votes that came out last Saturday. On a garter is the number "C-253." Watch for it. Only a few years ago it was unnecessary to number garters. But now. Don't ask me. Mary Louise and her chum are taking progressive lunches these days. They had watermelon a the Golden Pheasant, enjoyed hamburgers at the Royal Bengal, and inhaled pie at the Puppy Dog. At the latter place they found a bug in the pie and thus avoid payment for future lunches. Great idea. Mr. F. L. Jenkins is authority for the statement that the cotton crop in this locality has been cut in half by fleas, weevils and a bone-dry subsoil. Baron Dewar, a great British distiller, says in a statement about American whiskey that an infallible test is to drop a sledge hammer into it. If it sinks, the stuff is poor, if it floats, good, and if it dissolves, perfect. Local distillers should take a note of this test. One of our fair ones weighed herself at the Bachman store the other day but first took off her string of beads. Suppose she wanted the net weight. The Ruthruth Seaside Air Line railroad operates a train de luxe between Collegeport and Portsmouth with dining car, observation car, and carried a maid and valet. Because of this service Mayor O'Neal plans the erection of a 250-room modern resort hotel at Portsmouth. Several of our children are suffering from chicken pox, but that not being enough we have several cases of elephantiasis. Hope the latter disease does not become an epidemic. The Woman's Union met with Mrs. Roy Nelson Thursday and, as usual, had an enjoyable time, discussing all those who were not present, also the political situation and et cetera. Mrs. Nelson remembered me and sent me four big pieces of cake and for this she receives thanks from the very bottom of my stomach. It was delicious. Carl Boeker hauling wood for the fig cannery. Ben R. Mowery is now down to P. A. He will not have to fall far to become an R. J. R. addict. This is as far as a smoker can go. If you have heard this before, "stop me," but here it is: It is rumored that Mayor O'Neal of Portsmouth, with co-operation of the officials of the Ruthruth Seaside Airline will construct the proposed (?) hotel in the Spanish Mission motif (if you know what that means) with the familiar red tile roof and a generous patio. It will be two stories high and facing the beach will give view on the seaside that will delight the eye. The building and equipment will cost around $300,000.00 and we hope next week to present in this column an artist's sketch which will give an idea of the beauties of the structure and surroundings. Some of our readers may think this is a dream, but remember that dreams come true. Anyway the sea is there, the tide ebbs and flows, the beach unequaled as a playground is waiting the call. Mrs. O'Neal is ready and anxious for the tourist trade and the new railroad officials are equipped to handle the traffic. "There is a woman in our town, Who thinks she's wondrous wise. She talks and talks and talks around, But never tells the wheres and whys. She allows one to think that something Bad and naughty is in the air, But nothing she says had truth's good ring. Another just like her, and we have a pair. --Fragments from Hack. Rev. Merriman L. Smith returns from Fort Sam Houston hospital and preaches two honest to goodness bible sermons, and as Lt. Merriman L. Smith, R. O. T. C., returns to Fort Sam Houston for two weeks training in the reserve officers corps. Some extra good music Sunday, for when Mrs. Harry Austin Clapp and Miss Dorothy Crane tangle their fingers among the ivories good music emits, exhales, issues, comes forth. Last week I wrote that for 34 years I had looked into the same face. One of my critics doubts the truth of this statement and to make it plain to HER, will explain that, of course, like all other men I have at times plucked flowers from 'tother side of the fence, but always the same eyes called me back. If you other fellows tell the truth, you will make the same confession, but then we know the world is full of liars and most men lie to their "wives." "Shall I have naught that is fair?" sayeth he, "Have naught but the bearded grain? Though the breath of those flowers is sweet to me, I will give them all back again. --Longfellow P. S. & N. B.--I hope Carey Smith forgets to send a copy of this week's Trib to the miserable wretch. We men must hang together.
The Matagorda County Tribune,
August 10, 1928 |
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Collegeport, August 15.—In spite of the hot weather and showers we had an attendance of 26 at the Christian Endeavor Sunday evening. After a short song service the program was carried out with Mrs. Oscar Vernon Chapin as Leader. Topic—Life’s Secret Discovered. True and false standards of success, found in Matt. 7:1-5 and Joshua 1:8. Jesus’ secret of being successful, by Mrs. L. E. Liggett. A short talk on the topic by the leader. Prayer, Mrs. Crane. The principle of the thing, clippings, Rosalee Nelson and Arthur Liggett. Duet, Piano Sea Garden, Mrs. Harry Austin Clapp and Miss Dorothy Crane. How to be Successful, Dick Corporon. The World has hung many portraits in her success gallery—Miss Louise Walter. The following questions were discussed: What is the Standard by which the world judges success? Is it right? Was Jesus a success judging from worldly standards? Can a man be a success and a failure at the same time? How? The meeting was turned over to the president, Miss Dorothy Crane, after all committee reports were heard. Plans for a social were discussed and decided to hold a pie social Friday, August 17th, at 8 p. m. A publicity committee was appointed. There being no further business the meeting adjourned. --Mrs. O. V. Chapin, Pub. Ch. Mrs. E. A. McCune is visiting the Holsworth family. The Kings Daughters had charge of the morning service last Sunday. The Woman’s Club met with Mrs. Holsworth Thursday afternoon, August 9th. Rev. Merriman L. Smith and family are in San Antonio, where Mr. Smith is attending the Reserve Officers’ camp. Mrs. Hunt, the mother of Bert Hunt, with his sister, Mrs. Gould, and brother, James Hunt, from Nebraska, have been visiting the Hunt family and returning took Lera Hunt with them. Lera will attend school in Nebraska this year.
Palacios Beacon, August 16, 1928 |
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It is said that when Oscar Chapin painted the post office building he put on three coats and, on being asked why he did so in such warm weather, replied, "The directions on the can says that to obtain best results, put on at least three coats." Anyway, writing about coats, wonder if any of you noticed the swell new dress Rosalie Nelson wore to church Sunday night. Some dolly girl. Well, reading the papers, I notice that wives are still shooting husbands, lovers, their sweethearts, and most of them getting by with a slight slap on the wrist. Our local preacher has went back to the hospital but his wife goes along for fear the doctors will amputate his tonsils. In order to be a real good fellow, he ought to allow them to take at least one. The miserable wretch out riding with Edward Regnier. Will have to watch those parties. A man drinking coffee from a saucer. Two dogs kill another. A mother quail with about a dozen little chicks. The mother flutters away and the little rascals scurry for cover. The third clutch of mockingbird eggs in the same nest this season. A crane trying to smash a crab so he can consume the dainty meat. Good taste, Mr. Crane. Just found out how the so-called horned frog breeds. A hummingbird at the honeysuckle. A dove's nest with three broken eggs. A tragedy. The trouble with most marriages is that they begin with a burst of love and passion and then comes the blow up. Just been reading "The Heart of Rachael" by Kathleen Norris. A strong Indictment of the present marriage system and divorce laws. Good reading and will start thought. Five yellow airplanes flying in formation passed over Homecroft Monday noon. Bound for "The City by the Sea" I guess. If this string appeals to you as being better than usual, thank the miserable wretch. For three meals she has served me with alphabetical soup. Tuesday the lightening played some merry pranks about these parts. Put the fones out of commission by striking the wires in front of the post office, then it gamboled down to the home of C. L. Ash and finding Mr. Ash sitting on the back gallery resting from his labors. It struck as near him as possible, tearing the back of the house into bits and scattering the resulting kindling far and wide. The explosive force was so great as to blow out every window in the house. Damage estimated at about $500.00. Oh, no, it did no damage to Clifford, for he was protected, front and rear, with substantial bumjers [bumpers?] and the shock absorbers with which he was equipped. Certainly, he was able to bring the mail in, as and when, it arrived at the station. "Swift as a shadow, short as any dream; Brief as the lightening in the collied night, That, in a spleen, unfolds both heaven and earth, And ere a man hath power to say--Behold!" --Shakespeare Guess Verner Bowers goes to another dance for he had his white panties cleaned. The Woman's Club meet with Mrs. Holsworth this week, and next month they will entertain the County Federation. I shall attend and maybe, perhaps, who knows? I will be invited to participate in the generous feed always provided. They often feed the hungry pups they find hanging around. A new woman plans to locate here, but wonders if she will be received by the cognoscenti. A young lady of New Carlisle, Ind., was invited to an auto ride on a Sunday but refused because she felt it her duty to attend Sunday school. She went to Sunday school, fell over a chair and broker her leg. Wonder if the boys and girls who went to a picnic last Sunday evening feared they would break a few legs if they attended the Christian Endeavor? Have just been reading an article by a farm paper editor explaining how a man should farm and sell his crop. I know this man well. I do not believe he ever made a dollar by farm work, for he has from early manhood been on a salary. If he were to change places with the average farmer, I will bet a dollar to the hole in a doughnut that he would starve, but he can tell the other fellow all about it. The man who yanks a living from a farm these days must have guts and few of these agricultural writers possess guts. George Braden taking a rest and absorbing refreshments at the Come-Inn. If some of the stuff in this week's Saturday Evening Post is worth ten cents per column, then Carey Smith should pay Lurline Mallard one hundred dollars for each of her exquisite poems. But even if he did, it would not make wrong right. Woman's Club meeting with Mrs. Holsworth with temperature 96 in the shade. Mrs. George Braden is one of several kickers because "Thoughts" do not appear in the Weekly Tribune. The local news contained in this diatribe means much to the "outlanders." I tell them all to make the kick direct to Carey Smith, but I am also stating that the Weekly without "Thoughts" becomes a Weakley. The Comance jury required only five minutes to bring in a death verdict. Only time to shake hands and say "howdeedo." Looks as though the blinded justice peeped a bit. A few more such lessons and misusing girls who are taken on auto rides will cease. Mr. G. A. Duffy is running around 3000 head of cattle at this place and the other day while talking to him I said, "You would hardly believe that this street at one time was a cow path," and casting an eye along the sidewalk he replied, "Oh, I dunno; but look at the calves running around now." For the benefit of the readers of the Weekly Tribune will report that the cement pouring machinery is now located at this station and by the end of this week cement will have been poured as far as the Merck place. Thus grows our "nine-foot sidewalk." It is rumored that the bustle is to return. If it does I will be blamed if I know where it will be put under the skirts I see around these parts every day. One good thing about the bustle is that it would at least hide some parts now visible or almost. An advertisement in the Daily Tribune offers for sale a lot at $500.00 that cost $400.00 twenty-five years ago. If it requires that length of time to increase values 20 per cent, there is some hope for Collegeport lot buyers. Lots that sold for $100.00 twenty years ago now sell for $700. Excuse me, I placed the period in the wrong place, I should have moved over to the left two places. The one good thing about the present prohibition law and its enforcement is that it gives both political parties something to scrap about. Many people believe that it is the greatest farce and bull ever written on our statute books, and some of them are real good people. Saw a girl going down the street last night with legs like this () and the seam on the back of her hose was crooked and way off to one side. The fine thing about it is that she thought she was something all right. Maybe she was. If you get blue at times and feel depressed and it seems as though the entire world except yourself was wrong, cheer up and remember that nothing lasts forever. Everything ends some day. Friday the mercury stood at 100 in the shade and 110 out in the sun. In front of Hugo's Palace of Sodelicious Drinks it stood 106, but that was arranged so visitors would buy the cooling schooners of coke. Guess the poet who wrote "Into every life some rain must fall" did not have a thermometer. Wonder if the cliff dwellers on Blackstone Avenue will remember that some one has a birthday August 30th. Anyway, the recent rains have helped the crops and done no damage to the cotton crop. Federal officers visited this burg Saturday and arrested twenty-eight Mexican aliens who were employed by the Briggs Company pouring cement on the "nine-foot sidewalk." The men were taken to Bay City and placed in jail. It is reported that twelve others fearing the same fate left the job. Wish Doctor Van Wormer could see how the figs are swelling up since the recent rains. Carl Boeker had his gang out spraying yesterday.
The Matagorda County Tribune,
August 17, 1928 |
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No, Pauline, the Austin Clapp who is in Europe attending the Olympic games as a champion swimmer is not Harry Austin Clapp of Collegeport, so rest easy, as "Thoughts" will continue to come to you each week for as long as I am able to think. The King's Daughters will meet Thursday at the home of Mrs. Lauterbach near Palacios and the usual busy time with a fine lot of refreshments and I still wish I could qualify. A local woman went into Hugo's [Kundinger] Pharmacy the other day and asked: "Have you anything for grey hairs?" and Hugo, in his usual polite manner, replied, "Nothing but the greatest respect." Some folks say Hugo is not a diplomat but that was before he married Hattie Haisley. Rumor says that a hamburger and cold drink place will be opened to supply the wants of the road crew. Well, well, well! looksee, a big diamond ring on a young girl's hand. Wonder what it means? She seems to be proud of it, but much too young to take on responsibilities of that sort. Jesse Murry has decided that she will not use the Federation Scholarship but will take a correspondence course. The King's Daughters will meet at the Lauderbach home, as already stated, and after filling up on the generous provisions they always carry along tongues loosened and discussion, debate, argument, examination, ventilation was the rule. Some of them used nice little rubber hammers while other used the old fashioned maul. Mary Louise took in Austin Saturday and made a careful examination of the Capital building. She reports that in her opinion it is safe. Goshallmity! Don't know what we will do with the high cost of life. Ice cream cones have went up five cents a case and kerosene oil one cent per gallon. Thinking about crabs makes me wonder if people realize what a versatile, changeable, clever, many-sided creature Mr. Callinectes Hastatus is. He can travel with equal ease forward or backs away, always keeping his lights much like some humans. Ever watch a crab eat? He rushes at his food like a tiger, grabs it or a bit of it and backs away always keeping his lights in the front. The human crab does the same thing and if you do not believe it listen some time when a man or woman is doing the crab act. Look how, at the least sign of danger, they will crawfish, back away trying to keep from danger. The miserable wretch is crazy to go up in one of them there "airyplanes," but as for me "terra cotta [firma]" is good enough. She is the leading lady in a play that will be produced by Impresario Boeker, and she (miserable wretch) goes about the house mumbling her lines until I am nearly dotty. The other day I hear her say, "So, now in my old age I will be taken to the poor house." In a moment she said, "My three sons have deserted me." This was news to me, for has never told me she had three sons. Only goes to show that nearly all women have a secret past. One woman in this burg said, "The only time I have been unfaithful to my husband is when I think of the boys I used to know." Very few of our people even suspect this woman. Isn't it awful? Well, the C. E. Pie Social was in Friday night. Some of the pies were great big fat ones with a generous pay streak while some had a little stingy streak that left little but the crust. These pies were replicas of the women who made them. Receipts were five bones, which is some cash these days. Mary Louise is looking for an interesting time when the American Legion meets in San Antonio. She, no doubt, will see Judge Kenesaw Mountain Laudis and Oscar Vernon Chapin, Gen. Pershing and Jack Holsworth, Lindbergh and Ira Corporon, Will Rogers and Melvin Spoor, Gen. Hulen and Lieut. Merriman L. Smith and many other heroes and celebrities. No doubt some of them will ask her to dine with them. Makes me very proud. And, oh, boy, I do love that girl! "My words of love are ships at sea, That sail away, sail away, sail away. Some day they will sail back to me, Joy will fill my soul that good day." --Fragments from Hack. Well, anyway, Tuesday came a package of magazines from my boy, Toddie, mailed at Toronto. The little guinea pig Ora has been bottle feeding gave up the ghost and there is sorrow in the house of Chapin. It is a mighty fine thing to be able to overcome the troubles and sorrows that visit us. The Bible says that those who overcome will have their reward and they do always. With sorrow we learn of the illness of George Harrison and we hope and pray that he will soon have relief. Then comes Paul Braden, the always smiling, happy, freckled Paul, and we know that in his good mother's hands he will make speedy recovery. Wonder if the price of kerosene was hiked one cent to cover the expense of his illness. Fig picking will begin next week, but if hauled to Bay City there will not be much money left when graders are through. The cement pouring crew are near the Welsby place. Thus grows our "nine-foot sidewalk." For many years I have observed pies and women and I have come to the conclusion that a pie that is filled with a thick, generous pay streak is always the work of a woman in whose breast beats a great big, generous, loving heart. A fine, splendid soul that one may go to in distress. On the contrary if one finds a pie with a little scanty, stingy feeling you will find that the maker has a very small soul, is stingy in dealings and well worth watching. A little mocking bird making its first flight is tired and rests for a time on the floor of the gallery. Having no experience with men it shows no fear and allows me to approach it and at last grasps my finger and rests easy. At last it gives a few little chirps and resumes its flight and stopping on a tree branch begins to scold me, perhaps because I failed to put a fat worm in its yawning mouth. O. O. McIntyre asks: "What's become of the grocer who handed you a quarter-pound slice of cheese on a knife as a sample?" Can't tell, Oscar but I do know that he does not live in this burg. The powers that control the air will not allow women to take off any more. I certainly approve of this order, although it seems unnecessary for our girls could not take off much more and be decent. I was very proud of my two-tailed calf but no more, for here comes one from Harbin, Mass. with six tails. Last evening as the sun was sinking in the west the little mocking bird came to the front door and thrusting his tiny claws through the screen wire rested there for a few minutes and asked for entrance. "Once Paumanok, When the snows had melted, and the Fifth-month grass was growing, Up this sea shore, in some briars, Two guests from Alabama--two guests together, And their nests, and four light-green eggs, spotted with brown. And every day the he-bird, to and fro, near at hand, And every day the she-bird crouched on her nest, silent, with bright eyes. And every day I, a curious boy, never too close, never disturbing them, Cautiously peering, absorbing, translating. Shine! shine! shine! While we bask--we two together." The Mocking Bird--Walt Whitman
The Daily Tribune, August 23,
1928 |
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Sunday, August 26, 1928
Song Service. General discussion of the question: “Have Religious Leaders Benefitted the World More Than Business Leaders?” Business:--The President took the Chair and no business was presented. Next Sunday, the usual election of officers will be held and all members are urged to be present. The meeting adjourned with the benediction. Mrs. O. V. Chapin, Pub. Chm.
Palacios Beacon, August 30, 1928 |
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Collegeport, Aug. 29.—With a gap of about one-fourth mile to be finished, Collegeport will soon have a concrete road 15 miles long toward Bay City. The cement pouring crew is now working on this last section. The road will have a nine-foot cement slab and eight feet of shell. All bridges and culverts are cement.
Palacios Beacon, August 30, 1928 |
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Just finished reading a book, "Many Waters," by Elinor Clapp. A sincere story presenting a rich picture of a fine young woman. Bits are fairly rotten, but through its pages is woven the life of a young girl with a strong character. In it I find these words, "The world belongs to those who can best adjust themselves to it. That's the secret of the art of living; but most people don't know it." To adjust, adapt, conform one's self to the conditions surrounding one is the great secret of living in a small community. Often my friends have asked, "Why do you bury yourself in Collegeport? Why don't you break away and get out and live under other conditions?" They don't understand. That's all. They simply do not realize what it means for one's heart roots to go down deep in a piece of good old soil. No one can tell me about city life, for I have lived it from New York to Frisco; from Marquette to Mexico. We've had 'em all, enjoyed 'em all, and now here in this soon to be unisolated place we find health, happiness, contentment and the only fly in the ointment is that we are separated from our lover girl. With her here at home the place is complete. We have our books, fine friends, music, birds, flowers, finest of water flowing from a well 600 feet deep, good home, splendid neighbors, take an active interest in local affairs--well what more does one desire, when one is looking down the valley? Wonder how Verner's white pants will mix with a flat tire? Like oil and water. There is grief in the House of Chapin. Some predatory miscreant wormed into a guinea pen and carried away twelve registered males. The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away. The preachers nowadays spend most of their time preaching prohibition. If you are willing to take a bottle of beer or a snifter of red liker you are a miserable sinner. All other sins are overlooked. A Newark paper states that two-dollar bills are not popular. But that is in Ohio. Down here we love them. If "brevity is the soul of wit" how about the bathing suits our girls are wearing? Worth driving miles to see. The miserable wretch is the guest of Mrs. Wright this day while I will be royally fed by Mrs. Oscar Vernon Chapin. That's what comes from having a friend. An advertisement offers for sale "flapper pants." I never had an idea that flappers wore--I thought they did not--well, anyway you know what I mean. If you do not, come down here any day and you will be convinced. Frank King up and around looking real husky. Louie Walters smoking a cob and selling cream and eggs. "May ever lady press his lips, his proffered love returning, Who makes a furnace of his mouth, and keeps his chimney burning; May each true woman shun his sight, for fear his fumes should choke her, And none but those who smoke themselves have kisses for a smoker." --Anonymous. This is real funny to us who smoke R. J. R. and have a continual fight to keep the women away from our kisses. Ask Seth Corse or Ben Mowery. Ruth Boeker and Ruth Mowery selling fresh figs. Ed and Crayden Morris calling on us and enjoyed the visit. Well, anyway, we know how long and how high the coaches are, used by the Ruthruth Seaside Airline Railway. When the County Federation of Women's Clubs meets here September 1st I hope the honor guest, Mrs. Jessie Daniels Ames, of Georgetown, will not be asked to visit the library. Nufsed. The most interesting number on the program is "Luncheon, 12:30 p.m." Ever think how interest in any character is increased when localized? For instance, there is Edwin Markham, famous author of "The Man With the Hoe." Have always liked that poem but have had no particular interest in the author until I read in this issue of American Magazine that his father used to keep the tavern in my native town, White Pigeon, Michigan. I knew well the entire Markham family and my interest in the poet jumped above par at once and now I am reading of him, his life and his works. The poem about the man with the hoe was instigated by a view of the painting "The Man With the Hoe," by Jean Francois Millet. One verse attracts attention and here it is-- "Bowed by the weight of centuries he leans Upon his hoe and gazes on the ground. The emptiness of ages in his face, And on his back the burden of the world." But that was before the tractor. The man no longer leans on the hoe, for he sits humped over a tractor. I have read Al Smith's speech of acceptance and reading it through spectacles, one lens of which was supplied by Secrest and one by Tetts, I naturally read it crosswise and had it been spoken by Hoover I would have called it a statesmanlike document and vicer-verser (not Verser Brothers) but simply vicer-verser. The country would be safe with either were tother dear charmer away. One is tweedledum and the other is tweeledee. Smith is a wonderfully human character while Hoover supplies the romantic figure. About the only difference between the two men is that each started with nothing and while Smith learned to keep, Hoover never did. Continued gossip is like always adding a bit of kindling to a flame. It keeps burning, burning, flaming higher, sending out more heat until at last it becomes decidedly uncomfortable and often burns, sears, chars. In a small community no person is able to escape. All are reached with eruptions of the putrid mass. Some are severely injured in character. All are disgusted and clean men and women aid in extinguishing the flame. The one on whom the attack is directed should, knowing innocence, look the world in the face and tell 'em to gotohell and nonchalantly smoking R.J. R. blow the smoke in the face of the offenders. Anyway, to slander, vilify, defame, traduce, libel the name or character of another is a despicable, contemptible, low-down trick and should call for the infliction of the severe penalty provided by the statutes. No, 'tis slander, Whose edge is sharper than the sword; whose tongue Outvenoms all the worms of Nile; whose breath Rides on the posting winds, and doth belie All comers of the world." Cymbeline, Act III, Sc. 4--Shakespeare Saw a fight between a wasp and a tarantula. The wasp would dart in and sting and the tarantula would spring but always missed. At last, after several stabs from the wasp, the tarantula weakened and collapsed. Then the victor attempted to carry the body away but its weight being too great, he dragged it away into the grass. Our moon flower planted years ago by Mother Van Ness is in bloom with five white blossoms. Mrs. Liggett's mother, Mrs. Spence, and her two sisters, Mrs. Glasser and Miss Ethel Spence, arrived from Dallas for a week's visit. The road men are right in town now, and cement will be poured inside two days, beginning at the library building. Thus grows our "nine-foot sidewalk." Almost too good to be true. Mesdames Wright, Nelson, Chapin and Clapp assisting Oscar Chapin to clean up the library grounds. The miserable wretch came home with some extra fine blisters, big, juicy ones. Rev. Merriman L. Smith, having doffed his U. S. A. uniform, is now ready to preach honest to goodness Bible gospel. Some of our folks sure need it or something else. Grief in the Ash family for a road truck ran over their fine, big dog and broke its back. I can sympathize with them for I, too, grieve when one of my dogs die. These be busy days for the Come-Inn. A Michigan paper reports that a road bandit held up a young flapper and stole her dress, and it amounted to so little that she never missed it until she reached home and her mama called her attention to it. Same thing could easily happen right here in this burg. You children will remember that Cinderella stayed away from the party because she had no proper clothes. Imagine one of this day's girls worrying. She would be the hit of the gang. Glad to know that Zack Zackers is back on the job. Ben Mowery, reading his (Zacker's) Riverside-Bay City article, remarked, "Zack should eat a few more crackers." Well, anyway, nine substantial democrats came out Saturday and voted in the run off. I say nine, I mean eight were substantial. Richard Halliburton, the travel book writer, has finished his swim through the Panama Canal, taking 50 hours for the trip. Used to be four months sail from Atlantic to the Pacific. Some swimmer. Political news is of not much interest to me. Most of it is the blah and the bunk. The wisest political prophet knows no more about it than the most ignorant layman. Not until the votes are counted in November will any man know. Adam never had cause to worry abut the cost of clothing for Eve, but at that, he had nothing over the present clothes buyer. John B. Heisey back from his Kansas trip and our local church may rest easy again. Bought a can of "Icy Point" salmon from the local Bachman store and was so well pleased with the contents and the beautiful label that I wrote to the packers and back comes a recipe book, a thankful letter and two cans of that superlative so-delicious salmon. Shows it pays to tell the truth sometimes. I guess interested people may buy "Icy Point" at the Bay City Bachman store, but I dunno, for they never advertise so how should I know what they have for sale. For years I have made it my practice to patronize business houses that advertised, and there be some more of the same fault. There is one sure thing in this world and that is "It Pays to Advertise."
The Daily Tribune, September 3,
1928 |
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I saw her in the softening glow Of ruby tinted shade; No fairer picture one could know, And never sweeter maid. Her locks, the little curly freaks, Fell down in ringlets fair. She had two blossoms on her cheeks,
A rosebud in her hair. And though of years considered staid I sought her not in vain. I kissed the fragile fairy flower Upon her dainty lips, As bee in summer's shining hour The nectarized honey sips.
With loving arms I held her close And whispering in her ear: "Why do you wear the fragrant rose Upon your hair, my dear?" 'Tween pearly teeth as white as snow I heard her softly say: "This is my birthday, don't you know, And I am eighteen today." Apologies to Robert T. Redding This thirtieth day of August is the birthday of two fine women. One born in 1867 and the other in 1910. This is not the time or place to register all these two have been in my life, for were I to do so, I would be obliged to open pages of my soul this day and I thank God that in His mercy I have been privileged to see this good day, the day my daughter blossoms into womanhood, the day my good wife has ripened into such sweet, glorious fruit--a splendid character--loving, loyal--a real helpmate in time of trouble--a joyous sporting spender in times of plenty. The boxes that go from here to there, and from there to here, express in their poor way what is in our hearts. No man ever had a finer wife, a sweeter daughter.
And my glance wanders over the sea. For know I well that in good time fate Will bring my sweetheart girl to me. --Fragments from Hack. Well, anyway, as I write this, sale bills are being printed announcing that Oscar and Ora Chapin are selling their home and its equipment and tiring of this burg will make their home in the Alamo City. I cannot blame them for they have youth and ambition and seek the end of the rainbow, but as I write I think of the fable that Aesop of Sames wrote: "It happened that a fisher after fishing all day caught a little fish. 'Pray, let me go, master, ' said the fish. 'I am much too small for your eating just now. If you put me back into the river I shall soon grow, then you can make a fine meal off me.' 'Nay, nay, my little fish,' said the fisherman. 'I have you now. I may not catch you hereafter.' A little thing in hand is worth more than a great thing in prospect." No family ever enjoyed better, finer, more thoughtful neighbors than these two young people have been and all we can say is that we will miss them every day. If some of the non-resident owners of fig orchards would take a trip down here while figs are ripe and eat them direct from the tree, their enthusiasm would increase in leaps. Great fruit with promising prospects for those who cultivate and care for the trees. Jack Holsworth, Oscar Chapin and Bill Smith, three brave legionnaires, taking a trip to Bay City. Our postmistress being ill this week, Seth does double duty. Rev. M. A. Travis and daughter, Ellen here for a few days. Wonder if the Springfield figs folks ever wrapped their lips around a flap jack, well buttered with Holstein butter and all a float with fig syrup? Now's the season, so better visit Collegeport. V. S. Haisley waiting in the rain for Hailsey Mills. The engine watchman undertook to do the impossible. Started a fire in the boiler without water. Result: a blow-up and no train service out or in. Wonder if the folks across the bay missed the whistle of our daily train? After my cows last night and found them along the slough and across the channel saw the entire Ackerman family busy fishing. As they are good Republicans hope they caught a big mess. Rain, rain, every day now. Bad business for cotton farmers but fine for other croppers. Gus Franzen, a good soul, seeing me wade through the mud gives me a lift in his autoford. Carl Boeker building a fine boat which he will place in service and operate between this post and Hamburg. Maybe (?) This eternal gossiping gets on my nerves. She did this. She did that. I saw him hand her a letter. I don't know but I think he kissed her at the last dance. Lots more rubbish. There is only one way to cure a gossiper and that is to give a good sized dose of paradichlorobenzene. I guarantee that never again will the receiver of this treatment venture to attack the character of another. Our folks are not very well pleased with the "nine-foot sidewalk." With six feet of shell we will have a fifteen-foot road. An auto is about six feet overall which means that when, if, and as, two cars pass on this fifteen-foot road there will be just one foot on each side and the same clearance between the cars. Too narrow a margin for safety, and often, perhaps, more as often, one car will be crowded over the cement edge and provided this happens in wet weather an accident cannot be prevented. We were promised a seventeen-foot road and we fell like the old-timers did, 54-40 or fight." The Industrial League requested official information from the precinct commissioner, the county judge and expected one from the engineer. The commissioner, George Harrison, replied but, did the county judge? Not as any one has heard of. Had this request been made before the primary he would have chased down here, for the mail would have been too slow. It seems that when our citizens ask for information it should be given for they are entitled to it. But after the primary is over servants become masters and masters become servants. Oh, well, there is coming another primary. The road question was the subject discussion at the meeting of the League last Thursday night and if possible its officers intend to ascertain just why and how our road plan has been cut to this dangerous width. "Men are never so likely to settle a question rightly as when they discuss it freely."--Macaulay. Margaret Holsworth left Saturday for her work in the Chicago schools. Collegeporters are justly proud of this girl who dubs herself "the town's old maid." As for me here's wishing we had a few more "old maids" as refined and cultured and good looking as our own Margaret.
"Maiden, with the soft blue eyes, In whose orbs a shadow lies Like the dusk in evening skies.
Thou whose locks outshine the sun, Golden tresses wreathed in one, As the braided streamlets run!
And that smile, like sunshine, dart Into many a sinless heart. For a smile of God thou art." --Longfellow. Mr. and Mrs. Kimball Roberts and daughter, Laverne, from the town of Mark-Ham, and always welcome to this burg. Jack Holsworth driving a cow with his sport roadster. G. A. Duffy swelling around in a new Ford Sport Coupe. Mrs. Boeker assisted by several in putting up tables for the County Federation luncheon. No spuds in town. Wonder how the ladies will make potato salad? Verner Bowers preparing for a week's vacation in and around Houston. Dorothy Crane is a happy girl, for she was awarded a scholarship by the T. P. C. If, when and as she goes to school it will be tough on Dickdorothy. Wonder who he will look at when she has went? Mails all balled up this week which does not please us Homecrofters. We miss our daily letter from the only girl in the world. A famous writer says, "There are seven mistakes of life that many of us make." In my opinion there are many more than seven and one is using a flat brush for painting metal, old plows, cultivators, bolts, rivets, etc. Another mistake is taking a chance on a kicking or a jealous woman. The County Federation of Women's Clubs' meeting Saturday was a wonderful fiasco. The only person from out of town was Mrs. Charlie Duller of Blessing. Not one authorized delegate appeared except Mrs. Holsworth, the local representative. A belated letter from Mrs. Thomas Lewis to Mrs. Clapp informed the latter that as she was the ranking vice-president she should take charge of the meeting and conduct its affairs. But it arrived too late. It was the day after. The eats were there from fried chicken to ice cream, and talk about calling in those from the by-ways and hedges. They called in the men from the fig orchards, from the stores, from any old place, and they all feasted on the bountiful viands prepared for the visitors. The program was replete with good numbers but the only one that performed was "Luncheon, 12:30 p.m." Every one was glad that "Luncheon" was not frightened away by the rain. Wonder when the Federation meets again?
The Daily Tribune, September 4, 1928 |
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Contractors, R. W. Briggs & Co., finished the paving into Collegeport yesterday morning about one-half hour before the rain. Their paving plant will now be moved to Hawkinsville for the purpose of finishing the paving of the road to Sargent.
Palacios Beacon, September 6, 1928 |
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Sunday, September 8th No Christian Endeavor was held on Sunday, the 2nd, because of the rain. Program for last Sunday: Song Service. Repeating the Lord’s Prayer. Topic: “Getting an Education.” Topic from Proverbs 1-13 read by Mrs. L. E. Liggett. Talk by the leader, Miss Dorothy Crane. The meeting was cut short because of the election of officers. Just a few questions were read by the leader for discussion:
1. What way high school and college help us to become
truly educated? Some very good thoughts were brought out in this discussion. The business meeting was called to order by the president. Minutes of the last meeting were read and approved. Prayer meeting chairman reported that a leader was always appointed ahead. Social chairman was not present. The treasurer reported the sum of $8.97 on hand. Motion made and seconded that the report be accepted. Carried. A letter from Marie Skucius was read in regard to publicity work. A letter from Mr. Carl Reisel was read. Motion made and seconded that an order be drawn on the treasurer to pay the current pledge. Carried. Miss Baird’s and Dick Corporon’s names were presented for the position to president. Miss Baird was elected. Rosalie Nelson was elected Vice President. Dick Corporon was elected Secretary. Mamie Franzen was elected Treasurer. Dorothy Crane announced that she was leaving for school at the T. P. C. She was giving a rising vote of thanks for the splendid and faithful work rendered. There being no further business the meeting stood adjourned. Benediction. Mrs. O.V. Chapin, Secretary Protem. Mrs. O. V. Chapin, Chm.., Publicity Committee
Palacios Beacon, September 13, 1928 |
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By Harry Austin Clapp Well, anyway, that is off my mind, and so will report that the "nine-foot sidewalk" is finished from this place to El Maton, about fifteen miles, and now only waits the shell to put the road in use. Wonder who knows when the road will be complete? Silence!
The other night the setting sun gave us some beautiful cloud colorings and effects. 'Twould be a genius who could put the true colors on canvas.
"In the west the sun shot pinkish light To the clouds up in the sky. On the sparkling bay the spray and mist Seemed to me that they kissed The coloring of the clouds so shy.
As I looked I heard a call Of a voice from above-- A voice of timbre rich and rare, Filled my soul with the air, Hovering o'er the clouds like a dove." --Fragments from Hack
Just received a copy of the paper published in the town of my birth--The White Pigeon News. The issue consists of eighteen pages, seven columns, a total of 2520 column inches and 2250 copies were issued. White Pigeon is located in a road laid out by the government more than one hundred years ago, running from Detroit to Chicago, and was the main stage route between these points. It is for its entire length 100 feet wide and is known as Chicago street until it reaches Chicago where it merges into Michigan Boulevard. It is officially known by the highway department as U. S. Highway 112, and an official count showed that on August 12th, 13,253 cars passed through the village during 24 hours. Wonder if the powers that be expect that many cars to pass over the "nine-foot sidewalk?" I remember when I used to pull the lever on the old Washington press the paper used and when the editor took a vacation I became the editor as well as power for the press. Maybe that is the reason I write "Thoughts."
Brite and fare this Wednesday morning but, being a weather pessimist, I dunno about the rest of the day.
Fig packing going on and some canning for locals.
Robert Murry doing his usual weather prognostication and accordingly we may expect a very cold, wet winter. God forbid.
Have a broken water pipe in the back lot and quite a pond has formed and frogs have made it their habitat. A big, blue crane comes every night and early this morning saw him with a bull frog in his bill. Last I saw of Mr. Frog was his toes disappearing. I like frog legs, but Mr. Crane may have the toes.
Two vacancies in the board of school trustees. Wonder who will be the unlucky one to receive the criticisms of the voters in place of Frank King and Oscar Chapin. "Not I," said the sparrow.
With the coming of the "talkies" will come the passing of the dumb bells who up to this time have dominated the screen. From now on it will require something besides a beautiful fotografic face, a pair of dandy legs. The voice will be considered when the question of salary is discussed.
Say, boys, did you ever think that it has only been a few short years since we have known that women's stockings had tops? If some of the gals who go stockingless would go to Oscar's and get a shave, legs would look more tempting. Even at that, it requires something besides a shave to make some legs attractive, enticing, inviting, charming, bewitching and altogether sweet to the eye.
If Tex Ricard really desires a successor to Gene Tunney, all he has to do is visit this place and look over Milford Liggett. Milford has a set of boxing gloves and is able to give the KO to any one who dares stand before him. He is ready to take on all comers.
John Gainesborough Ackerman taking a load of cotton to the Blessing gin.
E. L. Hall taking his morning coffee at the Come-Inn.
Twenty quail drumming into flight. Looks like quail on toast this fall.
Rumor says that the twenty-five thousand American Legion men who will meet at San Antonio are all seekers after "wine, women and song" and for that reason some of our local men are forbidden to go. What slush, what bunk, what blah at times fills the heads of women. These men fought for us. Some are maimed for life for us. So I say let those of them who wish "wine, women and song" have them. They have earned the right. Thank the Lord, all of them have no such desire. They meet at San Antonio to aid in making this a better world, to help their comrades, to educate our youth in patriotism. They meet for a worthy purpose and may God in His great goodness abundantly bless them.
"Fishing for flounder the other night I met a mermaid with form divine. I held her close which was my right And kissed her ripe lips with mine. Carl Boeker claimed her for his own; Nay, nay, sir. She is my finny girl all alone." --Fragments from Hack.
The Woman's Union meets this day with Mrs. L. E. Liggett and the miserable wretch is with them. Some people seem to think this is a labor organization affiliated with the A. F. L. This is not true. It is a fed organization and incidentally raising cash for the church.
A red bird, perhaps a Cardinal, maybe it was a Scarlet Taniger, but any way, it was a red bird. A member of a family of American birds with no less than 375 species. A migratory bird, it flys from north to south. Manners, modest and inoffensive. He commits no depredations but on the contrary destroys myriads of noxious insects. When cold weather comes he is no dependent but flits to a country where sustenance may be had, rearing the young, the pair are a joyous, happy couple, singing at the work of bringing food to the youngsters. This particular bird, gorgeous in his rich plumage delayed his departure. Thursday afternoon sitting on a branch, his throat bursting with song, oblivious to all else save the joy of life, he detected too late the approach of a boy with a rifle. The rifle is raised, sighted, bang! and a beautiful song bird is nothing but a poor lifeless thing. The boy picks it up by the legs and dangling it in his hands, exhibits with pride his marksmanship. Such a boy is not fit to have possession of a firearm, for he goes about the country with murder in his heart and destroys some of our most valuable and beautiful song birds. Maybe this boy did not know, but the killing of this bird was a crime punishable with a severe penalty. Song birds and migratory birds are protected both by national and state laws. I can see how one kill birds and animals for food, but it is beyond my comprehension to understand why any person will in a moment cause a beautiful song bird to become a putrid mass of festering flesh. This boy is a Boy Scout.
Here is another Boy Scout story: This boy saw a quail flying, strike a wire and fall to the ground. He picked up the bird and found that I was cut on the neck, took it home, applied first aid and in two or three days when it recovered turned it loose. Which was the real Scout? Both incidents at Collegeport the last week.
Country folks simply love to attend auctions and funerals. I expect it is the desire to look at the remains.
"Oh, the world's a curious compound, with its honey and its gall. With its cares and bitter crosses, but a good world after all. And, a good God must have made it--leastways, that's what I say, When a hand is on my shoulder in a friendly sort o' way." --James Whitcomb Riley.
I use this because of such an action seen on the streets Friday. Isn't it true?
Matagorda County Tribune, September 14, 1928
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Several of our local girls went to the beach the other night for a bathing revue and suddenly one of them burst into tears. Her companions asked what the trouble was and she replied: "I have lost my compact." "That's nothing," said one of the girls, "use mine." And the reply came: "That does me no good, for my bathing suit was in it." Now comes word that skirts are to lengthen and perhaps will go to the ankles. If this proves true, good-bye legs, for they will no longer scorch the eyeballs of the male sex. Wonder what a certain girl will do? She cannot shorten her skirts any more for the skirt is now only a frill about the waist. At last, Dorothy Crane has left for the T. P. C. at Milford and all of us are pleased that Dorothy has the opportunity for other educational advantages. Rosalie Nelson is all swelled up, for she is now Miss Vice President of the Christian Endeavor. Woman's Club meeting this week with Mrs. Merriman L. Smith. Canning factory under management of Carl Boeker operating and putting up some extra fine fruit in No. 2 tin cans which will appeal to family trade. Can't say that it is a result of Carl Boeker's care given the orchards, but the fruit this season is of fine quality and an abundant harvest. Guess careful cultivation, spraying, pruning had considerable to do with it. Last night I was introduced to Miss Ethel Sirman, the new primary teacher and will state that I did not know that in Markham there grew a teacher tree that produced such sweet, luscious, delightful fruit. If her intellect is half as sweet and wholesome as her face she will be one grand little teacher. Mrs. Ash has recovered from painful injuries received while attempting to crank a car (not a Ford) while it was in gear or geer, which ever suits the reader. Ye Thoughter must thank the Liggett family for a generous hunk of liver. I fed it to the miserable wretch, first making certain there would be enough for me, and talk about vitamins. She threw off ten years as shown by the roses that bloomed in her cheeks. High tide all week from disturbances in the gulf. Brings in many fish and after them go the porpoises. Interesting to watch them play as they gambol in the bay. A hornet kills a big spider and starts to drag the body away but changes his mind and after three attempts, swings into the air and away to his nest. Two buzzards idling in the air. A big, blue crane drops into the slough within twenty feet of me. He stands there three feet high, perhaps more, and a wing spread of about six feet. He stands quietly and looks me over and then proceeds with the business of fishing. Over in the fig orchard a jack rabbit. On my approach he stands up on his haunches, big ears erect, to catch the slightest sound, eyes alert, sensitive nostrils aquiver. He stops, nibbles a few blades of grass, hops along a few feet and as he at last locates the human he bounds away with long, springy leaps, only to stop in a few yards and again observe. Buckshot barking and springing at something in the grass. Investigation shows he has located a horned toad. Late in the season for doves to nest, but found one with three eggs. An abandoned oriole nest swinging idly in the breeze. Another dead armadillo. Back broken. This is the fourth I have found this year and wish I knew the miscreant who is doing the killing. All dead from broken backs, so probably murdered by some fiend. A butterfly in gorgeous yellow, at rest on an orchid flower. A small, spotted dog running on three legs. Looks homeless and friendless. A tiger cat with a rat in his mouth. Our beautiful moon flower is no more. Few days ago noticing that the leaves were being eaten. I investigated and found Mr. Phlegethontins Quinquemaculata, or in other words, a tomatoe worm, at work. Killed him, of course, but others appeared and at last I had destroyed seven of the big three-inch worms. Wondering how long it required to consume one leaf, found that in seven minutes the leaf was beyond saving and in fifteen minutes practically gone. The praying mantis of the Orthoptera family is the enemy of the tomatoe worm and devours the latter whenever and wherever he is found. Have observed several such fights and always after sucking the juice from the worm the empty husk is cast aside and the mantis begins praying for another victim. A family of wasps of the genus Polisters, some times called social wasps, have a nest in a huisache tree. When I tried to cut it down they proved to me that the word social as applied to them was a misnomer. They are brown in color with an elegant form. They have ready for use a stinger and in this they resemble some women who having an attractive form, also have a stinger. When Paul Braden went home ill the price of kerosene advanced one cent. He is now well and back on the job but I have not noticed any reduction in the price of kerosene. Seems to me that with all the oil he distributes the doctor bill should have been paid by this time. George Dawson says, "half the gossip of society would perish if the books that are truly worth reading were but read." Mrs. George Braden and daughter, Ruth (Mrs. Arthur Matthes) attended the Woman's Club meeting Thursday and enjoyed the and et cetera which consisted of baked apples with whipped cream, cake and iced tea. They returned to Blessing with full stomachs and minds. The women of the community plan a shower for the three teachers, but it is to be an affair for women only. Look suspicious to say the least, and ought to bring out a big crowd. Doc Harkey must move just cuz Bill needed a cage for the beautiful songbird he caught. She's a bird, all right and should have a peachy cage. Thinking about lawyers makes me think of one on Bill. As the story goes, a local butcher called on Bill some days ago and asked, "if a dog comes into my shop and steals a piece of meat, have I the right to ask the dog's owner to pay for the meat?" Bill promptly replied, "You certainly have the right," and the butcher informed him that it was his dog and asked for a payment of $1.50, and Bill, with a smile, handed out the money. The next day Mr. Butcher received a bill for $10.00 for legal advice. The moral is that no man living or dead ever got the best of a lawyer. About all I know is what I read in the Beacon, and this week I read that Mrs. Frank Ramsey of Springfield, Ill. has been in Collegeport. I wonder why she failed to call on me? Hope she explains. It rained the day after the auction. Seen at the auction: Louie Walters with his crooked pipe, Ben Mowery pulling on his drinkless, George Welsby wondering how much to bid, Gus Franzen with a truck and needed it, Kimball Roberts raising his own bids, L. E. Liggett buying kerosene cans. The three teachers buying furniture for their nest. Mrs. Richman speaking Irish brogue. The write of "Thoughts" breaking a big mirror which means seven years of bad luck. The Mowery family will eat chicken. The preacher nosing about seeking something of value. Vernor Bowers buying a show case. Ten dollars worth of glass ware brings thirty cents. Once, twice, the third and last call and sold to Mrs. Welsby of the Come-Inn.
The Daily Tribune, September 18, 1928 |
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Owing to inclement weather the sale of O. V. Chapin advertised to be held in Collegeport last Saturday, Sept. 8, have been postponed until this Saturday, Sept. 15th, beginning promptly at 1:00 P. M. Sale will consist of household and kitchen furniture, washing machine, lawn mower, chickens, 5-ft. counter show case, 6-ft. floor show case, dial scales, and many other articles too numerous to mention. H. M. Barrett will be the auctioneer. Palacios Beacon, September 13, 1928 Mr. H. A. Clapp, of Collegeport, who contributes a very interesting article weekly to the Tribune, was a pleasant caller at this office last Saturday. He told us of a Bohemian farmer to whom he sold in 1926 a farm of 40 acres near Collegeport. In 1927 the farmer made a good crop and paid $100 more than was agreed upon on his place. This ear he has gotten 36 bales off of the forty acres and will, doubtless pay out. Can you beat it—in—Texas? Bay City Tribune.
Palacios Beacon, September 27, 1928 |
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By Harry Austin Clapp
In the year 1876 Chicago was struggling to burst the chrysalis in which she had been sleeping as a great village and emerge in city clothes. The loop was unknown. The waves of the lake washed the sandy beach in front of the city, where now stands the Art Institute Field Museum. No electric cars, elevated roads, or subways. Street cars were operated with horses or mules and were short, four-wheel contrivances. In the winter months straw was placed between the seats which were arranged lengthways of the cars. In this straw one could snuggle one's toes for warmth. My father was in the wholesale boot and shoe business at 87 Michigan Avenue just south of the train entrance to the Randolph street Illinois Central station. We lived in what was at that time the progenitor of the present apartment buildings. It contained four apartments, each one, two stories and a basement. ____ located on Roby street, west side, between Madison and Adams and so when we went home, we took the Madison street horse cars and snuggling our toes in the straw shivered until the driver called Roby street. West and south all was prairie, wild and covered with flowers. From this prairie came at intervals a band of Indians with baskets and other articles for sale. The chief always accompanied them and with him his daughter. Young as I was, I fell for this Indian princess, and vowed that I would join the tribe and marry her. She was little and dark-skinned with bright black eyes, dressed in beaded dressed skins and moccasins that looked to me fit for any earthly queen.
One time when they visited our neighborhood I mentioned my desires to the chief and much to my delight he was delighted with the idea, and home I went with my heart filled with the fact that I was to be an Indian and the chief's son. To my surprise neither my father nor mother were pleased with the idea and refused their consent to such an admirable arrangement. This, although it did not dampen my ardor, put a quietus on the plan of marrying an Indian princess. They defeated, foiled, balked, circumvented my ideals and at last brought them to naught. The sweet little Indian princess passed from my life, but for years my great ambition was to be an Indian. I can see her as I write, about four years old, and a sweet little barbarian.
One night Mrs. O'Leary's cow kicked over a lamp and 87 Michigan Avenue went up in smoke, with my thousands of dollars of perfectly good boots and shoes, so we treked back to the home town. I carried my Indian experiences with me and soon organized a band of Indians. Each one provided himself with a dagger whittled from pine with a sharp edge which was bloody with blood drawn from the veins of the owner, for I decreed that each member to prove his nerve must needs slash his wrist and with the blood consecrate the dagger. To test the nerve of applicants each one was required to bite off the legs of a live frog. The final test was to be stripped to the buff and staked out flat, stomach up, on which was placed several grains of corn. Then a chicken, caught from a neighboring hen yard, was allowed to pick up the grains. Howls of anguish followed this test but all came through and were admitted to the tribe, for had they not given abundant proof of their nerve and courage?
One day the chief thought we better capture a pale face and so we set about the task and soon had the biggest sissy boy in town securely bound. He wore long red curls but his greatest crime was that he wore underclothes. Our tribe wore nothing but short pants buttoned to a waist and a straw hat. Why should we not put this sissy boy to torture? First we thought best to scalp him, but that would not supply enough amusement for the braves, so it was decided that he be burned at the stake. Quickly he was bound to a tree and leaves and wood placed in a circle around the tree and the victim. We scorned matches, for no real Indian ever used matches. A bit of powder on some leaves and a flint and steel and the fire began to burn and the victim soon became warm, as was evidenced by his howls. His voice carried far enough to reach his mama and soon down the hill she charged, rescued her darling and put the entire tribe to flight.
Space forbids further details of our Indian tribe and its life but we had scads of fun, some wholesome, but most of it not much. This was before the Boy Scouts, and now with them we have wholesome, educative play and boys are taught nature life and a Boy Scout who passes all the examinations to Eagle is a better educated person than most men. He knows birds, trees, flowers, animal life, first aid, how to live out doors, loses fear of being lost and grows up a strong self-reliant boy.
"Lo, the poor Indian! whose untutored mind Sees God in clouds, or hears him in the wind; His soul, proud science never taught to stray Far as the solar walk or milky way, But thinks, admitted to that equal sky, His faithful dog shall bear him company." Essay on Man, Epistle 1--Pope.
Dean Merck returned from a visit to Springfield, Ill., chased out by "wild women."
And here is Jack Holsworth planning a visit to the San Antonio American Legion Convention, hoping he may see some "wild women." Hope he leaves his friend Bill at home.
Mrs. Pollard, county school superintendent, and Miss Francis Mayfield, county health nurse, making the burg and looking over some tonsils, adenoids, in-grown toe nails, et cetera, and so forth, ad infinitum.
Great improvements at the Come-Inn in the installation of a spank, brand new counter. Guests will no longer care whether the coffee is warmed or not.
Herbert Hoover and Alfred Smith may not always enjoy the same line of music but they agree on one tune they want the farmers to sing--"I Hear You Calling Me."
The Munn store in Houston, in order to advertise a certain make of hose, which means stockings, places a near naked girl in the window with a banjo. She calls herself "Miss Wunderhose." Looking at her picture I "wunder" where the hose is.
A certain woman in this burg has the prettiest pair of legs in the South. Slender ankle, easily swelling calf, always well clothed in shimmering silk--they are beautiful, elegant, lovely, charming, beauteous sight for a man's eye. When such a vision will cause Robert Murry to blink and wipe his specks, one may be sure 'tis worth rubbing at. (For name see Thoughts next week.)
The King's Daughters meeting this week with Mrs. Archie Harrison at Palacios.
Rev. Merriman L. Smith tripping to Houston.
Ora and Oscar [Chapin] sold out, lock, stock and barrel, and broken the home ties, are now en route to San Antonio.
Red lips. Flashing eyes. Trim legs. Hair a-flame. Wonder if women wore jewelry before they wore clothing?
A writer in Nation's Business says "There seems to be a Renaissance approaching, in which the ultimate ideal will be Doric simplicity."
Hope this Renaissance will strike our women and cover up some of the Dorics.
Here is a slogan for a Tribune advertiser: "If it came from Jack Young's, it's paid for."
Took a trip to Bay City Saturday. Called at several stores and was impressed with the general air of "take it or leave it." In one store I waited ten minutes while the clerk talked with a lady friend. As I passed out, weary from waiting, he aroused from his coma long enough to ask "anything you wish?" I came home and wrote out an order for the things I intended to buy in Bay City and the order goes by mail to Dallas and will receive prompt attention, and if for any reason the goods do not please, back they go and no questions asked. Bay City clerks better wake up, get a little "pep juice" shot into their veins. The town looks fine with its paved streets and new homes, new hotel and business buildings and has a general air of prosperity, but the business men themselves appear to be over-inflated with egotism. They seem to forget that Bay City is only a pin prick on the face of the earth. Go to Palacios and you are in another atmosphere. There the merchants, as a rule, greet a visitor as an old friend, make him feel at home, serve him quickly and well.
Autos to the right, autos to the left, autos in front and dread and all bogged down in the black, heavy mud. Hope our "nine-foot sidewalk" will soon be ready for use.
Called on Doctor Harkey at the C. of C. and spent a pleasant forty minutes, then went over to see Carey Smith, and struck him for a raise which he granted. Carey still thinks the Tribune the "world's greatest daily" and there be others who are with him.
Bought a hamburger at the little stand near the Mopac station and it was a real hamburger, sufficient, ample, adequate, satisfactory and the proprietor gave me a glad smile and thanked me for the business.
Gee, but I do miss the clock in the court house tower. An old friend has gone and no one to blame but the blamed county court. It was very handy for county rubes who had to watch the train time. Court house looks as though it had been knocked on the head and spread out over the lawn. Make a first class cow barn but lacks the dignity that is usually associated with a court of justice. Well, anyway, the reconstructed court house, will do very well along with our "nine-foot sidewalk."
Matagorda County Tribune, September 28, 1928
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Roy Nelson claims to own the world's greatest cow. According to his statement, this cow is what is known as a three-teater, or in other words she has only three appendages, attachments, concomitants or whatever you may call those things from which milk is extracted. The remarkable thing about this cow is that she produces no milk for her product is all cream, ready for the market. If she was a Holstein, his story might be believed, but as she is not, I have doubts, but still one must grant that Roy is a truthful man. Emmitt Chiles comes in for a few days' visit with his family. Ora and Oscar [Chapin] are now located in San Antonio at 3216 West Houston. Wonder when they will have their fill and return? Took a trip on the Portsmouth Limited Wednesday and had lunch at the Nuckols Café. Well cooked, well served, by neat appearing girls. Guess will go there again. Called at the Alaskan and bought some liver with which to feed the miserable wretch and, incidentally, Buckshot. Met Mrs. Thomas H. Lewis and it seems from what the lady said that some unknown person purloined, pilfered, filched, cribbed, abstracted or borrowed a gold-handled parasol, much valued because it was a gift from her mother. Naturally she could like to have it returned. Met Miss Mayfield, county nurse, who informed me that she was ready to start work on the Health Contest to be staged in Bay View school, sponsored by the Collegeport Industrial League. Last Saturday Carey Smith informed me that before night fell he would close a contract for a sixty-foot addition to his Tribune plant. He did, as is evidenced by the fact that foundations were being laid Wednesday. Carey has shown his faith in Bay City by the building he has done. Men, as a rule, do not spend money in such improvements unless there is a promise of some proper return. Found Doc Harkey glad to see me but sorry he had to inform me that had I called at 11:45 a. m. instead of 12:01 p. m. he would have taken me home to a dish of turnip greens, bacon and pot likker. I feel like cussing the M. P. for arriving a few minutes late. Doc is still hustling on the creamery job and promises results pretty soon or sooner. Found out that Judge Jones has at least one faithful, loyal friend. What in the world is so valuable as a good friendship? Always glad to see Bert Carr. Have known him for twenty years and the oftener I meet him the greater the attraction. Think the collector's office will be in safe and capable hands with Kleska in charge. He is courteous, polite, civil, obliging, affable, gracious and knows the business from A to Z. Was told that the County Attorney has filed more than one thousand delinquent tax suits. Hope the resultant fees will buy him a few good shirts, same style that Bill wears. All county officials knew me during the campaign but some of them failed to recognize me this trip, but brace up, dear heart, they will know you in the spring of 1930. Wonder why a public official considers his office his personal affair? Anybody answer? Anyway, Robert Murry cans a hog this week. Hope he brings me some liver or lights. Huh? E. H. Holsworth has lost is crown and no longer can be known as "Old Man Holsworth," for his son Jack has jumped into the spot and is now called "Old Man Jack Holsworth." Now time for him to let up on the cradle business. Merriman L. Smith wanted eight dollars for the Boy Scouts and the League supplied his wants. What do you do about this? A local burgher refuses to post his letters in the local P. O. only because the postmaster would not buy eggs from him. Revenge is sweet. Heard while waiting for the mail: She "Have I not always been fair with you?" And he replied, "Yes, but I want you to be fair and warmer." Mrs. Ash and the miserable wretch taking a trip to Palacios. Said the batteries needed attention. It went this time but a better reason will be required for the next trip. The Providence Journal states that auto accidents are extremely rare. What are called accidents are only happenings. You may see the smiling face of Mrs. Ida Chitwood in the Houston Post Dispatch. She was with me when it happened to me. Laid me up for six months but who would not have a happening with such a splendid woman? Thirty-four at the League meeting Thursday night and all went home filled with weenies, doughnuts and some of Mrs. Franzen's extra superlative coffee. The peach we plucked from the teacher tree that grows in Markham is making good and smiling her way into the regard of the community. In my innocence, which by the way, is characteristic of me, last week I wrote about the proposed shower or pounding or whatever one cares to call it, that the Woman's Club planned for the teachers. It seems the intention was to keep it a dead secret and thus pull off a surprise on the teachers. Well, anyway, when Mrs. Nelson read the item she called up Mrs. Liggett, that is, as far as she could, on our fone system and as a result it sure looked as though I was in for a bad session. No harm was done for the teachers do not read local or state papers and for this reason the function was pulled off in fine style with complete surprise. The teachers have sufficient groceries to last them until Christmas or about that time, maybe less. But, still, at the same time, I do wish teachers would subscribe to the Weekly Tribune and take at least one daily paper and keep up with important current events. There be some who find fault with this attempt to show regard for our teachers and to have a happy evening and a joyous time. But every fellow to his taste as the woman said, etc. etc. After this week the C. L. Ash family will live at 9846 Bay View Drive, Apartment A1 (sometimes called the Shiver place). The Carl Boeker family will move from the Hurd home to the place vacated by the Ash family. This change will in no ways effect the delivery of our daily mail or the welcome whistle of our sure-enough steam train. Gus Franzen hauling cotton. Homer Goff herding Mejicanos. E. L. Hall taking a Sunday trip to Vanderbilt. Mrs. Welsby at the Come-Inn selling Wm. Penn segars. Mrs. Crane testing cream. Bill Leslie all dolled up in a new shirt. Ben R. Mowery at Bay City for a day. Louie Walter and his crooked stem pipe. Seth Corse selling postage stamps. John Heisy cutting grass. Francis Eisel with her dignified walk. Rosalie Nelson still taking mail from the P. O. boxes. Stanley Wright trying to look like a million dollars with his new Model A Ford. When I plan to visit Bay City it rains. Anyone tell why? The "nine-foot sidewalk" all cleaned off and in use. Hope the shell will be placed "muy pronto" or sooner. Men and women casting their Literary Digest votes. Arthur Soekland fixing up the Hurd home. Maybe it means that Burton and Dena will come home. Hope so.
The Daily Tribune, October 2, 1928 |
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Last night when the sun sank behind the spires, domes, minarets and water tanks of Palacios, shooting flashes of rainbows into the turquoise sky, the light seemed to linger as if reluctant to part with the day. At last the sun was hidden from sight and the skyline of "The City by the Sea" faded from view. Night came. As if in rebuke for the gorgeous display of pyrotechnics of the night before, the sun rose as usual the morning after but that was only "comme il faut" In my grandmother's time the girls set their caps for the boys, but in this day they set their knee caps. For many months Hugo Kundinger has been sending me a pictorial sheet advertising a certain brand of paint. The last one showed a picture of a very beautiful girl. I always enjoyed looking at beautiful girls, but I cannot understand why a staid, steady, sober, married man, treasurer of the church and several other community organizations should distribute pictures that tend to destroy my morals. I honestly try to be a good, faithful husband, but such pictures tempt me to stray away from home and the miserable wretch. Mesdames Liggett and Nelson ramrodding the bake sale and, as usual, it turned in a nice penny for the Woman's Union. Edward Regnier in the trucking business. Jack Holsworth tripping to Bay City. He is claimed for jury duty next week so the wild women waiting for him in San Antonio must needs find another victim. Kiddies skating on the "nine-foot sidewalk." At least it is useful for something. George Welsby renewing his subscription to the Weekly Tribune. Wonder why Mr. Haisley will not buy a truck? There is one thing this county needs more than any other thing and that is an agricultural community with the buying power of a more prosperous farming people. We need not more land, but more people on the land, more potential factories on the farm, more men and women and children living at home and they to be really prosperous need more and better cows. Now that there is prospect for a creamery offering cash price for fat at the farm is a good time for our farmers to test out their cows, discard those which do not show any ability to ever be profitable and secure some that have bred into them the ability to eat generous quantities of feed and manufacture it into butter fat. There be such animals, and Doc Harkey can tell where they are to be had. The Mandens/Mundens selling out their goods and ready to leave for the North. Hope some new fellows come in. Mrs. Merriman L. Smith preparing her program for the Woman's Union meeting to be held with Mrs. John B. Heisey. L. E. Liggett dipping cattle. Mr. Stoops, of Chicago, here for a visit and a looksie at his property. F. L. Jenkins loses combination to his P. O. box. Bet Rosalie Nelson can open it. Heard at the post office: "Lemme see it." "I ain't got nothing to do today." "I done got a good grade in grammar." "I like her'n more that his'n." "Darn that combination. I never can open my box." And, by the way, last night at least two of the waiters for the mail should buy "Life Buoy" soap and use it. The canning factory still putting up figs. Stanley Wright is now privileged to receive some of the kussin' from school patrons, for he is a member of the board in place of Frank King, resigned. At Palacios the other day found "The City by the Sea" wagging along as usual and at the packing house thousands of cans of shrimp being packed. Palacios acted as though she was minding her own business and handing out the goods with a sweet "thank you." Carl Boeker buying milk for oyster soup and then refusing to eat the dish. Glad to see my old friend D. P. Moore back in a splendid spaced advertisement, but I miss the ad of the Alamo Lumber Company. Always read that advertisement and it seems that an old friend has went. Wonder if they are out of business? Maybe Jno. Sutherland has retired. Can't believe that for John is not a man who retires. He is, of course, retiring in disposition, but I never knew him to back up. Searching the advertising columns of the Trib I fail to find anything that would lead an outsider to think a lumber yard was located in that burg. Outside people judge a town by the advertisements that appear in the local paper. The miserable wretch (sometimes called Mrs. Harry Austin Clapp) assisting Mrs. Lester Elsworth Liggett at the library. About 1500 volumes makes good grazing for book lovers. Understand that the Bachman store has a new deal and that Mrs. Crane is now the supreme "Mayor Domo." Well, she is a pleasant person from whom to buy groceries. Price is not everything in a retail store. The Come-Inn did a whale of a business last night. Sold five bottles of pop and a William Penn to one customer who evidently had money to spend. He threw thirty cents out as though it was les than a centime. Beats all how chesty fellows will get when filled with imitation booze. Imitation is no misnomer, for it is flavored and colored with coal tar dyes. For me, give me the old days when a schooner overflowing with amber suds could be had for a nickle. Abajo pop. Well, well, and another well, here comes the news that Oscar [Chapin] is at work in the Menger barber shop during the big convention. Hope he cuts 'em close and reaps what some people call "good money." Ora is jerking sweaters in the Penney store, and hope she also gets a chance at the change. She will if it is in sight for she never overlooks anything that looks like spending change. I knew that if Bill and Emily Jane stayed in Matagorda county long enough the clan would increase, and now comes little Emily Jane. I wish for her not wealth, not fame, but health, long life, a happy, pleasing disposition, a useful life, a steady growth into full blown womanhood, an ability to be of service to her kind; in fact I wish she grows into as sweet and charming a character as her mother. That is what I wish for little Emily Jane. "Have you ever heard the poets tell How came this dainty Emily Jane Into this world of ours? The gates of heaven were left ajar, With folded hands and dreamy eyes Wandering out of Paradise, She saw this planet, like a star, Hung in the glistening depths of even. Its bridges, running to and fro, O'er which the white winged angels go, Bearing the holy dead to heaven She touched a bridge of flowers those feet So light did they bend the bells Of the celestial asphodels. They fell like dew upon the flowers; Thus all the air grew strangely sweet! And thus came dainty Emily Jane Into this world of ours." --Apologies to Thomas Bailey Aldrich I read in the papers that Florenz Zeigfeld will put on the stage "Whoopee." It is to be a leg and lyric extravaganza. I can readily absorb the leg part of the show, but darned if I sabe this lyric extravaganza business. Rather look at legs if they belong to Ann Pennington. Mrs. Wright selling eggs at .0266 per egg. Was a time when we figured eggs by the twelves but not now. E. N. (full name verboten) drinking pop from a bottle. [Ethel Nelson] Rosalie skating on one skate. Quite an expert. Mrs. Welsby all dolled up, looking twenty years younger, ready for a trip to Bay City with Monsieur Edwardo Regnier as Chiffenier. Some style, but no more than we expect from the owner of Come-Inn. Eight weeks ago the members of the local American Legion were going to San Antonio this week if they had to walk. Reconsidering they resolved to go in Merriman Smith's car and take their wives. Thinking that would be wise, two planned to go in Jack Holsworth's car. Now they all back down for word has been received that San Antonio will be full of "wild women" and retreat. Plenty of wild women right here at home, so there seems to be no escape for these brave Legionnaires. I used to meet "wild women" on the "Banks of the Wabash" when Schmidt was on earth and they never hit me that is not very hard.
The Daily Tribune, October 9, 1928 |
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Oshkosh Daily Northwestern, Oshkosh, Wisconsin |
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Right here in this little burg one may see beauty every day. This morning the grass was covered with dew drops that sparkled in the sun light like diamonds on the breasts of a beautiful woman. Flowers that raised their heads from Mother earth's breast during the night gave forth their faint perfume. On the bay the water gently rippling with the tide glinted with the light of the rising sun. A fog dropped its curtain over the earth and from it I heard ghostly voices from all points of the compass. A dog barked, a turkey called, a goose gave his strident call, a rooster crowed and I knew that all was well over at Ackerman's. Heard a voice calling cows and know that George Welsby was at his milking. Heard voices of children that sounded like music. The near-by grass green as emeralds, waved gently in the stirring breeze. Palms waved their wands as if moved by fairy hands. Heard the exhaust of an auto, the put-put of a motor boat. All this I heard and then I smelled the pungent odor from a late prowling Mophitis mephitica [skunk]. The fog lifted and the sun bathed the earth with its warming rays. The miserable wretch prepared for church and I accompanied her as far as the "Come-Inn," but no farther, for the preacher aims to save me and I don't want to be saved. Life is too good as it is, I'm getting too much fun out of life to spend time worrying about hanging onto a life-saving buoy--that is just at present. When the time comes I know 'No hay cerradura si es de oro la ganzua." And the golden key is my belief that in His good time God will care for me. I rest content. Hon. James O'Neal, mayor of Portsmouth, in town Monday and reports that he is getting along with the city council and that Portsmouth will vote 100 per cent for Hoover. Doctors Elliott and Cairnes, of Palacios, were here Monday assisting Miss Francis Mayfield in making a health survey of the pupils of Bay View school. All children have been weighed, given a physical and dental examination, scored, tabulated, listed, arranged and the first health contest in the county is off. This work was sponsored by the Collegeport Industrial League which supplies the funds for the work. At least six times each year for the past 35 years the miserable wretch has threatened to quit me. Up to this time she never has actually left, for she realized that good men are scarce, but Monday she hiked away with Miss Mayfield and I am left alone to hustle as I may. Several girls and women have powdered their noses and reddened their lips hoping to attract my attention, but thus far I have resisted their attractions. If the miserable wretch does not come home soon some of these gals will get a job. There is one of them that could come right now, but I'll give the missing link 24 hours more before I make the plunge. Well, anyway, the miserable needs no gold medal for having lived with me for 35 years. She wears one in her heart day by day. Reading the papers one secures much information. For instance, in Tuesday's issue of the Tribune I find this: "It is pathetic to see an alderman trying to please all parties." To me the most pathetic, touching, affecting, moving, melting thing is to watch our county precinct commissioner answer all questions about the "nine-foot sidewalk" in such a manner that every son-of-a-gun will receive a satisfying answer. I always enjoy reading advertisements, and here is one from a Utah paper: "Bird cage and parrot offered by refined young lady having green feathers and a yellow beak." The Woman's Club held their monthly gab and feed fest with Mrs. S. W. Corse. Seth ordered ice so I suppose they had some home brew on tap, for don't see why they should use ice for any other purpose. Wish I belonged to the club. All over the county certain groups of men are telling people about the farmers' troubles and how to remedy it. The remedy is easy and efficacious, effective, potent, cogent, effectual. It is an old, old remedy prescribed by one named Xenophon of Athens. (Editor's note: Xenophon never lived in Athens, Texas.) This he wrote 2,283 years ago: "Agriculture is an art which will enrich those who diligently practice it, provided they understand it; but if they do not understand it, it matters not how hard they may labor at it, it leaves them in poverty." The secret in any business is as Xenophon says, is to understand it. The other day a new car, painted a dainty green, roared into the yard and with screeching brakes stopped in front of the house, and from it came Arthur Soekland, Jr., my old schoolmate. Helen Pettigrew (by some called Mrs. E. H. Holsworth), and last but by no means least Dena Hurd. Well do I remember how as a little girl she would come to see me and with one hand I would tell her fairy tales and with the other cut out paper dolls. As I looked at her it was hard to realize that the little girl had grown into a woman that looked to be at least 38 or 40 years of age, not a day more. Ginger, but it did seem good to see her again, and it will be a happy day when she and Burton D. come back home to stay. Her business here is to place the handsome Hurd home on the Bay Shore in first-class repair. When that work is finished the entire Hurd and Soekland clan will assemble about Christmas time for a family reunion. The burg is filled with visitors. Guess the "nine-foot sidewalk" attracts, for it certainly makes ingress and egress easy. Big bunch from Weimar visiting Miss Baird, and from Lane City comes Mrs. Ernest Brown to visit her sister, Mrs. Emmitt Chiles. Our people should study the proposed amendment to the school laws and for explanation of the intent of this proposed measure advise reading the last issue of Farm & Ranch. It seems that the idea is to centralize educational affairs, especially in the schools with less than 500 pupils. All such schools would be in charge of a county board of education, who would employ teachers and operate all the schools. This would do away with local trustees. It also provides a county-wide school tax which the county would distribute as thought best. In plain words this district would no longer enjoy the exclusive use of school taxes in its own territory, nor would we be allowed to elect our own trustees. The one good feature in the proposed amendment would be that the county superintendent would no longer be elected but would be appointed by the county board. It never has seemed proper to require this officer to go out every two years and make a political campaign. I am asking all patrons of schools effected by this amendment how they will enjoy having their local schools controlled and operated by a county board with perhaps no single member locally interested. Centralization is all right in many situations but it seems to me that this is going just a bit too far and I shall vote no. Study this plan over and read the other propositions and let us be prepared to vote intelligently. Well, anyway, it makes no difference whether the amendment carries or does not carry. Arthur Soekland will come back to Collegeport to stay. He will buy a farm and engage in the business of raising poultry. His father had a poultry farm in Arkansas with more than 3,000 laying hens. This is where Arthur gained his experience in handling poultry, for he was raised on chicken meat. Old timers will be glad to know that this family is to be here again. It is fortunate that we have a state board of control. We have a highway department, the members of which are foolish enough to think they know what type of tractors and other road equipment they need and which is best adapted to their use. They in their foolish moments think, they by experience, know what they want, but the wonderful board of control think they know best and refuse to buy what the highway engineers want, and order equipment that costs $35,000 more. Dan Moody should lift the covering to the skulls of the two men who dominate this control board and inserting an egg beater stir up what brains are found into a mess that will develop into sense. Not necessary to agitate the brains of H. H. Harrington. The Chapin house looks alive once more, for some one has moved in, but it is not Ora I see moving about the yard.
The Daily Tribune, Tuesday,
October 16, 1928 |
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Well, the first real norther of the season dropped down last night in all its bluster and flurry. It brought a tang to the air caused folks to fix up stoves, think about wood, hunt up overcoats, lay aside straw hats, oil up the old gun, look after leaking windows. Winter will not be here until December 21st, so we are just getting a foretaste. Cheer up, even when winter arrives, for a British author has said: "If winter comes, can spring be far behind." I think this 17th of October that just 38 years ago my mother passed over the river. A sweet, gentle, loving and lovable Christian woman who loved me with all the passion a woman could have for her only son. When she passed, there passed from my life my best friend. No matter what I did I could go to her and receive not chiding, but comfort, and with it a mother's advice. How I regret now that I did not always follow her words of wisdom. If there is such a place as Heaven, I know that God cares for her there and that she waits patiently for her children. Yes, she loved me until the last breath and she was my wonderful sweetheart mother.
"A mother's love how sweet the name! What is a mother's love? A noble, pure and tender flame, Enkindled from above, To bless a heart of earthly mould; The warmest love that can grow cold; This is a mother's love. --J. Montgomery
My Daughter "I am so pleased That God hath made her fair, With velvet eyes And shadowy, dark brown hair. A dimple nesting in her chin And a smile to cuddle the dimple in. O, God, I pray, Please make her kind; Give her the power to give That she may find Treasures of Love Along Life's way and not be blind." --Doris V. Hands. I think that in every community there is some distinctive feature in some families that excel the average and here I give the palm to Gus Franzen and wife. I am not sure, but I think they were both born in Sweden, but they came to America in early life and soon absorbed some of the American ideals and among them are passionate cravings for educational advantages for their children. This, to me, has been an outstanding feature in the Franzen family. Arnold, Dorothy and Clifford Franzen have proven their worth and have attained an excellence above the average which is all due to the conscientious efforts of each of them as an individual. This community should be and is proud of these three children. Channing says, "home is the chief school of human virtue." I think that for two years this very week, I have written "Thoughts" for the purpose of chronicling the events of a small rural community. Not one line has been written with malice, ill will, spite, rancor, maliciousness, hate or venom. "Thoughts" has been a simple recording of small town happenings. At times news has been scarce, for here few men bite dogs and no women have killed their husbands. Impossible that what one writes will appeal to all readers alike. No writer ever was successful in doing that. "Thoughts" give many out-of-state readers local news which they like. The Tribune goes to nearly every state in the Union and several foreign countries, and scattered in these divisions are folks who are interested in Collegeport. It is to them that this column makes its greatest appeal and I feel that each week I write a letter to them. Well, anyway, the perfect legs have been found. They were selected by a jury of hosiery experts from 2,000 beautiful girls and the prize legs are owned by a real American, the Princess Dearborn, a descendant of Pocahontas. Now that the prize has been awarded it will no longer be necessary for me to seek locally. The King's Daughters met Thursday with Mrs. Liggett with much work on hand. This is, perhaps, our most industrious club. I think also that Louise Walter should have great credit for her determination to secure a college degree, and then comes Dorothy Crane with similar ambition. All hail, to the boys and girls who, having an ambition for education, are willing to buck down and work for what it brings to them. I think that a farewell reception was given to Mr. and Mrs. Munden the other night. Sorry to have these good people leave for was just getting acquainted and I liked Munden with his long-stemmed pipe. I think those who want some extra fine wood should see Stanley Wright for a bird told me he had located some and was willing to bring it in. I think that the visit of Dena Hurd was entirely too short. She left for her Marble Palace on the Lake Shore Thursday, but promises to come back and bring Burton and Vernon and his family. Somehow the village takes on a brighter, more hopeful hue when these people are here. Both are optimists and love to look into the blue. Emmitt Chiles, threshing at Wadsworth, comes in to visit his family which includes the little Bobbie. I think it is true or untrue that a girl went into Hugo's [Kundinger] unsurpassed pharmacy the other day and said, "I want a pink tablet," and Hugo in his usual solicitude, concern, carefulness said, "What's your trouble?" and the girl replied, "I want to write a letter." I think it was Balzar who said "Even beauty cannot always palliate eccentricity." Saw my first geese for the season flying south and seventeen in number. I have counted many flocks of geese and most of them fly in odd numbers. Strange thing. Last night another flight, and as they sounded their harsh "honk-honk" and drifted south, the stars winked at them from the blue and seemed to say: "Not the cry but the rising of the wild impels the flock to follow him in his upward flight." Ancient Chinese Proverb I think that Oscar and Ora [Chapin] are now established in a dainty little apartment next door to the San Antonio Y. W. C. A. Makes it handy for Mary Louise to see home folks. I think from reports that it was a lucky girl who during the Legion convention retired at night with the same garters she used in the morning. Some say a tub full was collected on one street corner. Probably collected so they would not be too wild. I think it not true. I think that I gave G. A. Duffy a little bull the other day and he seemed to like it. Hickman's cell filled with flowers and a fonograf playing sweet music for his last hours. Flowers and music furnished by sob sisters and a few sob brothers. No music or flowers for little Marion Parker when she died. Is it not disgusting? Is it strange that sometimes we lose faith in the blind goddess of justice and strive to hasten the penalty? I think it seems good to see Tom Fulcher again and hear his cheery voice, and as he advises me to read The Christian Advocate, I return the compliment and will provide a copy. Seth Corse must needs burn lights these times or the mail would never be "put up." Mrs. Crane still taking in butter fat at a fair price. I think that the two Ruths are engaged in some very practical educational work. They are making a collection of caterpillars and keeping them confined with plenty of feed, will wait until at last they emerge into flying birds. Thus they will make positive identification of the species. It would be well if other of the pupils would engage in the same work. I think it would be a fine thing for this village, as well as others, if there could be placed on the community shield these words: "Zwei Seelen und ein Gedanke!" "Zwei Harzen und ein Schlag."
[Two
souls with but a single thought, Those who cannot read it are advised to ask Charlie Giersache. I think we should study the proposed amendment to the Constitution that provides tax exemption for considerable church property, especially residences used for a home place for ministers. It would also exempt the property of Y. M. C. A.'s and Y. W. C. A.'s. I look upon such changes with favor but there be many who will object. We have many things to vote for on the 6th of November besides Hoover and Smith and it would be well to read up and vote intelligently. I think that L. E. Liggett sold and shipped four cars of good young stock the other day but perhaps it was Arthur Liggett. As Oscar Odd says, so say I: "O, I don't know, if no one else will stand up, I'll take a bow."
The Daily Tribune, October 24,
1928 |
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[Collegeport information was abstracted from the longer article.] Last Thursday the King's Daughters met, but as the miserable wretch did not attend, we were the subject of discussion of the King's Daughters. They characterized my weekly (perhaps weakly would be better) thoughts as silly stuff, and wished I would write something serious. Wonder if the above meets their idea of something serious? I hope it does and that it inspires other thoughts instead of puerile, trifling, silly, frivolous, idle gossip. This column is not intended to be all seriousness. If it was it would not be welcomed by any reader outside of this village. I try to inject a bit of humor, a bit of fun, a bit of poesy, some of it from the world's greatest poets, some from the world's poorest, but after all, it is readable and there be some among the hundreds of Tribune readers who write me and who write Carey Smith expressing their delight. A few throw brickbats, but the perfume of the bouquets is so delightful as to cause me to forget the odor of old bricks and rotten eggs. Well, anyway, I have been serious enough, so here goes for some foolish silly stuff. Written by Judd Mortimer Lewis, this is delicious humor, but written by Harry Austin Clapp, it becomes silly, foolish and, to some supersensitive souls, insulting. All depends on where the prophet lives. Here is some more silly stuff: "I'd like to see my girlie dear. (Parley Vous?) Hear her voice, look into her eyes. (Parley Vous?) I'd like best to have her here By the side of our own blue sea. Ricky, Dicky, Parley Vous?
A joy to fold her in my arm (Parley Vous?) See her face brighten with a smile; (Parley Vous?) I'd protect her from all harm, All the time, all the while. Ricky, Dicky, Parley Vous? --Fragments from Hack.
While strolling to the daily mail I think. I see a small coral snake about six inches long. A nasty vicious, poisonous viper, and I kill it with my heel. Why has this burg never indulged in a divorce? A ferocious looking dog. A sweet little boy in his sweeter sister's arms. The bug hunters' club. Need traffic lights these days. Ben R. Mowery with his drinkless pipe. Wonder where Vern's pocket knife went? Marked down goods (?) Children skating. A Hoover for President sign. Jack Holsworth's yacht riding proudly at anchor. Woman with horn rimmed glasses. Folks eating raw cabbage. I could lick myself, only I am afraid of myself. A broken window. A beautiful sunset. That "punkin" pie was sodelicious. The way to be righteous is to sin in secret. In the old times people were ashamed to be in debt, but that was when we were boys and girls. Is it dishonest to dilute whiskey? Halt! Who goes there? Advance and give the countersign. Enact a law forbidding people to vote and every person will attempt to vote. Everyone is as God made him, and often times worse.--Cervantes It is said that a man watching Doc Sholars extract a nail from the tire of his car heard him say, "Quiet now, you won't feel this." As Dean Merck, the principal male character, is at home there seems to be no reason why Impressaria Mrs. Carl Boeker should not present her show. A beautiful bouquet of flowers from Emily Jane brought cheer last night. Flowers while we live are worth much more than a bloom bedecked casket. Come on you posies. "How fresh, O Lord, how sweet and clean Are Thy returns! Even as the flowers in spring; To which besides their own domain, The late-past frosts tributes of pleasure bring. Grief melts away Like snow in May. As if there is no such cold thing." --George Herbert.
The old-timers will remember Guy Hutchinson. He called on me the other day and we enjoyed a fine visit talking over old times. He is not the same guy we used to know but another guy, making good in the business world. He may come back to Matagorda county, for which we are glad. The box social sponsored by the school pupils was a success, financially. Some of the guests went broke buying attractive boxes and pies. Now comes Mr. White, whom all the original settlers will remember. He reports that his son is now postmaster at Fairfax, Mo. Had he intimated his desire to be a P. M., we might have arranged it here. Mr. White as well as Mr. Hutchinson both read the Tribune and by the aid of "Thoughts" keep in touch with local events, incidents, occurrences, accidents, episodes, facts. Always glad to have the early birds return. Mr. White has some important business to attend to next Tuesday and obliged to return to Fairfax.
"The cares that fretted me, I lost them yesterday Among the fields above the sea, Among the lowing of the herds, The rustling of the trees. Among the singing of the birds The humming of the bees; The foolish fears of what might happen, I cast them all away." --Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Some weeks ago Doc. Harkey came down here a fishing and had poor luck. I have just found the reason. It seems that we have a fish perculiar to these waters called the Ricker-dicker. When hooked it simply puts its tail in its mouth and turns itself inside out, thus ejecting the hook. No person has succeeded in landing one of them so Doc need not feel sore at his fishing luck. Well, anyway, after reading this, "Ride si sapis." [Laugh if you are wise.]
The Daily Tribune, October 31,
1928 |
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At the last meeting of the League a pump was ordered for the community house and a little bird told me that before many moons a sink would be installed. Good news for Mrs. Roy Nelson and the other ladies who use the kitchen most. Just another little thing the League is doing. A letter from Mr. Cottingham, of Kansas City, asks if the "nine-foot sidewalk" is finished. Wrote him that it was not, but work was going on at the rate of about 3,960 feet, 2 inches per day. Last week two men came here for a short visit and as I looked at them and talked with them I could see that their souls lifted to the clouds and they saw the beauties that God has bestowed upon us and I wondered why most of us stick our feet in the mud and looking only at the earth deprive ourselves of the vision of what might be if we, too, could only lift our souls to the clouds. Last week I mentioned the perculiar fish that Doc Harkey hooked and that escaped by turning itself inside out, and now a reader of the Tribune asks how he (the fish) reversed the process, and the answer is, by the simple method of swimming backwards. A big wooly worm crawling on the window. Along comes Mr. Arigope Riparia (writing spider) and tackles Mr. Worm, and a real fight follows, but Mr. Arigope is too agile for the worm and at the end of each attack, he has fastened a little portion of his web, and at last the worm is all bound up in a silken strong and ceases his struggle. The spider has made her egg sack and filled it with eggs, little pearls that will hatch out into little Argiones. It is about three fourths of an inch in diameter and about one inch long and pear shaped with a very narrow neck through which the mother spider placed her eggs. It is strongly guyed with silken threads so that in the strongest winds it hardly sways. Looks like a yellow silk purse that might have been lost by some fairy. Perhaps it was. Over in San Antonio they stage a "beautiful back" contest. To be one of the judges would be a pleasant job. Received a "Babygram"yesterday announcing the arrival of Anna Claire Herrmann at Dallas, October 27th, and weighing 8 1/2 pounds. This will mean little to some readers, but to the oldtimers it will mean that Anna Van Ness is now the mother of two girls.
First arrived Barbara Jane; Now comes Anna Claire. I wonder where They got the name?
Sweet little Anna Claire, Looking up with baby stare. Remember I'm your Uncle Unc, Your very own Rinky Dune! --Fragments From Hack. Well, anyway, there is one thing about rayon that appeals to me; it gets next to the skin. Roy Nelson says that he read so much about R. J. R. that he bought a sack and found it the rottenest tobacco he ever used. Just shows that his taste needs some cultivation. No person who has heard Honey Boy Evans sing "Come Take a Trip in My Airship" can help but wish he might have been spared to see present day aviation. If there is a heaven I am sure that Honey Boy is there and inviting the angels to "come take a trip in my airship." Stanley Wright and Roy Nelson stepping out in new cowboy boots. Taken from the New York Tribune of November 1st, 1912: "Miss Ethel Nelson, a girl with a beautiful lyric coloratura voice, made her debut in grand opera in the new Metropolitan last Thursday night. Miss Nelson recently returned from a European tour and will take a well earned vacation with her folks at Collegeport, Texas. The beauty, sweetness and color of Miss Nelson's voice was discovered in 1928 while she was singing "Brighten the Corner Where You Are" at the local Sunday school. Old residents will remember how sweet her voice was as a little girl and how she was always willing to take her part in local entertainments. (I ought to have a whole chocolate bar for this.) There is such a thing as celebrating hallowe'en safely and sanely, but this year the boys went too far when they destroyed school, library and church property, for which their parents must pay. To cap the outrage obscene words were chalked on part of the library property. Yet, some folks will say, "O, we must remember, boys will be boys." Woman's Union met with Mrs. Haisley this week, who supplied much work for the members. Say boy, but it is now my intention to feed my face on some of Mrs. Nelson's chicken noodles next Tuesday. I sympathize, commiserate, pity, condole, all those who have never had the opportunity to fill their tummies with these consummate, transcendent, peerless Carrie Nelson noodles. When the bell rings, tell 'em I'll be there, and bring the miserable wretch, but I won't feed her on noodles, for they make women wild. Those who do not enjoy this week's string of slum are advised to try it on their piccolos. It may sound better played.
The Daily Tribune, November 6.
1928 |
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[Collegeport information was abstracted from the longer article.] Well, anyway, Rev. Merriman I. Smith last Sunday regaled his congregation with some more "new thought," his theme being "Rising Up," and although I was not present, the miserable wretch was and she reported that it was one of the best sermons she had ever listened to. She came home filled up with the ideas given and although I received the sermon second hand, I was impressed with the fact that it was a pity that every church goer in Matagorda county could not have heard it. Have been on the house roof looking for leaks and patching them up. Finding leaks in a shingled roof is about as difficult as finding salvation in this age of several hundred sects. Ora and Oscar [Chapin] are sure fine correspondents. They have been away about sixty days and we have received one picture card. Maybe they will reform some day. I am writing this sheet of copy Tuesday, Nov. 6, and the rain is pouring in sheets which means a small vote in this box, but here is one consolation--"It won't be long now," as the cat said when her tail was caught in the wringer. The miserable wretch put on rubber boots and accompanied by her boy husband, walloped to the polls and voted as straight as possible. Well anyway, now that it is all over I thank the Lord for one thing and that is we will get rid of a lot of excess prophets. Governor Smith proved his sportsmanship with the congratulatory telegram he sent to Hoover. He is a swell loser. I admire him. Considering the landslide, it will require courage to wear a brown derby from now on. This boy, gave Hoover 39 and Smith 15 which is about all that could be expected. Just learned of the death of D. P. Moore and I feel that I have lost a good friend. During my public work it was my duty to solicit subscriptions from him and he never turned me down. He always gave liberally and willingly. He always had a smile and a happy word to say. He was a public spirited man always willing to serve. A lovable and loving character has passed over the river and he will be missed by many people of this county. I shall miss him whenever I visit Bay City. And a voice said: "Something hidden, Go and find it. Go and look beyond the Ranges Something lost behind the ranges, Lost and waiting for you to find it." And then the same day comes the announcement of the death of Dr. Frank Crane. I never saw him but I have read so many of his writings that I feel that another friend has gone away. The Woman's Club met this week with Mrs. Frank King with a Thanksgiving program sponsored by Mrs. Harry Austin Clapp, sometimes known as the "miserable wretch." Refreshments were "a la King," which is sufficient, adequate, ample description to partake of Mrs. King's hospitality. Well, anyway, I lunched with the Woman's Union last Tuesday and consumed, absorbed, devoured a liberal quantity of those world celebrated Carrie Nelson Noodles. Judd Mortimer Lewis will never know what a real satisfied feeling is until he fills his frame with Nelson Noodles. He may write about Mollie's Punkin Pie, but Nelson Noodles outclass such common food in every way. Come on down Uncle Judd and live right. The Collegeport Airport is open. At least a plane landed here Friday from Kelly Field to take on a passenger. The passenger failed to keep his date so the plane leaped into the sky and away for Kelly Field. Furnished the burghers material for talking and it will last about a week. Ben R. Mowery has gone back to his crooked stem pipe. Mrs. Crane still taking in the cream without which Morning Glory butter could not be made. Gus Franzen looking for his boys from Houston. Believe it or not, it is true, Mrs. Boeker, at the Woman's Club, won first in the contest of making as many words as possible from the word "Thanksgiving." She made 78 while Mrs. S. W. Corse won the booby, making 20. The latter received as the booby prize an elegant radio set with accessories, and the former a crate of kid glove oranges. Some prizes even if they were filled with all-day suckers. Seth Corse has a new gas stove for the P. O. and will not shiver this winter. The Utsey and Real families are loading out and going back to Leon county, but others are coming in so the population is about the same. F. L. Jenkins has rented his farm and is loading for Dilley, Texas, where he will develop his farm near that place. Sorry to have his family leave. The "nine-foot sidewalk" is appreciated these days of mud and soft roads. Mr. and Mrs. Arthur Soekland, Jr., are certainly additions to our group of young people. Splendid, well behaved, young people and wish we had more like them. Judging from the number of families coming in we will have an enlarged cotton acreage this season. Glad some are Bohemians for they are a thrifty people. Jack Holsworth says he will have a vacation during the holidays and I wonder if Verner Bowers will enjoy the same privilege? Geese coming in every day and the hunters are getting good bags.
The Daily Tribune, November 17, 1928 |
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The other day while strolling along the Collegeport Ship Channel I met a funny looking man, dressed in a garb strange to me. He had peculiar shoes of red leather, pointed at the toes and at the end little bells. His head covering was a beautiful white turban and his body was covered with a yellow robe that in the sunlight glinted like gold. His face was lean and brown, shaved smooth, and it required only a glance to see that I was in the presence of a strong character. By his side was a large, brown, earthen jug, enrapped with a covering of woven reeds, but the thing that attracted my attention was a peculiar shaped utensil, the use of which I had no idea. He introduced himself as Aladdin and explained that in his hand he held the Magic Lamp. He gave it to me and told me that all I had to do was to rub it vigorously and I would see what I would see. I sat by his side along the banks of the slough and, following his instructions, I rubbed the lamp and it seemed to glow and take on a luster, brilliancy, radiance, and this is what I saw: I found myself in San Francisco and could hardly realize that it was the year 1948 and that I had been away from Collegeport twenty years, and so I said to the miserable wretch, "suppose we take a trip to Collegeport?" and she, as always ready to wander, consented and we started. Years of experience taught me that when a woman consented it was time to act and so I called at the office of the Aviation company and engaged passage which included stateroom and meals. Early Monday morning we were at the port and as the sun tipped the range, bathing the valleys in a shower of sunlight the big ship started. Looking up from the salon she looked like a gigantic silver fish. Space forbids a detailed story of what we saw en route so it will suffice to say that at noon Tuesday we left the ship which was in express service, at Houston, and from that place we had to take the local which served from Houston to Brownsville. Up to this time I had always traveled by air express and I was a bit puzzled as to the manner of disembarking local passengers. In 20 minutes after leaving Houston, Palacios was in sight and across the bay Collegeport. The airport is located where the fig orchards used to be opposite the old Chapin home and is perhaps one hundred feet high. In front is a moving platform about one thousand feel long which moves at about ten miles an hour. The airship simply, slows down to that speed and skimming close to the platform passengers step from the ship to the platform and then to another slower moving and so on until they reach the stationary plat and then descend by means of an elevator. An adaptation of the moving sidewalk and the ship goes on its way. Collegeport is now a town of five thousand people and secured its first growth by the location of a parts factory by the Ford Motor Company. Several buildings four stories high, I saw, and one of them is still occupied by Verner Bowers and another store is presided over by Mrs. Crane, but it is now known as Crane-Bachman & Co., and carries a large stock. I was surprised to find that Ora and Oscar Chapin had returned and Oscar was operating a seven-chair barber shop. The only Hugo has one of the finest drug stores I ever saw in a town of this size, and he was glad enough to see me that he mixed up one of his new drinks. The Soeklands, who bought a farm some twenty years ago, are running over five thousand laying hens. Burton D. Hurd and Dena H. are living in the old home with Vernon and several grand-children. Seth Corse is still post master, but has an assistant in the person of his grandson, Seth Corse Duller. All the former large tracts of land have been cut up and are now occupied by farms. Roy Nelson and Stanley Wright are in the pure bred Hereford business and run fewer cattle and make more money. The Liggetts have settled down to cow milking and I saw in their barn about thirty as fine Holstein-Friesians as could be found any place. What used to be Pilkington slough has been cleaned out, dredged to a depth of twenty feet and ships of good size tie up at the dock of a big Rayon factory located where the Yott warehouse used to be. It employs a large force. Went over to Palacios, now a town of about ten thousand. The only men I found whom I used to know were Duncan Ruthven and George Harrison. Duncan operates a very large oyster packing house, while George has entire charge of all the roads in three counties under the Federal regulations. Palacios enjoys deep water, and ships flying the flags of five nations were in harbor while I was there. But, say Bay City knocked my eye out. I used to wonder why any one picked that location for a town, but there it stands with fifty thousand population. The Tribune is still operating, which is strange to me, as I quit sending "Thoughts" to it more than twenty years ago. Carey Smith wears a full beard that comes to his waist and is a very dignified old gentleman. Went into the First National Bank to get a check cashed and saw Jim Lewis. He weighs over two hundred pounds, is chairman of the board and thus is at the head of a bank with a capital of $500,000. Bay City supports six big banks with a combined capital of about $3,000,000. It is some city full of life and activity. Mills of all kinds, cotton seed mills, mills making cloth, sugar refineries and the big Rugeley gin handled ten thousand bales last season. Doc Harkey, still manager of the big chamber of commerce, told me that the population of Matagorda county was about 250,000 and that the last season 125,000 bales of cotton were ginned. The people of the town of Matagorda, in appreciation of the magnitude of the shell business under the management of George Culver changed the name of the town to Culver. But to go back to Collegeport. The fig business started about twenty-two years ago by Doctor Van Wormer developed beyond his wildest dreams, and last year the factory put up 2,000,000 pounds of various fig products. It operates the year round now on sea foods and truck products and employs about two hundred people. I am very glad that Doctor Van made good and so are the folks who stuck by him and followed him. What used to be called the "nine-foot sidewalk" is now a solid cement road thirty-two feet wide as, indeed, are all other county roads, but they are used mostly for heavy trucking as few automobiles are used now. Mr. John Heisey and Mr. John Carrick are the only men who operate autos. All others use airplanes of different sizes. The town boasts of five churches--St. Mary's Episcopal Chapel, St. Patrick's Presbyterian, Baptist and Methodist. Much to my surprise and delight I saw a magnificent building bearing a sign "Home of the Collegeport Industrial League," and on inquiry found it was the gift of Dr. Van Wormer. It supplies all community needs and is well equipped and open day and night. I remember that more than forty years ago I was one of the original incorporators of this organization. The Woman's Club, Woman's Union, which, by the way, is a real union of all church women, the King's Daughters are housed in the League building. Saw Hugo Kundinger on the beach playing with seven kiddies and with great pride he informed that they were all his. I saw a big, modern school house with domestic science, vocational and manual training departments with something like thirty teachers and much to my surprise Miss Baird was the superintendent. Building in the Spanish Mission style, built about a patio in which I found a fountain and many flowers. The two Ruths were teachers of biology. I saw a large factory, bearing the sign "Home of Whang, the Harmless Snake," and on investigating I learned that some years ago Carl Boeker had found a new plant called the Whang Berry Tree. It was found in the Colorado river bottoms and had leaves about five feet long by two feet in width. A chemical analysis disclosed the fact that it tasted and looked like tobacco, having the same flavor and producing the same soothing effect, it was not only harmless, but a refreshing stimulant. Ben Mowery tried it and declared it the equal of Old Briar, and Seth Corse said it was almost as good as R. J. R. So Ben Mowery financed the idea with result that now there are many factories licensed to make the finished product. This factory in Collegeport being the parent company. Many other interesting things I saw, but carried out the first vision of Burton D. Hurd more than forty years ago, but Aladdin seemed a bit impatient, so I gave back the magic lamp and as I ceased to rub, it took on a dull, pearly lustre. He tenderly placed it in the big earthen jar, stepped into a little pea green boat and down the channel he drove and into the bay and following in the wake of a big steamer, he turned and waved his hand at me, a smile lightened his lean, brown face and he was lost in the spray of the dancing waves. I wonder if I shall ever see him again and have once more an opportunity to rub the magic lamp. Well, anyway, when it was all over and I went up town for my daily letter from M. B. F., I saw Louis Walter with a new pair of yellow shoes and a new cob pipe. Mrs. Ash brought in the mail and folks waited for the distribution and I was back on earth. No magic lamp but still I knew we all have the magic of nature, which if we co-operated in a determined manner would bring to us all that the magic lamp brought to me. Thursday I joined the King's Sons and went to the home of the famous Carrie Nelson noodles. Did I eat noodles? Rub the magic lamp. The table was loaded with every eatable imaginable from fried chicken to "punkin" pie. Baked apples from the kitchen of Mrs. Liggett looked like great balls of red jelly. Thirty-five of the King's Daughters including the "Lady from the White House" and eight of the King's Sons were present. How I wish Burton D. could have been present, for he enjoys good eats. Merriman L. Smith took the Boy Scouts on a fourteen-mile hike Friday. All came in with heads erect. Burt Hunt moving his blacksmith outfit back and will re-open his shop and garage. Verner Bowers taking a trip to El Campo. Thought we had plenty of girls here. Geese coming in small bunches, but plenty of quail. John Heisey mowing yards and making the burg look slick. Fine improvements on the Soekland farm. Soon there will be chickens a plenty. The Ackermans moving from the Slough ranch to the Olsen place. Hope Mrs. Ackerman will continue me as her partner in the goose business. Matagorda County
Tribune, November 23, 1928 |
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Mr. Edwin A.
Holsworth, seventy-two years old, former prominent Mr. Holsworth was for
many years owner of the Holsworth foundry in He was married to
Helen Pettigren of Mr. Holsworth has been in ill health for several years. He is survived by his widow, a son, Mason Standish (Jack) Holsworth, and a daughter, Margaret, all of Collegeport. Mr. Holsworth was for years a prominent member of the Commercial Club of Joliet. Funeral services were
held at his home and immediately the family left with the remains for Mr. Holsworth was one of Collegeport's pioneers and one of this county's best citizens.
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The Ford Motor Company, in a full page advertisement in The Saturday Evening Post, advises people to take a trip in one of their airships to Matagorda Bay. If folks come now they will have wild goose for dinner for "Soups On."
Last week I mentioned that Ora and Oscar [Chapin] had been away sixty days and had not written a letter to me. The other night a fine, big, newsy letter arrived. Just proves that "it pays to advertise."
Merriman L. Smith and his Boy Scouts putting on an Indian Trail game.
A woman reader of "Thoughts" writes: "Thoughts every week, when we come home. At noon the paper is here and I read it before I eat, so you see how I enjoy them, for you know how I love to eat." I'll bet she is good enough to eat for she is one sweet girl, if I do say it, as I shouldn't be hitched up to the miserable wretch.
Here comes a letter from Bert Carr and he has the nerve to ask me what "Thoughts" will be this week. Why, dog-gone it, don't he know that if I would give this tripe up in advance Carey Smith would fire me at once? Well, anyway, Bert says he likes the dope and he wishes both of us many good things. I have voted for Bert for about twenty years and hope he will give me the opportunity to cast many more votes. Some how I have always liked this kuss.
For the benefit of a West Texas reader will say that F. L. Jenkins has rented his place to a farmer from Leon. Only one of the Reals left and he returned to Leon. The Harveys are still on the Welsby place. One of the Reals lives in the Chain [Crane?] house and he is the engine watchman.
The Carl Boekers moved into the Cottingham house.
The lots west of the Chapin house are planted to onions and the crop is a very thrifty one.
Several new families moving in.
Carl Boeker opens his hunting club.
Matagorda Bay claimed five victims during the past week, two being aviators from Kelly Field and three duck hunters. Dangerous business fussing around Matagorda Bay during northers which kick up a nasty sea for small craft.
Thursday was Thanksgiving Day and the Citrus Grove community held their annual community dinner. This has been their day for twenty years.
They simply cannot stay away. Another old timer returns and buys 80 acres across from the Haisley farm. O. Gableman by name, says he has found no better country for farming.
As I write I learn that Mr. E. A. Holsworth, one of the original settlers of Collegeport, has solved the problem of life and death. At three o'clock on Thursday afternoon he hailed the boatman and crossed over the river.
He knows now if the hope we hug to our breasts, of a life hereafter, is true or not. E. A. Holsworth came to this town abut 19 years ago, built a beautiful home on the bay shore, engaged in the business of farming and for some years in merchandising. He was active in all civic affairs and was greatly loved by those who knew him best and they affectionately called him Dad and by this name he was generally known. He leaves his widow, Helen Holsworth, his son, M. S. "Jack" Holsworth, who is actively engaged in colonizing a large tract of land near town, and a daughter, Margaret, who, at one time, was in charge of the local school and now a teacher in the Chicago schools. A man has not lived in vain who can give the world such fine children. For three years Mr. Holsworth's health has been delicate, always slipping day by day and it seemed to his friends that he was only waiting:
Are a little longer grown, Only waiting 'till the glimmer Of the day's last beam is flown; 'Till the night of earth is faded From the heart once full of day; 'Till the stars of Heaven are breaking Through the twilight soft and gray."
Every man, woman and child of Collegeport will miss "Dad" Holsworth. Funeral services by Rev. Merriman L. Smith were held at the residence Friday and final interment in Joliet, Ill., his old home. Many old friends from Palacios, Blessing, Houston were present to pay their last respects.
The town is again filled up with workers on the "nine-foot sidewalk" and they do say that in three weeks the walk will be finished.
Emmitt Chiles put in a bid on 7.71 miles of dirt road running from the Army Camp to the underpass on the Mopac railroad and he made the grade. Bid was a bit over $30,000. Every one is pleased at his success.
Judd Mortimer Lewis sends out another wall abut the good old "punkin" pie. Abajo "punkin" pie. Judd should visit Collegeport, fill his front with famous Carrie Nelson Noodles and finish up with a pipe loaded with R. J. R., or if he can't stand that, take a whiff of "Whang, the Harmless Smoke." With this prescription under his belt "Platinum Points" would come easy.
Local merchants sell R. J. R. at ten cents the bale straight over in Palacios one may buy seven bales for forty-five cents. Wonder why our locals do not wake up and make an effort to keep trade at home. At the least figure, $2,000 per month goes away for food and feed stuffs.
Arthur Soekland working over the postmasters auto.
Burt Hunt back to stay and all are pleased, for Burt if a good fellow.
Tom Fulcher looking for a telegram.
Thirty books given out at the Library Friday.
Ben R. Mowery and Merriman L. Smith accompanied Mrs. Holsworth and Jack as far as Bay City.
Roy Nelson and Stanley Wright working their cattle. Fine, fat fellows they are.
Mrs. John B. Heisey calling on the Homecrofters.
Saw twenty big geese in the flats along Pilkington slough. They stretched their necks and looked me over while I crept as close as possible. They seemed to have no fear for they knew I had no gun.
A big, blue crane visits our barn lot each night and flies away early in the morning.
While looking for the cows the other night got up more than forty quail in a bunch. Look better to me flying happily away than stretched out on brown toast.
Saw a hawk strike a quail and on my approach he flew and I found that the head had been taken off. In about an hour only a pile of feathers.
Saw an armadillo lumbering along.
A big, brown field rat scurrying in the grass.
A flock of gulls soaring overhead their white feathers glinting in the sunlight.
Frost on the grass glistens and sparkles like diamonds of iridescent hue.
The Matagorda County Tribune, November 30, 1928
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By Harry Austin Clapp
Saturday my cows were missing and I walked miles in an attempt to find them. Had to happen when the Ash family wanted oysters for supper. Doggone it.
Sunday morning found them in the barn lot. They came home during the night, bringing their tails behind them.
Roy Nelson has a fine pasture fence. Will have to build one like it.
The miserable wretch gone to church, leaving me to watch the bean pot.
Mesdames Corse, Wright and Nelson attending the annual bazaar at Blessing.
Ben R. Mowery waiting for a package at the P. O.
Arthur Soekland bringing in some of those good ducks.
Homer Goff on a business trip to Illinois.
Mrs. Pollard, county superintendent of schools, and Miss Francis Mayfield, county health nurse, took lunch with I and miserable wretch Monday. Brought their own ham--the kind that am.
Along comes the Rev. Merriman L. Smith making me another of his welcome pastoral visits. Always enjoy his calls.
Well, anyway, it's almost the day before the wise ones are saying, "won't be much of a crowd at Citrus Grove Thursday," and casting out gloomy thoughts for others to mull over. Makes me think of the story of a woman who, talking to Whistler, said, "there are but two painters--Whistler and Velasquez." And Whistler replied, "Madam, why drag in Velasquez?" It is true of joy and gloom. Both exist, but why drag in gloom?
Saw Mr. Eisel with his trusty 12-gauge waiting for the geese to come near enough.
Verner Bowers packing up groceries.
Two cars of household goods, stock and tools came to town during the last few days. Both emigrants. Our good friend, Webster, says an emigrant is "one who emigrates or quits one section for another," and he explains that an immigrant means "to come into a country of which he is not a native for the purpose of permanent residence." Immigrant is the correlative of emigrant. They do not mean the same thing. Up to date we have no immigrants, but have had many emigrants.
Most of us, all during life have been brought up on maxims, but few of us have ever thought that the amputation of maximums would in many cases add to their worth, for example: All work and no play makes Jack--" What's the matter with that? Well, here's another: "It's a poor rule that won't work--" Pretty good for a maxim, but how about this? "Those who live in glass houses shouldn't--" Let's do a bit of amputating: "What's worth doing is worth doing--" And once more: "Man's inhumanity to man makes countless thousands--" The flexibility of maxims is well illustrated by a story I once heard James Corbett tell. It seems that early in his pugilistic career he was to fight in Seattle and his father was much opposed to the venture and told him: "Remember, my boy, that a rolling stone gathers no moss." He fought and came home without the moss. The next fight was to be held in Los Angeles and Jim won and arrived home with a considerable sum, and when the old man saw it he said: "Didn't I tell you that the roaming bee gathers the honey?" Maxims are of little worth if they cannot be used both ways. Well, anyway, I sought the cows in vain and becoming impatient I said naughty words like "cabala, crose, skiboob." This is Turkish and very, very profane and I dare not interpret them for the Tribune is a religious paper and Carey Smith would never allow such words to appear.
Gus Franzen and family going to Houston to spend Thanksgiving with Arnold, Clifford and Dorothy, who are at Rice Institute.
The shell loading outfit has been moved to Citrus Grove and shell is being placed on the "nine-foot sidewalk" on the Citrus spur. Soon will be right down into this burg and that will be good news for Doctor Van.
Myrtle Fulcher Duffy driving in for the mail or male. I dunno.
Arthur Bowers installing a radio in his store. He will have a packed house. Now, if the Bachman's will only put on a good vaudeville we will be fixed for entertainment.
Mrs. Ash clerking at the Bowers store. Guess Verner is out hunting for another girl. But he still sells RJR at one bale for a dime. Ought to be three for two bits.
Mrs. Ackerman, my partner in the goose business agreed to bring me a big fat anserinae [goose] for Thanksgiving dinner, but we waited in vain and then decided to serve gadus morrhua [cod fish] for our dinner, and when all was over we had full tummies and a thankful heart. The day was almost like Christmas, for here comes a box of pecans from Mrs. Clair Pollard; delicate, dainty, delectable cookies from Ora and Oscar [Chapin], and from Mary Louise, candy, cigs, RJR 'neverything that's good. And so we feasted and our thoughts were with the senders, and when the day was nearly over along came Mrs. Liggett with Milford and Roberta for a visit, with four wonderful "punkin" pies. These were not what some folks dub pumpkin pies, but were the old original "punkin" pies. With it all we had a happy day and when night came our hearts were full of thanks that God has been so good to us during the year. He has given us freely of health, food, raiment, shelter, friends. Is there any more of life?
"To our prayers, O Lord, we join our unreigned thanks for all Thy mercies, for our being, our reason, and all other endowments and faculties of soul and body; for our health, friends, food and raiment and all other comforts and conveniences of life. And above all, we adore Thy mercy in sending Thy only Son in to the world, to redeem us from sin and eternal death, and in giving us the knowledge and sense of our duty towards Thee. We bless Thee for our patience with us, notwithstanding our many and great provocations; for all the directions, assistances, and comforts of the Holy Spirit; for Thy continual care and watchful providence over us through the whole course of our lives; and particularly for the mercies and benefits of the past day; beseeching Thee to continue these Thy blessings to us, and to give us grace to show our thankfulness in a sincere obedience to His laws, through whose merits and intercession we received them all, the Son, our Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.
The sun set behind a bank of clouds, shooting its purple rays towards the sky and giving a promise of rain on the morrow. Thus ended as perfect a day as was possible with Mary Louise away from home.
The train men were all remembered as usual by the Citrus Grove ladies and enjoyed a bountiful Thanksgiving dinner as the evening train waited at the station. For twenty years these women have never forgotten the train crew. Well, anyway, the pump--thanks to Arthur Soekland, Jr.--has been installed and is now ready for use at the community house. Next Friday when the Woman's Union serve their annual oyster supper they will need the pump to provide water so they may yell, "Soup's On."
I predict a low price for cotton next year for the reason that we began this day for planting twenty acres of cotton. This is almost certain to depress the market, so other cotton men better sail close.
"Clear the brown path to meet his coulter's gleam! Lo! he comes, behind his smoking team, With toil's bright dew-drops on his sunburnt brow, The lord of earth, the hero of the plough!" --Oliver Wendell Holmes
Had Oliver waited until this day he would have written "smoking Fordson" instead of "smoking team," but then he could not be expected to know all about farming, being only a poet.
The two Ruths still hunting for that rare butterfly and if they find it a small fortune arrives.
Teachers all in San Antonio this week for the State Teachers' Convention. Pupils are pleased and wish the convention would last forever.
Jimmie Fusom planning to go home to Springfield. Many will miss him. Not many quail, but they are being hunted and haunted since the first. Between men and hawks, there will be few left for seed.
Conductor E. L. Hall taking his annual vacation.
The Cottingham house occupied by Carl Boeker, has been repaired and is in fine condition. This house was struck by lightning last summer and pretty well torn up.
Emmitt Chiles getting ready to begin work on his road contract.
The last of this month the burg will be full of young folks returning from Houston, Milford, San Antonio and other foreign parts. We will have one of them.
Well, anyway, when I found the cows in the barn lot I lifted my eyes to the sky and talking Turkish, said: "Boubla oolam salam," which means "Heavens! how glad I am," and then I added "Korcorooka skiboobie," which I must not interpret for the good reason given before.
Here is some mighty good news for us who are fortunate enough to live in Matagorda county. Dr. Robert A. Millikin, physicist of the California Institute of Technology, says that "this world already has had a life time of at least a billion years and that man has, in all probability, another billion years ahead of him." Just one more thing to be thankful for. Isn't life wonderful?
Matagorda County Tribune,
December 7, 1928 |
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By Harry Austin Clapp I drove to Bay City the other day with E. L. Hall in his Master Six Buick and was astonished at the building between this burg and El Maton. New houses, dozens in number, all along the road and they seemed to hug the "nine-foot sidewalk."
Met good old Oscar Barber and basked in this gorgeous smile.
Discussed the rat campaign with Doc Harkey, and tried to get a raise in my weekly stipend but Carey Smith is busy paying for that extension to the Tribune building and hardly listened to my plea.
Hunted all over town for Doc Sholars and had to call on Dr. Gaedcke and he treated me like an old friend.
The court house, in some respects, shows refinement; in some ways it is artistic, but its squat appearance destroys dignity, the dignity that should be present in a public building. I miss the clock as others do. Might be a bright idea for the American Legion to take up the matter of building a tower in memory of the fallen dead and in the top install the old clock. Then we would feel at home.
Went in to see Jack Young, for "most everyone does." Bought a few tricks, received a hearty "thank you," but they did not know me, so will try again.
Met Callie Metzger on the street but she did not recognize me. Expect it was because of a recent hair cut and shave or, perhaps, she was thinking of the owl that sings the song, "Now, The Land of Opportunity."
Saw Francis Mayfield and she told me of the splendid co-operation she was receiving from parents, teachers and the pupils in the health contest at Bay View high school, financed by the Collegeport Industrial League.
Met the Merriman L. Smith family and took passage home in his Master Six Buick, so ended a perfect day.
For the first time in over two years I failed to send copy last week and the excuse is that this village supplied nothing worth recording. No bandits, or even banditti, no burglars, no dog fights, or men fights, no vamping, no women or men running away with another's partner, no excitement except when the bazaar will be held and why the Portsmouth Limited is late. A perfect burg for a week simply because the week's rain and mud kept people at home minding their own business. Hope things will stir up next week.
There will be stirring times at Homecroft, for our gal comes home Saturday night for a ten days' stay and we, meaning I and the miserable wretch, are counting the hours until once more we have our daughter girl.
A wonder girl is the girl I love, And I know that she loves me, For many years this secret I know That she always wants me.
I give her of my heart's best love And she returns it to me, the dear. Of losing her love, I'm not afraid, Because she is always the same dear. --Fragments from Hack.
And believe me, folks, we are going to have a week of hilarity, gaiety, mirth, merriment, joyousness, exhilaration, or words to that effect, if you understand what I mean.
Judging from the price of kerosene Paul Braden is still in poor health. Wish he would recover, stop those doctor bills and cut the price of kero.
"The Square Deal Jeweler" of Palacios floods the P. O. boxes with circulars advising us to "Save Money in Buying at Home," and "Don't Send Your Money Out of Town." Bless your soul, Square Dealer, that is just what we are trying to do. I advise Square Dealer to spend his money in the columns of The Beacon. Lasts longer, goes farther, read by more.
I see by the papers that the stock market is in good shape for Arrow Collars stand up well, Vacuum Sweeper is picking up, Manhattan Shirt has stiff front, Hosiery has a run, Swift a bit slow, while Jello is shaky and La Page traders are badly stuck.
Matagorda County Tribune, December 21, 1928
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“With his toot and toot and toot, I know not the name of the poet who wrote these lines, but I do know that the verse tells the story of a tragedy in my life. When the White Pigeon Silver Cornet Band was organized, my pal undertook to play the baritone horn and I never knew whether it was the toot and toot and toot that he played on his horn or the glamour of his gorgeous uniform of blue and red with gold paulets on his manly shoulders that lost my girl to me. It beats the devil how women will fall for a uniform, especially if back of it is a horn. For ten or twelve hours my heart was a bruised, broken, bleeding, bloody mess, but by the next sunrise I had collected the parts and looking about discovered that there were other fish in the sea and picked a pippin. I never had a lemon hanging around my neck, for I always plucked my fruit from the peach tree and the fruit being in abundance I plucked often. I early learned that to lose a girl only meant opportunity to take on another and fairer and it taught me how to handle women. Just south of our town ran the creek and from it flowed the water through the mill race that turned the old stone wheels that ground the local grain. The race was a wonderful stream, for did it not give us kids the greatest swimmin’ hole in the world. I thought so then and as my memory goes back I still think so. What a wonderful day it was when the kid for the first time swam from the baby hole to the big hole across the race and when he could dive to the bottom of the deep hole and bring up the evidence in the form of gravel, O, boy,! was he not filled with pride. The last time I visited the old swimmin’ hole was eight years ago and I am inside the true when I solemnly swear that I could spit across it. Then there was the old town pump, located at the corner of my father's store. A deep well, so considered, but I doubt if it was more than twenty feet, but that made no difference for from its depths came the coolest, purest water that man ever drank until he came to Collegeport. Clear as crystal, a nectar furnished by the gods for man’s use. If a fire broke out a bucket line was formed from the pump to the fire and how the brave fire boys did hustle water, a stream flowing on the fire and often strange as it may seem, the fire was put out. Dr. Green, tall, bony, with a long flowing white beard, our family physician for many years. He came any time, night or day, for a fee of one dollar and furnished his medicine. In important cases I have known him to stay by the bedside all day and all might nursing the sick one and he most always pulled them through. His fee for a confinement case was never more than five dollars and he stayed from first to last, often washing the newborn babe, and he never lost the baby or a mother. That was his reputation and is it a wonder that we all loved good old Dr. Green? In the campaign of 1876 the Republicans erected a tall flagpole which looked to be four hundred feet high, but perhaps it was only about fifty. This pole was erected in front of father’s store and across the street in front of a store owned by a Democrat, a tall hickory pole with the brush on the tip was also erected. Great rivalry as to which crowd would get the flag up first in the morning. A great ceremony which us kids enjoyed for at times we were allowed to hold the flag from the ground as it was hauled aloft. The Republican pole was tipped with a big tin ball about eight inches in diameter, and one morning we found it shot full of holes. Who could commit such sacrilege except Democrats. After that we tried to shoot off the brush which adorned the Democratic pole but that called for splendid shooting and required much practice and waste of ammunition before we could rejoice at its fall, and fall it did, and we Republican kids danced with glee. That settled the national controversy in our minds. Gosh! but were we not excited with my father’s store received the first bananas ever seen in the burg? Big red ones, and instead of gobbling them down we would use them for a sucker. Too precious to eat--we tried to make one last all day, and it usually did, although sucked by many other kids through the generosity of the fortunate owner. The town was surfeited, scatuated, cloyed, glutted, over-fed with churches for this little village supported in a meager way a Baptist church, a Dutch Reformed, Lutheran, Methodist, Presbyterian and Roman Catholic. I do not suppose any of the ministers ever saw more than $350.00 in any one year, but some way they lived, aided by an annual donation and they preached the gospel and all lived godly lives and educated large families. I cannot understand now how they could have been godly on the measly stipend that they enjoyed. But churches meant more to people than nowadays. Nothing at all to have a revival in the winter season and garner one hundred souls into the fold. A rich harvest, indeed, for it meant more souls to contribute, and so there was much joy in the harvest. Those were days of six-cent eggs, eight-cent hams, the best cuts of meat one shilling (most goods were marked in shillings), and liver—well, that delectable article was given away. We always asked Mr. Wimple “have you any liver for my cat,” but the cat never had much of it. We did a lot of visiting and I do not remember of a home in which I was not at some time a guest. Our cellar was an interesting place to visit for there we had from six to eight big barrels of cider which grew pretty hard along towards spring, but we, drinking it, never realized that it was rock fence. Big barrels of apples, cabbage, carrots, oyster plant, turnips, a big bin holding thirty bushels of potatoes which were bought at twenty cents per bushel and hanging from the cellar rafters long lines of bacon, ham and dried beef. Tin cans were unknown in those days. Lots of fun when the wood sawyer came with his tread mill power and sawed the winter supply of wood, but when our dads called on us to pile up the sawed wood, fun was turned to grief for there was no romance in that job. I remember when our first coal was bought. Fine hard anthracite costing six dollars a ton, delivered into the bin. Great fun to watch my grandfather make candles by dipping. After while he bought a mold that made six at a time. Candles were used in every home and, indeed, they were a good light then, especially at bed time. After a few years my grandfather bought a naptha lamp—the only one in town and he was some “punkins” for a few months. One day the town’s poorest boy fought and licked the town’s richest boy, and for doing such a fine piece of business he was placed in the bastile, a small wooden structure fit only for sheltering cows. Us kids sent doughnuts and other food through the bars by means of a string and with a long straw thrust through a crack in the door he inhaled long draughts of cider. He was well fed for the two days he was in stir. The school house was just about the size of the Bay City Negro building and employed five teachers, the principal receiving $750.00 per annum and the others compelled to feel filthy with a stipend of $25.00 per month. The little burg of perhaps six hundred souls supported thirteen saloons and a well organized gang of gamblers, so the reader may be assured that we always had plenty of excitement. If Bay City was as well supplied with grog shops it would support about one hundred and thirty. Wouldn’t that be a wonderful thing for Bay City? Besides the saloons nearly every grocery store sold whiskey by the gallon which they stored in barrels. No harvest was complete without a jug of booze nestling in a shock of wheat, the location of which every worker, and at times others were aware of. With all this, people were happy, lived well, indeed generously, the churches were filled each Sunday, merchants had a good trade, even if the bulk was credit, for accounts were mostly all paid by the thrifty people who lived in the community. Boys and girls were better behaved than those of the present day and the girls more modestly clothed. Well, anyway, at 2:45 a. m., Saturday, December 22, winter began. Wonder how many realized the change. The burg is full of young folks, home for the holiday season—Dorothy Crane, Louise Walter, Clifford, Arnold and Dorothy Franzen, Ella May Chiles and others. Among them is Mary Louise for a week at Homecroft, and naturally, she comes first with us, meaning I and the Miserable Wretch.
“She came like shaft of light, Here comes Thomas Hale, Sr., Thomas Hale, Jr., and Sweet Barbara, the wife and mother. Judd Mortimer Lewis may brag about that 31-pound turkey, but I brag about the big box of candy, fruit cake and lots of goodies from Mrs. Nellie Morrison of Corsicana. Homemade stuff just rolling in pecans and other nuts and fruits of all kinds. Abajo turkey. By the way, our Christmas turkey was raised by Mrs. Louis Walter and I wonder on what she fed the bird that it was so wondrous tender. A finer bird has never graced our table. Verner Bowers spent the day in Mt. Belvieu with his parents while Mrs. Ash dispensed the groceries and truck. Miss Burk back for a visit with the Ben R. Mowery family. If it requires two horses and two riders to drive one cow, how many will be required to drive a bunch of 300 1-5 cows. I am foolish enough to believe that Bibles should be in every home, and it was a shock to me when I knew that Mr. John B. Heisey was taking subscriptions to buy Bibles for the people of Collegeport. It is the world’s greatest book, enjoys largest sales, translated into more language, a very common book, yet this burg is not supplied. Wonder why? Under the proposed amendment for road building no one will pay a cent of taxes for Texas highways. Those who operate automobiles, according to the Houston Chronicle, will pay a road rent of three cents per gallon. A rose by another name always smells as sweet. Talk about a rose. Ought to see Margaret Holsworth just home from her teacher work at Chicago. Fairest of the fair and a credit to the burg.
“Daughter of God! That sitt’st in high
Matagorda County Tribune, December 28, 1928? |
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By Harry Austin Clapp
George Braden received word the other day that his brother had passed over.
Mrs. Roy Nelson planning with impatience for the bazaar.
Judging from the number of packages arriving at this office Sears & Roebuck are doing a thriving business with the residents of this burg. Wonder why Bay City merchants do not wake up and by giving the same wonderful service keep most of this business at home. Guess they hold dollar too close to their eyes and forget the nickels.
Along comes a Christmas gift from George Serrill. Another of those beautiful calendars. Have three of them still on wall, too pretty to cast away. He sent it to Honorable H. A. Clapp. Ahem, and a couple of more ahems! I notice by reading the Tribune that George seems to operate the only insurance agency in that city.
Another Christmas gift came the 14th day of December, name Lechera Pauline Churchland Aaggie. In about twenty-eight months we will have another cow giving that wonderful Holstein milk filled with vitality. Hope Duncan Ruthven reads this.
Homer Goff reports that the Lawson Gin Co. will build a gin on this side of the bay. Good news for our cotton farmers.
Now that the "9-foot sidewalk" will soon be completed, the Mopac should be induced to stop their night train at El Maton to accommodate Collegeport folks.
"Papa wouldn't buy me a bow wow, Papa wouldn't buy me a bow wow; He bought a little cat, But I don't think much of that, So George Welsby gave me a bow wow wow."
And its name is "Scooter," and it's a cute little pooch, and Buckshot is jealous of the little kuss.
Wish Mrs. Fulcher would take care of her boy, Tommie. Saw him in the post office the other day fussing with Seth Corse. Well, anyway, Mrs. Fulcher enjoys reading "Thoughts" and asked me why none appeared last week. Told her because there was "nuthin'" doing in the burg worth recording. Thanks for the bouquet. Bouquets from the local burghers are so damn scarce that I appreciate what Mrs. Fulcher said, so another thanks.
The Carl Boekers en route to Illinois for the holiday season with their parents.
Well, anyway, the Gods sent "fare and brite" weather for the bazaar Tuesday, and a good turn out was the result, and about 100 smackers taken in from the various departments. The oyster stew made by Mrs. Roy Nelson was a consummate concoction that was supreme, transcendent, peerless, incomparable and for that reason I did not miss the noodles, for she has promised a batch of those superlative articles for the annual community dinner on the first of January. The chili con carne made by Mrs. Frank King was extra fine considering it was made by an American. I say American, because no American can really make chili as it is made down in Republica de Mejico. The candy booth enjoyed.
Mrs. Holsworth returning from the place where seventeen railroads meet the sea.
Merriman L. Smith taking a trip to a splendid sale, and no wonder, when one looked over the salesladies.
The Burton D. Hurds booked to arrive Sunday, the 23rd, and to spend the holidays in their beautiful home on the bay shore.
The Woman's Club meets Thursday at the Boeker home and as a special will have a Christmas tree.
Just in time to hang on our home tree comes a fine calendar from Callie Metzger, filled with building suggestions and informing the reader that when, as and if the house is built, she will insure it for a nominal fee. Wonder if the "owl" knows about it?
"Brite and fare" overhead this day, but soon as one slips off the "nine-foot sidewalk" one drops into a helluva deep sea of bottomless mud. Guess we should thank God for the "nine-foot sidewalk."
The Woman's Club made a very sensible Christmas gift to Mrs. John B. Heisey in the form of a life membership. Mrs. Heisey has been a faithful member for about twenty years and the gift was a token of appreciation for her long and faithful service. The last meeting was the time of election of officers and the following were chosen for the next two years: President, Mrs. S. W. Corse; Vice-President, Mrs. Frank King; Secretary, Mrs. L. E. Liggett, and Treasurer, Mrs. John Ackerman.
Ben R. Mowery says it is not necessary for him to go to the community dinner New Year's day to eat noodles, for he has a noodle factory of his own. If he will bring a mess of noodles to the community dinner I will sample them and then decide whether they are as good or better than the Famous Carrie Nelson Noodles.
The bug is filling up with young people coming home for the Christmas season much to the delight of their parents.
It is said that one of our young ladies, looking over the holiday goods at Hugo Kundinger's Pharmacy, said: "I'd like to try on that rose dress in the window," and Hattie replied: "Sorry Miss E but that's only a lamp shade." The funny thing about it is why should any young Collegeport girl wish to try on a dress in the window.
The Bachman store has a real city display window all dressed up with Christmas tree, dolls, fruit and other holiday stuff. Looks fine and a credit to Mrs. Crane for the arrangement.
Saturday night the Christmas tree, a tree of light hearts and a joyous community, all loaded with remembrances for every child in all the country round. Not one was missed, and many of the elders were tickled because good old Santa called their names. The program arranged by the teachers consisted of recitations, drills and musical numbers and was received with appreciation.
I hoped Mrs. Fulcher would take care of her boy, Tommie, but he evidently ran away from home and here he was all dolled up in Santa's clothes and wearing whiskers a mile long. I think the spinach is rather becoming and advise him to wear it in the future.
Much to the disappointment of their friends, a wire from the Burton D. Hurds announced that they will not arrive until the last of the week.
In the local column of the Trib of Saturday, Carey Smith calls me the "Sage of Collegeport." Not knowing what sort of sage he meant, I looked it up for fear he might have written about sage tea or sage hair restorer, but to my relief I find that a sage is "a man of gravity and wisdom; of sound judgment and prudence; a philosopher." Shakespeare says: 'rans mit 'em. All your sage counselors, hence!" Mighty nice of Carey, but no more than to be expected after a close friendship of twenty years.
Local readers of the Trib will say "what bunk!" and who knows but that they are right. Only goes to prove that all prophets must hike beyond their own country's confines to be appreciated.
Another calendar from Walker, the seed man, and it's along with the others a hangin' on the wall.
Christmas cards from all parts of the United States came to bring us joy and cheer. Too many, to send personal thanks, but we do appreciate the thought, and especially the one from Mrs. Harkey, in which she promises me a first class dinner, "when I'll be sure to come." No man dislikes to miss a feed more than I and I sure will take advantage of this proposition.
The miserable wretch joins me in sending Christmas greetings to all readers of the Tribune, and as Rip Van Winkle once said, "may you all live long and prosper."
Well, anyway, I certainly do miss that town clock and in this I am joined by the balance of the 18,532 1/2 inhabitants of Matagorda county. (For correct figures as to population inquire of Doc Harkey. He knows.)
"What is it but a busy life, Its fluctuations and its vast concerns? 'Tis pleasant, through the loopholes of retreat. To peep at such a world--to see the stir Of the great Babel, and not to feel the crowd. While fancy like the finger of a clock, Runs the great circuit, and still is at home." --Cowper
The Daily Tribune, December 29, 1928
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