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January, 1929 |
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By Harry Austin Clapp.
Wonder how many of us have ever asked the question: "Why am I a Christian," and having asked, what is the answer. As for me, I am what is called a Christian simply because I was born of a Christian mother, in a Christian community, part of a Christian country. No credit to me. Had I been born in China, perhaps I would acknowledge Confucius; if born in Arabia, would have followed Mahamet, the prophet; born to Jew parents, most certainly I would have been a Jew; born of cannibals, would have followed cannibalistic rites and fattened my ribs with human flesh.
But, no, I was born a Christian and so this day I am what is called a Christian. There are many in the world who are trying to be Christians but those who have made the grade are mighty few. To be a real Christian is to become Christ-like, and few attain the peak, so most of us are only striving, struggling, toiling, endeavoring for the excellence which attained would make us the Christian we would be.
In my case, I inherited the title of Christian just as I inherited Republicanism, and I do not expect to ever arrive. All my life I simply try to be what my mother wished me to be. Can any man do more? I think not. I do not expect all readers of this string to agree with me, for some claiming to be Christians will attack my attitude, but what care I? I am on my way, going in my way and time, and some of these days I will arrive but it will be in the next world and not in this.
"I have no mockings or arguments; I witness and wait."--Walt Whitman.
There are as many opinions as what constitutes a Christian as there are stars in the Heavens and each seems to be correct, and they are, from the particular view point. Most people form their opinions early in life. I began forming mine at the age of fifteen but not until I was nearly thirty did my opinions crystallize into something basic, something that would support, and having found it, I have hugged it to my breast ever since, always drawing comfort, consolation, encouragement, refinement, enjoyment that has been a satisfaction during the past years.
Religion as we know it, is a matter of prejudice. Each one, be he Catholic, Methodist, Episcopalian, Presbyterian or Jew, claiming that his religion offers the only "open sesame" that opens the door to future delights. I do not claim perfection, but to me my way seems to be the right way and so I shall follow it to the end.
The idea that all men are divided into two classes, the saved and the unsaved, is to me repugnant. I do not believe the God I believe in cares much how we class ourselves. We are all his children whether classed as saints or sinners. All are in His hands and with His help all will arrive at the end of the journey.
I have no ambition to be a Holy man for then I would have nothing for which to strive. It is not sinning, but overcoming sin, that makes life worth while to us poor humans. I do not think it necessary to belong to a church in order that one may be assured of salvation. Any man may follow in the foot steps of Jesus if he will and a church is not the great essential.
"How much of a Christian am I? All the Christianity I have is what I can use; the rest has gone into the wastebasket."--Dr. Frank Crane.
When Dr. Crane acknowledges that his Christianity came through inheritance, guess I will consider myself in good company when I make the same admission.
Well, anyway, we have enjoyed a very happy holiday season; happy because our daughter was with us. The time was short--I cannot count the days, for days are too gross and rude. I rather count the hours and minutes for each is a pearl I count over, each pearl a precious emblem and at the end a cross is hung--the cross of giving her up for another space of nine thousand, nine hundred of those precious minutes we had her and then--
"She was gone, leaving her mother in tears, Her heart full of love garnered in the years; She went looking like a full blown flower, Blooming in the first burst of womanhood's hour." --Fragments from Hack.
Several whiles, now and then, the artist who manipulates the keys that casts the type furnishes amusement for me. Last week some of my copy read: "Mrs. Holsworth returning from Joliet and Chicago, Merriman L. Smith taking a trip to the city where seventeen railroads meet the sea. The candy booth enjoyed a splendid sale, and no wonder, when one looked over the salesladies." And this is what the readers had to puzzle over: "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 at Joliet and Chicago."
John B. Heisey hauling wood after ordering twelve Bibles for the burghers.
Girl attempting to improve the shape of her lips with a lipstick. Listen, Sis, no girl has ever been successful in doing this and, besides, it looks terrible in such a public place as the post office.
Girl mopping powder on her face and it looks horrible, especially when done in presence of others. Why not bring in water and wash rag and take a full bath.
Girl with sheer, unmixed, clean, unadulterated silk, or near silk, hose with the seam running around her leg like a vine. Looks awful, and I wonder why they go out that way. Ask Verner Bowers, for he ought to know. Well, anyway, whether he does or not
"The Moving Finer writes; and having writ Moves on; not all your Piety or Wit Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line, Nor all your Tears wash out a Word of it."
And, so no Tuesday, January 1, 1929, the people of Collegeport assembled for their nineteenth annual community dinner. About sixty souls were present, but he Kings, Welsbys, Franzens, Liggetts, Walters, Mercks were not represented for each family was struggling with influenza. While there was food a plenty on the long table, I had eyes only for the big dish of the famous Carrie Nelson Noodles and had I to do it over I would not have allowed it to pass until my plate was heaped. I hoped Ben R. Mowery would be there with a plate of noodles prepared in his own factory. Telling about them he gives the impression that he makes them, but my opinion is that Mrs. Mowery, whom all acknowledge as being some classy kooker, at least supervises. Be that as it may, I do know that as my tummy distended with Carrie Nelson Noodles, the cockles of my heart warmed and I felt as though I could kiss my deadliest enemy. The Bradens and Arthur and Ruth Matthes were present, and here comes Paul escorting a peach named Yeager from Blessing. Paul appeared to be in excellent health and I hope it means a reduction in the price of kerosene. One year ago, this day, Mrs. Shuey and Mr. E. H. Holsworth were present, but they are on the other side this day. I looked them over and wondered who would be called this year.
"Think, in the battered Caravanserai Whose Portals are alternate night and day, How Sultan after Sultan with his Pomp Abode his destin'd Hour, and went his way."
Margaret Holsworth informed me that Vern Towers, now living in Nebraska, reads the Tribune and enjoys "Thoughts" and often thought he would write me. Well, why don't you, Vern?
You girls with sallow, pimply faces should try steaming your face over a wash board. Wonderfully effective in clearing complexions. Scrawny arms will become shapely by wringing out clothes and there is no more effective bust developer than hanging out clothes. Carrying tubs of clothes into the house decreases waist measure and makes shapely legs. Try it on the piano once, anyway.
I am glad that Tom Carr surrendered to the sheriff and hope he can prove his innocence. None of us believes that Tom is guilty of theft.
Have wondered why Verner Bowers was late in opening his store, but the reason is clear.
Mrs. Fulcher is confined to her bed with an attack of influenza and her boy, Tommy, is doing the cooking. He brags about the bisquits he makes. They may be the ultimate in bisquits, but the fact is that after Verner has absorbed a few of them he is unable to rise from the table, hence he is late at his store. Hope Mrs. Fulcher makes a rapid recovery.
We miss Ora coming down the road with a bunch of greens, onions or beets and we miss Oscar driving in with is put-put. Fine neighbors, these two. They will be interested in knowing that Bonita has four new grand-children, at presently living with the Homer Goffs.
I, too, would like to know who used the 41,451,577 pounds of snuff manufactured last year.
Oscar Odd says: "A stage cluttered up with nude ladies has been no novelty on Broadway for several years." I don't believe any Texas ladies ever go about in the nude, but of course some of our girls are dressed so thinly that to be a bit nuder would be quite rude and a strain on the eye.
"First likes the whole, then separates what he sees; On several parts a several praise bestows, The ruby lips, the well proportioned nose, The snowy skin, and raven glossy hair, The dimpled check, and forehead rising fair, And e'en in sleep itself, a smiling air. From thence his eyes descending viewed the rest, Her plump, round arms, white hands and heaving breast." --Cymon and Ipbigenia, Dryden.
Men are all alike. They see what they see. Oscar has no financial reason to work when the Waldorf-Astoria closes its doors forever for he has accumulated many a grand, but the great thing is the sentiment which has grown in his heart. With tears rolling down his face he refused to lead the last grand march at the annual employees' ball. He could not do it. His emotion was too great. Those who have been guests at this family hotel know of Oscar. I love him because he is sentimental. I am sentimental, myself--I cannot destroy old things, things that are saturated with memories.
"While memory holds a seat In this distracted globe. Remember thee? Yea, from the table of my memory I'll wipe away all trivial fond reports, All saws of books, all forms, all pressures past, That youth and observation copied there; And thy commandment all alone shall live Within the book and volume of my brain." --Shakespeare.
The Daily Tribune, January 9, 1929
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[Article began with information about Cleopatra, but only Collegeport information is included here.]
Jiminy crickets! How can a man write about Cleopatra when the Miserable Wretch yells, "Come and empty this tub of water?"
Judd Mortimer Lewis has put the kibosh on "sow's tootsies, carrots, spinach, parsnip and eggplant." Shows he don’t know what good eating is. Give me that menu plus some of the Famous Carrie Nelson Noodles and I will live to be a hundred years old.
During the past week I have received a wonderful bouquet from a Bay City lady reader, and before I had a chance to be surfeited, or satiated, with its perfume along come a brick bat. A reader (sex and name unknown) commenting on "Thoughts About Impatience," writes these words: "If you would be more patient with your good wife, people would think more of you." Just a difference in thought, notion, viewpoint, perspective. Can't please all folks, all the time.
E. L. Hall has his private bog hole in which to leave his car.
Stanley Wright hauling wood without chains.
Roy Nelson bringing Rosalie to school.
Mrs. Thomas Hale (Barbara) here to take care of her mother.
Ben R. Mowery recovering from the influenza.
The post office sold out on one-cent stamps.
The Carl Boekers home from a visit in Illinois.
North Cable getting fifteen eggs per day from seventeen Black Giant Jersey hens.
John Merck getting a reputation as a skunk catcher.
I had the pleasure of attending a meeting of the Collegeport Woman's Club the other day and must congratulate them on the manner in which they dispatch business. The League boys might attend one of these meetings and learn something about parliamentary practice. Not once did a member speak without properly addressing the chair and gaining recognition and then confined remarks to the question before the house. Business was dispatched properly and after adjournment then visiting and gossip began. I was not invited to the meeting, but it was held at Homecroft and that is where I and the Miserable Wretch hang out, so they were obliged to bear with me, but insisted that I occupy the bleachers. Fine lot of women we have in this club and it is doing a good work.
Margaret Holsworth leaving for her school work in Chicago. Bet the sun does not shine as bright in the Holsworth home when she is away. Of course Jack is some son, but Margaret is some daughter, if you understand what I mean.
Frances Eisel getting the mail and looking sweet, dignified and stately.
We have some splendid looking girls, many of them attractive, enticing, alluring, charming, winning and among them is Ruth Mowery. The Mowery family are not blamed for being proud of their daughter.
Anyway, I am glad that Ben R. is able to be out after a severe attack of the influenza.
Frances King with her golden hair a hangin' round her head.
Tom Hale coming over from Wadsworth. Wonder what for?
The League has paid Miss Bird the ten bucks promised on the health contest organized by Miss Frances Mayfield, county health nurse. If it encourages one child to better health conditions, it is money well spent.
Hope L. E. Liggett butchers one each week so long as he sends over some more of those elegant, graceful, refined, fashionable spare ribs, garnished with enchanting, fascinating, bewitching liver. "Auf wiedersechen."
The Daily Tribune, January 16, 1929
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Mr. and Mrs. H. Paul Janes and two children, who had been visiting his relatives in the Valley, visited with Collegeport friends last week, but due to the bad condition of roads, were unable to come to Palacios as had been their plans, much to the regret of their friends on this side of the bay. However, H. Paul called the Beacon man over the phone to tell us “hello.” His voice sounded as natural as ever and we were glad to have the privilege of hearing his oral greetings once more. They left Friday for their home in Philadelphia via Houston to visit relatives and friends. We learn they are delighted with their eastern home as well as their work, but get a home sick feeling for the South quite often and hie themselves to Sunny Texas whenever the opportunity affords itself.
Palacios Beacon, January 16, 1929 |
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By Harry Austin Clapp
[Collegeport information taken from longer article.]
There is sadness in my heart this day, for have just learned of the death of a good old friend in the person of W. R. Allison, of Houston, who died Thursday. I have known him for more than fifteen years and rarely visited Houston without meeting him. Always affable, courteous, sociable, gracious, I consider it a privilege to have known this man. He had much to do with the development of Harris county and the Midcoast. One of the original organizers of the Houston Real Estate Exchange and a prominent figure in the real estate business. He was so progressive that he never understood what retrogression meant. Patriotic, liberal, always ready with money or strength for any proposition that was for the benefit of the other fellow. I loved this man for just what he was. I have only one fault to find with him. Some years ago we took a trip north to interview the Frisco management regarding tourist rates to the Midcoast. We went to St. Louis over the Katy and we found that only two berths were open, an upper and a lower, so he proposed that we cut cards for the lower. He won, but I thought then, and still think that W. R. sort o' stacked the cards on me. Being accused of it he denied it of course, but bought me a fine dinner to square the thing. Anyway, I am sad this day because this fine gentleman has passed away.
"The dead are like the stars by day Withdrawn from mortal eye, But not extinct, they hold their way In glory through the sky; Spirits from bondage set free, Vanish amidst immensity, Where human thoughts, like human sight, Fall to pursue their trackless light." --James Montgomery
The other day Carl Boeker started from home with his truck and Mrs. Boeker noticed that one tire was sort of flat and so being a good wife she yelled at the top of her voice, "Flat tire! flat tire! flat tire!" The neighbors hearing her thought she yelled "Fire! Fire! Fire!" and turned out en masse to fight the fire demon.
George Welsby thinking to renew an old friendship pulled on a pair of trousers of the vintage of 1920 and as he did so felt something like paper in the waist band over the watch pocket. He called his wife's attention to it and she taking a pair of scissors ripped the band open, and lo, out came two one dollar bills. This was good luck for George but tough on the Collegeport housewives, for every man in the burg is not having his trousers ripped open, hoping they, too, may find a hidden treasure.
Cream is coming in slowly but never mind, for soon grass will start and with it increased cream.
Wonder what has become of the Bay City creamery that Doc Harkey promised?
The Briggs & Company drag line is busy cleaning out the drain ditches, a work badly needed.
The miserable wretch picking out nuts for candy making. I picked up the shells and was amused to see how the nuts got together.
Went to Palacios with George Welsby and found that Commissioner Harrison has put in some first class cement culverts.
Palacios seemed almost as busy as Collegeport.
According to my reporter, the principal subject for discussion at the Sunday school was whether new born babies were born in sin. Most of the Christians voted in the affirmative. A few Sundays ago the subject was tainted money and the old time Christians were of the opinion that the person should never use tainted money. I wonder what tainted money is. Does it smell bad? How can one distinguish money with a taint from money that is virtuous, moral, chaste, pure? Ye gods! and suffering snails! Is it true that tainted money will not satisfy the hunger of a starving one, or clothe the naked? As for me being only a Christian by inheritance, bring on your tainted money. I'll not require a dollar of it to present a marriage certificate before I use it. The good deacons of our churches have taken many a dollar on the Sunday collection basin that was won in a Negro crap game the night before.
Rusty needs a good sound spanking, for he has developed into a very naughty dog.
By an order issued by Mussolini the new twenty lira bears these words: "Miglio vivere un giorno da leone, che cento anni da pacora," which means in American talk, "It is better to live one day like a lion than one hundred years like a sheep." Think what a helluva time the sheep will have in that time and no lions roaming about.
Carlyle once said, "Make yourself an honest man, and then you may be sure that there is one less rascal in the world."
For evening driving Merriman L. Smith uses a Buick Master Six, but for morning calls he takes his Ford touring. Some style in our preacher.
Two more of my old friends have passed the ford into the other world. Gordon Lawson killed in a railroad crossing wreck and E. H. Koch dying in a Houston hospital. Gordon was the first man I met when I landed in Matagorda county, and for twenty years we have been friends. I regret his tragic death and the loss of this friend. E. H. Koch was an El Campo banker and at one time a member of the executive board and treasurer of the Texas Midcoast Industrial Congress. In this business I came to know him well and can say that El Campo and the Midcoast have lost one of its progressive and patriotic men. Three good old timers taken in one week.
Rain, rain and then more rain, and with it mud, mud and more mud, except when one is on the "nine-foot sidewalk." Wonder if it will let up long enough for planting cotton?
"The rain though raining every day Upon the just and the unjust fella, Falls chiefly on the just, because The unjust has the just's umbrella." --Anon.
A stranger said to Seth Corse, "So you are the postmaster, justice of the peace, real estate agent, house renter of this town?" an Seth modestly replied, "Yes sir! You might say I'm the Mussolini of Collegeport." Maybe that is not true. Anyway, lots of things appear in this column that are just as far from the truth.
The King's Daughters met at Homecroft Thursday and so I had a chance to sit in on the game. For the benefit of those who live in marble palaces on the shore of an inland lake will say that those present were Mesdames Holsworth, Crane, Nelson, Liggett, King, Kundinger, Heisey, Wright, Clapp and Ackerman. The work consisted of making a bed quilt for the suffering kids of the Fiji islands. Report of the secretary was an interesting document and disclosed the fact that the organization has accomplished much valuable work during the year. They voted the sum of $5.00 to the late cyclone fund and re-elected all the officers. I was much interested in the eats which consisted of everything from Wright fried chicken to pork spare ribs, Doknots [donuts?], a pan of those Liggett baked apples, each one looking like a big maraschino cherry, plum pudding, peaches, pineapple and to crown the menu there before my eyes was a big pan of those celebrated Carrie Nelson Noodles. When I see noodles I see nothing else, so gathered a generous bunch to my tummy while the gathering was good. If Ben Mowery fails to bring a mess of his noodles to the supper February 22nd, I shall believe that he has no noodle factory.
[Paragraph about savings deposits around U. S. not included.]
Well, anyway, Ruth Mowery and Mamie Franzen out dog catching brought home the game, so what are we about savings deposits?
Jack Holsworth working hard building a fence, assisted by John Merck and Carl Boeker. Ought to be a fine fence with such splendid talent.
It might be well for us to remember that tomorrow is just what today was yesterday. Not much change except that we have drifted just a bit closer to the other shore.
The Daily Tribune, Tuesday, January 22, 1929
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By Harry Austin Clapp
I cannot vouch for the truthfulness of this tale, except that what follows is the truth as told to me. To some it will be of interest, as it was to me.
In the year 1898 my camp in Mexico was established at a place called Anita where we were engaged in opening a placer mine. Among the men who worked for me was a Maya Indian and his woman was about as magnificent specimen of physical woman as it has ever been my pleasure to see. She stood six feet high, weighed about 180 pounds, splendid shoulder and bust development. She had jet black hair that hung below her waist, black eyes, and a complexion that would be a delight to any woman, so clear it was, but looked like burnished copper.
The work people lived about one-fourth mile below my camp but daily came to my camp for supplies so I saw her often and had opportunity to talk with her. One day she told me of the remnant of a tribe of white Indians. Having never seen anything of the kind I doubted her story, but she insisted and told me that they lived not far from Anita, across the line in Sinaloa. She was very proud that she was a Maya and used to brag that she was pure Indian and a member of that ancient tribe.
About 1900 I moved the camp to a place called La Noria, so called because I blasted out of the granite the only well in the country. La Noria means "the well." At this place we had a community of perhaps one hundred souls, and often men, women and children from other sections would come to visit, and among them a girl named Felipe. She could play the guitar well and always brought it along. She was almost white but insisted on calling herself an Indian. She claimed to be from a race of white Indians. One day she brought her father and he, also, was white and made the same claims, and after much trouble and insistence he told me the story.
Many centuries ago a peculiar boat came ashore on the west coast. It had white wings and tall spars and from it there came two score strange beings. Strange because they had yellow hair which hung to their shoulders, blue eyes and white skin. They were taken to the Cacique or Chief who allowed them to remain and they soon took up with the customs of the tribe and began to take in marriage the women and the final result a lighter colored strain appeared among the tribe.
Conijaqui, the Cacique, had a daughter, who falling in love with one of the white strangers, desired to take him in marriage. This the chief refused, but as the girl persisted in her plans he at last consented but said, "you shall have your lover and be united with him, but in my way." The Indians were good placer miners and it was their practice to construct tunnels under the river beds to bed rock. Conijaqui caused his daughter and her lover to be bound with chains of gold and seating them in the far end of one of the tunnels allowed the water of the river to flow in until the tunnel was submerged. In this way the lovers were united.
Early in the last century miners exploring some placer ground opened up a curious condition which, upon examination, proved to be an old tunnel and in it they found the skeletons of a man and woman bound together with chains of gold. The chains weighed something like fifty pounds which made it a valuable find. That the old time miners did not construct tunnels to be rock is proven by the fact that in my operations on the Anita Placer, one day when we were working twenty-six feet below the river bed a bar used by the workers to loosen the gravel passed through the floor of the workings and went out of sight. Enlarging the hole and putting the suction pipe of our sixteen inch centrifugal pump into the opening we opened a tunnel and explored it for a distance of twenty feet. The remains of very old workings, clear to bed rock and about thirty feet below the present river bed. Other placer miners have had similar experiences. This discovery increased by interest in the story of the "white" Indian and I believe there must be some truth in the legend.
Anyway, there lives at this day on the border of Sinaloa and Sonora a group of people who, having white skins and brown hair and in many cases blue eyes, claim to be Indians and are proud of their ancestry. Members of the tribe frequently came to my camp and I came to know them well and enjoyed their confidence, and to a man, they swore to the truth of the story that had been handed down from generation to generation. Perhaps it is true, perhaps not, take your choice. Many things appear in this column that are just as true.
Rosalie Nelson placed some macaroni in my mail box. I do not object to "mac" provided it comes in boxes, so next time home she put in a box of this delicious preparation.
Paul Braden is sick again so I look for another advance in the price of kerosene.
Tom Fulcher informs me that what I wrote about his skill in making biscuits has brought him a dozen requests to come to Bay City and make biscuits in private houses.
John Merck hauling feed from Palacios.
Mrs. Ackerman asked the station agent, "Have you received any wire for me?" and he thinking she meant a telegram, replied, "Nothing has been received." She meant a bundle of fence wire.
The Sunday school elected Mrs. Crane superintendent; Gus Franzen, assistant; Mamie Franzen, secretary; Frances Eisel, assistant; John Carrick, treasurer , and Mrs. L. E. Liggett, pianist.
Some years ago the apartment of a lady was invaded by a burglar while a Bryan parade was passing. Asked why she did not scream for help she replied, "I didn't want folks to think I was hollering for Bryan." Must have been a real good Republican.
J. G. Holland says, "Play may not have so high a place in the diving economy, but it has as legitimate a place as prayer."
They say that Seth Corse appeared at the post office the other day with a suit case. On being asked if he was going away he replied, "No the church is packing old clothes to ship away to some home so I figured I better bring my duds down here until the box is shipped."
Verner Bowers counting his cash, ready for a day's business.
Mrs. Crane, presiding at the Bachman & Son store, busy putting up groceries.
Clifford Ash taking some extra large red fish from the bay in front of his home. He says some of them weighed thirty pounds, more or less, probably a bit less.
I guess all men are alike in some respects and especially in that they all like to be complimented by handsome women. I confess that I enjoy the experience and when the other day one of our finest looking matrons drove by in a Dodge and asked me to take a ride, I swelled up but just as I was about to accept, my swelling was punctured, for she asked another fellow to ride also. This other fellow don’t begin to have as handsome face as is mine and he cannot boast of as fine a figure but he claims to be the champion biscuit maker and thus he seemed to outclass me as the lady's eyes seemed to linger fondly on the biscuit maker.
Melyn Arbuckle, the actor, once said, "Hell, no one likes a fat man." It was a fat man who beat me out of a ride with this fascinating lady, and so I say, "What the hell, Bill; what the hell," and turned my eyes once more to the miserable wretch.
The King's Daughters, that active organization, made another quilt last Thursday and put up a splendid box of necessities for one of the cyclone victims.
One of the finest little ladies, one of the sweetest and best behaved in all this burg is the daughter of School Trustee Nelson, and her name is Rosalie.
My Chicago daughter has not written to me for about twelve moons and sometimes I think that I will write as follows"
"Boofel Baby, why don't oo write oo sugar pop? Or does oo have some ozzer wop To whom oo send itsy-bitsy love, Or is oo tumin to see oo popsy dove?"
Wonder if that would jar her into a consciousness that down here in Texas she has a friend father.
"And when the stream which overflowed the soul has passed away, a consciousness remained that it had left...images and precious thoughts that shall not die, and cannot be destroyed."--Wadsworth
(Editor's Note: The above was not written by Albert Wadsworth.)
John Merck selling out fresh meat from another of his fat suidae scrofa.
The Homer Goff family busy shipping their goods to Houston where they will make their home. Rather sudden, but then lots of sudden things happen in this old world.
Dale Welsby taking a week off from his duties with the Western Auto Supply Co., to visit his parents.
Leaden skies cover the heavens, promising more rain which we do not need.
In 1918 I spent some time in army camps and met several doctors and some of them told me they found influenza was less prevalent among smokers. Whether this it true or not I never have suffered from this disease. I found by some study that it made much difference what brand of tobacco was smoked, and that R. J. R. had peculiar properties that aided in warding off the disease. For example, here in this burg Seth Corse and the writer use R. J. R. and neither have had the flu, while Ben R. Mowery and Louis Walter both of whom use Prince Albert have been down with severe cases. The moral is: "Use R. J. R. and escape."
The other day I received a very interesting letter from Mrs. E. A. S., a reader of the Tribune, informing me of the pleasure she has in reading "Thoughts." She thinks the Miserable Wretch is a wonderful woman and I agree with her, but she does not agree with me that I am a Christian by inheritance. She thinks "Why I Am a Christian" is a feeble effort compared with other subjects covered by "Thoughts." Maybe so, maybe so. Who knows? I still think that we are all Christian by inheritance but that some of us by absorbing the spirit of Jesus advance and become more Christ-like but the goal is never attained in this life. No one has reached perfection except the Man Who Hung on the Cross. Anyway, I thank Mrs. A. E. S. for her fine letter and hope I may have the pleasure of meeting her some of these days.
The Daily Tribune, January 30, 1929
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By Harry Austin Clapp
I can remember when gasoline was purchased at the drug store by the ounce and used for cleaning purposes; when the Standard Oil Company threw it away as refuse and would have been glad of a market at one cent per gallon; when candles were used in every home and they were made in the home by dipping the wick in fat until the desired size was obtained; when the first candle molds were used; when the first naptha lamp came to our town; when kerosene sold at eight cents per gallon, and came in big wooden barrels, painted blue, and each barrel was tested for flashing by a state inspector before a sale was allowed; when I saw the first electric light, an arc, in Chicago, in front of the Grand Pacific Hotel. It was a curiosity and I doubt if there were more than two dozen in the town; when the first fonograf came to our town, brought by a showman who asked twenty-five cents to use it and hear it squeak "Papa, Momma. Mary had a little lamb;" when the first telefone was established in our town and I considered it wonderful when I talked with a friend twelve miles distant. Before that we used a fone made of a tin can with a bladder stretched across the opening, and for short distance, it gave fair service. I can remember when locomotives burned wood and had stacks that were about four feet across the top. Great wood yards were in every railroad yard and the engineers paid for the wood delivered to them with brass checks, good for one cord, one-half cord, as the case might be. I have several of the wood tokens used by the Northern Indiana and Southern Michigan, afterwards the Lake Shore and Michigan Southern and now a part of the New York Central; when the engine boilers were bound in brass and the machine painted red and striped with gold; when the crew always used the same engine and had to take care of it and keep it up; when the coaches were coupled with link and pin and the only brakes were operated by hand, and the water for drinking was kept in tea kettles with loops around the outside which held tin cups and at stated times the brakeman would pass through the train and offer water to the passengers and at times when the engineer whistled for brakes he would drop the container and rush to the platform and twist on the brake wheels; when no tickets were sold, all fares being paid in cash to the conductor and he would allow his friends to ride at reduced rates and often free of charge; when the conductor hired his won crew.
I can remember when every store was supplied with hitching racks, board walks and cloth awnings; when back of every church was a long row of stalls in which teams were driven to protect them the weather. I can remember when hogs sold for five cents a pound and cattle for six cents; when ham and bacon retained for eight to ten cents, eggs six cents, butter ten, twenty-five pounds sugar for one dollar and crackers twenty pounds for a dollar, liver, tongue and heart free if one carried it away, if not fed to the dogs. Apples free if one picked them but fifteen cents per barrel provided one furnished the barrel, potatoes twenty to twenty-five cents per bushel and wheat was good money at eighty cents per bushel. I can remember when a shave cost ten cents and a hair cut the same and one who kept a private mug at the barber shop was a plutocrat. The mugs were decorated with flowers and the name of the owner emblazoned in gold. I have my mug at this time, so I was a Pluto. It was the height of aristocracy to own one's razor. One could sit in comfort in the barber shop, hear talk of the latest news, solve all local and national problems and enjoy reading the Police Gazette and look at the shapely and beautiful legs displayed therein. The barber shop was always open Sunday mornings and there gathered the solid men of the town to have a week's growth of spinach removed so they could go to church with friend wife.
I can remember when all shot guns were muzzle loaders and the hunter carried powder and shot in cow horn flasks slung from his shoulder; when the first breech loaders appeared and a ten-gauge was considered the thing and a twelve nothing but a toy for boys to use. At that time shells were made of brass and saved for re-loading. I can remember when all goods were marked in shillings and the purchaser was informed that twenty-five pounds of sugar was offered for eight shillings. I can remember when at all elections each party printed its own tickets and distributed them all over the town and it was a common thing to accompany a voter right up to the polls and see that he voted as he was paid to vote. I have in my possession a ballot used when Lincoln and Hamblin ran and my grandfather's name is on the ticket as Register of Deeds.
I can remember a three-inch fall of snow caused the girls to hold up their skirts until we could see their ankles. Today the show would be four feet deep before it would cause any skirt raising and then one would see nothing except what one has long ago tired of seeing. I can remember when each town had its own time and the railroad another and how the local burghers put up a fight against the use of standard time; when a day's work began at seven in the morning and ended at six p. m., and stone masons received $1.50 and carpenters the same salary and on that they were fine citizens, owned their own homes and reared and educated large families; when stores opened at 6 a. m. and remained open until nine or ten at night and clerks received $25.00 per month if they were good ones. I can remember the members of all families took the Saturday night bath in the big wooden tub in the kitchen and my mother, much to my disgust, insisted on giving me the once over and scrubbed my ears. Gosh, how I hated the ordeal.
Just here the miserable wretch butts in to say, "some one should give you the once over now."
I can remember when many people died from inflammation of the bowels, for fashionable appendicitis was unknown and even then to cut into the abdominal cavity was to lose the patient. I can remember when a well-known surgeon amputated a finger at the hand with his jack knife which he sharpened on his boot. I can remember when an income of fifty dollars a month was riches and enabled a man to keep a driving horse and knowingly discuss the virtues of side-bar buggles, timpkin springs and single-strap harness. Such a man owned a good home, raised his family in affluence and sent them away for the finish. I can remember when every village supported from three to fifteen saloons and at least one house of ill fame and when gamblers were considered pretty fair citizens. I can remember when it was considered the proper thing for young boys to "sow their wild oats" but if a girl made a miss-step she was shunned by all good Christians and became a social leper.
I can remember when the local physician did all the tooth pulling and a man was considered a bit nutty who went out of town and had a tooth filled. On his return it was his pleasure to show it to all the gobs and relate his experience while in the dental chair. I can remember when the firm of A. Clapp & Son, Merchants and Bankers (my grandfather and father) issued their own money. The bills were engraved and bore the words, "A. Clapp & Son will pay to the bearer on demand the sum of one dollar." It was passed in all the country about and it was good money for it was always redeemed on demand. I have several specimens of it in my possession. I can remember that when any inhabitant of our town or surrounding country died that the church bell tolled the number of years of the deceased's age and folks would stop their work and counting would say, "seventy-one, seventy-two, seventy-three, well, I guess old lady Rogers has gone." I can remember when much of the wheat was cut with a cradle; when the first reaper appeared which cut the wheat and delivered it in bunches for men who followed to bind; when the first Marsh harvester appeared which employed two men on a platform who bound the wheat and threw on the ground for the followers to carry into shocks. I can remember many other things, but--
"The leaves of memory seem to make a mournful rustling in the dark." --The First of Drift Wood, by Longfellow.
Looking back on what I can remember and thinking of the changes that have come to pass during my years, I am forced to believe that the world has made great progress, that people live better lives, that they are more and more coming to arrange their lives, their thoughts, on the teachings of Jesus Christ and that in the distant future they world will attain some what near perfection. It will not be this century or the next or the next, but just as certain as God is in His Heaven and the Spirit of His Son walks this earth men will come to follow him more and more and the time will come when man will see a great light that shines from a new day. Read Deuteronomy xxxi:6.
I also remember that last Monday the Son of a King came to Homecroft and gave me a big pork roast. Maybe it weighed twenty pounds, maybe not more than six, but it sure was a fine roast and as I and the miserable wretch filled our tummies we again thanked that Son of a King for his thoughtfulness. I am glad I joined the King's Daughters.
Tom Fulcher is gathering about him his family for a son has arrived to cultivate the old Gableman place and a daughter, Mrs. Hendricks, and family have moved to the Holsworth farm. Mr. and Mrs. Fulcher certainly have three splendid daughters but I do not think any of them were brought up on the biscuits Tom made, else they would not have such fine complexions. I think the family's health will be better now that Mrs. Fulcher is back on the cooking job.
Mrs. Seth Corse was taken ill Tuesday night and was carried to Blessing where she will be with her daughter, Mrs. Duller.
The truck bringing in a load of school pupils.
For the benefit of the lady readers of the Tribune I will say that I am not as old as some of the boys and
"If there's any one here who wants to kiss me, They will find me as young as I used to be."
(Osculation to be without knowledge of or in the presence of the Miserable Wretch.)
The Daily Tribune, February 8, 1929
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By Harry Austin Clapp
[Local information taken from longer article.]
That court house clock reposing in some junk pile is in my thoughts almost daily, and I miss it every time I visit Bay City. It was so friendly, especially when approaching the town by night. In order to allow folks to use the clock, why not erect a campanile or clock tower on the court house grounds? Build it at least twenty-five feet higher than the court house and in the top install the clock so its friendly face could be visible for some miles and its hands beckon the approaching visitor to the city. The slender proportions of a campanile pointing to the sky would give an impression of lightness and grace. Dedicate it to those who gave their lives during the late war and have it consecrated by the American Legion.
Judd Mortimer Lewis in Saturday's Houston Post-Dispatch tells of a man who ate five pies each day during his life and lived to be eighty-seven. Had he ate less pies and consumed more of the famous Carrie Nelson Superlative Noodles there would have been no reason for him to die so young.
Frances Eisel has blossomed out into a red bird. I always knew she was a bird and am glad it is a red bird for the color is satisfying to my eye.
As many of our girls are now wearing trousers, I wonder why us boys should not wear dresses. A dress would look swell on Arthur Soekland. Few fellows have as fine a figure.
Mr. and Mrs. Carl Boeker down with influenza, but better as this is written. Neither of them use R. J. R.
Here comes Miss Frances Mayfield, county health nurse with a beautiful bouquet consisting of rich, red tomatoes and beautiful green head lettuce. I enjoyed the fragrance and flavor. Miss Mayfield reports that she is receiving real co-operation from the teachers and pupils of Bay View school in the health sponsorship of the Industrial League. She states that at the county scholastic meet which will be held at Palacios in March she will lead a health parade and expects that our local school will participate 100 percent strong. There seems to be some misunderstanding as to the duties of a county health nurse, and I confess that I did not understand, so I have taken the trouble to investigate and find that while she is under the joint control of the county court and the state board of health, the latter define and regulate her duties and they are divided into two divisions: (a) one-half of her time must be spent in school work, and (b) one-half her time in maternity and infancy cases. Well, one-half and one-half make one, so I can see that she has very little time for other cases and if, when, and as, she answers calls to attend any outside these two divisions she does so by stealing the time from her regular duties. Some seem to think the county nurse is at the beck and call of any person who may be down in bed with an illness. At the time of the late cyclone disaster she was ordered by the state board of health and the county court to drop her regular duties and give her time to the stricken ones which she did. From now on Miss Mayfield will visit the school every Monday teaching the children health rules and first aid.
I am writing this under difficulties for am suffering from what I diagnose as a cracked rib. It is the fifth member of the lower clavicle close to the pantod which of course may involve the vermifuge and if this occurs it seems reasonable that the carborundum may be infected which might make it necessary to open the abdominal cavity and remove the cevrix. I give this information so you readers will pardon the rambling nature of these thoughts, for how can a man concentrate with a busted slat?
Well, when you boys and girls read this, remember that my only sister is here at Homecroft and that I, sister and the miserable wretch are having happiness in great gobs. No man ever had a better sister than my Lucy, and few ever had one so fine, splendid and loyal and--well, anyway I love her all the day and all the night. Lucy arrived just in time to meet the recent norther which sent the mercury down to 24 and she is not at all fascinated with the "Sunny South."
Arnold, Dorothy and Clifford Franzen drifted home the other day, probably to get a snack of home cooking. Everyone glad to see these fine kiddos.
The Daily Tribune, February 13, 1929
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By Harry Austin Clapp.
"The keener tempests rise, and fuming dun From all the livid east, or piercing north. Thick clouds ascend: in whose capacious womb A vapory deluge lies, to snow congealed. Heavy they roll their fleecy world along; And the sky saddens with the gathering storm.
As I read these words it comes to me that Mr. James Thompson must have spent some time in the "Sunny Southland," else how could he have found, originated, or established the inspiration that enabled him to write the words which I find by reading The Seasons: Winter?
It very well describes what happened during the past week. A norther fierce as a hungry lion swooped down on us poor mortals and folded us in its icy embrace. Well, you win the bet, for Mrs. Mercury dropped clear down to what is called, for measurements sake, twenty-four above zero. Suffering flounders, but us burghers crawled into our holes and set up prayers for "clearing weather and rising temperatures." What cared we if the papers did announce that in Montana it was twenty-four below zero? All we knew was that in Collegeport it was--
"Clear as a bell, Cold as hell."
We shivered and hung over our stoves and at night I snuggled close to the miserable wretch and thanked the Lord that she was good for a warming pad.
Trying to write a letter to Mary Louise, I gave up, for as I wrote her "my fingers are froze while I write with my nose."
At times I thought that to die freezing would not be unpleasant, but rather agreeable for life during the days of norther lasted was just one damned fight after another, not for food, but for wood, and it seemed that never could the stove's appetite for wood be satisfied, gratified, pleased. The waters of the bay, driven out to sea by the forty-mile gale, left great flats of mud which froze in the icy blasts, leaving hundreds of trout and red fish stranded on the flats while oyster reefs exposed by the low tide were covered with frozen spray.
Robert Murry quit rolling the bull long enough to wade out in the dead bay and bring in sixty big trout which were so nearly frozen that they could no longer wiggle a tail. Others did the same.
My sister, Lucy, is disgusted with the "Sunny South" and wishes she was back in Indiana where it is about ten below zero. No accounting for some peoples' taste.
Read in the paper that they had a fresh outbreak of foot and mouth disease in California. Here in Texas--right in our capital city of Austin--we have a regular epidemic of the same disease and some action should be taken to frustrate, defeat, balk, thwart or, if you know what I mean, to bring naught any attempt to spread the infection. Now, take Judge Carpenter, he is up there milling around with the infected herd and who knows but that he will return to Bay City and infect the inhabitants of that burg which is located 25 miles from a bay. It might spread to this city and with the presence of the disease already established here we might very easily be wiped off the map.
Twenty years ago when a woman wore enough clothes to load John Merck's truck, it took her two hours to dress. Ten years ago when she wore half as many, it still required two hours to dress, and now, when she wears as near nothing as possible and avoid arrest for exposure of her person, she still uses up two hours for dressing. I wonder whereinthehell any time is saved. Maybe John Merck can explain the matter.
"When the evening shadows fall, "Whippoorwill!" Comes the soft sonorous call, "Whippoorwill!" By the streamlet 'neath the moon, When the cowslips are in bloom, Faintly sounds the harp like trill, "Whippoorwill! Whippoorwill! Whippoorwill!"
Like a tale that music tells, Through the woodland's swampy dells, "Whippoorwill!" Where the bluebell droops its head When the twilight sky is red, Softly comes that mournful trill, "Whippoorwill! Whippoorwill! Whippoorwill!" --Wellington Mackenzie.
I love the whippoorwill as he sounds his swooping call at night, but say, if you care to see something beautiful, come down to the post office any night and see our "Red bird."
The outlaws who, by breaking up the discipline in one of the rooms of our local school and caused a worthy young woman to give up her position have reason to be very proud of their work. She lost about four month's salary which was badly needed and they gained nothing of any value.
You hoodlums, young outlaws, I congratulate you on the success of your venture. You have done something of which your parents will be very proud and every patron of the school shares in the pride.
The Bowers store is giving real service since Mrs. Ash has been in charge. Real pleasure to spend a nickel with her.
Ira Corporon hung up a couple of fine hogs the other day in his smoke house, but the other morning found that some two-legged miscreant had eloped with the meat. Must have been the same fellow who stole the coal from the school house.
The Woman's Club held their annual Valentine party at the Holsworth home with the usual fine eats. The games were quite silly stuff, but caused considerable amusement to those who watched L. E. Liggett and George Braden caper about trying to imitate children. Seems to me that so dignified an organization as the Woman's Club could by some device, scheme, artifice, expedient, design, or if you know what I mean, arrange a program with dignity and at the same time of lasting value to the guests. It was a fine party after all is said and done and enjoyed by those fortunate enough to have an invitation.
Well, anyway, we are all set for the annual celebration of Washington's birthday. This affair is sponsored by the Woman's Union. If the menu includes some of the famous Carrie Nelson Noodles I will arrange to be present, but no noodles and all I can say is "I dunno."
Mrs. Emmitt Chiles sports red tin signs on front and rear of her Dodge and so is eligible to operate outside of the city limits.
Quite a number of our local cars dare not operate farther than the post office.
Verner Bowers started by auto for a party at Wadsworth and stalled in the mud near the river bridge. He reports the walking quite sloppy and from the looks of his clothing it was that--plus.
The Bachman store is now in the hardware business which supplies a long felt want.
When this is printed I will be all alone, for my sister and the miserable wretch have went to San Antonio. In their absence there is an opening for some good looking, warm-hearted, lonesome girl to find a happy home and loving friend husband. Of course it would be on the installment plan, for the miserable wretch will only be gone four days. Hurry up girls and file your applications.
They go to visit my adorable daughter who taps the keys in San Antonio.
"I can vision the coloring come and glow In the face of my treasure, I may not see with mine eyes but I know That she will enjoy the meeting in full measure. At times, I think the days are wasted and so tall But the sacrifice is for me a pleasing duty For Mary Louise has answered the call That brings to her life a flowering beauty." --Fragments From Hack.
Well, anyway, sister Lucy, daughter Mary Louise and the miserable wretch, will have a happy four days and so I am glad that I can stay at home, milk cows, feed chickens, make B. M. cook my meals and at night fight the chilling air.
Had a splendid letter from Ora and Oscar. They are happy in their new life and both attend night school, and soon Ora will be tapping the keys something like this: "Mr. Carex Smitz, Baw Kity, Tesaz: Pleze renez mi Tribuwn fur Another yEar fur de exclosed $p:50 cents. yoUrw Trulx, Oxa cHapxn. Nothing like being an expert on the Corona.
Weather looks settled and farmers are arranging to get the land ready for planting. Looks like about 3,000 acres of cotton. Jack Holsworth reports that under his management 600 acres will be planted.
Lent is here with its season of denial and 'tis good for many to remember that way back yonder more than two thousand years a more than man denied Himself that we might have and enjoy those things that we now possess. The Lenten season should cause us all to reflect on the past, arrange in these forty days our lives so that with Easter we may enter into a new, a joyous life, a more spiritual living for the balance of the year.
The
Daily Tribune, February 22, 1929 |
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By Harry Austin Clapp
All you readers who have witnessed performances at the theatre have seen it. You know what it looks like. The auditorium lights dim. The orchestra notes soften and almost, but not quite, become mute. The curtain raises on a darkened stage. Down the center troup the members of the chorus, spreading out in a fan of feminine loveliness, causing one to gasp as one awaits the entrance of the leading character. From the wings she steps and is met by the "spot light." Fluffy skirts, all awhirl, legs clothed in shimmering silk, arms, neck and bust gleaming, eyes asparkle-- all is glitter in the "spot light."
It is the spot's business to concentrate your eyes on this vision of feminine beauty and woe to the spot light man who fails to keep the leading character under proper light. Every actor is jealous of his place in the spot and the oftener he can gain and hold the longed-for spot, the greater he considers his work and the more effect he can produce on his audience. The spot concentrates attention on the principal who occupies the stage center and all actors love to bask in its genial, joyous, cheerful beam.
Off the stage we also have spot lights and most people love to stand in the light, knowing full well that attention is concentrated on them. Here in Matagorda county we have two spot lights. The Bay City Daily Tribune throws the spot once each day and the weekly Tribune throws no less piercing rays once each week. Across the bay in the "City by the Sea," the Beacon operates a flash light that throws its beams far and wife, attracting attention to the beauties of nature in its locality These two spot lights mean much to the people of Matagorda county, for day after day they are on the job holding our county in the spot light and directing attention to all within its beam to the potential possibilities of our towns and surrounding country. They fill a place in our social and business life that no other method can possibly attain. At this time there is no method of publicity that reaches as far, that always covers every phase of our life and environment as the press. There be some who, realizing this, arrange that they, too, may be in the spot light, and these public spirited citizens profit not only in a material way but in a spiritual way, for by the position they occupy in the spot they tell the world that they are assisting in placing before others the advantages of life here in the "Heart of the Midcoast."
The life of the men who operate this spot light is not all a bed of roses for it means hard work that calls on brain and brawn. Few people realized that we owe the men who operate these spot lights. Take the Tribune for instance. Read its pages. Observe the daily items telling the world about the city and county. Read the advertising columns. You will find romance in them. These advertisements tell of success and failures, of hopes and disappointments. The business life of the advertisers is here recorded and preserved in the files as the history of Matagorda county. Everywhere the paper goes these men are known as the doers, the public spirited citizens, the men who are back of every movement for the progress of the politic body of our section. Their names and business become familiar to outsiders and when out-of-county readers visit our county these are the men who are first called upon and they reap the reward of their patriotism in the business received.
There are others who never subscribe for a daily or weekly paper, preferring to bum their reading from their more progressive neighbors. They never advertise and they are known as the pariahs of our county. They believe that in spending a dollar with a local paper they are supporting the paper, making a gift from which they realize nothing. The truth is that the paper with its corp[s] of advertisers is actually supporting these pariahs. They pay nothing, and sitting in their places of business daily profit from the efforts of their more patriotic brothers. They, too, crave publicity, but are unwilling to play the game like a good sportsman. They drift along, many of them reaping riches but all the time they are more and more taking on the resemblance of parasites. They live on others. Most all men love proper publicity and from president of the United States down to the man who tills the soil, they endeavor to place themselves in the spot light. There are of course some exceptions, but they are few. We have some in this burg, for at least five people have requested me to never mention their names in my columns. The column known as "Thoughts" is the spot light for Collegeport and that is rays reach far and wide is evidenced by the letters I receive. Some of them are commendatory, some are critical, some are condemning, but all testify that the spot reached them. This column is good publicity for Collegeport and the Tribune ought to have a goodly circulation in our district. Does it? I hear folks say, let me have your Tribune, I want to read "Thoughts."
Well, anyway, we all know that President-elect Hoover has been having fun fishing. He caught big strings of fish, but how about the fist that have been trying to catch Hoover? Once upon a time when a woman lost her purse the finder, upon examination, found six hair pins and some other junk. The other day one of our girls lost her purse and the finder, looking through it, found a lip stick, some rouge, a powder puff and three dresses.
This has nothing to do with the visit of Oscar Barber. Oscar comes here each year to tell us all about how much taxes we are to pay, and twice each year he drifts down and mesmerizes us with his gorgeous smile, asking us to send him back for just one more term. And we do it, for we all love Oscar, and anything he asks we give freely. Oscar called on me the other day and we have one fine visit lasting about two hours, and he almost forgot that it was a business visit, but at last he woke up, and making a few figures on his assessment book, told me that I ought to kick in about two or three hundred dollars, more or less. I hope it is less and I leave the final figures to Oscar, but I give him fair warning that I control two votes. I was very alarmed for fear that little Emily Jane would look like Bill, but Oscar informs me that she is a replica of her beautiful mother and has the same sweet ways. I congratulate Emily Jane, Jr., on her escape.
Since I learned that a woman found a $750 diamond in a can of so-called lard. I have requested the miserable wretch to examine our so-called lard in hopes that we, too, would find a diamond, but to date the only result has been extra juicy cherry pies with crust that melts in one's mouth.
The Houston Boy Scouts may have their Col. Ike Ashburn, but our Scouts have their Merriman L. Smith, and whether it is an Ashburn or a Smith, a fine work is being done. Boys like gangs and they love pals and the Scout work employs gangs and pals and mixes them up so that they become finer citizens. Many a man can look back on his scout days as the beginning of real manhood.
We may all breathe again for the State Highway Commission has been probed and found guiltless. The state never enjoyed the services of such a splendid body of men and it was almost a crime to even suggest that they were guilty of wrong doing. Such men are not in the work for graft, but there be some men who fail to understand why any man gives his time freely for the public good. Some men have ideals, others never have.
The annual Washington Birthday banquet was pulled off as usual by that fine organization, the Woman's Union. About one hundred and fifty sat about the table and enjoyed the chicken pie and et cetera. Merriman L. Smith posed as toastmaster in his usual merry way and our people were pleased to find that Doctor Warren Wilson arrived from New York just in time. Dr. Wilson has charge of all rural church work of the Presbyterian Church in the U. S. A., and is a speaker of international reputation. His talk, confined to his work, was an enjoyable treat. Rev. Gillespie came over from Palacios and told us all about George, while Homer Goff drifted down from Houston and contributed a general talk. My next to the last rib bothered me so much that I did not attend, but when I found that the menu did not mention the famous Carrie Nelson Noodles I felt that I was better off at home with my bottle of Sloan's liniment.
Last week I mentioned that in the absence of the miserable wretch there would be a vacancy at Homecroft and invited applications for temporary relief and had several offers of which I submit two: "Dear Mr. Clapp: I am also lonesome, as my husband ran away with a woman with a cork leg. I am considered good looking and have a loving heart and seven children, but have a large wart on my nose. If this is no objection, will be glad to take the position. Your Babykins." Oh, ginger snaps! but that was some temptation, but how about this: "My Dear Harry" I feel that we could get along fine for I know that you like girls with beautiful legs, having read the Tribune for some time. I weigh 120 pounds, am five feet two inches tall and have a fine figure. I am very fond of reading and take True Stories regularly. This has encouraged a natural romantic disposition. I just love men like you who are also literary. We could get along fine. If this suits you send me about thirty dollars and will come on first train. Your loving Kitty." Floating flounders! Think what advertising will do. Goshamighty, I am glad that the miserable wretch will be back Tuesday and give me protection. I and her have stuck together for any years and if she will only come back I and her will stick it out to the end. She is no Babykins or Kitty but she has been a good and faithful wife even if she is a miserable wretch.
P. S.--My busted rib is better and better day by day.
P. S.--(Meaning I Forgot) Oscar Barber owes me a good cigar.
The Daily Tribune, March 1, 1929
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By Harry Austin Clapp
[Local information taken from longer article.]
Seems to me that local skirts are growing shorter. Saw a girl with skirt so short that the back of the knee was exposed, and that is about as homely a spot as a girl can expose.
John Merck bringing oysters to an oysterless people.
The King's Daughters meeting this week with Mrs. Richman. Not necessary to report that there were plenty of eatables of all kinds from fried chicken up. I intended to go but when I was told there would be no noodles decided to stay at home. If the King's Daughters desire my presence they must arrange to have a generous supply of the Famous Carrie Nelson Noodles. The miserable wretch and Sister Lucy attended and had a joyous time.
The League met in regular session Thursday night with about thirty present. Refreshments consister of red hot hamburgers, raisin pie and coffee, provided by Mesdames Ash, Chiles and Clapp.
E. L. Hall has been confined to his room with influenza. E. L. does not smoke R. J. R., hence another example of what happens to those who use other brands.
John B. Heisey hauling cans of cream to the station with which Morning Glory butter is made.
A card on the door of the railroad station notifies the public that G. A. Dalton is the new agent. Hope he stays at least three weeks.
Well, anyway, the miserable wretch and Sister Lucy returned from San Antonio and other foreign parts Tuesday and reported a simply wonderful gorgeous time. They met the Van Ness tribe including Anna and her two babies and friend, husband, also saw Ora and Oscar [Chapin] and the Holman family. One day they visited what used to be the Buck Horn Saloon, but alas and alack the fount was dry. Saw all the old missions, heard the grand organ in the City Auditorium, went to service at St. Mark's, ate meals at the Gunter and St. Anthony, the Original and at last arrived home like Mary's little lamb.
Ruth Mowery looks cute in overalls, but in dresses she is charming and dignified.
Wonder what has become of my red bird?
The American Institute has developed an instrument so sensitive that it records the intensity of blushes. It will be of interest to most of our fellows to know that the blush of a blond is warmer than that of a brunette. I never required an instrument to tell me that fact for I well remember that some of my blonde sweethearts always impressed me as being warmer than others. As I would press their blushing cheek against my own I could plainly feel the rising temperature. I am giving this information principally for the information of John Merck so that he will not pay out good money for an instrument.
The week closed with a birthday dinner at the home of Judge S. W. Corse in honor of Mrs. Corse who is now about, well, about the age of Anne, and this does not mean Anne Clapp who lives in Chicago. I have known these good folks for many years and it was a joy to break bread (I mean rolls) with them and talk about the many things that have happened during our lives in Collegeport.
Well, anyway, it has been a good week for it brought back to me the miserable wretch and Sister Lucy and life is going on as usual, thank you.
Wish I could have been present at the Washington banquet and grabbed that big tub of leavings, but, shucks, after all, it was not worth much for there was in it not one speck of the Famous Carrie Nelson Noodles. Wonder who got it? Maybe Mrs. Boeker knows.
Ben R. Mowery is so busy these days that he has no time to give the burghers his usual radio report on the weather. We all miss it.
The Daily Tribune, March 3, 1929
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By Harry Austin Clapp
[Local information taken from longer article.]
Our little Scooter dog, missing for two weeks, was found dead yesterday under our front gallery. For the benefit of some San Antonio Tribune readers, I must record that Bonita fell in wrong company and became what is known as a sheep dog. She therefore met her fate by running into a charge of buck shot.
Took a ride on the choo choo train the other day going with my sister, Lucy, as far as Bay City, and in the Tribune office I was introduced to a fine looking young lady named Lurline Mallard. It has been my ambition for years to meet a real poetess, and here she stood before me. I gazed at her sweet face in amazement and no longer wondered how she wrote such beautiful verses.
"Come then, my friend! my genius! come along! O, master of the poet, and the song! And while the muse now stoops, or now ascends, To man's low passions, or their glorious ends, Teach me, like thee, in various nature wise, To fall with dignity, with temper rise." --Pope.
Met Oscar Barber and asked him if he had read last week's Tribune in which he was informed that he owed me a good cigar. Oscar blushed (uncommon for an office holder) and excused himself and soon came back with twenty-five big cigars. I sure will swing my two votes to Oscar.
Saw Bill and looked him over with care and he is not half bad looking, but after I saw Emily Jane I had no eyes for a one-dollar bill. Well, anyway, Emily Jane and Emily Jane, Jr., drove us all over the town and told us where every one lived and I learned more about Bay City in two hours than I had absorbed in twenty years.
Carey Smith still weeps over the failure of Mr. Alfred E. Smith to lease the White House, and because Matagorda county and the state of Texas disgraced the fathers.
Verner Bowers is still confined to his home with an attack of the measles. Bet good money he has been eating some of Tom Fulcher's biscuits.
Jim Hale, engineer on the Portsmouth Limited, home with chicken pox. Wonder why adults fall for kid diseases when there are plenty of things for grown ups?
Woman's Union met with Mrs. Ackerman with seventeen present and counting Pastor Merriman L. Smith, but then he is not a lady.
Friend after friend departs: Who hath not lost a friend? There is no union here of hearts That finds not here an end: Were this frail world our only rest, Living or dying, none were blest.
Thus star by star declines, Till all are passed away, As morning high and higher shines To pure and perfect day; Nor sink those stars in empty night; They hide themselves in heaven's own light." --James Montgomery.
And at one o'clock in the morning of March 8th the star of George Braden's life declined. His was a beautiful death, for he retired at the usual hour and went to restful sleep and awake over there. God was merciful to George Braden. He was aged 51 years, 11 months and 21 days, and having passed the last twenty years of his life in Collegeport and this county was well known as was attested by the presence of something like one hundred autos carrying about three hundred people to testify at the funeral service how they valued the friendship of George Braden. The services at the home were conducted by Rev. Gillespie of Palacios, while the interment was in charge of the Palacios Masonic Lodge of which George was a member. About three weeks ago George attended the Valentine party at the Holsworth home and full of life entered with spirit into the games of the evening. That was the last time I saw him and I wish to remember him as he was that night, laughing, joking, playing with young and old. George Braden will be missed in his old home town, in the county of Matagorda and all who were privileged to know him will pour out to his family their heart-felt sympathy. He leaves his widow, his son, Paul, his daughter, Ruth, now Mrs. Arthur Matthes. We who have seen these children grow up from childhood know how blest Mrs. Braden is in having such fine children to lean upon in this hour, and to make the measure of child love full to overflowing there are the 2 grandchildren, Russell and Margaret Ruth Matthes.
[Drifting]
"My soul today Is far away, Sailing the Vesuvian Bay; My winged boat, A bird afloat, Swings round the purple peaks remote.
I heed not, if My rippling skiff Floats swift or slow from cliff to cliff, With dreamful eye My spirit lies Under the walls of Paradise.
Under the walls Where swells and falls The Bay's deep breast at intervals, At peace I lie, Blown softly by A cloud upon this liquid sky.
No more, no more The worldly shore Upbraids me with its loud uproar! With dreamful eyes My spirit lies Under the walls of Paradise!" --Thos. Buchanan Reed.
Tuesday the Rev. Paul E. Engle, Rector of St. Mark's Episcopal Church, Bay City, brought the Holy Eucharist to us Homecrofters. He will visit us again for the same purpose the Tuesday of Holy Week.
The Daily Tribune, Tuesday, March 12, 1929
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On last Thursday, the Kings Daughters met in a “spend the day” session in the hospitable home of Mrs. P. A. Richman. A delightful time was enjoyed by a large number of ladies in attendance and at the noon hour a most sumptuous luncheon was spread. Displaying all the many good eats that culinary arts can do, in meats, salads, cakes and pies; pies with the “high toppings,” that everybody likes so well. A very interesting and instructive program was rendered in the afternoon. The guests leaving at a late hour, giving Mrs. Richman a vote of thanks for a very pleasant day.
Palacios Beacon, March 14, 1929 |
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By Harry Austin Clapp
One of the up country readers of the Tribune and quite a severe critic of this column writes that he can see little sense in Carey Smith printing "your stuff." He says it has little sense and that I use a plethora of words, or as Jeffrey says, "He labors under a plethora of wit and imagination."
Well, anyway, about all I know is what I pick up from my old friend Noah, and so I asked him about it and he informs me that verbiage means "the use of many words without necessity, or with little sense," and Washington Irving goes farther and puts the knife clear to the hilt when he explains that "verbiage may indicate observation, but not thinking." Here all the past three years I have been thinking that "Thoughts" required thinking and I find it is merely observation.
God, help us literati and poetesses.
In the same mail comes a letter from a woman who lives in Illinois and, wise woman that she is, reads the Tribune weakly. I mean each week. She wonders why the miserable wretch has not long ago shot me at sunrise, and promises to come down here soon as friend husband's pants will yield sufficient dinero for railway fare and when she arrives it is her intention to assist the miserable wretch to rid herself of what I consider a perfectly good husband. Wheeeee, and then some, but it gives me the trembles to know that from this date I am in danger of losing my life. The night McKinley was elected I was badly shot but managed to recover my health and I have no desire to be the victim of another shot. All right, my good friends from Nebraska and Illinois, you have used your right to throw a brick-bat into my works, so here goes another dose of verbiage: If you don't like it stop reading the column, but remember that Mr. Saunders, of Markham, Texas, appreciates "Thoughts," for he told me yesterday that he reads the column every week and that I always wrote the truth. If you doubt this, send a postal to Mr. Saunders, Markham, Texas.
The miserable wretch has went to church where she will hear some more arguments about tainted money, the misuse of liker, and queries as to where that six and a half dollars has done went to. Up to date no one knows, so if any of you readers find six and a half dollars wandering around, send 'em to the Collegeport Sunday school.
Buckshot chased a cat up a tree but just as she leaped, she clawed him a good one across the nose and that is what caused the howls of anguish that awakened the miserable wretch Sunday morning, March 10, A. D., 1929.
At the request of G. A. Duffy, the Mopac shipped in three cars of shell to be used in paving the railroad stockyards. Local cow men owe thanks to Mr. Duffy.
The program committee of the Woman's Club met at Homecroft Saturday and arranged a program for the year and if one-tenth of the program is effective Collegeport will be a very desirable place in which to live. They shoot high all right. The committee consisted to Mesdames, Smith, King and Clapp and that of course accounts for the high quality of the program.
Every son of a Texas gun that attended the Hoover exercises at Washington comes home with fallen arches.
Judging from the number of flu cases in this burg there are many of our folks who do not smoke RJR.
If any of my readers wish to communicate with Pope Pius XI be sure and address the letter to Vatican City, for his address is no longer Rome.
A last year mocking bird nest in a plum tree in our back yard. Yesterday along comes Mrs. Mocking Bird, looks over the old nest, gives it a few tugs with her bill to test its security and being satisfied that it will be safe and economical to make necessary repairs, she flits away and in less than five minutes is busy carrying material for the repairs, so I shall have the pleasure of watching another brood hatch and grow into sweet singers.
I can find many things to admire in a bandit, a bootlegger, a hold-up man, but nothing in the low down hound of a cuss that will scatter poisoned meat about a community and kill several fine dogs. This fell failed to get Ben Mowery's fine dog, but he did get Scooter.
Hattie Kundinger has a passionate desire to be "IT" and so has ordered a great big new horn for her radio. She sold fifty cigars to one customer last week and need sell no more for a few weeks.
Verner Bowers has recovered from the measles and Tom Fulcher testifies that although Verner ate some of his biscuits that fact had nothing to do with the measles.
Mrs. Crane has a fine window display of rabbits on green grass background with plenty of rabbit eggs which if they all hatch will supply the burg with rabbit meat.
Jack Holsworth made a very important business trip to Markham via Bay City Saturday but did not appear at the Federation meeting. Wonder why?
Miss Ethel Sirman went to the Federation meeting via Bay City Saturday and appeared at the meeting. Wonder why she was obliged to go via Bay City. Miss Ethel is the fruit our school trustees plucked from the teacher tree that grows in Markham and it is some fruit. A sweet, dignified, capable, ambitious young woman without a trace of flapperism. Hope the board renews her contract for at least a year for after that I doubt if she will be eligible.
Well, anyway, the miserable wretch attended the Federation meeting at Markham, and had one swell time and enjoyed every moment, especially the cats. I intended to go but I looked over the menu and found they had not provided any of the Famous Carrie Nelson Noodles, decided to stay at home and eat sardines. The miserable wretch reports that the two outstanding features of the program was the address by Rev. Terry Wilson of Bay City and the singing of Mrs. Johnson of Sargent. These meetings are wonderful affairs for our women and I still wonder why the men of our commercial organizations do not follow in the footsteps of the women and have three or four get together affairs each year. The women of Matagorda county are the folks who do things in this county, as witness, the scholarship fund which they have raised and which has already assisted several girls to a higher education. A county federation of chambers of commerce would be a step in advance and would enable our men to meet several times each year and work out mutual problems. My friend, Mrs. Emma Lee Lewis Carlton, was there and from reports that sifted in to me I have the joy of squaring myself or I may lose this good friend.
Thursday the local Woman's Club met with Mrs. Liggett with Miss Frances Mayfield as honor guest. The program was of much interest, being the first of the series for 1929. Not necessary to state that the refreshments served by the hostess were superb, elegant, showy, exquisite, and at the same time nourishing. Mrs. Liggett knows how to combine these qualities in the menu she serves. Miss Mayfield complimented the club on the quality of the program. These women have stuck for twenty years and the club is an important factor in the educational and social life of this community.
Looking over a bunch of our girls yesterday, was struck with the general sweetness of their faces, but goshallmighty, how I do wish they would drop their skirts just enough to hide the bend in their knees. Some of them no longer wear what might be called dresses for they more clearly resemble short flounces.
The Franzen family are this day on the top of the world for the three children, Arnold, Clifford and Dorothy, drifted in for the weekend. The people of Collegeport share with Mr. and Mrs. Franzen pride in these fine young folks.
I am writing this line Sunday, Mar. 17th, and am reminded that just twenty years ago this day I and the miserable wretch erected our tent on what is now Homecroft, and ever since, all over America, green flags fly in memory of the event and that, no doubt, is one of the reasons the ladies of Markham used green in their color scheme at the Federation meeting.
The term "miserable wretch" so often used in this column is in no sense an anathema but it is left to Mrs. Clement, a Markham teacher, to properly interpret what it means.
Reigns more or less, and glows in every heart." --Dr. E. Young.
Well, anyway, she understands, so what care we that others do not. Vivat regina.
The Daily Tribune, March 20, 1929
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By Harry Austin Clapp
Sunday was a very happy day for us Homecrofters, for came Mr. and Mrs. Coffin from Midfield and Seth Corse and Minnie, his wife. Seth is Judge of the Seventh Judicial District, while Minnie is the representative of the United States Postal Department in this balliwick. We spent a pleasant afternoon visiting with these good folks.
Anyone who doubts that Merriman L. Smith is not a busy body these Sundays should follow him about. First, service at Collegeport Sunday morning, then he hikes to Citrus Grove for another, then to Ashby for a third, and back home for an evening service. His last report shows that he drove 10,000 miles during the last year doing pastoral work, and yet there be some who wonder why he uses an automobile.
Monday night more than fifty people assembled at the church to dispose of a good lot of cats and listen to the reports of the various organizations. Some of them did well, others not so much, but all told they turned into the church treasury a goodly sum of money. New deacons, elders and trustees were elected and the organization is off for another year.
Seth Corse has a pet in the post office and has named it "Mephitis Mephetica," and the little kuss is strong for its name. If he dies and he may, if John Merck sees him, Seth plans to give the hide to Mr. Eisel, so Frances may wear it on her fall coat.
Saw two tough birds in the V. L. Bowers store. They wore overalls, but on their feet were girls' shoes and it was difficult to tell the sex, but anyone could see that it would be risky to cross them. I said "Hello, Boys" and one of them replied, "Laugh, darn you." No wonder I was scared. No wonder Verner Bowers kept his mouth shut, was afraid to open it for fear one of the birds would pull a gun and shoot up the shop.
They say that one of our citizens went over to the Ford agency at Palacios to buy a car and told them he wanted to pay cash. They told him that such a deal was unusual and that they would require reference.
Hugo Kundinger is making improvements in his Collegeport Pharmacy by covering the walls with sheet rock. Fine job of work and makes the place look sweeter than ever.
Ben R. Mowery is the busiest man in this section. He not only is general manager of the Collegeport Rice and Irrigation Company, but is obliged to supervise a host of assistant general managers. Seems that it is asking too much of one fellow. Well, anyway, under his management, about five hundred acres have been plowed and will be planted to cotton.
Elizabeth Eisel hunting for a belt which she claims she lost.
Big flocks of white gulls.
A blue crane pre-empting the bar pit and reaping a good living, flies away at my approach, his six-foot spread of wings flapping away.
Frogs croaking.
The first horned toad of the season.
Winter closed Thursday, the 21st.
Here comes a cardinal looking for a nesting place.
Clifford ash discing the fig orchards.
North Cable pruning figs and planting persimmons.
Dogs give tongue across Pilkington Slough and next day I learn a wolf made a raid.
L. E. Liggett dipping cattle.
Arthur Liggett trying to have the measles but escaped.
Pretty girl with peachy legs in a green auto. Wonder who she is.
Three children rubbering at the rabbit window arranged by Mrs. Crane.
George Welsby bedding his cotton land.
Ben R. Mowery rushing along, busy as the proverbial bee. Never has time these days to give the burghers the radio weather dope.
A long, slim, dark snake slithers across the road.
A hen cackles and the miserable wretch thinks there will be another egg, and sure enough there is.
Found a big hole in the pasture with fresh dirt all around it. Spent some time watching and was rewarded by seeing Mr. Tutasia Hybrida emerge. Tutasia is sometimes called armadillo.
The King's Daughters meet this week with Mrs. Ackerman and it is the rule that the hostess supply the drinks. I asked Mrs. Ackerman what she intended to furnish and she said, "it will be good and strong and costs me about twelve per." That leaves me up in the air for I do not know whether she means per quart, per gallon or per barrel. Well, anyway, I bet they will have a "cuppa cawfee" probably made by Mrs. Nelson which insures it being good and also strong.
Had a dandy letter from my son, Harry B.
The new station agent seems to be very popular among the patrons of the Mopac. Stanley Wright just adores, venerates, idolizes him. Great thing--this being in vogue.
A mouse sneaking across the floor. At last he approaches a trap, smells of it, his nostrils quivering. He approaches the dainty offered and nibbles. Tastes good and he nibbles again. Crash! Bang! the world ends for him. Men are like mice, for they, too, approach traps and tasting forbidden fruits bring the world to a close for them.
Last night reading the Houston Chronicle I noticed this heading: "Greta Garbo's Back" and settled down to read an interesting article on backs. Much to my surprise I found that it only meant "Greta's back from Sweden." Whyinthehell couldn’t the printer set it "Returned from Sweden."
"Let's Buy It At Home, Even Though It Costs More." I find at the head of first column, third page, Wednesday's Trib. It is good dope, first class advice and if practiced by all would revolutionize affairs in this county. The trouble is they will not buy at home. Merchants send away for their vegetables when they might be supplied by local growers, they send away for bread when good bread is made across the square, they send away for printing when there is in Bay City a first class print shop with as good craftsmen as can be found in the state. The rule just won't work both ways, hence it is a poor rule. Thousands of dollars go from this county to mail order houses and these dollars will continue to go until our local merchants make it as easy to buy from them as it is to buy from the mail order catalog and when the local merchant's guarantee means as much. The idea of paying more for an article just because the seller lives in your town is clear bunk of the first water. Mr. Farmer, suppose you take a dozen eggs to your local merchant and ask him to pay five cents above the market because you live in the community. Will he pay it? Not as you can notice. He will probably tell you to "get the hell out of here with your basket and eggs and return when you are reasonable."
Well, anyway, the county meet has been postponed one week, much to the disgust of the pupils, for they anticipated a day away from the school room.
Homer Goff is back for a few days.
Election of school trustees Saturday, April 6th, with five places to be filled. What is the matter with L. E. Liggett as a member? He would make a good working trustee and what he was set to do would be well done. Ben Mowery, Gus Franzen, Carl Boeker, Stanley Wright and John Carrick retire. Better figure who will take their places. Jack Holsworth is also interested in good schools and it looks as thought I will throw my two votes to him.
Just received word from the Carnation Company that their heifer, Carnation Walker Hazelwood, has made a world's record for heifers and is the greatest heifer of any breed. She made 29,082.5 pounds of milk and 2498.56 pounds of butter and the average test was 4.12 per cent. She made in one week 50 pounds of butter and came back the next with 45 pounds. A few cows like that in Matagorda county and we might also have a Carnation condensed milk plant. They are building one in Schulenbrug that will cost $310,000 and will employ one hundred people. It took the Schulenburg Chamber of Commerce one year to land this deal but it is worth it. Here is a tip for Doc Harkey. The average production of Matagorda county cows, to the last census was about 1500 lbs. per annum. This cow, therefore, produced in one year a product equal to that of twenty of our average cows. Some cow!
Since writing these lines I have discussed the school trustee situation with one of our leading citizens and we agree that just now is a great opportunity for the women of Collegeport to engage in more fine work. Next week I intend to submit a ticket which no doubt will not suit some of our voters.
Collegeport's sweet "old maid" writes a very welcome and interesting letter from Chicago and sends "very best wishes to Collegeport's "R. H. L.," and adds: "Mr. Clapp, do you know who R. H. L. is? I 'spect you do." I know R. H. L. very well, but the trouble is that he does not know me and he reads the Tribune, and I presume he does, for all writers seek it pages for inspection. I feel complimented when the bouquet comes from such a fine "young maid."
Spring sprang here the same day it sprung in San Antonio, and I had a real beautiful poem writ but when I read the fine words on Spring by Lurline Mallard in Saturday's Tribune I consigned the effort to the waste basket and said, "Requiescat in pace." Maybe I'll dig it up next year, but Lurline has said it for this year.
Wonder what had become of Zack Zackers? Since he quit making crackers the price has risen to in some cases twenty-five cents per pound.
The Daily Tribune, March 27, 1929
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Collegeport, March 24.—The Collegeport Rice and Irrigation company, under the management of Ben R. Mowery, has prepared more than 500 acres which will be planted to cotton. It is the company’s plan to build 100 houses this season and settle that many farmers on the land. This company owns a tract of 25,000 acres, much of which is splendid cotton land.
Palacios Beacon, March 28, 1929 |
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By Harry Austin Clapp
[Local information taken from longer article.]
A school trustee should be a person interested in school affairs, in the growth and development of the children who have been entrusted to his charge. The only qualifications to be considered is ability to discharge the duties of a trustee and the willingness to assume them.
We are to elect five members to take the places of Ben R. Mowery, Gustave Franzen, Stanley Wright, John Carrick and Carl Boeker.
I tried to sell my two votes to three of these and each of them refused to pay one penny, so I eliminate them from my calculations. The other two, I am told, refuse to stand, so it looks to me as thought it will be necessary to elect a new set.
For many years the women of this burg have been doing things and so why not place in their hands an instrument for doing more than ever. In other words, why not elect women as school trustees. They are white, free born, all have good reputations, all have borne children, every one of them can use good English, all are very much interested in our school and under the law, they are all eligible, so I put out this ticket. Mrs. L. E. Liggett, Mrs. Frank King, Mrs. Carl Boeker, Mrs. Seth Corse and Mrs. Anna Crane. Plenty of the salt of good sense to savor the mess, and some spice for stimulation.
Of course, E. L. Hall and Roy Nelson might be a bit lonesome, but they are both ladies' men, so reckon they could get along all right. This ticket is suggested after consulting with some of our leading local politicians, including the sage north of the pike.
Last week I suggested L. E. Liggett and Jack Holsworth, but inasmuch as both of them would be dictated by women, why not toss the bull clean over the barn and elect a first class board of trustees? Each one of them is capable, able, competent, qualified, efficient, intelligent.
"First then, a woman will, or won't depend on't; If she will do't, she will; and there's an end on't, But if she won't, since safe and sound your trust is, Fear is affront, and jealousy injustice." --Epilogue to Zara, by A. Hill
And William Shakespeare, having studied the Collegeport situation very close, takes his pen in hand and writes:
"In my school days, when I had lost one shaft, I shot the fellow of the self same flight, The self same way, with more advised watch, To find the other forth; and by advertising both, I oft found both." Merchant of Venice, Act I, Sc, I, Shakespeare
If Dena H[urd] and Margaret H[olsworth] lived here I sure would name them.
Well, anyway, I read in the paper that a woman had applied for a divorce, giving as the reason that her husband had not taken a bath for 20 years. It sure brought me up a standing and I took a bath the 21st day of March, A. D. 1929, for good women, loyal women, sweet women are hard to get and I have no desire to lose the miserable wretch.
Wonder how many of you read that William Childs, the originator of the chain of Child's Restaurants, had been ousted by his dissatisfied stockholders after forty years of service. They put in a lawyer named Barber. If they take Child's name from the windows and put on the name of Barber they will make one grand error, for the people will think it is a place for hair cuts and shaves. Child's sometimes shaved folks but he never cut their hair. Where would you rather eat, in Child's Restaurant or Barber's Shop?
That makes me remember that rumor states a barber will open a shop in this burg some time this week. We will all gladly welcome Mr. Barber, for some have not shaved since Oscar left.
A red-wing blackbird taking a bath in a shallow pool. Mama bird comes along and thinks she will also take a bath in the same tub but Mr. Bird drives her away, which is proper, for no lady should even think of occupying a bathtub with a gent.
A long, slim snake, almost six feet of slimness, speckled black and yellow. Never saw one like it.
Felt pretty rich Tuesday when a big Tom Turkey with four hens drifted onto the place. Today I find they belong to Mr. Real, so I am out of the turkey business.
I read the papers that two men fought a duel and that "Stewart wounded Rushton in the encounter." I am still wondering what part of the human anatomy received the shot.
The local poultry men have agreed to give one day's egg production to be sent to the children's home in Dallas. Gus Franzen started the case Thursday with seven dozens, followed by Louis Walter with five dozen. The first case was quickly filled and on its way, and a second case is about full. With 118? kiddies to serve, a case of 30 dozen will not last long.
The Passion Week services at the local church have been well attended and enjoyed by those fortunate enough to be present.
I read in the Chronicle, "All Houston, apparently is getting ready to burst forth in song Easter morning." Song is all right for Easter, but prayer and meditation for Thursday, in memory of "For in the night in which he was betrayed, He took Bread, and when He had given thanks, He broke it and gave it to his disciples, saying, 'Take eat, this is my Body, which is given for you; this in remembrance of me.' Likewise after supper he took the cup; and when he had given thanks, He gave it to them, saying, 'Drink ye all of this; for this is my Blood of the New Testament, which is shed for you, and for many, for the remission of sins; do this, as oft as ye shall drink it, in remembrance of me.' " By this act Jesus instituted the Holy Eucharist. It was the first Communion and has ever been observed at night. How many attended this wonderful service and thought of the gift Jesus gave to humanity? To me it is one of the great days of the church year, if not the greatest. Friday he died upon the cross, a day of silent prayer, and medication, a day of sorrow, or fasting of repentance, of gratitude. Friday is generally called "Good Friday," but in the early history of the church it was known as "God's Day," a very appropriate name, for if there is a day in the year entitled to be called "God's Day," it is most certainly the day that God gave His Son that sinful humanity might have a way to live.
So came Rev. Paul Engle this week to Homecroft that we Homecrofters might have our Passion Week Communion. Also there came Rev. Merriman L. Smith to celebrate with us. Rev. Merriman L. Smith has held services every night during the week with a short service Friday and a sunrise service on the Holsworth lawn Sunday morning. The average attendance has been thirty-two. He also held services at Citrus Grove with a good attendance.
Saturday afternoon the teachers gave an egg rolling in front of the school house participated in by the pupils and patrons.
She that was Myrtle Fulcher and is now Mrs. Duffy returned from a long visit at El Campo where she added sweetness to her already goodly store.
Mrs. Crane has decorated the Bachman store with Easter lilies and other appropriate decorations.
Mrs. John Marlborough Ackerman is still in the goose business but has eliminated I as her pard this year.
My turkeys have been claimed by Homer Goff and thus goes another fond dream.
Rosalie Nelson entered the declamation contest at the county meet and won third place which gives us all great pride. You fellows who are interested in our girls, watch this young lady, for she has "IT."
John Heisey taking a morning horse back ride at six Sunday morning. Some style, but John enjoys taking his constitutional.
Mrs. Arthur Soekland comes out in a new pink dress which makes her prettier than ever.
Well, anyway, we need rain so planting can go on. Several thousand acres waiting and ready for moisture.
Lent being over, I take one of the "Perfectos" given me by one Oscar Barber and blowing rings in the air I think of that good old friend of many years.
"And when the stream, Which overflowed the soul was passed away, A consciousness remained that it had left, Deposited upon the silent shore Of memory, images and precious thoughts That shall not die, and cannot be destroyed." --Wadsworth.
Tuesday the little 2-year-old son of Mr. and Mrs. E. A. McCune wandered away from the house and into the mule lot. One of the mules kicked the little fellow three times in the head, groin and leg, the last breaking the thigh bone. He was taken to the Bay City hospital where the bone was set and it was found that the other injuries were not serious and last report was that he was as easy as could be expected.
The Daily Tribune, April 3, 1929
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By Harry Austin Clapp
"In certain places there will always be fresh posts to carry that further which is brought unto them by the other."--Abbot.
Easter with its flowers, songs, prayers, new bonnets, and new dresses has passed for the year. A new year in which to strive to attain a perfection that us humans never reach. But the striving increases strength and we all should grow in grace. Having forgiven and having been forgiven we may look to the months to come with confidence.
The week ended with the local church having special
Easter services and in the evening the Misses Rosalie Nelson, Ruth
Boeker, Frances Eisel, Frances King, Elizabeth Eisel, Mamie Franzen and
Norman Carrick were taken into the church. A fine bunch of young folks
whom the community is justly proud. A feature of the evening was a
pantomime illustrating in action the song "In the Garden." The song was
rendered by Mrs. L. E. Liggett and Miss Ethel Sirmon at the piano and
Rosalie interpreting, which she did in a most graceful manner. When this
little lady undertakes anything she simply does it. Thus ended Easter
1929 and a new season opens. God gives us power to make the most of it
and at the same time He gives us the privilege of neglecting the
opportunity. Wonder which it will be. Set a hen on April Fools' day with thirteen eggs. Wonder if it was a wise act. Guess I will ask Mrs. John Gainsborough Ackerman.
About all I know is what I read in the Beacon and Tribune and there I glean the information that the women of the County Federation are set on having an Old People's Home and a County Demonstration Agent. I fear that if the County Court is pressed too much we will lose the Health Service which means so much to the kiddies. With road building, repairs on the court house and numerous other items, I suspect the court has its hands full without taking on additional commitments.
A beautiful picture card from Houston: "Thanks for the Thoughts. Will be with you again soon in the Tribune, Zack." It sure pays to advertise. I had not heard from the manufacturer of crackers for many moons and am glad he is still in the business of making crackers, even if they are cracked. Hope he visits Homecroft some day, and will promise him some crackers that have not been cracked.
Four and twenty black birds sitting in a row, some with red wings. I notice Frank and Ezra Eisel and Jimmie Franzen waiting for the mail. Fine bunch of boys.
Mrs. Crane goes into the straw hat business so not necessary to go out of town for hats.
In one respect Hell and Collegeport are similar. Both need rain. A few farmers took a chance and planted and by good luck their cotton is up but not doing much growing.
It is not a pleasant thing to witness failure, so I advise George Bungle to associate with Ora Chapin, our late guinea pig queen and she will teach him how to raise guinea pigs which will hold their hair.
The Woman's Union met with Mrs. Haisley Thursday and discussed many things and perhaps kussed a few things.
The miserable wretch has an attack of what she calls "new-right-us." It is in her foot so it does not interfere with her loud speaker. Glad it is for I would miss her whistle and song in the house.
Came to visit us this week Frances Mayfield and Rev. Paul Engle with his father, mother and aunt. The father Michael Engle claims to be eighty years old and has preserved a remarkable preservation. He and his bride just celebrated their fiftieth anniversary. What is finer than to see two people who have lived together so many years."
Dear common flower, that grow'st beside the way, Fringing the dusty road with harmless gold. First pledge of blithesome May. Which children pluck, and, full of pride, uphold. High hearted buccaneers, o'er enjoyed that they An El Dorado in the grass have found. Which not the earths ample round May match in wealth--thou are more dear to me Than all the prouder summer blooms maye be." --J. R. Lowell
I have named the road from Homecroft to town "The Primrose Way," for it is lined with that beautiful flower and as many as a dozen other varieties. Pink, white, blue, yellow, red, orchid, lavender, all growing by the wayside. In front of our house yesterday I plucked seven different flowers. They are beautiful on the grass green background.
Mr. and Mrs. Robert Kundinger and daughter, Rita, have been here on a visit to the Hugo Kundingers, and went away delighted with the climate and the coast country. Mr. Kundinger, unlike his brother Hugo, who slings mixed drinks at the Collegeport Pharmacy, slings baggage at the Chicago Union station where he has been employed for many years. One day they went fishing and Mrs. Bob snagged onto a red fish that was six feet long or maybe a bit less. Anyway, it broke her wrist, so she knows it was some fish. They found oysters with shells fifteen inches, more or less, in length. One day at Portsmouth they saw a shark seventeen feet, or less, long jump out of the water after a fish. Hugo did not explain that it was a tame shark which we have trained to entertain visiting snow diggers. A visit to Gulf opened their eyes to the wonders of sulphur, and at Matagorda they found the original town of the Midcoast. They intended to meet Geo. Culver but were afraid he would use his six guns on them. They feasted on fish and oysters and are so delighted that they plan another and longer visit next summer.
I have often wondered from what xylothrihydroxgluthartic acid was manufactured and, by reading the Literary Digest I find it is made from peanut shells. Who would have guessed it?
It is meet and right that we should all give praise to God that the school election is once more over. Fifty-nine votes were cast which is quite a full vote for the district and when counted it was found that selection had been made of Mrs. Frank King, Mrs. Carl Boeker, Gustave Franzen, Ben R. Mowery had been elected for the full term of two years and J. M. Real for the short term left by reason of Oscar Chapin's moving away. Considerable interest as shown which is right, for our people should take time and thought before deciding with whom they will trust the destiny of our school. Ben R. Mowery and Gustave Franzen were re-elected. E. L. Hall and Roy Nelson holding over for another year. It is my hope that the new board will organize promptly and work harmoniously for the betterment of the school.
The Woman's Union, as is their custom, served lunch at the Bachman store and it was up to the usual standard in every respect and that includes financially. I went there at noon and absorbed into my system three plates of the famous Carrie Nelson Noodles. Those noodles are not only superlative, but consummate, surpassing, supreme, transcendent, incomparable, or if you understand what I mean, "extrasodelicious." I don't know how Carrie Nelson puts in the flavor but she does. The miserable wretch, suffering from "new-right-us," managed to imbibe two plates and has since received complete relief, so the moral is that if you suffer from certain ills, eat a few plates of these famous noodles.
Quite a few new boys in town that is, judging from the number who wear pantaloons.
Saturday Rev. Merriman L. Smith took those who joined the church last Sunday to Bay City where a group picture was taken. Sunday the church adjourned to the beach at Portsmouth for the services and taking along a basket lunch they not only had the opportunity to enjoy spiritual food, but satisfied the inner man as well.
"If I knew the box where smiles were kept, No matter how large the key Or strong the bolt, I would try so hard "Twould open, I know, for me. Then over the land, the sea, broadcast I'd scatter the smiles to play That the children's faces might hold them fast For many and many a day.
If I knew a box that was large enough To hold all the frowns I meet, I would like to gather them every one From nursery, school and street. Then folding and holding, I'd pack them in, And turn'ng the monster key, I'd hire a giant to drop the box To the depths of the deep, deep sea."
Wonder why we Collegeports can not find these keys and scatter more smiles and bury the frowns in the middle of Matagorda Bay.
Had a letter from New Jersey thanking me for "Thoughts" and stating that a New York Tribune had been mailed and that next week a Herald would be sent and advising me to look through them for leg inspiration.
A nice letter from a teacher in Robstown says: "I am sending a cartoon that was published in one of the San Antonio papers. When I saw it, I immediately thought of you and your "Thoughts." Your articles have helped me for several years to keep up with the news of Collegeport and I appreciate them." Enclosed were pictures of the Easter parade of legs. Some were long, skinny ones, some plump ones, some beef to the hoof, but they were all legs and each ended with a pair of pin heels that distort and ruin a real fine leg. Legs is mighty common these days and dresses so scant about it leaves man nothing to imagine about.
Well, anyway, along comes Gustave Franzen with a big bunch of beautiful flowers for which we Homecrofters thank him. Gustave tells it with flowers. The flowers properly roasted exuded a plentiful, rich, lavish profuse, fragrant perfume which was enjoyed to the limit.
The Daily Tribune, April 15, 1929
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By Harry Austin Clapp
"As it hath been of olde times yore."--Chaucer.
In the Saturday Evening Post of April 6th, 1929, on page 31 appears an article written by Chet Sharer, entitled Business Was Business. It describes a town called Westville, but it really tells the story of Three Rivers, Michigan, a town about twelve miles from my birth place in St. Joseph county. The characters named are well known to me and in most cases the correct names had been used. Seldom have I read anything so interesting and amusing. It took me back to my boyhood days and inspired me to write these "Thoughts of Yore."
At my birth, my father was in the general merchandise business, conducted a bank, known as Clapp's Bank, was the postmaster, notary public, insurance agent, treasurer of the township, and village guardian of children, administrator of estates, one of the leading men in the county and state republican politics, and the Lord only knows how many other lines he handled.
He had one mighty good scheme. He allowed credit in the store for thirty days, at the end of which time the account must be paid or a note given bearing interest. In this latter case the note was turned over to the bank which made the final collection. This plan worked well and saved heaps of grief and enabled the store to use the cash. I'll state that the losses were very few.
It was a thrifty community, of well to do farmers who farmed well and paid their bills. But that is not the story I wish to tell.
I used to think the store a mammoth building, but I suppose it was about 100X25 feet. Back of the store a warehouse where wool was stored and packed during the season. In the store was found, for sale, dress goods, notions, boots and shoes, groceries, paper collars and cuffs. Boots and shoes came packed in big cases and then transferred to green boxes on the shelves with a sample fastened on the outside. Along the counter on the grocery side could be found barrels of crackers, rice, beans, sugar, in which the cat, as a rule, reposed at night. The counter was adorned with big slabs of cod fish glistening with salt, also halibut and other dried fish. Big kegs of mackerel and pickles stood side by each nearly always with a thick slimy skum on top of the brine. Never absent from the counter was a big cheese. I mean it was not absent except at times it strolled about. This cheese was always uncovered and the top was decorated with a huge knife that was cleaned perhaps once each year. Good cheese it was, old, crumbly, strong, lively just the kind I would like to obtain now for Welsh rarebit, provided I could get hold of a bottle of good stale beer. If any of you fellows will tell me where to get the beer I'll make the rarebit and invite you to sit in. Perhaps Zack Zackers could supply the information.
Not one article was in a package. Everything in bulk, which required weighing and wrapping. How different nowadays. The farm women in season dried quantities of apples and stringing them on strings sold them to the store where they were promptly festooned above the counter collecting beautiful ornaments deposited by numerous flies. This made no difference in their sales value for the housewives always washed apples before using them. Farm butter in a big wooden tub, some in rolls, some in gobs, some sweet, but not for long, for most of it became quickly rancid.
In the rear always stood, winter or summer, a big iron box stove around which the local republicans would gather and decide local, state and national politics. Flour came in barrels, but later on in paper sacks which was considered quite an innovation and that reason brought higher prices. Gasoline was unused except for cleaning clothes. Kerosene came in wooden barrels painted blue and were laboriously lowered into the cellar and gallon by gallon drawn as wanted. No family ever thought of buying more than one gallon at a time. The oil salesman was M. E. Chittenden, of Adrain, Mich., who traveled in a Prince Albert coat and a silk hat. Imagine Arthur Matthes selling oil in such a costume. All goods were marked in shillings, as 25 pounds of sugar for eight shillings, the equal of one dollar. I can see father's mark now as I write. The store bought large quantities of wool which was stored in the warehouse and when sold was packed in big bags, by the heavy weight of the town, who stamped the bales into place. A hot job, especially after he had visited Ed Hogan's saloon a few times.
Caskets were coffins those days, and were made at home and six sided affairs bulging out at the side so as to make it comfortable for the occupant's elbows. A good coffin for eighty shillings, grave digging cost nothing, so it was cheap to die, often more so than to live. The grocery salesman, representing Secor Berdan & Co., Todedo, Ohio, came to the store about twice each month and he also wore a high silk hat. He never asked father "well what do you need?" not by any means. He looked the stock over and entered on his order book the items needed and the firm made shipment. Can you imagine a grocery salesman doing that this day?
In the bank, old fashioned double entry was used, every item entered in a cash book, then journalized and posted to the ledger. Typewriters were unknown, so all letters were written by hand and copied into a copy book with wet cloths inserted between the leaves and the book placed in a press. Incidentally, the cloths used were kept in a buck of water which was changed so frequently that--well, I'll be generous and say it became sour. The first typewriter I ever saw was in the great Expedition Building on the lake front, Chicago. It was about three feet long and eighteen inches wide. The operator was obliged to space each letter by hand action. I wanted father to buy one, but he laughed at the idea that such a device would ever be useful. No, siree, he knew what the pen and letter press would do.
The store employed several clerks and the best paid man received not more than thirty dollars per month and found himself and was considered a lucky man by all the inhabitants. I hope the reader will not receive a wrong impression of my father's store. It was a first class, top notch store for the times and the way he handled goods, a way that would not be permitted now, was the usual custom. No one had ever heard of package goods and I doubt if people would have bought them at that time. They liked to run their fingers thru the cracker barrel, eat a few, sample the sugar, and buying halibut which was smoked, tear off a few shreads, incidentally taking a lunch.
There was a time when a woman hid her money in a neat little receptacle just above the knee. This would be no hiding place now and would offer no defense from the hold up man, so they put money in their shoes and simply kick off a shoe, extract the change and go about their business.
A letter from the Morning Glory Creameries informs me that the A. B. C. Store No. 5 in Houston sold 1280 pounds of butter in one day of 15 hours nearly 85 pounds per hour, and more than a pound each minute. Mr. P. L. McClenny writes that sales were due to the superior quality and zest of the butter. He little knows that each week Collegeport sends 256 pounds of butter fat to the creamery in order that Morning Glory butter may have that peculiar zest. They simply could not keep their trade without our contribution.
John J. King, making the endurance drive seems to be well fixed for the stunt, even to eye glasses. Don't understand why he did not have his teeth fixed by Dr. Sholars and take out insurance from George Serrill. With that he would be the sure fire Hot Bebbe.
The Woman's Club meets this week with Mrs. Merriman L. Smith. A splendid program arranged, good eats and from the purchases made last night, good drinks, strictly prohibition and no danger from the Jones law.
Dynamo, Caprice, Wings Over Europe, Floretta, Serena Blandish, Front Page, The Red Robe, Whoopee, The Marriage Bed, Conga, Lady Fingers, Blackbirds, She Got What She Wanted, (I wonder if she got what she needed?) Hold Everything, Nothing crazy about this line but the copy. Simply a few of the plays that are now entertaining New Yorkers, as taken from the pages of The New Yorker.
Well, anyway, "this one tells that and that one tells this and one thing leads to another and finally and at last it gets printed? about that."
Hellsbellsno, there is no scandal here. This is a right peaceful burg and the fig trees are putting on what promises a bumper crop. As Carl Boeker sabes how to can this regal fruit there is no cause to worry about what will be done with the produce.
A gin being built at Citrus Grove, another about two miles north and a third planned for this place leads to the conclusion that we will have ginning facilities. Hope they all use electricity, for then there will be hopes that we can have the service in our homes.
Louis Walter and Jack Holsworth putting in gas light plants.
The King's Daughters meet with Mrs. Frank King this week and God bless them if they have the Famous Carrie Nelson Noodles and invite me.
The barber shop is open and ready to cut and shave. Guess I'll get my cabellos trimmed so that Mary Louise will not be ahead of me.
The Daily Tribune, April 19, 1929
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By Harry Austin Clapp
[Local information taken from longer article.]
Came Frances Mayfield to inspect the chicken pox crop and it is said that Mamie Franzen and Ruth Mowery have beautifully decorated maps.
Louis Walter is past the sixtieth mile stone and yet he attempts to drive a nail into his ankle. When will men have some sense?
By reading the papers I feel that President Hoover should put Congressman Morgan of Newark and Congressman Michaelson of Chicago on the prohibition unit.
Rev. Smith, Gustave Franzen and Mrs. John Heisey go to Houston as delegates to the Presbytery. Hope none of them gets pinched by the new police officers. While Gustave was away Mrs. Franzen sends me a beautiful green and red bouquet consisting of beets with their fine green tops. A splendid bouquet, wholesome, sanitary, healing.
My friend Noah describes "boudoir" as "a small room pleasantly and elegantly furnished to which a lady may retire to be alone, or to receive intimate friends." Those interested in such a room might call on Miss Roberta Liggett and see what one little girl has done.
Once upon a time there was such a thing as questionable pulchritude, but not now, for the scanty clothing of our girls leaves not much to question. Some "piercing our hearts with thy pulchritude" whole others "by the pulchritude of their souls make up what is wanting in the beauty of their bodies." I can see plenty of pulchritude in the Famous Carrie Nelson Noodles, but not this day, for I was not invited to meet with the King's Daughters at the King Ranch, so I stay at home to eat sardines and suck a lemon. The King's Daughters developed into an educational society. The question what is a hippen? was answered by only two of the fifteen present. Rev. Merriman L. Smith should have answered for he sat on the pile of hippens while the discussion was on. No use looking in the dictionary. Write the educational director, King's Daughters, Collegeport.
An advertisement in the Richmond (Va.) Times Dispatch has this "Dairy man desires two men who can produce milk, operate International truck and tractor." Suggest that Doc Harkey advertise for a few such men.
The fellow who wrote the new "farm relief" bill and the one who write the "income tax" bill should be confined in the same cell.
Wonder if Uncle Judd won the trip to Japan because of his irresistible pulchritude. I advise him to take along shot of the Famous Carrie Nelson Noodles and then he will not miss the carrots.
Well, anyway, Mary Louise saw the Passion Play at the San Antonio auditorium and wrote I and the miserable wretch an interesting story. She thanks the man who took the character of Judas the best actor. Judas played his part all right many years ago. Had he fallen down we might perhaps have had no Christianity. He played his part and took the bitter dose soon after.
Along comes Mrs. L. E. Liggett with another bouquet consisting of burnt sugar cake and lettuce. Three bundles of flowers in one week makes the heart pump with joy and happiness.
The Daily Tribune, April 25, 1929
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Palacios Beacon, April 25, 1929 |
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By Harry Austin Clapp
"The Diary of a Rube Samuel Pepys"
Up betymes with the sun and betook myself to the shelter where I cared for the dumb beasts and relieved their distended udders. To the house where I strained the fluid and finding the miserable wretch (sometymes called my wife) had made shyft to rise from her couch and with her to breakfast which I dyd heartily enjoy.
A morning call from Sir Edward Hall of Linwood and we did discourse most pleasantly on the chit chat of the vyllage. In Sir Edward's chayse I did venture to the village where I met Squire Corse to whom the King hath intrusted the posts. There I made shyft for two pence to obtain stamps for posting epistles, one to my daughter who abides in another provynce, and the other to that wench of a syster.
Enjoyed hearty speaks with some of the village burghers, among them Squire Murry who lives by the sea syde, Mistress Crane who offers head coverings, and Sir Verner [Bowers] who exposes for those who possess pelf, certain and various condiments.
A host of young ones hastening to the school where they will listen to the pedagogues.
Astroll along the village lane bordered wyth flowers, to my estate.
To my books for a short space with pipe sending wreathes aloft. After serivenyng for a pamphlet printed by that rare pamphleteer the Duke of Smythe I made haste to labor among the trees, plants and fowl pens and penning the animals in creature comfort for the night I once more venture to the village where I waited for the post coach to arryve.
Back to the estate with my epistle and at the sixth hour, I supped, allowing the miserable wretch to sit at board with me and she casting flirtateous glances at me, I rebuked her, as it is not seeming that woman should be so bold.
At the hour of candle light I read the chronycles and dyspatches of the day whereby I know by what other men are doing, and so to bed.
Well, anyway, I think the women who wear their hats perched on the back top of their heads look like "Old Nick," and I don't like wax flowers or fruit, either.
As for sauterne or champagne, give me the former with caviar on the side and make it thick.
One of our local burghers said to a lady friend, "Your niece is rather good looking," and the friend replied: "Don't say 'knees is,' say 'knees are'." I always enjoy good American language.
Never again will Mrs. Braden attempt to climb down from the hay loft with a hen in one hand and three eggs in the other. Poor combination for ladder work. She requires one lesson only.
As glad to report that Tom Fulcher has abandoned bisquit making. He has been promoted from leveler of the levees to super of the local bridge department.
Paul Braden rides about in state with a new International truck that is all shiney and bright with paint and polished metal. Tried to sell me a barrel of oil so he could pay for the "masheen."
Sunday started out all right with the marriage at the Manse by Rev. Merriman L. Smith, of two young people well known in this community.
With the breezes come Burton D. and Dena Hurd, and who could be more welcome? They come like kin folks. As for us we will rejoice when these two people at last settle down and we know that for balance of our time we will have the privilege of enjoying their companionship.
The next day came Doctor (not Doc) W. W. Van Wormer with a party of eight men from Springfield. The men are all natives of Italy and in their own country were fruit and garden men. It is hoped that they will settle here and engage in their former business. If they do, it may mean the establishment of an industry that will mean much to those who till the soil. A proper mixture of Hurd and Van Wormer will no doubt hatch out plans that will be of great value to us who have held the fort so long.
Carl Boeker and his force of men are busy as the proverbial bee cleaning up the fig orchards. North Cable is pruning and de-budding the trees, and from all present signs we are to have a bumper crop for the trees are putting on fruit a plenty, an unusual thing so early in the season. Additional equipment will be placed in the preserving plant so that it will be able to handle all the figs grown here.
Thoughts abut Burton D. and Walter William and I wonder if all of us realize what it means to each individual to have two such men with vision and ideals interested in our community. They are both trail blazers and we have but to follow and our hopes and dreams may be realized.
Mrs. Dena Hurd is settled in the beautiful Hurd home on the bay side for an indefinite stay, and hoping that the day will soon come when it will be permanent. She has always been a constructive force in the community and could be nothing else. It is in her blood to do things for the other fellow. So we Homecrofters give warm and hearty welcome to these fine people.
Evolution takes time, and time is the fourth dimension of everything. If you know what I mean. Therefore, brethren, be patient. One of the Italians who came down with Dr. Van Wormer examined a fig tree in the rear of the Hurd home and found a young fig and plucking it, exclaimed, "Oh, little sweetheart. I have not seen you since I left Italy." A man with such sentiment will make a good citizen for any community. Makes me think of Garbaldi whose heart was removed from his body and incased in a casket, the top of which bore the words, "Open this casket and there you will see engraved on my heart 'Italy'." Sentiment? Yes. God, give us more men of sentiment. Men who love God and country.
Thursday night the Collegeport Industrial League finished its 20th year of corporate life. It being the annual meeting, officers were chosen for the ensuing year. E. L. Hall, president; S. W. Corse, vice president; H. A. Clapp, secretary; Hugo Kundinger, treasurer; Ben R. Mowery, L. E. Liggett and Frank King as directors. The members and guests to the number of 22 were entertained with delicious refreshments provided by Mrs. Carl Boeker. I don't know what she put in the drink, but it sure was "cawfee."
Collegeport Day, May 25th will be observed as usual with a community dinner in which all are invited. Let every one bring in their bag of digestibles, throw them together and enjoy the day in memory of May 25th, 1909. Hope Carrie Nelson will be there with a big bundle of the Famous Carrie Nelson Noodles. Any one who has an extra hen might hand it over to Mrs. Nelson to mix with the noodles.
"And, as the cock crew, those who stood before The Tavern shouted: 'Open then the Door' You know how little while we have to stay, And once departed, may return no more. --Omar.
This may be the last celebration for some of us for like others we may have "departed and return no more."
Cotton and corn all planted and most of it up. Late for seasonable reasons, but will make a good crop no doubt.
Some say that Frank King has rounded up six thousand head of cattle to drive to Pierce for summer pasture. Some stock, but then you know we have more cattle in this county than in any county in the U. S.
School closes in three weeks and we will miss the two fine teachers. Hope they return for another year.
Saw Verner Bowers looking over a green automobile the other day,that is, looking over the window. Wonder if he plans to buy it?
The river road is now open thanks to the engineering skill of Tom Fulcher, the bisquit maker.
The Daily Tribune, May 2, 1929
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By Harry Austin Clapp
"My Country 'Tis of Thee"
The tune of "America" can be used in singing the song I am writing this day of our Lord, April 29th, 1929. It is the song of "Our Country," meaning Collegeport, the heart of the Midcoast. Where is it located? Look on any first-class map and you will see Collegeport snuggled down close to Matagorda Bay, 112 miles from Houston and 35 miles from Bay City, the county seat. Matagorda county contains about 727,040 acres, has a population of 18,234 people, and around 1,700 farms. It boasts of supporting more cattle than any county in the United States, and I guess this is true, for Roy Nelson and John Heisey are able to account for a big bunch of them.
The song, "My Country 'Tis of Thee" should be divided into stanzas. The stanzas are "Climate," "Soils," "Rainfall," Surface." Now then, let us stand up and begin the song of "Our Country." Climate, the basic foundation of agriculture, the measure of an acre, the thing that enables our folks to exact revenue from our lands every month of the year. Climate, that brings health and delight to us and adds pleasure of living to heap the measure full. Climate, that allows us to pick cotton in the summer, figs, oranges and grapes in their season, that enables us to take from the winter gardens fresh crisp vegetables. Climate, that enables us to enjoy roasting ears in November. Climate, that makes it possible for the farmer to prepare land in the fall which up north all is frozen in winter's embrace. In a word, climate down here in Collegeport means that one acre is as large as four in the north.
The warm waters of the gulf coast across thousands of miles of sunny southern seas, wash our shores and the breeze dancing from the spray of the waves passes across our land bringing refreshment, health and growth to our people and to all animal and vegetable life. The best data on frost dates tells the story as nothing else can. So says the government authorities, the average first frost in this locality is November 15th and the average last frost is February 27th. This means a long growing season and let it be remembered that between the dates given, truck thrives and such plants as cabbage, spinach, cauliflower, beets, onions, grow to perfection and there be those who claim that because of this climate fruits put on an extra blush and flavor and that cotton grows a stronger and better staple that brings to the grower many thousands of dollars in premium money.
Well, what about the next stanza, "soils?" Stretching from the Sabine river to the Rio Grande without one break is what is known as the coastal plains of Texas. This belt if from 25 to 35 miles wide and much of it is the black land that has proven so productive. It is the last land laid down by Dame Nature and is known as Quaternary, a Pleistocene or recent deposit. An exceedingly rich, fertile alluvial deposit left by receding waters. A log will show that under this deposit the reel will run from the pre-cambrian to the quarternary. Practically every deposit known to geology will be shown.
Collegeport is in about the center of this great belt and it is claimed that here is the only spot in the entire belt where black land runs clean to the bay.
Although much of the land is what is called "hog wallow," a heavy, black soil, it shades off into a variety of soils, some known as Edna Sandy loam and others. Thus a variety of soils are presented from which man may choose. No matter how particular the taste it can be gratified. All are fertile and productive. Underneath is an inexhaustible bed of artesian water which only needs penetration to flow where man wills. Some of those soils seem particularly adapted for fruits, as for instance, the black land appears to suit the fig, while the sandier land is better for grapes. Any of it yields generously in cotton, corn, feed stuffs and truck. Rainfall runs from about fifty inches at the Sabine to twenty five or less at the Rio Grande, and in Matagorda county about forty inches or about the same as northern territory between Buffalo and Indianapolis. The Colorado river seems to be a division point in rainfall for it is markedly shown that east of the river the winter rains are heavier than those west of the river. This seems to be an advantage to this section as it gives us ___ and longer growing seasons. The surface to the casual observer seems to be a level plain, but the engineer soon finds that there is a gentle rise from the sea coast back to the hill country which begins about forty to fifty miles to the west. This means that there is very little wasteland and the land seeker may be assured that wherever he settles he will find a soil that will be productive. This regular slope provides splendid advantage and with the slope towards the river, excess waters are quickly and safely carried away.
Because of the general level of the land, irrigation is readily arranged where it is required. The factors here noted tend to make the Collegeport section especially desirable for the raising of figs and the Magnolia is the fruit raised for commercial purposes. The fig does not bloom, it requires no artificial pollination, the fruit setting on the new wood as each year's growth comes on. While susceptible to extreme colds it is hardy and not easily killed and even if frozen to the ground quickly springs up again with the next season. It might be called a native of this section, for it had been here so long that the ancestors of the oldest natives do not remember when they could not pluck this delicious fruit.
The trees of the Collegeport Fig Orchards Company, at this writing, are putting on fruit heavily, and the outlook is for a bumper crop. The black lands seem very desirable for this fruit.
Space forbids a lengthy story of all the things that grow to perfection, but there is one crop that yields heavily and is bothered very little with disease or pests, and that is the onion. The onion responds so quickly to care and attention that it is a delight to engage in its culture. They grow large and of excellent flavor and offer an opportunity for satisfactory profits to those who engage in their growing.
What about Collegeport? Here it is snuggled close to the bay whose sparkling waters dance in the sunshine, beckoning to the lover of sports. Fish, shrimp, crabs, oysters, all invite, and from these waters the lover of outdoor life may take until he is satiated, surfeited, cloyed, satisfied. Bathing and boating to please the most critical. Located high above high tide giving protection from storms at sea or land. Missouri Pacific rail service, Western Union Telegraph, Express daily mail, telephone, good stocks from which to select in all sorts of goods. School house, a four-room brick with truck for children living outside. Church? I guess yes, with a splendid man for its pastor. Then there are the organizations, the Woman's Union, the King's Daughters, the Woman's Club which maintains a public library with 1600 volumes from which the reader may select--fiction, history, biography, travel.
The Collegeport Industrial League, a man's organization, has just finished its 20th year of corporate existence, and it brags that it is one of the oldest incorporated commercial organizations in the state.
Climate, soil, rainfall and surface combine with our citizenship to make it a desirable place for a home life, a place to raise children, grow flowers, fruits, live close to nature and realize that God does truly exist.
Well, anyway, the Woman's Union met with Mrs. Frank king this week. The miserable wretch did not attend. Busy making cherry pies for a bunch of Homesteaders over in San Antonio. I shed real tears as I packed them for shipping, for I do have a love, affection, good will for cherry pie.
If some of our girls who try to be boyish by wearing overalls realize what a failure they make of the attempt and how they lose the sweetness of girlhood, it seems to me they would desist, discontinue, abstain, pause. These girls are in the blooming age and instead of detracting, depreciating, diminishing the bloom of young womanhood they should use every endeavor to enhance nature's work. To me there is a charm and sweetness in a young girl just going into womanhood that she never has again. Wearing overalls destroys the charm.
One of our local cotton men met me the other day and asked, "What will cotton sell for this fall?" If I knew, I would be able to buy Henry Ford out along about Christmas. As Will Rogers says, "all I know is what I read in the papers," and what I read seems good to me. Fundamentally, cotton is in good favor for these reasons. The business map furnished by Nation's Business shows that Texas is in fair condition, consumption is good, less raw stuff on hand, less finished goods on the market, small carry over. What will the crop be? I guess 18,000,000 bales, but my guess is no better than others for I do not know and no other man knows. I guess the price will be satisfactory. I guess that Texas farmers are losing out on premiums because of poor seed selection. One thing I do not know and that is that my guess is as good any other fellows.
When I first began writing "Thoughts" I knew that sooner of later it would be necessary to enlarge the Tribune, for increased circulation would demand it. Now comes the news that in the near future the paper will be enlarged to eight columns and that a new press has been bought with new type and other new machines. The Tribune will become a metropolitan paper large enough for a city of 20,000 people. Of course, the growth of Matagorda county and Bay City has been responsible, in part, but most of it has been compelled by "Thoughts." Cracked Crackers had little to do in this enlargement. Don't suppose the "Only Zack" will agree to this but sad tho it be its true.
The Daily Tribune, May 8, 1929
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Suggested by Zack By Harry Austin Clapp
Another beautiful card from the irresistible, resistless, irrepressible, irrefragable Zack, in which he suggests that I write one thousand words about "How a Houstonian can enjoy a real day's outing in your section." He says "charge it as a worthy charitable donation to one whose eyes are sore of smokestacks and flappers propellers." He has no idea of what he asks. My stuff is worth two dollars a word. That would make my donation $2,000.00, which seems a bit more than my share.
A pair of heavily smoked glasses will relieve the eye soreness caused by looking at flapper propellers, and anyway, no man is obliged to look. Turn your eyes away Zack, and crack a few more crackers.
Well, anyway, if the Houstonian wishes to journey to Collegeport, I am informed that if he will come by the way of Wallis he will have a good, hard road all the way to Bay City. Leaving "The City by the Sea" he goes to Markham and then to El Maton where he strikes that wonderful "nine-foot sidewalk" which will land him in the heart of Collegeport. If he seeks the bay for amusement we can offer him all his sports heart craves. There we have waiting Tarpon seven feet two inches long. Jewfish that weigh up to eight hundred pounds, redfish weighing to fifty pounds, trout five pounds and better, shrimp ten inches long, crabs each one big enough for a mess of chowder, flounder that weigh ten pounds, and if he seeks shark for a battle there be some that are sixteen feet, eight inches long, and last but not least there be oysters nineteen inches long. Of course these figures are maximum. Not all these dwellers of the bay described are ready for the hook of the casual visitor.
For boats we call on Cap Allen who will provide the Pilot Lady, the Slowpoke, the Squeezeme and perhaps the Imalone. Bring along the one-piece bath suit, for the water is fine, just salty enough to give a tang to the bather.
In season, ducks, geese, quail, plover galore. No trouble to bag the limit in a short time. And there will be some who will tell where deer may be found and a bear or two.
Go out to Frank King's and he will show how to catch alligators, big bulls, some of them twenty feet or less in length, and bull frogs that weigh five pounds, more or less. If other sport is wanted, go to the Duffy place and they will be glad to show you a lobo wolf, the chase of which by horse or auto will give one sport enough for any week end.
A few miles south is what is called Portsmouth with a good hotel operated by Mr. and Mrs. Jim O'Neal. Here the visitor may find rest and refreshment. Every person who has ever dined at the O'Neal hotel returns, for one partaking of the delicious food prepared by Mrs. O'Neal but beckons and calls for another visit. Is fish the main dish? Oysters? That real home-fried chicken golden and crisp with pies and salads that only Mrs. O'Neal knows how to make? All this is here for the visitor. Jim O'Neal has demonstrated that grapes can be produced in great, luscious bunches and that figs grow to weigh a pound or two or less of rich, honeyed sweetness.
Rates by day or week are less than one would pay for a room in Houston, so really the Houstonian will save money by driving down some weekend.
And here is a beach the equal of any on the cost. Several miles long, one to two hundred yards wide, clean, pure, disintegrated shell, sloping gently down to the cool crystal waters of the bay, inviting its gentle swells. I know of no place on the coast where one may enjoy such restful hours by day or night and be entertained by such hospitable folks as the O'Neals.
Opening from Matagorda Bay are numerous smaller bays, inlets, coves, bayous, rivers, lagoons that teeming with fish, offer more than the usual temptation. These inlets are swarming with ducks and geese in the season. Take a trip up Palacios river, camp along its banks, fish in its waters, laze the day through and when one returns to view the smokestacks, and flappers' propellers in Houston one will long for a return and realize that one has had a brief glimpse of a Texas paradise.
All right, Zack, come down to Homecroft. Bring some of your "cracked crackers: and enjoy a week's ending. There will be no "bear in camp."
Well, anyway, Mrs. Holsworth has returned from too lengthy stay in the north.
Reading in a Wharton paper I notice that a man named Humdinger operates a cold drink place, and suggest that Hugo meets him and forms a partnership. Kundinger and Humdinger would look fine on a sign in front of the fine Collegeport Pharmacy.
Looking at two of our girls wearing old straw hats, one man said one looked like a pirate and another said that the other girl looked like a bull fighter, and they did, so they did.
The game of baseball between Wadsworth and Collegeport last Sunday was a sanguinary affair, to be known in baseball history as the "Battle of Wadsworth." At the end of the ninth inning the score stood eight to eight and in the play off Arthur Soekland suffered a sprained wrist and Carl Boeker was spiked so that blood flowed freely. The loss of these two players allowed Wadsworth to make four runs which enabled them to depart with our scalps. Never mind, for there is another day.
I read in the papers that those who travel in ships that serve liquors do so in order that they may obtain prohibition information. That's all.
Tom and Harry Schriver drove crawly? I mean motored, don't ya know, from Runge. Both boys have improved and appear to be doing well. The father is operating a bakery and restaurant in Runge.
Edward L. Hall's middle name is Linwood.
The town clown is still doing his cute tricks.
Mamie Franzen buying six hoes.
Getting ready to quit school.
Saw Ben R. Mowery smoking a cigar.
Seth Corse has RJR in bales.
Mrs. Boeker, local impressaria, planning another rib buster for us burghers.
Hattie Kundinger selling yeast.
George Bernard Shaw says the meanest and most vicious gossips are in a small town.
Mrs. Roy Nelson in the Bachman store looking thoughtful. Hope she was thinking of noodles.
Frances Eisel is devoting much of her time to thinking what she will do when school is out.
A girl from this burg is in the Palacios grad class but her name is verboten.
Ruth Boeker thinks she will write a book.
Ruth Mowery thinks her eyes will screen good. It is said that once upon a time two stars wished to take a night off and asked Ruth to allow her eyes to take their place.
Rosalie Nelson thinks she will be a postmistress.
Roberta Liggett thinks she will be a home keeper.
I know what Mrs. Crane thinks, but will not tell.
Merriman L. Smith thinks the church house needs a new roof. Others agree.
Ethel Sirman thinks she will be back on the teachers' tree and study a bit. For what?
Wonder what Verner Bowers thinks about when he looks at a green car?
Tootsie Chiles thinks she looks cute in overalls, and she does at times.
Oscar Odd says that while he thinks little of ice cream he can gnaw angel food to the bone. Wonder how he would feel if placed before a big dish of the Famous Carrie Nelson Noodles? Absorbing a few strings of those delicious chicken noodles would make him forget such plebian, vulgar, common food, victuals, viands, pabulum, fodder as ice cream and angel food.
Wonder how many of you boys and girls read the special edition of the Tribune and read it from "kiver to kiver?" I did, including advertisements, and it is a credit to the publisher and to the county. Mighty few towns the size of Bay City are able to get out such an exposition. When you read this edition, don't spend all your time thinking of Carey Smith. Give a thought to the mechanical end, of the boys who cast the type, who set the "ads," who made up the paper, who ran the press, who attended to the distribution. Each an important part of the edition. Think of the men who took and paid for space. As for me, I revealed [reveled?], feasted, caroused, as I read line by line. No man can estimate the value this edition will be in our county or how far it will go. And boy, just wait until the new equipment is installed and the Trib comes to you in new dress, a big eight column daily. It has been, is now, and will continue to be, a powerful, potent, vigorous, effective champion of our county. It is entitled to the support of our folks. It is the van of our progress to what this country is destined to be and beside it, and with it, and behind it march other forces.
"Standards and ganfalons, 'twixt van and rear, stream in the air."--Milton
The Arthur Soekland family was a happy one Sunday because, for the first time in seven years, all the children and grandchildren were together. Hard to realize that the kiddies I used to know had grown into men and women and brought children of their own.
The Daily Tribune, May 15, 1929
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By Harry Austin Clapp
[Local information taken from longer article.]
Well, anyway, North Cable tells me that the fig trees are loaded with an enormous crop that will be ready for canning in three weeks.
The steady, soaking rains of the last three days come at an opportune time and all nature and most of the folks rejoice. It means a big crop of cotton, refreshed pastures. Wish some of the Springfield folks could be here today and listen to the rain falling on the roof, see the grass waving its load of diamond drops and, incidentally, take a ride on the "nine-foot sidewalk."
Came Sunday and brought to the Hurd home, from Houston, Mrs. Morris, her daughters, Mrs. Oberwetter and Mrs. John Logan, with Austin Oberwetter and Graydon Morris. Oldtimers glad to see this fine family. Mrs. Morris has five sons and two daughters and never have I known children that always showed such respect for their parents as these Morris kids. For that they have always had my admiration and respect.
Sweet Roberta Liggett did not forgot Mother's Day, neither did she forget "Pa," for she sent us Homecrofters a fine box of strawberries. The thought was fine. She told it with rich, red berries.
The many friends of Mr. H. Black were shocked to learn of his passing. He was closely identified with the Collegeport project and had many good friends among the early settlers.
The only Zack sent me an animated map of Canada. Each province was shown and with its map descriptive matter. Looking it over it is my opinion that the artist must have possessed an animated brain. Thanking Zack for the gift I still hope (and the miserable wretch joins me) that he will come to Collegeport with a sack of his Famous Cracked Crackers.
Sunday night, Mother's Night, in the absence of Rev. Merriman L. Smith, the service was in charge of the Collegeport Woman's Club. The president, Mrs. S. W. Corse, presided in her usual dignified manner. The program was in charge of the program committee, Mrs. M. L. Smith, chairman, and was as follows:
Scripture reading, Mrs. Holsworth; The Origin of Mother's Day, Mrs. Carl Boeker; Roll Call responded to by each member of the club with an article on Mother's Day; Duet by Mesdames Liggett and Clapp. The principle address was delivered by Mrs. Burton D. Hurd.
The service was not only inspiring but helpful and a credit to the Collegeport Woman's Club. The auditorium was well filled and those present expressed their satisfaction with the service and considered it one of the best this community has ever had the privilege of attending.
Friday night a large crowd witnessed the closing hours of the Bay View consolidated high school. The Misses Mamie Murry and Audrey Harvey having finished the prescribed course were graduated, and Raymond Hunt, Leslie Lee Chiles, Abel King and Francis King were advanced to the eighth grade. The program was as follows:
Processional, Miss Sirman at the piano; Declamation, Rosalie Nelson; Duet, Mesdames Liggett and Clapp; Address by Dr. Storey, of Bay City; Presentation of Health Awards by Miss Frances Mayfield, country health nurse; Presentation of Prizes awarded by the Collegeport Industrial League, H. A. Clapp; Presentation of Diplomas by Ben R. Mowery, president of the Board of Trustees.
Dr. Storey in his charming and gracious way told the story of the life to come to each of the graduates, painting the possibilities of the future. So far as I know this was his first visit to Collegeport, but he has endeared himself to all those who heard him and many expressed the wish that he might return. Miss Mayfield sketched the health work in the local school, expressed pleasure with the co-operation from parents and teachers and gave out health buttons to about forty pupils, and health certificates to six who had completed the health course. Mr. Clapp explained the object of the cash awards given by the League, a total sum of twenty dollars, half of which was used in the health contest and half in the grade contest. This latter was divided into four cash prizes, two of three dollars each to the boy and girl having the highest average grade for the year and two of two dollars each to the second best grades. Raymond Hunt took first in the boys' division with a grade of 92 3/4, while Arthur Liggett received second with a grade of 90 3-7. Last year these positions were reversed by the same boys. In the girls' division Roberta Liggett received first with a grade of 95 and Rosalie Nelson second with a grade of 93 3/4.These four therefore, are the outstanding pupils of the school. The ten dollars given for the health contest was used in the purchase of a reproduction of the picture "The Horse Fair," and the contest being between two rooms, the picture was awarded to Miss Sirman's room where it will hang until taken away by superior health work. Ben R. Mowery, in his usual pleasing manner, awarded the diplomas, and after a brief statement by Miss Baird, the principal, the audience was dismissed. As I looked over the audience, viewed the decorations, the work of Miss Mamie Franzen, in memory, I flew back to Collegeport's first school held in a tent with four pupils. Thus endeth this school year.
The Daily Tribune, May 21, 1929
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By Harry Austin Clapp
The first dog I remember was Rover, a Newfoundland breed owned by my grandfather. A big dog and not always reliable, so one day he took my head in his month and I bear this day the scar about two inches long. Grandfather took Rover for a ride, or, in modern parlance, put him on the spot, and Rover never returned.
Prince was a one man dog, for he would seldom take food from any hand but mine, or in my absence, from a member of the family. Several times poisoned meat was offered to him but he refused it. At the same time I owned Zack (not named from Zack Zackers but from Zack Chandler). He was a fighter and seldom obeyed unless forced to do so. I bear scars on my hands and arms from my many attempts to entirely subdue him. He, with Prince, stayed in the bank nights where I slept, and each night they put up a scrap for the privilege of sleeping at the foot of my cot. A strong, self-willed dog was Zack, and I loved him because he was a fighter. Rover was a rough-coated, black and white fellow, a lover and a lovable fellow who understood the English language and we had many a talk with each other. At last he contracted an incurable disease and it was necessary to put him out of his misery. As he would take no food from any one but me it fell to my lot to give him his last feed. The meat, a dainty bit, was well loaded with poison, and when offered he curled back his lips, looked me in the eye and refused it. He knew and he told me with eyes that reproached, rebuked, condemned and accused me. I forced him to take it and in a few minutes Rover was with other good dogs. I have never killed another and never will. I let them die the same as we allow human beings to die.
I had two Queens, both lovable, kind, faithful animals. One was slaughtered by a surgeon who knew nothing about animal anatomy. Queen died in my arms with eyes filled with love for the loved one.
One day a man brought into my office in the National Hotel, Cripple Creek, a dirty bundle of rags and asked, "Do you want a fine dog?" It was filthy, covered with sores, dirty hair, but the eyes showed character and pleaded for relief. The miserable wretch took the second Queen home, washed her, treated her wounds, fed her and lo, in a few weeks we had a beautiful white Llewellyn setter. She was a rare dog and showed in every way that she was a born aristocrat. We had her for several months and one day a man approached Mrs. Clapp on the street and asked, "Where did you get that dog?" She told him its history and he informed her that it was his dog and had been stolen as a puppy. To prove it he brought the mother and put the two through tricks he had taught them. Thus passed the second Queen, leaving a woman with eyes filled with tears.
Soon after I arrived in Collegeport I found what was called a coyote running at large. I had a glimpse and recognized it as a dog and offered Carl Judin two bits if he would catch it for me and he did so and so came Gyp into my life. I called her an English bob because she had a short tail. Under her skin I found several buckshot, showing she had been a target at some time. She was the smartest, most intelligent dog I ever owned, and obeyed every command except one to stay at home. She insisted on going with me where I went. Talk? Why that dog understood English better than some folks and had a working knowledge of Spanish. Soon she had three pups which I named Thunder, Lightning and Nocola. All three developed remarkable intelligence and were a great comfort and brought us much pleasure especially to Mary Louise, whom these dogs adored which showed their fine taste. All three passed and were given a proper dog funeral.
Came Pietertje. Good sense forbids me writing about Pete. I wrote a column on his passing and it so disgusted one of the Trib readers that he cancelled his subscription. Don't want Carey Smith to lose another subscriber, so will only say that Pietertje was a lovable kuss.
Two years ago came Buckshot, from the famous Liggett and Corse kennels, covered with fleas. He is still with us and talks good language and has many cute ways that appeal to us. A noble dog, a one girl dog, for he is the special property of Mary Louise. All but Buck are resting in the dog's heaven, wherever that is, but their spirits go marching on for God never wastes spirit. None were famous except in our family, but all contributed to our pleasure.
When Lord Byron's famous Newfoundland "Boatswain" died he was honored by an obituary which has become immortal:
"To mark a friend's remains, these stones arise: I never had but one, and here he lies."
These dogs were all my friends and to this day the friendly wagging tails, cheerful bark and noises which mark the dog language.
Well, anyway, a diamond field has been discovered at Portsmouth for at least one sparkler has been found by one of our local girls.
By reading the papers I find that the management of the Rice Hotel, Houston, decided to open the roof garden May 25th. I suppose in recognition of Collegeport Day.
Arthur Soekland brought in a fig that weighed exactly one half pound. Some fig, but there are more like it.
The other day I paid a five cent debt at Hugo Kundinger's palace of cold drinks and he was so delighted that he passed out a Wm. Penn.
The little granddaughter of Mrs. Merck, writing a letter to her aunt, wrote: "We have lots of dogs." Her mother reading it over said: "Why do you write that we have lots of dogs? We have not even one on the place." "Well," replied the child, "I can't spell chickens so I wrote dogs."
I read in the papers that the Bay City police force will be vaccinated. I wonder why, for they never catch anything.
The Indianapolis News headlines "Coolidge will eat a simple meal of Near East orphans."
Came May 25th, Collegeport Day and with it a seven inch rain and an electrical display that lasted six or seven hours. Rain came down just as it did the day Noah launched his ship, but it did not prevent fourteen oldtimers from assembling at the Community House for the usual dinner. There were the Hurds, Clapps, Liggetts, Nelsons, Boekers, and as a very welcome guest, Albert T. Woods, of San Antonio. The table, as usual, was loaded and the dish that attracted my gustatorial attention was a big mess of the Famous Carrie Nelson Chicken Noodles. I waved everything else aside and devoted and dedicated my time to an ardent, loving , zealous, assiduous attack on the art of absorption of noodles. All else was to me passe. Along came new spuds in cream from the Liggett garetn, fresh tomatoes, sandwiches, fruit salads, cakes, pies, candy all topped off with huge tankards of real "cawfee" made by the noodle maker. Cigars, Prince Albert followed, but I noticed that the discriminatory ones used R. J. R. It was a real family get-together feed. Night came and with it threatening clouds, but that did not prevent about one hundred folks turning out to witness the latest presentation by our local impressaria, Mrs. Carl Boeker. It was called "stunt night" and was well named for it was a veritable potpourri of entertainment. Special scenery had been provided, and at great expense the management filled the orchestra pit with a real orchestra. Space forbids extended notice of each act, but the wide variance of the bill satisfied the most critical and catered to all tastes. The program opened with a song by the Follies episodes with a sextette or maybe it was a seventette of dazzling girls of gorgeous beauty, a chorus ensemble with glistening, glittering, glorious costumes. The chorus was assisted by Mrs. Liggett. A reading by Mrs. Carl Boeker and a song about katz by Mrs. Clapp. It consisted principally of meauws, meauws, and a few pssts. Then followed a reading by Ruth Mowery, she with the stary eyes. A sketch by Dean Merck and Frances King, "Will You Marry Me?" was followed by a song by the chorus of girls. The pantomime "The Light Went Out" brought tears to the eyes of the audience and displayed the histronic ability of local characters and as De Quincy once said, it was "Tainted with false and histronic feeling." With the house dark, a series of portraits was shown illustrating the costumes of 1776 and 1830. The feature of this act was the "father of 1776" portrayed by Seth Corse [who] portrayed his part in a beautiful manner and was the typical old time father. Then followed the scream of the evening, a bathing girl revue or exhibition of pulchritude, Miss Porto Rico Yam, by Arthur Soekland, and Miss Ima Nutt by Mr. Merck. The costume worn by Arthur Soekland was what is at times called a "sun bath" bathing suit which, if you now what that means, permits the violet rays to attack a considerable area of the epidermis. Women loved his looks, raved about his beautiful form, and went crazy over his kissable lips. Both characters were portrayed in a sublime, majestic, magnificent style, and the display of legs was marvelous. The show closed with a song by the chorus, "Show Me the Way to Go Home." Ice cream, made by my old goose partner, Mrs. John Gainsborough Ackerman, was served by the Woman's Club, and an enjoyable time was had by those fortunate enough to be present. That the presentation was well advertised was evidenced by the fact that among those present were Mr. M. G. Clymer, of the Sugarland Industries; Mr. and Mrs. Albert T. Woods, of San Antonio. Mr. Woods is the man who owns the Pecos Valley Gas Company. Miss Helen Scott of Houston, and the lady who runs the Humble Pipe Line. Mr. H. A. McKinnon, also of Houston. This is not the McKinnon announced by the Beacon as Dr. Van Wormer's private secretary. Must have been H. A.'s brother, Bill. I enjoyed the show to the limit, but the thing that lingers in my memory is noodles. When I die drape my head stone with noodles and carve on the stone, "He Loved Noodles." When I arrive at the Heavenly gates or other gates, throw away the harps and halos, discard the old gateman St. Peter, and let me be met with a big dish of The Famous Carrie Nelson Chicken Noodles.
"O that will be Heaven for me I care not where it may be, So long as I have those noodles, Measured in oodles and oodles; O, that will be Heaven for me."
Mr. Burton D. Hurd entertained the visitors with a boat trip to Portsmouth and a dinner with His Honor the Mayor Portsmouth. Mrs. O'Neal, of course, serving the guests with her usual splendiferous food.
A letter from Edinburg thanks the Tribune for the Collegeport information contained in "Thoughts." Sure glad another man appreciates these words that are worth two dollars per.
P. S. I forgot to mention that the Porto Rico Yam was a bit too short around the mezzanine.
The Daily Tribune, May 29, 1929
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By Harry Austin Clapp
[Local information taken from longer article in which Mr. Clapp comments on a graduation class that had "Be a Good Sport" as its motto.]
Well, anyway, Lindbergh sure put it over the reporters and made his get away in grand style, and to this good day none of them knows where he is. The miserable wretch read the news with delight and was simply tickled.
Burton D. Hurd took his party of guests down the pass on a tarpon hunt Tuesday, but because of the high seas the silver king was hunting other food and ignored the tempting baits.
The Misses Baird and Sirman, our teachers, have folded their tents and, like the Arab, stolen away. Wonder if either of them will ever return. Anyone know?
I read in the paper that the Matagorda Methodist church will be remodeled and repaired and it is sure good news to me, for one of my good friends in the person of Mrs. George Culver is a Methodist. Some years ago I promised to visit Matagorda and give her a bit of good old Episcopal doctrine, hoping, it would result in saving her. I still hope that some day I may be the instrument to yank her out of error.
Mrs. Burton D. Hurd gave a swell breakfast party Thursday morning.
A very large wolf was seen Thursday at the Jenkin's place, just jogging along minding his own business, which I suppose was looking over the Penland chicken roost and calf pens. John Merck is on his trail now, so Mr. Canis Occidentalis better look out.
It is the custom for newspapers to charge for names and addresses in classified advertising and so I will warn His Majesty King of Cambodia that is he takes any space in the Tribune it will cost him some good coin. His advertisement would read about like this: "Wanted a fresh milk cow, Holstein preferred. Give price and address. His Majesty King Preah Bat Samdach, Prea Sisowath, Monivong, Chanca-Vrapong, Krayveofa, Sulalay, Chang, Cring, Campuchea, Tipppeday." No wonder his subjects call him to breakfast by simply saying: "Come and get it Monivong."
"Thrice happy he whose name has been well spelt In the dispatch, I knew a man whose loss Was printed Grove, although his name Grose." --Byron.
The good Lord of us all has been very lavish with His favors to us poor mortals the past two weeks, for He has given us about twenty-five inches of rain. While many are cussing conditions and looking at other pastures, it does me good to talk with Gust Franzen for he says, "we have so much to be thankful for it seems foolish to lose heart just because we have more rain than we need. I think that after the weather settles we will still have a good crop and, after all, none of us have drowned. We all have shelter and food and clothes." That's the sort of philosophy we all should put out.
Over the entrance to our school house is a large vacant panel. For years I have looked at this panel, and in my eye, I saw the words, "The Dena H. School." I still think it would be a fine thing to do this, in honor of a woman who had much to do with starting our first school. But the vision fades for it is destined to be called "the Jones School." The board of trustees have employed Mr. and Mrs. C. A. Jones of Huntsville and Miss Attress Jones of San Antonio. I am sure our folks will give these members of the great Jones family a royal welcome and fine cooperation.
Arthur Liggett enjoyed his 13th birthday this week. The Liggett family make much ado about birthdays, which is the correct thing. The custom binds the family together. Arthur received a big box which disgorged a potato, an onion, an apple, a rock, a fine new watch, a baseball, a splendid baseball mitt and various other necessities. He is now equipped to join the Collegeport team and assist in yanking the scalp from the pate of the Wadsworth gang.
Well, anyway, last week's elusion brought grins and smiles to the faces of the local Trib readers so it was not written in vain. This week's stuff is a bit serious but we cannot enjoy noodles every day for if that was our daily food we would become satiated, surfeited, gorged, glutted, palled and noodles would lose their charm. Next week something a bit stronger.
The Daily Tribune, June 6, 1929
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By Harry Austin Clapp
I have known Miss O. Nion for many years but my earliest recollection is that she was what might be called a strong-minded person. I was very fond of her even then, but since I have lived in Texas, I have learned that she has a heart as mild and sweet as the breath of an angel. My fondness has turned to love. So long as I had determined to continue the acquaintance, it seemed best that I know something about this party's antecedents and so I looked first in the Bible where I found the gentle miss mentioned only once and that was in Numbers 11:5. Here it is recorded, "We remember the fish, which we did eat in Egypt freely, the cucumbers, and the melons, and the leeks, and the onion, and the garlick. But now our soul is dried away, there is nothing at all, besides this manna, before our eyes.
It seems therefore that in that early day the onion and garlick was prized and that there was some resentment when those old boys and girls were deprived of them. This established a family record that one might be proud of but I was not satisfied so I called on Burton D. Hurd and he informed me that under his direction a research had been made by the William Clendenin Research and Publicity Bureau and gave me a copy and reading I was amazed. I found that from the earliest people to this day the onion has been recognized not only as a splendid health-giving food but that its medicinal properties were as well known to the ancients as it is known today.
I learned something new about its chemistry, for its nitrogenous value runs about 50 per cent. It is rich in sugar and three times richer in carbohydrates as tomatoes, or even beets; yes, four times richer than spinach. That certainly was an eye opener to me and I have a greater respect for the onion than ever before. But that is not all, for it provides phosphoric acids in desirable quantities. I find that the onion is an aid to beauty and if our girls would use onions daily there would be little use for powder and paint to cover up the pimples caused by faulty digestion. It is nature's prophylactic, for it not only aids in intestinal assimilation but actually acts on the blood currents enriching the corpuscles. Doctors fear the onion, for as Mussey of the Ohio Medical College says, "If everybody ate onions the doctors would go out of business."
The quantity of onions consumed in the United States is enormous amounting to 21,191,000 bushels in 1927 of which only 2,298,000 bushels were imported. Such local consumption ought to make it a very valuable crop to grow and I am informed that a goodly profit is released to the grower at one dollar and fifty cents per bushel.
Here in the coastal plain country we have a soil that is well adapted to the growing of onions and that they can be grown here to perfection is known by us all.
It looks to me as though it offers another cash crop. A crop that is not easily perishable and finds ready market at a satisfactory cash price.
We are now using in our home for seasoning and flavoring an onion powder that is much more desirable than the raw vegetable. The fact that a process has been developed that will utilize unmerchantable bulbs and allow them to be dried and ground into a fine powder greatly enlarges the crop sales area. Seems to me that to the onion industry it means the same as the utilization of waste products at the meat packing plants means to the cattle industry. These bulbs are dried in a vacuum with low heat degree so thoroughly that every particle of water is eliminated and the water resulting comes from the machine, clean, colorless and without a trace of odor, proving that all the health and food properties are retained. The onion is a thankful plant for I know of no other that so quickly shows its thanks for clean, careful cultivation.
Given this and it laughs in the face of the grower, sending up its pretty slender, green spires that sparkle in the sun light. For several weeks us Homecrofters have been eating them baked, a most succulent dish, and we find that its satisfying qualities are enhanced.
Well, anyway, if you fall for Miss O. Nion and feel that your intimacy will be discovered just be nonchalant, fill your pipe with RJR and smoke up. Rest easy or the "affaired amour" will never be detected.
When I arrive home at mail time with my daily letter from "MRF" I found that some fairy had left a beautiful bouquet in the form of "Zea Mays" sometimes called roastin' ears and it did not take long for the pot to bile and we were soon stuffing our faces and incidentally painting our faces, clean to the ears as we sucked the succulent cobs. All the time ignorant of the giver, but we soon found out that it was Mrs. Gust Franzen who slipped this over us in our absence. All we can say is "thank you, Mrs. Franzen, and come again when we are at home."
Tuesday a cyclone formed, I judge about fifteen miles to the northeast and with glasses we watched it with some trepidation, agitation, perturbation, demoralization, consternation for fear it would turn our way. We saw it strike the ground four times, each contact seemed to throw a big mass of some material into the air. At last it dissipated in the clouds and we were once more at ease.
I see, by using my eyes, that the biscuit maker [Tom Fulcher] is grading the roads.
Verner L. Bowers strutting around in a new Chevvy some say it is one of those cabriolets, but it don't look cabby enough to me. Not painted green, either.
The Fig Company is putting in the foundation for a 30 X 40? warehouse in which to store sugar, cans and finished products.
Miss Ethel Nelson, in honor of her sixth birthday, entertained about fifteen little girls, but one boy being honored with an invitation. For that reason I was not invited, but I don't give a dam whether I was or not, for I learned that no noodles would be served, so what cared I?"
Now comes Emmitt Chiles, Junior, at the age of five, and retaliates with a stag party and no little gals are allowed or aloud.
The Woman's Union met this week with Mrs. Gust Franzen and all had the usual enjoyable time when they go to that hospitable house.
It is rumored that Miss Louise Walter will teach at Citrus Grove and Miss Dorothy Crane at Prairie Center, and that Miss Ethel Sirman will still teach in the county. It was reported that she intended to open a very select school.
Hope everyone read the school story by Mrs. Pollard carried in Wednesday's Tribune. I cannot remember that since I have lived here that any county superintendent has given the people of the county such comprehensive information about our rural schools. Interesting, instructive and I hope she will be allowed to continue her splendid service.
When Roger Clapp landed at Naxtasket, May 30th, 1630, he little thought that in 1929 one of his family in the eleventh generation would graduate from the Chicago University High School in the person of Nancy Barstow Clapp. At that time there was not one white soul between the Atlantic and Pacific. Take a map, look it over. Is it not wonderful what has come to pass in these three hundred years? Nancy is the daughter of Harry B. and Ann Barstow Clapp and therefore by all laws of God and man, my very dear, sweet, charming granddaughter, God bless her, guard her, give her a long, happy useful life. I drink to yea, my Nancy.
Mr. E. L. Hall, president of the Collegeport Industrial League, appointed Rev. Merriman L. Smith chairman to arrange for the annual Father and Son Banquet. He in turn arranged with the Woman's Union for the service and they appointed Mesdames Liggett, King, Nelson, Holsworth and Crane a committee to have charge of the banquet. This guarantees something sodelicious. I suggest the following menu as an appealing one:
Noodle Soup Sliced Oranges strung on Noodles Noodles au gratin Fried in butter noodles Carrie Nelson's Chicken Noodles Noodles au claire Ice Cream with Noodle decoration Coffee served in cups with Noodles A few more Noodles. Then more Noodles.
If folks would eat freely of the Famous Carrie Nelson Noodles we would have more than six Christians in this burg. No woman with a tummie filled with noodles can ever be catty. There be some who never eat noodles.
The Daily Tribune, June 11, 1929
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By Harry Austin Clapp
[Local information taken from longer article.]
Miss Elizabeth Eisel comes out with the prettiest dress in the burg and last night she wore it again that I might be pleased. I felt honored by the compliment but the finest thing about the dress is the sweet, well-behaved young girl that is in it. I hope Elizabeth will wear it often and when, as and if she does, wear it with a smile. The combination is irresistible.
Doggone it, here I have been dreaming of noodles at the Father and Son banquet and now the maker of the Famous Carrie Nelson Noodles has done gone and went to Kansas. No noodles for this affair, and my heart is weighed down with grief. The whole Nelson family went, and all will be missed, but I am glad that Roy Nelson is to see his father. No fellow can see his father too often these fleeting days.
At the post office one young lady meeting a man, said: "How do you do Mr. M---?" And another coming in at the same time greeted the same man with a "Howdy." Question: Which was the lady girl?
The second annual Father and Son banquet, sponsored by the Industrial League, will be held Wednesday night, June 26th, at the Community House. Every man is expected to bring his son or if one is not available, some other fellows' son. Tickets are 50 cents each and may be had from Rev. Merriman L. Smith who is the Mayor Domo.
Seth Corse dolls his auto buggy up with a new coat of paint--a most excellent job and quite artistic.
Verner L. Bowers with his new cabby is keeping up his reputation as the local pulse pusher.
Growing beans at 133 hampers per acre and at $3.00 per hamper sure pays, and I might add that it also pays to advertise, and the latter often pays more than three dollars per hamper.
Along comes Miss Frances Mayfield, the county health nurse, urging folks to register the birth of new babies. We register calves, colts, hogs, dogs and even chickens. Why not register little babies, little darlings on whom angels have smiled and to whom God has given souls? Anyone know why not?
Frank King pulling on his cob pipe.
L. E. Liggett driving his new truck.
John Merck buying a new truck of the Chivvy breed. Trucking business must be good.
John Heisey hauling four hundred pounds of cream to the station.
Louis Walter sticks to the crooked-stem pipe.
Wish Frank Ives, of St. Louis, would drive down in his auto this summer. Wish E. L. Ives, of Bloomington, would also come, but not in an auto. We want him to ride up to our door on a buck-skin pony.
I and the miserable wretch were invited out to a Sunday dinner last week.
It would be a courteous, polite, civil and gracious act if the party who drives a Studebaker would cut down on speed while passing through the business section. Careless driving may cost the life of some child one of these days.
Mrs. Carl Boeker, accompanied by Ruth and Kent, take a trip to visit folks in the land of the Illini.
The Woman's Club met Thursday at the Hurd home with Mrs. Den Hurd as hostess. A splendid program was rendered. I can testify as to the quality of refreshments for I was remembered with generous slices of cake, a big gob of ice cream made by Hugo at the Collegeport Pharmacy, and a huge tankard of mint julep punch. Guess I'll join the cub. Wonder where Mrs. Dena secured the mint.
I have conferred on Robert Murry the degree of D. V. S. for his skill in operating on one of our animals what was badly injured. All should address him as Doc from now on.
Well, anyway, the fellow who started Father's Day sure picked the correct date, for Sunday, the 16th, is also my birthday. I'll not tell how many I have enjoyed, but the curious are requested to engage the miserable wretch in conversation. She will tell about it and incidentally give my life history.
The latest news is that Seth Corse has sold his Ford and now flashes about in a new Ford touring with a bright green coat. Pretty spiffy.
Dorothy Franzen having finished the prescribed course at Rice Institute, has been awarded the degree of Bachelor of Arts. This young lady is not only a credit to her family but to the entire community. We have all watched her progress with interest and I am sure all join in congratulating her on her success, and best wishes for a long, and useful life.
The Daily Tribune, June 18, 1929
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By Harry Austin Clapp
Sunday, June 16th, was a wonderful day for me in every way except one. It seems that there is always a fly in the butter. MBF sent me a fine gift from San Antonio, and to fill the measure, along comes a telegram wishing me a happy day and sending her love to both of us. What a wonderful, thoughtful, loving girl I have been blessed with.
Sister Lucy remembered me and so did my good friend E. L. Hall, also Mrs. Dena Hurd. Mary Louise was in St. Mark's church that morning and, at her request, I went to the service at the local church. I expected it would be a Father's Day service, as this was observed by practically every church in the Nation. But it was not to be so, for the pastor announced "this is children's day." Don't know where he got the dope. He evidently did not read the papers, for all of them devoted columns to the fact that Sunday, June 16th, was the day that father was to be featured. I was disappointed, but fortunately I have the power to transport myself across the space and found myself by the side of Mary Louise in St. Mark's church in San Antonio. We three were together. I at last awakened to hear about a chicken with white feathers, and ever since I have been wondering, "where did the chicken go?"
Well, anyway, I had a fine day even if a fly did tangle itself in the butter.
The King's Daughters met this week at the community house, simply because one whose business it was to arrange for a meeting place failed to do so.
Seth Corse did not attend church because he was obliged to go to Blessing to show off his new green auto.
Christian Endeavor was led by Miss Louise Walter, which guaranteed a fine program.
It was my good luck to have the pleasure of taking Clifford Franzen under my wing for the Father and Son banquet. I am well pleased that I could hook this lad, especially as I could not have either his sisters, Dorothy or Mamie, this being a strictly stag affair and no gals "aloud." If girls were allowed, believe I would have taken Elizabeth Eisel, provided she wore her pretty new dress.
Was disappointed that Hugo and Hattie were not at church, but suppose the ice cream was melting.
Indeed, ma'am, I do really and truly desire to know where that white chicken did go.
Rumor hath it that early in next month the village will have a visitor in the person of Oscar Chapin, T. A. who now dwells in the pueblo by the Alamo.
Well, its time that summer guests arrive, and so here comes from New Orleans, Mr. and Mrs. C. G. Eisel, brother of our townsman, Harry Lewis Eisel, and with them Mrs. Kate Dwyer of Marshall, Texas, a sister of Mrs. Eisel. Hope these people will have an enjoyable time, but they better not carry away Francis or Elizabeth Eisel.
Rev. M. A. Travis up from the Magic Valley spending his vacation fixing up a house for another visit when he will be accompanied by his family.
Look! Who comes here? Well, well, well, it is what used to be little Stanley Duckworth, but now a big, tall, wholesome looking lad. Wish the entire Duckworth family would move back with George in his old job. There be some folks who did not appreciate when he was operating this end of the Mopac but reckon they would now.
Frame work all up for the Fig Orchard Company's new warehouse. Cement foundation and floor and much need facility.
As I listened to Sousa's band the other night via the radio I marveled at the wonder and then the thought came that God has more wonderful things in store for us just as soon as our senses are attuned to receive them. Isn't it just wonderful to be alive these days?
This day marks the highest ascent of the sun. Tomorrow the day will shorten just a tweenie weenie bit and soon the days will be here and we may enjoy the long evenings "when the lamps are lit."
Verner Bowers takes a trip to visit his people at Mont Belvieu.
Mrs. Ash handing out groceries in Mr. Bower's absence, and trade ought to pick up.
The King's Daughters met at the community house this week with the regular work, splendid luncheon and an educational program.
Bunch of photographs showing Mary Louise on the lawn in front of the apartment she occupies, with three other girls. To I and the miserable wretch she looks like several million dollars, but at that, no price would buy her. She is too precious, means too much in our lives. She satisfies and that's enough for us.
Cotton is coming on in good condition and I doubt the loss from the heavy rains will amount to more than fifteen per cent.
Corn is growing so fast that one can easily hear it crack.
This morning about two o'clock the moon was shining bright and a mockingbird thinking it was time for every one to arise began his morning concert. What a happy bird he is, and how wonderful is his song. How he leaps in the air never missing a note. How can anyone be so thoughtless as to kill one of these beautiful songsters?
Saw a long, slender snake yesterday all speckled with green and black. I put my foot on him and he shook his tail vigorously in anger so I let him go. Harmless variety that is a friend of man for he preys upon field mice and other small rodents all of which are harmful.
A big crane dropped down in the barnyard. A big flash of blue. He stood like a statue and as I looked I saw a Japanese painting. As I moved he flapped his wings and was off for other adventures.
A mourning dove's nest with three eggs and a broken shell.
The second bloom of wild flowers is on and the pastures are beginning to be covered with color. Flowers never look so beautiful as on nature's background of green. When I see flowers I think of the miserable wretch who has been so good to me for many years and so I pluck a bunch and bring them to her and she knows that the story is told again. There is nothing in this world better than a wife who is loyal and loving.
June 21st, the longest day of the year, burst forth "brite and fare" but I did not realize how fair until an auto drove into the yard and from it appeared my old friend, Bert Carr, and a fine looking young man who was introduced as his son. Bert informed me that he was not out for any office and was just making a friendly call. We were glad to see him as always are and if he wants any office in this county he can have my two votes any day. Guess I'll have to take a trip to Bay City and inspect that wonderful grandson of whom Bert says "he is the finest in the world." Of course, that is not true, for the finest grandchild in the world lives on Blackstone Avenue, Chicago.
On Mrs. Dena Hurd's return from a trip to Bay City she commented on the beauty of the court house and said, "How I do miss the clock." Others miss this old friend, also.
Stanley Wright selling a bunch of calves and receiving a top price. Says he is going to sell his Holstein cows because they have too large udders and give him too much milk. Makes him tired milking. Rather milk three ordinary cows, producing same amount of milk because he has a short rest between these.
The Collegeport Woman's Club was represented at the County Federation meeting in Matagorda by Mesdames Merriman L. Smith and Lester Liggett.
I very well remember when I used to go to the butcher shop and with timid voice say, "Mr. Baker, let me have some liver. I want it for our cat." Mr. Baker knew what I wanted it for and only smiled. Now days I say plainly that I want two pounds of liver and cheerfully pay two bits per pound. Don't times change? Well, anyway, isn't life wonderful?
The Daily Tribune, June 25, 1929
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By Harry Austin Clapp
[Local information taken from longer article.]
Went out to Stanley Wright's for some liver for the miserable wretch, and if Stanley's heart is as fine as his liver he sure has a tender heart. Looked over his calves and he admitted that the Holstein blood puts splendid bone in the animals. He has several as fine cows as eats grass in this section and they are also of "The Breed That Leads." From there went to Robert Murry's and looked over his calves and cows. He also has some fine specimens, all of which show good care and feed and for that reason are profitable.
Verner Bowers returned from his visit with home folks, bringing his small brother back for a few days' visit.
Received a letter from a Tribune reader which closed with "Regards to the miserable wretch and the wretched." Wonder where he got this wretched idea.
Mrs. Murry and daughters rowing across the bay for a visit at Palacios and Robert pumping up a tire for George Welsby.
A twister at Ashby the other day took the roof off several buildings. There here things are getting a bit too near and too common.
Have not seen Bill for months but I am told that he still wears a shirt. Ought to have two by this time so he can enjoy a change.
When in course of human events it becomes necessary for good fellows to get together the Collegeport Industrial League sponsors a Father and Son banquet and making Rev. Merriman L. Smith chairman of the arrangement committee the deal is closed for Wednesday night, June 26. And, therefore, on that night there gathered fifty men and boys around the banquet table. Service was provided by the Woman's Union and no comment is required, for everything from the tables in white spreads, gleaming silver and glittering glass, was all that one could desire. Flowers, flowers, flowers. The menu consisted of tomatoes in cups filled with mayonnaise dressing, pressed chicken, macaroni and cheese, potato salad, Parker House rolls, iced tea, ice cream, angel food cake. After grace by Rev. Smith, the viands were quickly dispatched and then Ben R. Mowery, as toastmaster, took charge and called the program. Music was provided by Miss Dorothy Crane who rendered several selections. The principal speakers were Masters Bobby Ackerman and Jack Boyd. After hearing these two the balance was, well, one might say passe, for it consisted of talks by H. A. Clapp and George Harrison, the latter giving some interesting information about the road building. Merriman L. Smith told a few stories as sauce for the diners, and the banquet closed with a short talk by Ben R. Mowery, who spoke in his interesting manner this being the stock description applied to toastmasters. Well, anyway, it was a happy gathering. Everybody went home satisfied, soul and body, only waiting for the year 1930 to bring about a similar affair. The only men who were not present were several old guys with both legs in the grave and unable to walk. Had they given notice, transportation would have been furnished.
Friday this section was visited by a terrific wind and rain storm which lasted about twelve hours. The wind attained, it is estimated, a velocity of sixty miles per hour at times, but blew around forty or fifty most of the time. Three families from Springfield arrived during the storm but they being game and good sports, they smiled and said, "Well, this rain puts the ground in condition for plowing and getting ready for our crop. Some, less optimistic, would have returned by the next train.
To finish the social week, Master Claude Penland had a birthday party to which more than twenty little boys and girls were invited. Mrs. Penland brought most of them back to town on a truck and it was a merry bunch which unloaded and soon each one was stuffing his face with an ice cream cone.
The only thing lacking to make the Father and Son banquet a one hundred per cent success was a big dish of the Famous Carrie Nelson Noodles. The pressed chicken was fine, but Oh, you noodles, how I miss you. Hope Carrie Nelson returns from Kansas right soon or before.
Thus ended the week, and "so to bed."
The Daily Tribune, July 2, 1929
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By Harry Austin Clapp
[Local information taken from longer article.]
I wish the gals would wear their garters, especially black ones, above the knee instead of below. Too tantalizing and makes a fellow cross-eyed.
The Bachman store is installing a radio. Bet it draws a crowd and keeps Mrs. Crane busy handing out beans, spuds, etcetera.
When I look at the daily papers and see the page covered with head lines describing murders, seductions, rapes, holdups, booze scrapes, executions, divorces, deaths by airplane, auto and train, I think, well after all these are only the dead fish floating on the surface of the tide. The good fish, the live fish are down below, out of sight, scurrying about their business in the clear, clean, cool depths. Let those who delight in decaying, putrid flesh have their fill, but give me the clean, fresh state, national, international news, the editorials, the feature stuff. This is the good mental food which we find in the press.
Dorothy Franzen comes home with her degree, the first Collegeport girl to do so, and with her hair of gold she looks like a new, fresh minted twenty-dollar gold piece. We are all proud of Dorothy.
It is said that Marion Talley, bragging about her wheat, said it was up to her knees. Had she said it was up to her skirt, we would all know that Marion had raised some wheat.
The church folks held a union service at Ashby Sunday with Ashby, Citrus Grove and Collegeport.
July started in with plenty of excitement for about two in the afternoon the Tolman place burned. The Molleneaux family had just returned from Bay City and the mother and girls were changing their clothes when they heard a roaring sound and looking up found the ceiling ablaze. Fortunately, they escaped, but the house with all its contents was a total loss. As the family had been away all day and no fires in the house and the blaze started between the roof and the ceiling of the second story. It is thought that rats had carried matches into a nest thus starting the fire.
Reports of Friday's storm tells us of the maiming and destruction of many fine tress. It is a sad story, for no lover of nature can look on the death of a tree without regret.
"The shadows of the trees! Therewith what visions come! There the soul sees, Not man's world, but the good green earth, and hears Strange sylvan melody--dream-like--that strays Content among the shadows of the trees."
The Woman's Union held their month's soiree at the Carrick home Wednesday afternoon. The usual program was rendered and delicious refreshments served.
The other day Bill and Joe and Harris journeyed to Palacios and re-inforced by several Palacios officials raided the house of a Mexican and discovering two or three bottles of beer, hauled them off to jail. Had the same energy been used in collecting delinquent taxes every man, woman and child in the county would have received benefit. Fourth of July week any way is a helluva time to make a raid. Our officers should use more discretion.
Helen Duckworth is here as the guest of Louise Walter, and with about thirty others, enjoyed a big weenie roast on the bay shore.
At last, after many days of acute suffering by our people, the merchants brought in some spuds and the famine was relieved.
The Fig Company's warehouse is roofed in, windows and doors placed and floor laid. Fine building and adds much to the plant.
Sure was glad to see Margaret Holsworth back home. We oldtimers claim Margaret as a Collegeport product and are therefore just a bit proud of her and hope that many a sun will glint its rays on her golden head.
"All her smiles are hid in light; All her hair is lost in splendor; But she hath the eyes of the Night And a heart that's over-tender. Margaret is a golden girl! Toast her in a goblet brimming! May the man that wins her wear On his heart the Rose of Women!" --Apologies to Bryan Waller Proctor
The chimney of the Tolman house stands like a totem pole pointing to the sky. The burning of this house removes from the burg one of our best houses and is a total loss of about $2,000.00. Now, that the late occupants have been provided for I suggest that some one with surplus emotion raise a fund to help the owner of the property to rebuild. His is the big loss and it is a loss to the community. Those wishing to subscribe to the rebuilding fund may hand their subscriptions to Seth W. Corse at the post office.
Miss Ethel Sirman opened her summer school at Portsmouth July 4 with one pupil. Mesdames Holsworth and Hurd and Miss Margaret went along to see that lessons were correctly learned. After the first session all adjourned to the famous O'Neal house and partook of the usual fine dinner served by Mrs. O'Neal who is also the wife of the mayor of the town.
She that is Theora Merck is home for a visit with her two little daughters. In my opinion Theora easily takes the first prize for a good looking Merck. Never saw her looking sweeter.
Came on the Portsmouth limited Saturday night one Bill Hurd from Quincy, Illinois. He brought his grandfather with him who is known by some of us as Burton D. This makes the fourth generation of the Hurd clan to come to Collegeport. David, Burton, Vernon, and now Vernon King Hurd, Jr., lovingly called Bill by his intimates. Hope he will have a happy time and go back all browned up to his fine dad and maw.
The gale that blew across this section the other day destroyed the chicken houses of Arthur Soekland and killed some of the young stock. Seems as though our folks should kick in and provide a little aid, for this is a budding industry that Arthur has started, and it may need just a little boosting.
In the Tribune the other day, under "The Band Box," I find an invitation to attend the meetings of the Bay City band, and in this way I thank the person who sent the invitation. It would be a great pleasure to make the visit. I love music, especially band music. Bay City has developed some fine musicians. There are many who can play musical instruments and many who can sing beautifully. A man who develops the musical taste in the young does more for humanity than the man who causes two blades of grass to grow. Music, as you know, has power to tame the savage breast, therefore, let's have so much music, good music, that at last all breasts will be tamed and soothed. I do not own an auto and it is thirty-five long miles from here to Bay City. Well, anyway, I shall make an attempt to accept the kind invitation.
The Daily Tribune, July 11, 1929
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By Harry Austin Clapp
Did you ever suck an egg? If not, try it. It is a wonderful experience. Take a fresh egg. I do not advise using a stale or rotten egg for the first time, so use a fresh egg. Even that is bad enough.
When I was a boy my father employed a clerk named Monroe H. Silverman who was an accomplished egg sucker and I used to watch him with amazement as he would toss off three or four eggs. I envied him his ability and wondered if I ever could do so with the same nonchalance and grace. He absorbed them "sans peur et sans reproche." If you know what that means.
One day he asked me to try one and offered me twenty-five cents if I succeeded. The glittering two bits was a temptation I could not resist and following his instructions I cut a small hole in the end and applied my sucker. Results? I'll say yes, for that egg easily and quickly left its shell and entered my mouth. There it stayed. I gagged and gagged and used all my swallowing arts but it refused to go farther. I no longer cared for that silver coin. All I wanted was to secure a divorce from that egg. I was far from being a good sport for a good sport never "trows" up. I was beaten to a frazzle. Monroe grabbed a paper to catch it on the rebound, but he was too late. That egg sprayed his face, trickled down his white shirt front, generously draped his ice cream panties, decorated his shoes and gorgeously ornamented the floor of the store. It was not the egg's fault for it was a real nice, genteel, refined, well-bred, polite egg, or if you know what I mean, it was a "good egg." I saw that great big silver coin disappear in Monroe's pocket and how I did want it but the price was too great. I look back now and wonder why I was not successful. It was a good egg and I was a good boy. Why could not that good egg fly to the loving embrace of my tummy? It was years after before I learned the solution. The egg wanted a bath of sherry or port. After I had found that simple solution I never had any trouble in handling a fresh raw egg. Something about sherry or port enables the egg to easily and joyously slip down the gullet. I have never tried to swallow a bad egg even with a sherry bath, and because of that I am not advising the attempt.
A bad egg may slip down as easily as a good egg, but I fear the after results will not be as gratifying or, in other words, supply complete contentment. I feel sure one would desire to get rid of it. Never having tried it, I dunno.
As far as eggs are concerned I am not a misogynist but I like 'em fresh, sweet, clean and then want 'em scrambled, medium boiled, poached, shirred, fried, coddled--oh, most any way except via the shell.
Just as there are good and bad eggs in the prune box that reposes peacefully on the back bar or our grocery, feed, nail, barbwire and gas emporium, so we fined the two varieties in God's great big yard. We have them in every community--the good and the bad. The good egg is loved by all of us. He is kind, cheerful, always willing to lend a hand to aid the suffering and to relieve distress. He is active in community affairs, dependable, lovable and as near a Christian as is possible in this world of ours. Not at all necessary to join the church to be all of this. It is bred in him to love his fellowman.
On the contrary the bad egg is all the reverse. He has little respect for the virtue of women or the honor of men. The putrid mess which is enclosed in his shell escapes in odorous fumes and casts its poisonous menace on all with whom it makes contact. He is a community knocker always ready to suggest evil no mater how honorable may be the plans and intentions of his fellows. Ever ready to avail himself of community projects and efforts, he is never willing to cooperate and assist in making them.
Well, anyway, the other day one of our colored residents caught up with me on the road and invited me to ride with him. I did so and, attracted by the instruments on the board, I asked: "what is this dingus?" and he replied: "that is the magnesia." Pretty good, and would be worth $5 to Liberty.
Last Sunday we had a delightful call by James Della Betta, one of the new arrivals. It was an interesting visit, as I asked questions about Italy and we contrasted their conditions with those here. Incidentally, I found that Mr. Della Betta could talk seven languages. I hope more of his clan will locate here, for we need people like him who know garden and truck work. His cousin has been here for some time looking over the country, preparing to report to her husband. Saturday she returned to Illinois and told me that she likes the country and was "going back to get my family." Mr. Della Betta says that if he does well here this year, fifty families are ready to relocate at Collegeport.
Frances Mayfield here Monday looking after some children who engaged in the health contest but were found to have defective tonsils. This health work has brought results in this community and I expect has in every community of the county. Miss Mayfield has been urging parents to register their children and told of one man who bragged that he had registered a fine dog at an expense of two dollars, but when asked if he had registered his children (no expense attached) confessed that he had not done so.
Mr. and Mrs. Charles Fry, of Illinois, are here the guests of Mr. Fred Goff. Mrs. Fry is Mr. Goff's sister.
Capt. and Mrs. Lincoln Putnam drove here from Denver where he has been stationed at Fort Logan. He has been transferred to Fort Sill where he will report at the end of his furlough. Mrs. Putnam will be remembered as Pearl Corse, one of our early time girls. Their little daughter (was little once) Gene is with them and all are having an enjoyable time with the Corse family.
Along comes Mrs. Kilpatrick who at one time was Jessie Merck, for her annual visit to her parents. She looks fine as spun silk in her swell new dress. The Merck children, with the exception of John and Dean, are all married and some of them have supplied grandchildren. Not much hopes of John, but Dean being a deacon will probably marry some of these days, but there I will tell a secret if I write more. The Mercks have raised a nice lot of children.
The preserving plant of the Fig Orchards Company began the season's canning work this week. The fruit this year is of good size and quality and the trees are well loaded. The plant has been screened, a new warehouse erected and two new steam jacket kettles added. Although the tendency this season has been for lower prices, I am informed that the local plant will still pay last year's prices for number one fruit.
A woman reader from Farmersville, Texas, says: "I read Thoughts with great interest and hope you will continue to think." Then comes this from Pittsburg, Penn.: "I get the Bay City Tribune and get a big kick out of your "Thoughts," and so does my wife. Women are queer critters, but rather nice at that, and more so if the underpinning is a sight for sore eyes. I always look and enjoy a good shapely calf or a pair of them just as long as my eye sight holds out." I don't know what brought out this spasm from the City of Pitts, for I have for many months used soft plush on the leg stuff. Legs are so common in this burg, and by that I mean so general, customary, usual, frequent, and I might say ordinary and indifferent that they no longer excite my curiosity. There are only two pairs of legs in this burg that are really worth looking at. They are both beautiful, shapely, symmetrical and easy to look at and so long as my gaze is confined to legs I am unable to choose the most beautiful but when my eyes wander up to the face and I find one painted in hideous pagan colors and the other sweet, clean, wholesome, satisfying, I choose the natural, real, genuine, regular girl.
Mrs. Tom Fulcher showing fotos of her daughter, Barbara, and her son, Tom Hale, Jr., and with pride. Barbara is a sweet mother and Junior was a fortunate lad when he picked her for his mama. He was not far away when he picked Tom Hale, Sr., for his papa. Fine young family and here's hoping it will grow.
Mrs. Ramsey, of Illinois, here looking over her fig orchards and other property.
P. S.--The miserable wretch is a good egg.
The Daily Tribune, July 16, 1929
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By Harry Austin Clapp
When the Tribune was delivered last week at the local post office I said to several who were reading the paper, "how do you like the new Tribune?" They looked amazed and some asked what I meant. I informed them that with this issue the Tribune was an eight column paper but that meant nothing to them. They did not realize that it meant an investment of thousands of dollars in a new press and other equipment, that it meant extra work, that it meant greater service and that the message of Matagorda county would be carried farther and better. I don't believe many realize what this enlarged paper means to all of us.
The Tribune emerges from a country daily and weekly to a metropolitan newspaper ready for Associated Press service and the latter will come soon as our folks rise to the opportunity now presented. People have criticized the publisher and will continue to do so but all must acknowledge that he has built up the Tribune from practically nothing, starting at scratch with a shoe string, and this refers not only to the plant, but to the finances and today issues a modern, up to date newspaper that is a credit to any of our smaller cities.
If every person in Matagorda county would talk with some other person each day and tell of the opportunities here presented it would be good publicity, for personal solicitation is the best of all methods. If every person would write one letter each day to some one living outside, it would also be good publicity. These methods are impossible, so the press comes in, and for a farthing, carries the story to all portions of the world. There is no publicity influence so potent, so far-reaching as the columns of a first class newspaper.
In the Tribune, this county has such a medium and the business men of our county should grasp the opportunity, use its columns freely and continuously, telling the story of their business, every issue. The service is cheap, the returns generous. Supporting a newspaper by using space to tell the world about your business is no more charity than it is charity for the newspaper men to buy your goods. Each supports the other and this attitude is the thing that makes a town grow.
What our people need more than any other thing is mutual understanding and to formulate human conceptions which will be respected by all. When men once realize the use and value of the daily and weekly press, future advance in community interest is rapid and easy.
The waste basket in the corner of our post office lobby is full of circulars, tossed in unread. Many of them are circulars sent out by county merchants, addressed to "Box Holder." The waste basket receives them but I have never found in that basket one newspaper. They are taken home and read. Circulars, as a rule, are a waste of time, money, good paper and printing. The same sum expended in space would bring returns that would be gratifying.
I do not own the Tribune nor have I one cent invested in it, but I have watched it for twenty years and have seen it grow from a dirty dump with broken-down equipment to the present day splendid plant. It has always been militant for Matagorda county, and still is. Now it enlarges to eight columns, offers better service, reaches out farther. The Tribune publisher and the men in the back room are not men who are content to simply mark time with the music of the band. They desire to march and they will march far, if the people of Bay City will but march with them.
Well, anyway, "Freschmaschine mit schwenkbarem Ferneiniger, garbenaufachnelder ferngeblase nachdreschaparat und abgefedartem fahgestelle" is the only name of a German threshing machine. If the machine is as formidable as the name, it must be some "mashine."
A mocking-bird lights in a plum tree looking for a nesting place. Soon she discovers an abandoned nest and goes after father and they both look it over. After some discussion they decide that it is of no value and so tear it to pieces and proceed to build a new home. They liked the site but not the building.
The fig preserving plant puts up about 1000 cans per day and gives employment to about thirty people. The by-product of syrup is a dainty thing with which to smear pancakes.
Time dubs The Detroit Daily Illustrated as another of Bernarr Macfadden's "gum chewers sheetlets." The observer will find that when he sees one looking over these sensational sheets, there will be the wagging jaw and almost always a receding chin.
Talking about legs makes me think that we have in this burg one girl with a "body made by Fisher."
Howard Morris, with his wife and mother, drove from Houston and spent a few days with the Hurds.
Captain and Mrs. Putnam drove to Houston Wednesday and Thursday night.
Rev. Merriman L. Smith and family hiked out for Kerrville on a vacation trip.
It was said that when the ship bearing Uncle Judd to Japan was outside the Golden Gate, Uncle Judd called the Captain's attention to a pile of life buoys and asked, "What's the idea of so many extra tires?"
The local box returned a majority vote for both amendments, so it is reasonable to suppose that local voters have returned to normalcy.
Mrs. Howard Gould brought us several canteloupes. Mr. Gould may have planted the seed and Master Gould may have cultivate them, but I am sure they acquired their fine flavor and sweetness from being handled by Mrs. Gould.
I hate to write this word but feel it is my duty to educate our local readers and so will say that the longest word in the English language is "Antidisentablishmentarianistic." Better write it down and spring it next time you are called upon to speak.
The following story is probably apocryphal. Yesterday the miserable wretch being busy (as she should be) I offered to prepare lunch and told her it would be potatoes with creamed codfish. She offered several kinds of advice while I throttled with "Keep still, woman; don't you know I am the man who invented creamed codfish?" After several warnings she subsided and I went on with my work. After while I announced, "soup's on" and served her with creamed codfish. She sniffed and asked, "what gives it this strange color?" "It tastes bitter," and it did, and I told her that probably the fish was no good, so we fed it to the chix. Later on I discovered that I had used Wyandote cleaning powder for thickening instead of flour. It's a great dish when one gets used to it. But be careful about eating too much or it might call for an operation for "posterior gastroenterostomy." Anyway, wasn't I the passionate boy?
Little Jack Boyd, while bathing the other day, cut his foot, severing an artery which was tied by Dr. Wagner and the patient taken to Corpus Christi for further treatment.
Bill Hurd is acquiring a splendid chocolate color and will go back to his parents a study in bronze.
Did you read about the two hundred twenty pound, six foot three inch baby killing her friend lover, just cuz he got drunk? Wonder how far her lawyer will get with the usual sob sister stuff of "save this sweet little girl from the prison bars."
"There is pleasure in anticipation, Still more in realization, But more in participation Taken without hesitation Giving in full loves adoration."
Anyway, my beloved daughter will be here all this week. We have anticipated her visit for weeks and now comes the realization and an opportunity for participation and you may be sure that we adore her without hesitation. A wonderful daughter, the realization of a life of dreams. God has been more than good to me. He has given me far more than I deserve, and day by day I give thanks to Him for this great blessing. Wish my son could be here at same time, but he is way on top of Walnut Mountain, forty miles south of Chattanooga in Northern Alabama, having a fine vacation. Perhaps some day soon he also will come home. This we anticipate.
Doctor Harkey and County Nurse Frances Mayfield visited our city the past week. The former trying to buy eggs and poultry, and the latter looking after her health work.
The Daily Tribune, July 23, 1929
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By Harry Austin Clapp
At one time I had been in Mexico, way down on the south coast, three hundred miles from the railway and started horse-back for Guaymas, where I intended to entrain for my home which was in Denver. After traveling for several days and parts of nights, I, at last, struck the rails and I remember that they looked good enough to kiss for, thought I, here is one unbroken ribbon of steel that reaches to my home and on to the home of my father. It was a feeling of thanks that I looked at those steel rails that ran from where I was to home and the miserable wretch. I go down to the bay shore and look out upon the sea with the same feeling. Here is a water that reaches in majestic might from my point of vision to the islands of the sea and to many foreign shores.
Countless men walk its sands, multitudes ride its breast, the commerce of a world is carried on its bosom and it reaches from me to them all. God rides its waves and stills them to calm and stirs them to angry destruction.
The waves to me are like long wings that fling diamond showers to the passing breeze. At night they glow with tints of the Orient, children of the rainbow. Beneath the tide dwells repose, ease, rest, peace, tranquility. At night, some hours, the bay is calm, the tide is on, the moon, like a great silver platter hangs in the sky, gleams and is gone as a passing cloud flits and then it glimmers, casting opal colors over the waters. Ten thousand stars in the sky repeated with ten thousand stars reflected in the mirrored waters. Just as flowers bloom on land so flowers bloom on the bosom of the sea, beautiful as roses in June.
"Roll on, thou deep and dark blue ocean,--roll! Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain: Man marks the earth with ruin,--his control Stops with the shore--upon the watery plain The wrecks are all thy deed, nor doth remain A shadow of man's ravage, save his own, When for a moment, like a drop of rain, He sinks into thy depths with blushing groan, Without a grave, unknelled, uncoffined, and unknown." --Lord Byron
One night I found myself boarding a ship for a trip down the west coast. During the afternoon I had watched the cargo being loaded and was considerably disturbed to find about three hundred tons consisted of kerosene oil and gasoline in the square tin containers so common in the Orient and Latin-American countries. The ship left port at 11 that night and just inside the harbor I was awakened by hearing the anchor chains and knew that the ship had anchored. I strolled out on deck and soon saw a big black bulk slide out of the darkness and snuggle along side. Men were busy bringing additional cargo aboard and when I inquired what it was, imagine my delight when I was told that it was dynamite. About sixty tons was stacked as a deck load. I went back to my berth to restless sleep. The morning broke light and the ship floated all day on a silver sea. Everything was jake until night came and with it strong winds, heavy rains, thunder and lightning. The ship rolled and tossed and it was so dark that one could not see the length of the ship. Sleep was impossible, so I dressed and made my way to the bridge where I found my old friend, Captain Genesta, calmly watching. This gave me small comfort for I was thinking of that oil, gas and dynamite and what would happen if one of those lightning bolts should strike the ship. I have read of waves forty feet high, but had never seen them, but I am within the truth when I state that the sea rose twenty feet and in the flashes of lightning I could see the wicked, vicious waves curling as if reaching for that speck which man was sending against them. For the first time I realized the power, might, force, authority, sovereignty, the majesty of the force of nature. I was filled with fear and realized that a tiny atom was I and the fellows with me on that ship, for large as it was, it was no bigger than a chip on a mill pond. In the morning the sun glittered keen and bright, the tremulous death shadows of the sea gone. The ship seemed to ride with pride the lowering waves and thinking of the past few hours how could I help but breathe a prayer of thanks to He who had controlled the sea and allowed me one other day?
"Beautiful, sublime, and glorious; Mild, majestic, foaming, free,-- Over time itself victorious, Image of eternity! Sun and moon and stars shine o'er thee, See thy surface ebb and flow, Yet attempt not to explore thee In thy soundless depths below, Such thou art, stupendous ocean! But if overwhelmed by thee, Can we think, without emotion, What must thy Creator be?" --Bernard Barton
I suppose writing about the sea brought the following from the immortal and irresistible Zack, the fellow who makes crackers. Here's the very note and this is what he wrote: "Why don't you clean off a landing field in your back yard for your friends who call by air? I looked down on you and your College Sports Sunday, but failed to see those Bay Belles you wrote about. Better be prepared to meet me next time I fly over or I'll spit on you." Airplanes is like legs--so common that I never look up at them, but the miserable wretch has a permanent crick in her neck rubbering for them there airplanes and she swears that she saw Zack pass over and exchanges signals with him.
Well, anyway, if Zack had dropped over the side he would have been made welcome and given a chance to see that wonderful daughter who has been spending a week with her Paw and Maw.
Mrs. Jack Martin, who used to be Elvie Merck, is here mixing up with the rest of the Merck family. Like the other married children, she has accumulated and so brought along Jack Martin, Jr., who is valued at three million dollars.
Anyone who has the luck to receive an invitation from Mrs. Liggett is indeed a lucky kuss. I did not receive one, so am parked in the unlucky bin. Among those who were bidden were Mrs. Helen Holsworth and daughter, Margaret, Mrs. Harry Austin Clapp and daughter, Mary Louise, Mrs. Seth W. Corse and daughter, Mrs. Captain Lincoln Putnam, and her daughter, Gene, Mrs. Burton D. Hurd. Lot of lucky dogs I say, and I doubled that when I heard about the eats. I was not peeved permanently, for soon as I saw the list I knew it was sort of a mother-daughter affair, and as I am neither, was soon content, but I hope some day she will have a father-son affair.
Twenty years ago the Tribune chronicled the following under "Collegeport Items": "The Hull brothers of New York arrived here Thursday, May 10, and in one week moved into their own home on a 20-acre tract on the south line of town. They will erect a canning factory and make a specialty of preserving figs. The Burton D. Hurd Land Co., has reserved land for the building of a rice mill which they expect to erect during the next season. The Gulf Coast University has donated a scholarship to the Midcoast Industrial Congress to be given to the midcoast boy who brings to the fall meeting of that organization the best ten ears of corn raised by himself."
I and the miserable wretch have been so busy worshipping the past few days that we have had little time for the common affairs of life.
For fear that I have not mentioned it, will state that Mary Louise has been home for full seven days, lacking four hours and fifteen minutes. I regret losing those four hours and fifteen minutes, for 'tis like losing pearls from a priceless string and we feel that we have been robbed of our own.
The Fig Company are employing thirty people in the preserving plant, and as many more in the orchards. This means the distribution of considerable cash to our local folks. Having tested some of the product, can testify to its supreme quality in figs, preserves, conserves, reserves.
A good onion crop will make a winter pay day and provide one more cash crop.
No use to try to dodge an auto. The other day, receiving a phone call from Bay City, and on my way to answer I was knocked down and run over by a wild auto. Unable to keep the engagement I had, Mary Louise answered and she was told that the call had been canceled. Asking who made the call, the operator said it was a Bay City lumber firm. Thanks for the information, but if the lumber firm will write me I will be glad to know who called and for what purpose.
The Daily Tribune, July 30, 1929
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By Harry Austin Clapp
[The left side of the first few paragraphs was cut off when this column was filmed.]
Rains by day and by night, social affairs standing still, the church practically closed up, the Woman's Club, Woman's Union and King's Daughters living a desultory existence and all because of the absence of the maker of the Famous Carrie Nelson Noodles. She is home at last and already the rains have ceased, the sun shines, everybody wears brighter faces, the boll weevil has begun to scamper for other fields, the merchants no longer look down, post office boxes that have been unopened for six weeks are now, thanks to Rosalie, opened and disgorging their contents. Isn't life wonderful?
An airplane cruising gracefully, I might say, sedately, over Collegeport. Back and forth it goes, and I wonder if Zack is back trying for a landing?
After all is said and done, man is only a worm, that sooner or later is grabbed by a chicken.
A fight by a hornet and a spider. They spar back and forth, each seeking to sting the other. At last the hornet delivers a "solar plexis" and it's all over for Mr. Spider. The hornet undertakes to drag the remains away to his nest and makes several attempts to haul it up the side of the house only to fall each time. He leaves the spider and runs all about, tries several places where he can have good foot hold and at last discovers the screen door. He mounts the screen with his burden easily and soon disappears towards his nest. A vicious fight, a tragic end, but never mind, little hornet grubs will feed on the remains.
So glad that the noodle maker was home that I forgot to mention that Roy Nelson and Ethel came with her. Neither of them knows how to make noodles, so are of little account.
A young girl with Apache painted lips. How horrid. But the way she dresses, Oh, my dear.
Went over to the Fig plant the other day and learned that up to date about 700 cases had been put up besides large quantities in gallon cans. Was also informed that the pay roll amounted to something like five hundred dollars per week, a right tidy sum to distribute among the boys and girls. Mrs. Carl Boeker, who appears to be the main squeeze, chief and experimenter, showed me the latest discovery for the utilization of the fig. Fig jelly in a glass jar, clear as a crystal, a palate-tickling creation of rare deliciousness. It is pleasant stuff to the eyes, has an elegant smell and an ethereal transparency or, if you know what I mean, it looks good, smells good and tastes good. The company has received an order for six 55-gallon barrels of preserves which the orderer says he wishes to use as samples. Some sample. I say, but what the hell, Bill, so long as we have the figs. They can have 'em in small cans, gallon cans, in glass jars or in barrels, and in any package, it is good eats.
A near tragedy at the fig plant the other day when Manager Boeker found that one of the women who fills cans was left-handed, and not a left-handed spoon on the place. Having presence of mind, he wired Dr. Van Wormer, "for God's sake, find a left handed spoon and ship at once." In twenty-four hours by air mail, arrived the left-handed spoon and then trouble began. It was found that the left-handed filler with a left-handed spoon could fill two cans to each one filled by a right-hander. The entire wage system had to be reorganized. None but a critical expert can tell a left-handed spoon from one that is right-handed, for it is [a] peculiar instrument with almost invisible curves, but it sure does the work.
We have quite a few gastropods in this village, meaning men who hang about discussing local, state and national affairs while their women make their living working in the fig plant.
Zack Zackers writes: "I failed to see those Bay Belles you write about," and no wonder, for each had on a bathing suit that came down to here in front and with no backs at all. This exhibition put out Zack's eyes so it is no wonder he failed to see. Next time Zack sails over Collegeport he should wear smoked glasses. I never to go the beach without a pair.
There is one time when a man should either put up or shut up and that's when he carries an umbrella in a crowd.
One of the young girls when she winks to express disdain, contempt, disregard, arrogance, exclaims, "such crust!" She evidently keeps up with the Bungle family. It gives her the atmosphere of having smoked a Murad and is so distinguished, and besides, it is divertisement[?]. O, la! la!
When a local merchant will send out an auto to deliver a three-cent cake of yeast, he is giving service. Just an example of the service we burghers receive from Hugo Kundinger, of the beautiful local pharmacy, where cold drinks are served that are cold as ice. He also sells liniment and porus plasters and a few other incidents, episodes or adventures.
Mrs. Crane, manager of the local cream station, shipped over twelve hundred pounds of butter fat in the month of July. About $460 distributed among the dairymen.
The Woman's Union met Thursday with Mrs. John B. Heisey with the usual program of eats.
The Burton D. Hurds with Bill Hurd left Tuesday for foreign parts, including Quincy and Chicago. We Homecrofters, as well as others, will miss these fine people and will not be really happy and contented until their auto glides into the burg once more, which they promise will be in two months or sixty days.
Under the supervision of Ben R. Mowery, local manager of the Collegeport Rice and Irrigation Company, what is perhaps the most elegant and pretentious hunting and fishing club house on the Gulf Coast, is being erected on the beach at Portsmouth, ten miles below Collegeport. The club house will be forty by one hundred feet on the ground and two and one half stories high. It will be built with stucco exterior finish and a beautiful building in every respect. Each room will be provided with steam heat, electric lights, shower bath, ceiling fan. The kitchen will be equipped with the most modern hotel furniture and the mail floor lobby will be large and elegantly furnished with a gorgeous fireplace at one end. Spacious galleries will cover the front and ends of the building and a portion will be screened so as to supply out-door sleeping accommodations. Two 5KW Koehler generators will supply the electric current for the building. The membership which will include prominent sportsmen from all portions of the country, will be limited and to them the 25000 acres will be open for sport. This Mad Island section is well known among hunters as a paradise for ducks, geese and other game birds. Applications for membership now in hand indicate that the list will be filled long before the hunting season opens.
I cannot understand why people who live here and own property should be what is commonly called a knocker. Why do they grasp every opportunity to discourage the new comer? Recently, several Italian families have moved here. They came with money, ready to build homes and till the soil. They ask no credit, no favors. The ever ready busy-body, the nose poker, begins on these new comers and discouragement begins to eat and soon another family leaves the country. Never can this community build up with such co-operation. If I had my way, I would rope and hog tie every one of these knockers and force down their throats a generous dose of trachlorethylene. It is a wonderful remedy to knock out internal parasites. Guess I'll stop calling these fellows knockers. They are monads.
The League at last made out to arrive at the Franzen home Thursday night and after the business session was regaled, entertained, delighted and royally feasted by Mrs. Franzen with huge plates of such ice cream as only she knows how to make, topped off with slabs of the stuff angels feed on. Mrs. Franzen makes her ice cream from real cream--thick, heavy and mixed up with several other refined, dainty, luscious, pleasant ingredients. It is a hospitable home.
Mr. H. A. McKinnon, inspector general for the Fig Company has been here for a week, inspecting, advising and, incidentally, selling some of those superlative figurines that are being put up. Six big steel barrels are being filled with fig paste for a candy factory way up north. Wish Doctor Van would come down about this time and see this activity.
The Daily Tribune, August 8, 1929
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By Harry Austin Clapp
Waiting for the mail Saturday night I counted twenty-seven autos parked in front of the post office, those who either owned them or were paying on them, were parked in front of the post office discussing, on this occasion, county politics, and especially the desirability of certain men for office. It seemed to be the general opinion that the county had been operated for many years by an inside ring and that no man a non-resident of Bay City could be elected to a county office. Of course this is not strictly true for since I have lived here several men have been elected to office who did not live in the Bay City precinct. I did not engage in the discussion. It is a reat thing, many times, to be a listener.
I went home and looked up Noah and what he had to say about politics and found that he defines politics as "The management of a political party; the contests of parties with reference to political measures, "There seems to be quite a difference between politics and politicians, for says Shakespeare, "Like a scurvy politician, seem to see the things thou dost not see."
Perhaps the men who live in Bay City and hold, year after year, the county offices and pass them along to their fellows "see the things we do not see." I am, therefore, offering a chance for a change. It probably can be improved on, but here it is. It is a good ticket and will relieve the objectors from what they consider a giant octopus that is strangling the life of a considerable number of our folks.
For County Judge--W. E. McNabb of Matagorda. For County Clerk--W. B. Trull of Midfield. For District Clerk--Duncan Ruthven of Palacios. For Assessor--C. E. Duller of Blessing. For Collector--M. E. Holsworth of Collegeport. For County Superintendent of Schools--Thos. Hale, Sr. of Wadsworth. For Sheriff--Jack Walker of Markham. For Treasurer--Abel B. Pierce of Blessing. For Precinct Commissioner--Geo. Harrison of Palacios For County Attorney--W. C. Gray of Palacios.
Now, altogether for a hearty laugh. But what is the matter with the ticket? Are these men not honest, capable, able, competent, qualified, intelligent? Would not county affairs be as safe in their hands as in those of the present officers? I did not suggest the ticket to the discussers, but if elected, it would not be a ring ticket at least for the first term. They are all human beings and probably all of them may fall for seductive offers.
The election of this ticket would move many families into Bay City and that alone should appeal to Bay Cityites who want their town to grow. I can find only one fault with this ticket. If elected, Abel B. Pierce would no doubt deposit all funds in the Blessing State Bank and that would be perfectly horrid, dreadful, harrowing, but we cannot expect perfection.
"To gild refined gold, to paint the lily, To throw a perfume on the violet, To smooth the ice, or add another hue Unto the rainbow, or with taper-light To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish, Is wasteful and ridiculous excess." --Shakespeare.
Well, anyway, I can't see the economy in paying five dollars for a pair of hose that makes one think one is looking at bare legs. Why not save the five bones and go the hull hog?
Elizabeth Eisel with her hair that looks like brilliant spun copper and her red dress is one of the bright lights of this burg.
She whom we used to know as Maurine Soekland is home for a two weeks' visit.
Mr. H. A. McKinnon, Mayor Domo of the Fig Company, is leaving for Springfield with six big 55-gallon steel barrels filled with fig jam, which he has sold to a candy factory. Great stuff, also, for fig newtons.
I read in the papers that the Great Northern Railway will use girls as waitresses on their dining cars. One fine advantage in the change and that is in case of accident one might have something besides soup dumped into one's lap. Believe I would like the sensation.
The Woman's Club meeting with Mrs. Holsworth Thursday afternoon.
Rev. Merriman L. Smith and family return from their vacation all bronzed up in fine shape--that is bronzed up as far as I could see.
A little girl was at the Collegeport Pharmacy the other day trying to telephone and, having no success, turned to Hugo Kundinger and said: "Mr. Hugo, why do they keep lions at the central phone office?" Hugo replied, "I don't know what you mean Frances," and she said "someone at the office told me the lion was busy."
Some of our local girls should have ought to go and join the Painters and Decorators Union. They might learn how and when to daub.
Another thing I cannot understand is how the girls can whack their jawbones on a cud of Wrigley's and do a repaint job at the same time. Well, anyway, I guess it's none of my business, for they are not shellacking their map on my time. Go to it, gals, but it sure is refreshing to see one that does not.
I see by the Beacon that folks never drive out of Blessing. They always "motor." To "motor" is what we might call "savoir vivre" or some such words.
The other day a little bird perched on a tree branch that swayed gently with the breeze, and as he cocked his head from side to side, his eyes sparkling like two bright gems, he said, "tweet! tweet! tweet!" I asked him what he meant and he gave me a saucy glance and said "tweet! tweet! tweet!" Little bird, what do you mean. Then he told me this, but directed that I do not repeat it. Rumor says that soon the vacant room next to the post office will be occupied with a stock of remedies, toilet articles, notions and perhaps a cold drink stand. Wonder how many others the bird told this to?
The foundations for the beautiful club house being erected south of town are in. Substantial, solid cement work, capable of supporting a very heavy building. Lumber is on the way and soon erection will begin.
Before the fig plant put in piece work, the girls were paid twenty cents per hour. This week they were working on piece work and are paid by the bucket and the girl with the left handed spoon makes from forty to fifty cents per hour. The other girls are now trying to become left handed so that they, too, may use left handed spoons. Well, anyway, the figs are being put up in cans and shipped to consumers. The management wants several left handed pickers.
The Daily Tribune, August 13, 1929
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By Harry Austin Clapp
[Local information taken from longer article.]
Last Sunday was a red letter day for I and the miserable wretch for along comes our old time good friend, Mr. Farwell, of Palacios, to make us a call, and then arrives George Harrison and his family to take us to St. John's service where we once more were privileged to hear the service of our church. The preacher was Rev. Boyd, of St. Alban's, Austin, who is a chaplain at the army camp. He preached from the words, "I am the bread of life." It was a sermon worth hearing. Rev. Paul Engle, of St. Mark's, Bay City, read the service and brought us home. Great day for us two miserable offenders.
On the return we stopped at a roadside stand for gas and saw by a sign that they served "Hambug and Hot Dogs"
The same day Mrs. Hattie Kundinger took Mr. and Mrs. Haisley to Houston where they took train for Idaho, being called there by the illness of a daughter. Hattie took Carrie Nelson along for protection. Had they taken a dish of noodles along they certainly would have been held up, for bandits will risk their lives for a dish of the Famous Carrie Nelson Noodles.
Tom Fulcher reports that more fish are being caught than he has ever known, while Gus Franzen, accompanied by Dorothy and Hugo Kundinger report three small trout for a day's sport.
"I ask a simple question, This only truth I wish; Are all fishermen liars, Or do only liars fish?"
The King's Daughters in regular session with Mrs. Liggett last Thursday. About twenty-three were present including eight guests from Wadsworth, Gulf, Blessing, Houston and Chicago. No wonder they came from all parts of the country, for the eats the Daughters provide have great drawing power. I being a mere male was not invited, but I could smell the tantalizing, teasing, provoking odor of the food even though I was a mile distant.
Well, anyway, the radio in the Bachman store is operating when Mr. Static does not interfere, and trade has picked up wonderfully.
Am wondering if the new store next to the post office will install a radio. They seem to be trade getters.
If Mrs. Arthur Soekland fails to take a trip to California this month I shall have the pleasure of eating some fine doughnuts. Not necessary to cover them with sugar.
The Daily Tribune, August 21, 1929
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By Harry Austin Clapp
Down in the Republic of Mexico, in the interior, at mid-day, all is as silent as the grave and the people say that at that hour the only living things seen on a street are dogs, hogs and gringos. It is true, as I have often observed as I, with the dogs and hogs, exposed myself at the noon hour. The same is true of this burg, at the same hour, except that there are no dogs, hogs or gringos. We don't even have them. The burg is lifeless, the only moving thing being a few blades of grass waving in the breeze. The scene is a peaceful one, all right, and restful. The air is filled with a stillness that shocks one's nerves and one wonders if it is to last forever. About four o'clock things begin to break. Autos drift in. Men, women and children arrive, settle down, gossip, discuss local affairs, tell all they know and many things they do not know, and all are waiting for the mail.
At five o'clock twenty to thirty autos will be parked on or near the "nine-foot sidewalk," the owners all hanging about the post office and adding to the daily chatter. A non-resident will think our men have nothing to do except wait for the mail and they will, in many cases, think right, for we have as capable competent, sagacious a bunch of full time loafers as any town in Texas can brag about.
At last the train arrives and the mail long waited for, is in the post office and being distributed. Letters, a few daily papers, some weekly farm journals, catalogs, a bunch of circulars from Bay City and Palacios, addressed "Box Holder," the latter being quickly consigned to the waste basket. The window opens and the P. M. is besieged with "They ain't no mail for the Dubbs, is they?" "Mr. Corse, I sent three days ago to New York for a pair of shoes. They hain't here be they?"
Six girls standing in line, all but one chawing gum. Slowly they drift out and the autos put, put away on the "nine-foot sidewalk," and in ten minutes all is quiet. The mail hour is the busy hour for a village of this size. It is the hour when the burghers meet and discuss and cuss, the hour when the women tell about their chickens, soft shell eggs, how much milk the old cow gives, wonder what the preacher will preach about Sunday.
Louie, one of the Italians, goes back to Springfield. Says this is no place for an Italian bachelor.
Jimmy Della Betta is a good hair cutter.
Putting on a motor car forces J. P. Swansey to move his family to Austwell. Takes six folks away.
The motor car has a puny whistle.
One of our girls is wearing a great big diamond. It's a D and from D to D. Guess when.
Lumber on the road for the Mad Island Club House.
Great improvements going on over at the Chapin home, for Jimmy Della Betta is building a fine garage.
School board held their semi-annual meeting the other night and employed John B. Heisey as janitor, John Ackerman as truck driver, Dorothy Franzen as intermediate teacher and Mr. Harbison as principal. School will begin when, as and if tax money is paid in to provide funds.
Mr. Merck and family from Oklahoma, brother of V. S. [B. V.?] Merck, have been here on a visit.
L. G. Cobb stopped at Homecroft the other day and left his heart in the keeping of the miserable wretch. Hope when he stops again he will leave his liver in my charge.
H. A. McKinnon, Mayor Domo of the Fig Company, back from Springfield with orders for several hundred gallons of fig jam and so the company secures figs from Bay City, Ganado and other parts and operates night and day.
A representative of the Humble Pipe Line Company here for a few days. Wonder if he is looking up a location for a pipe line here.
Dorothy Franzen goes to Houston for a few days' vacation before assuming her arduous duties as teacher in the local school.
There is one maid who never forgets I and the miserable wretch, and that is Jessie Merck Kilpatrick. She writes from Yarmouth, Nova Scotia, this time. Hope she eats a few Yarmouth bloaters. It is a fish I adore.
A girl with painted lips. She tried to make a cupid bow, but left a daub on one bow that looks like a bloody wart. It's a case of "where ignorance is bliss."
A cricket chirps.
The rain patters on the roof. The wind blows through the leaves of the trees, making a mournful sound. I hear the put, put, put of a motor boat coming up the slough. Wonder if it carries booze. A dog barks. The fig factory whistle blows. If I had any stock in that concern I would buy a decent whistle. Too puny, small, petty, feeble, pygmean.
After the rain the frogs sound a chorus that often keeps good time and is surprisingly harmonious.
Cattle confined in the stock yards bawl the night through and they, too, utter harmonious sounds. They sing to the stars.
I like to look at the stars for they seem to be the voice of the world.
A cat screams as she misses a bird.
A snake slithers through the grass.
A big hog, dead in the bar pit.
A jack rabbit runs from the fig orchard. Jimmy Della Betta shoots it and John knocks down a cotton tail.
A girl with scanty skirt, which leaves her almost naked to the hips. If she discarded her clothes it would be no greater disgrace.
Three mocking birds ready to leave the nest for first flight.
A bittern lights on a telefone pole. When he takes flight a plume floats in the air.
Rev. M. A. Travis here for a week and preaches Sunday.
A woman reader writes and asks if writing this string of dope requires that I take much pains with the work. In reply will say that it always gives me a pain. It is painful, distressing, agonizing, excruciating to hear the silly, idle, vicious gossip, hear the fatuous, crude, rube jokes, watch the back slappers, and then attempt to garner something worth reading about. O, la, la!
Jack Holsworth taking his sister Margaret for a rainy day ride.
Tom Fulcher says he caught a gar that was four feet longer than his chivvy. As for me, let me stick my knife in the ribs of a caviar. I still wonder why all liars fish.
Elizabeth Eisel going about with a big boil under her arm. If it is the color of her hair or dress it will be right in vogue.
Some member of the unfair six have at last discarded hose and go it with bare legs--legs bare way up to now and beyond, but thank God a few of our girls go about decently clothed and one of them is tall, slender, has auburn hair, a sweet face and shows refinement and culture.
I begin to smell doughnuts and before the week is out will have a bundle of them.
Wish Bill Hurd would write me about conditions in Illinois.
Here comes George Harrison on the Twelfth Sunday after Trinity and takes us over to St. John's Chapel for the Holy Eucharist. It was good to once more enjoy this service in what used to be Grace Chapel for in this building Mary Louise was christened by Father Sloan and confirmed by Bishop Quin.
To dinner at the Harrison home where we were regaled, feasted, refreshed right royally. When absorbing those delicious chicken dumplings make by Mrs. Harrison I thought of the famous Carrie Nelson Noodles and know that "I could be happy with either were t'other dear charmer away."
A visit with Mr. and Mrs. Michael Engle who provided us with cantelope and watermelons, and home with Rev. Paul Engle who was enroute to Matagorda for evening prayer. A perfect day for us miserable sinners.
The Daily Tribune, August 27, 1929
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By Harry Austin Clapp
Reading the Tribune it seems to me that the people of this county are at the parting of the ways. The parting of the ways between a crop system and a crop organized with dairy cows. History does not record any people who have ever become prosperous by crop raising alone. Those agricultural sections that have attained the highest degree of prosperity are those which have used the dairy cow and her highest degree of prosperity are those which have used the dairy cow and her products as an essential and fundamental part of their farm scheme.
We are told by the Tribune that a creamery project has been organized and financed. If this be true it means a decided step towards a greater prosperity for our people. Congress may legislate for farm relief boards until the crack of doom, but the best farm relief that can come to our farmers is the relief afforded by a daily pay check supplied by the dairy cow. This is true from relief--it is the Milky Way. Milk is mentioned many times in the Bible and its use is urged as a food for mankind. "And it flowed with milk and honey." In Ovid, Metam, Book 1, we find this: "Now streams of milk were floating, now streams of nectar."
[Discussion of milk omitted.]
When the Bay City creamery opens its doors and starts its trucks out to all portions of the county we will enjoy a gala day. That day will be the beginning of better things on the farms. Let us hope the doors will open soon.
Well, anyway, I think this stuff about girls wearing short skirts is mostly bunk since I saw one of our dignified men come down the street the other day with the setting sun at his back. The rays of the sun acted as X-rays and clearly showed his BVD's and hose supporters. Simply awful.
Stanley Wright now delivers and changes his cows by truck which he trails behind his car. Makes a comfortable ride for the moo-moo.
I see by the papers that the fig preserving plants up Galveston way have cut the price to one and a half cents per pound for No. 1's and three-fourths cent for No. 2's. At this price no figs will be grown. It is too much like raising cotton at five cents. The local plant is still paying four cents and seems so far to be able to dispose of the product.
When I read that Cal receives one dollar per word and Al two dollars per word and I realize that Carey Smith pays me only six bits I get most awfully sore.
Say, I wonder why it would not be a brilliant plan to put a Plimsoil mark on the girls' legs just above the knee.
Miss Frances Mayfield here last Thursday saying farewell to some of her friends. Matagorda county has lost a good work and Williamson county has gained one. Work like health, county and home demonstration work, to be of value, should be continuous, unbroken, uninterrupted, but it has been the policy of our commissioners' court to allow us to have the remedy just long enough to enable us to sit up and take a bit of nourishment and then withdraw it. The present court is no worse than all the others in this respect. If the members of the court would cut out a few trips to Austin and San Antonio they might find funds for some real work that would be of lasting value to the men, women and children. I believe that a health nurse in the county could easily save the county more than the cost of caring for paupers. I believe this statement can be demonstrated.
Well, anyway, whether it can or not is nothing to me, for I have passed through a strenuous, eager, ardent, happy week. A week of preparation, anticipation and recovery. Two birthdays on the same date is enough and quite sufficient. It so happens that the miserable wretch and MBF were born on the same day of the same month but, of course, in different years. The main thing that interests me is that they were born, for between the two I have received much joy and happiness.
"Soon as the evening shades prevail, The moon takes up the wondrous tale, And nightly to the listening earth, Repeats the story of her birth; While all the stars that round her burn, And all the planets in their turn, Confirm the tidings as they roll, And spread the truth from pole to pole."
Mary Louise in San Antonio, a busy business girl, was on her job all the day, but when evening came she enjoyed the delights of a box which we mailed the day before. Here at Homecroft was received a box from the Orient (via Santone) which dropped years from Maw's shoulders just cuz it was from her daughter. That good friend, Mrs. L. E. Liggett, sent over a great big cake, stuffed with nut meats and the top covered with frosting embedded in which we found sixty-two whole pecan meats. Wonder why the sixty-two? Along comes E. L. H[all] with another box. Well, take it all together I and the miserable wretch had a fine day. I now look forward to June 16th, 1930, and I wonder if anything will break that day. What? Say it again, for I am hard o' hearin'.
September first is here but it failed to bring those doughnuts.
Looking at the dress of girls this day and remembering what they wore ten years ago, I am impressed with the fact that us fellows in those days took many chances, for it was impossible for us to know anything about our future spouse, physically. We might draw a pair of bow-legs, knock knees, piano legs, perhaps a wooden leg. We had no way of examining the goods but had to take them on trust. How different this day with skirts above the knees, arms exposed, dresses cut way down to the last vertebra in the back and about so-so or thereabouts in front. The man who buys a wife these days has no one to blame but himself if he wakes up the morning after the day before and finds that he has been swindled. For weeks he has had opportunity to see all there was worth seeing and if he did not look--'twas his own fault.
Sufficient for day is the drivel thereof.
The Daily Tribune, Thursday, September 6, 1929
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By Harry Austin Clapp
"What I know is now ruminated, plotted, and set down.--Shakespeare.
And these are the results of my ruminating.
The waiter on the Zep turned in the order, "Shinken und eler mit den sonnigen seiten auf," but for me give me some of those delicious doughnuts made and sold by Elizabeth Eisel. It's a new business, but that 13 year-old girl, in one day, made and sold eighteen dozen, taking in the sum of $3.60. Fine thing to be ambitious, to be willing and capable, and not afraid or ashamed to work. I know a girl in this burg who is too proud to work--too proud to even carry home a package of groceries. It's easier to let Dad supply her needs.
Saturday was a great day for Milford Austin Liggett, for it was the celebration of his sixth year. Being a big-hearted fellow he took his family down the bay on a fishing trip and when he returned, home he stopped at Homecroft and gave us about a gallon (more or less) of shrimp, and so we feasted. Fifty-four years from that day he will celebrate his sixtieth birthday. Hope he will bring me some more shrimp.
Houston claims to be a great big city, but on Sept. 2nd, more than 283,000 people detrained at the Grand Central Station, New York, between the hours of mid-day and mid-night and spread out over 42nd Street and soon lost themselves in the human tide. These represented just a few who had been out celebrating. At the Penn station more than 250,000 folks arrived by train in the same hours. Houston still thinks she is some burg, and she is--in Harris county.
That makes me think, that this week the Cruiser Houston will be launched and will be consecrated with a bottle of Houston ship channel water, and I thoroughly approve of using water for this purpose. I always have thought it a shame, disgrace, obloquy, scandal to break a bottle of perfectly good wine whenever a ship was launched. Wine is made to irrigate interior tubes with and not to splash over the bows of a vessel. Sister Holcombe, you have my blessing on the use of water.
Rev. Merriman L. Smith left Wednesday for Leadville, Colo. He has high aspirations and will be near Heaven when he arrives. Perhaps he will find a claim to file on.
Mr. Glendale Welsby drove--I mean motored--down from San Antonio Sunday and spent a day with his parents. A little bird wrote me that Oscar Chapin would accompany him, but no Oscar appeared.
Well, anyway, I wonder who will get the lucky key that unlocks the radio installed in the Bachman store. A deal of this kind would warrant the use of at least a six-inch double column ad in the Daily Tribune, for all of our intelligentsia read the Trib. Much better for results than a circular addressed to "Box Holder" which always reposes in the waste basket.
A fellow from Cleveland, Ohio, writing on Statler Hotel paper says: "I sure enjoy your column and read it with increasing interest I note with pleasure that the Tribune has enlarged to an eight column paper." This reader has discrimination, discernment, penetration--qualities lacking in most of our local burghers, for when I ask how they like the new Tribune with its eight columns they look as they would not recognize eight columns if met on the road. Poor birds.
The Sliva family of three left Wednesday for Mont Belvieu. There will be little left of the burg if this sort of exodus continues, but I hope it does not mean we will lose Dean.
It seems that a blind pianist broadcasts over K. P. R. C. His playing so enthused one of our local musicians that she put in a request that he play "Will You Love Me as I Love You?" I can answer that question by saying, "of course she will as long as his money lasts." If our local really appreciates good stuff, why not request the blind man to play "They Used Grandma's Teeth to Dig a Sewer?" The blind man will not know the difference, and then think what a passionate, impetuous, glowing ardent theme it is. The sad part of it is to think of Grandma gumming it until the sewer is finished. Use your hankies.
I advise the fig preserving management to go back to a straight two dollar per day rate since Ruth Mowery on piece work fills 24 buckets per day. This makes the $2.40 per day for that girl. She has done this so often that she knows not what to do with herself.
Kay Legg here for a visit with his never-come-off smile. That's the reason the sun rises in the east. Kay's smiles only rival in this state is the one Oscar Barber totes about. It will not be long now before Oscar will bring his down these parts assuming, of course, that he will want to try out his running panties.
I would know nothing if I failed to read the papers, so reading the Tribune I find that on Monday Mr. Roy Nelson was a business visitor in Bay City, In another column I read Mrs. H. A. Clapp is visiting in Bay City. Now that is some news to the maker of the famous Carrie Nelson Noodles and to the King of the Homecrofters. These people went in a new Ford sedan all by their lonesome, and when they arrived in Bay City they found it was Labor Day and everything closed, so neither of them could transact much business. They had a delightful ride, any way, and were busy chatting all the way--that is, the miserable wretch was. Roy simply listened.
The Woman's Union met Thursday with Mrs. Roy Nelson and organized committees to entertain the visitors at the meeting of the Presbytery week after next.
Uncle Judd says that when he was in Japan he wore shorts. All of us who know him, also know he is built that way. Even at that, shorts are very she-she.
I see by the papers that the United States is about to undertake a survey for a canal over the Nicaraguan route. If this canal is built we will have three great canals, that is including the Alimentary canal.
With the arrival of Mr. Harbison and family, Mrs. Attress Jones from San Antonio, the school faculty is complete. Dorothy Franzen has been busy putting her room in condition and Monday morning the bell will ring. The Harbison family will occupy the Weidemier house, while Mrs. Jones will board with the Ash family.
The Woman's Union gave their quarterly bake sale Saturday afternoon at the Bachman store with the usual result--an increased financial strength.
She that once upon a time was known as Esther Shubring is here for a few days with her aunt, Mrs. Anna Crane. She brought home Mrs. John Carrick who has been with her in Houston.
Standing in front of the post office last Sunday I observed a member of the Spheciodca family approaching. She evidently knew where she was going for she entered the building through the key hole. In a few minutes she returned and away she went. In less than five minutes she was back with another load of mud and entered through the same entrance. While I watched this insect I judge she carried about a half teaspoon of mud. She is what is called a mud dauber, but is a true wasp of the Vespoidea. She is not what is called a sociable wasp but is always a solitary, building her own nest without assistance. The social wasp, unlike the mud dauber, lives and works on a cooperative plan. They are the ones that build the nests of a substance resembling paper. They are circular, consisting of a single layer of coils opening down and attached to some over hanging structure or bush by a single stalk. These fellows are always looking for a fight, so best beware how you tackle their nests.
Well, anyway, I had doughnuts the first of September, but they were supplied by Elizabeth Eisel instead of the girl from California. Expect the others will come along about Christmas time.
Louise Walter is home again from summer school and opens the Citrus Grove school.
Clifford Franzen hooked onto a sea turtle that he estimated would weigh 250 pounds. His tackle not being strong enough it got away. The next day William Goff saw one near his boat that was much larger. Not for years have so many large fish and turtles been seen this far up the bay. I think Clifford and William told the truth.
This week's string should be good for it was written under Texas license 7-11-44 and sent out by MBDF.
The Daily Tribune, June 12, 1929
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By Harry Austin Clapp
[Local information taken from longer article.]
Within the week, two new men have arrived in this community and they had not been here twenty-four hours before one of our local wise men began informing them regarding some of our citizens. They were told that a man who has done as much or more than any other for the development of Collegeport as any two others was simply a flat tire; that his word could not be relied upon; that no man could make a living here; that cows, poultry, hogs did not thrive; that the fig industry was a flat failure, and so on ad nauseum.
This required no brains, no intelligence, lack of restraint, unmentionable manners, absence of culture, inattention to the interests of others, no vision or ideals, simply a desire to strangle all attempts toward development.
"Come on, come on; you are pictures out of doors, Bells in your parlors, wild cats in your kitchens, Saints in your injuries, devils being offended. . . . . . . . For I am nothing, if not critical." --Shakespeare
Criticism that is constructive is wholesome, strengthening, improving and is welcomed and is worthy of encouragement. We have little of this for members of this group as a rule are busy attending to their own business and being quite disgusted with bonehead discharges keep a closed mouth. Destructive criticism is ruinous, injurious, noxious, baleful, and the person who deals in it is what is commonly called a knocker. With these I have little patience and at times it taxes me to keep from making a caustic reply. During the past week I listened to some men and women criticize our school, its faculty and trustees. I made a hasty count and found that the group sent seven children to our school. Seven children were enjoying the advantages provided by a first class rural high school and yet not one of the fault finders was a tax payer, not one of them owned a roof over his head, all were renters, here today and away tomorrow folks. I heard a man bitterly criticize another and yet at the very moment he was eating the bread of the one he found fault with.
I don't know as this community is any worse than others, but it seems to me when, if and as, anyone attempts to do something constructive that at least eighty-five per cent of our inhabitants get out the hammer and begin their tapping. Men who are getting their living at this moment from the fig preserving industry, knock the efforts of Dr. Van Wormer to do something of lasting benefit.
Early in the spring Burton D. Hurd let it be known that planting onions might lead into something well worth our attention and before the sun rose the next morning men were being told that onions would not grow here and that even if they did it was impossible to sell them. Well, anyway, they told the truth in one way, for onions will not grow for the lazy, shiftless man. It is better to try and fail than never to attempt. Trying develops strength gives experience and at last success.
I have often mentioned girls and women in this column, but seldom write much about men, but sometimes it becomes necessary, and so I wish to call the readers' attention to Mr. Ben R. Mowery. In my opinion he is one of our most useful citizens. Always willing, helpful, ready to do his bit. That he must be some pumpkin in this burg is proven by the fact that The Saturday Evening Post thinks enough of him to feature him in its issue of September 14, 1929. Turn to page 27 and in the upper right hand corner you will see Ben's face. The Post has certainly given us a nice compliment.
Last Sunday here comes that good soul, Mrs. George Harrison, for us Homecrofters. Another opportunity to have the service of our church. Back home by Rev. Paul Engle and Mrs. Engle.
Uncle Judd is sure some picker in the girl garden as witness his photo in last Sunday's Houston Post-Dispatch. Not satisfied with one flower he picks two in the persons of Pitti Sing and Nankie Poo. That's the way with the old boys--they grab when the grabbing is good. Wonder how he squared himself with Molly?
Homer Goff came down last week and tried to land that big sea turtle that is floating around the bay. It started at 250 pounds but now weighs six hundred.
The fig plant running night and day and receiving truck loads of figs from Ganado and Bay City and keeping the price way up.
Elizabeth Eisel made a success selling pastry that her mother now plans to operate a cafeteria in the school each noon hour. Fine thing for the school.
Before the school election last spring I came out for an all woman ticket and now I am in hopes that the men members will resign and give the women a chance. I suggest for the vacancies, Mrs. S. W. Corse, Mrs. Robert Murry, Mrs. Anna Crane and Mrs. Clifford Ash.
Stanley Wright has butchered thirty-five calves that dressed an average of 255 pounds and sold at 17 1/2 cents per pound. Mighty good calves. Yet, some of our critics will tell the new-comers that cattle do not do well here; that the grass is not nutritious and will not make milk.
The miserable wretch took charge of L. G. Cobb's heart and now I have the liver of one of my best friends safely tucked away in my tummy.
At last I have those delicious California doughnuts. They have a flavor all their own for they were made by our youngest and prettiest matron. I knew she would not leave her baby boy and go way off to California. For her name look in the personal column of the Tribune.
Prof. Harbison will have his first community get together meeting at the community house Friday evening. Fine thing for our folks to meet in such a good work.
Fleming Chiles, wife and baby son were here for a few days last week, much to the delight and happiness of his mother who, like all mothers, is crazy about her boy.
The red and white checked panties worn by one of our girls, whose name is on the verboten list, sure shows off her figure, all right. It's a great success in that way.
The local church is making plans for Rally Day. I suggest they have a "Tally Day" and find out how many Christians they really have. Probably five or six. Well, anyway, a tally will show. If we had half as many Christians as we have critics this would be some village.
Under the new law our school must display the Stars and Stripes or suffer a penalty, so here goes E. L. Hall and buys the needed flag. A staff is required and we hope the board of trustees will provide that at once or a bit sooner.
As a rule, when I retire at night I retire and know very little until dawn, but for several nights I have been robbed of my repose by a tooth that simply galloped, sunfished and all the other stunts, so I spent some time walking about the house and yard and in that way I know that the fig plant operated nights.
Wednesday I motored, via the Mopac, to Bay City and had an interview with Doctor Sholars. He seemed pleased to meet me, especially when he understood that there would be some pelf in the deal. He squirted some dope into the tooth, inserted a big pair of tongs and presto, out came the offending member. You know the Bible says that if a tooth offends you, yank it out and cast if from you. That's what Doc did for me, and then he took another extracto and held me up for one of those new dollar bills. Well, that's all right for even a doctor must live.
The Woman's Club met with Mrs. Emmitt Chiles Thursday afternoon with a program of unusual merit.
Collegeport has arrived at the point when it must be strictly up to date and so it has a wife beater. I don't know how we have wiggled along all these years without this facility. The wife seemed to be well satisfied for she left the next morning for her former home. From what is heard about the town the folks simply will not stand for stunts of this nature. And, yet, Goethe says, "A wife is a gift bestowed upon a man to reconcile him to the loss of paradise."
I have received an invitation to attend a meeting for the purpose of organizing the El Maton Truck Growers' Association. The object is a worthy one and should receive attention but the suggested name is too local to earn hearty support of other localities. The name should be broad enough to take in all truck growers of Matagorda county. The meeting is called for Sunday afternoon which was an unfortunate time for me as the miserable wretch went away and left me to cook a mess of baked beans. I could not with safety run the beans, so trust the Messrs. Kopecky and Dedek will forgive me for not being present.
We need more diversity in crops, more dairy cows, more hens, more hogs and less dependence on cotton or any other one crop. I am with you, boys, but am obliged to watch the beans.
As I write, I ponder, meditate, ruminate, contemplate and wonder what has become of that Bay City creamery. Looks as though the promoters were slow in slapping the ball.
The Daily Tribune, Tuesday, September 17, 1929
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By Harry Austin Clapp
Sunday morning at half past five it was dark, but along the horizon were flashings of light followed by muttering and growling that threatened a stormy day. When the sun peeped above the horizon it found a slot in the clouds and through it, its rays flashed across the prairie. Every blade of grass was decorated with glittering dew drop diamonds. The early birds sang lustily as the sun light crept along and at last it reached the bay which looked like a pool of quicksilver. Across the bay the light reached the white buildings of "The City by the Sea" and by them reflected back to me. It was a time when God was about and one could feel His presence and power. In the corn field the morning breeze and the beautiful little jonquils lifted their chaste heads in joy.
Quail send their whistling call that rings clear in the morning air. A bittern leaving his perch on the telephone pole sounds a discordant call that actually blends in harmony with other morning sounds. A mocking bird jumps up in the air singing in joy and rapture. A few green backed frogs sing "ker-chunk, ker-chunk" and the little fellows seemed to chirp "cheek, cheek."
Across the slough a dog howled and gave tongue as though it had run to earth its prey. The air being still, sounds traveled far and I could hear George Welsby bringing in his cows. All these morning sounds blended in a strange harmony of nature and they all told me in musical tones of the presence of the Creator. As I listened I thought I heard the 'Ein Feste Burg."
"A mighty fortress is our God, A bulwark never failing; Our helper He, amid the flood Of mortal ills prevailing."
Just a Sunday morning service as it appeared to me.
Well, anyway, since we have a complete failure in cotton the miserable wretch has been talking economy and as a result I have to give up smoking. Tell me a woman don't know how!
When I look at some of the girls in this burg I am impressed with the idea that plenty of clothes would be a good idea.
When there is nothing doing in this burg there is always something brewing and so the past week has been a busy one, especially for a few of the women on whose shoulders as a rule falls most of the work.
The Houston Presbytery met here for a two-day session and that meant that about twenty or thirty preachers and delegates had to be entertained. The ladies of the Woman's Union served all meals except breakfast at the community house and "believe it or not," they fed those hungry delegates to repletion. When I heard that on the menu was a platter of the Famous Carrie Nelson Noodles I applied for ordination on that I might participate, but my application was denied by the selfish kusses.
It was a treat to see Rev. A. B. Buchanan again. He was at one time pastor of the local church and by far the most scholarly man who has ever been identified with it. He was elected Moderator, a position he will hold until the next session which will be held in the Spring.
Us Homecrofters had the pleasure of entertaining Rev. Rieves, of Nacogdoches, and found him a very interesting and agreeable guest. Like all preachers he dotes on chicken, and loaded up with those Famous Noodles.
A norther has been blowing for three days and yet we have a very high tide. Must be the effects of some big storm far out at sea.
Say, if you go over to the Collegeport Pharmacy, ask for Hugo's new treat which he calls "Jewish" ice cream. Buy a "Cohn" and try it out.
Sunday morning L. E. Liggett conferred on me the degree of bugologist. He showed me a larva that he had found on one of his orange trees and asked me to identify it and I did so. It was a young larva commonly called the orange puppy. They have sensitive scent organs which are two orange-red, horn-shaped extrusible structures which are thrust out when the larva is disturbed. At this time they give off a strong, peculiar odor, which while not exactly unpleasant, generally satisfies one with one whiff. The butterfly which lays the eggs for this larva is known as the Papillonidae cresphontes and is the largest of our butterflies. It is nearly always black with conspicuous yellow markings above while underneath it is yellow with black markings. It is a very handsome and showy butterfly and once seen is never forgotten. The lower wings have tails or extensions which are distinguishing marks.
I read in the papers that 40,000,000 people are starving in China. According to some complaints we hear several are dying right here in Collegeport of the same disease, although no deaths have been reported thus far. The local disease seems to be of the mental variety.
Prof. Harbison gave his first get-together affair Friday night and it was a huge success from soup to nuts. A gathering of parents, patrons, teachers and pupils. All had a part in the program which was interesting and humorous. Space forbids the details of each number but the singing of Misses Liggett and Goode was excellent, indeed, it was more, for it was good. The chalk talk by Elizabeth Eisel was of real merit. Mrs. Merriman L. Smith gave a reading and Mrs. Harry Austin Clapp sang a pitiful little song about the hole in the doughnut that brought moisture to all eyes. A short talk by Dorothy Franzen was enjoyed as was one by Mrs. Jones and one by Prof. Harbison. During the farce put on by Dorothy Franzen, call "The Gathering of the Nuts," Stanley Wright was attacked by a sudden illness and was obliged to leave the house. His mother and those of his friends who knew of these sudden attacks were much worried and felt relief when he reappeared about the time refreshments were served. Miss Ethel Nelson sang a solo entitled "Mary Had a Little Lamb," the words of which seem familiar to me, but I was surprised and delighted at the richness, fullness and quality of her voice. When Prof. Harbison put on his stunt," Troubles of a Teacher," he turned his back to the audience and talked to the backdrop. I saw Mrs. Leslie Carter do this when she played Zaza, but Mrs. Carter had some back to show and it was worth looking at, for her dress was cut way to Z. Harbison showed his audience not one tantalizing teasing view. To my notion the best number was a solo played on the French harp by Milford Liggett. His mother is a singer and his father is a wonderful whistler and so one does not wonder where he inherited his musical ability. Before the first note died away the audience knew that they were listening to a master. Milford is only six years of age and serving his first term in school, and he did his part. Rosalie Nelson gave a monologue in her usual pleasing manner. In the "Gathering of the Nuts," I took the part of the bride's mother. This arrangement pleased me, for from now on I am assured of a liberal supply of the famous Carrie Nelson Noodles. Well, anyway, it was an enjoyable evening and after the audience was served with cake and punch, prepared by the pupils, they dispersed, hoping Prof. Haribson would have another such affair.
The two Della Betta boys have their onion ground prepared and it is in most excellent condition.
By the way, it might be a good plan for the officers of the Fig Orchards Company to read the 11-12-13-14-15 verses of the 105th Psalm. The preserving plant is still at work and some nights operates until four a. m.
The Daily Tribune, Thursday, September 26, 1929
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At the meeting Monday night Messrs. Gillespie and Fowler proposed that if the farmers would sign up the 2000 acres in rice on the usual terms and advance $1 per acre for a guarantee on expense account, they would operate the plant. This the farmers decided to accept, and enough was secured in way of pledges there that night to justify them in saying to the canal company to “go ahead, we will guarantee the balance.” The $1 bonus which will be advanced is to be returned when the crop is made. This will be good news to those interested in the Collegeport and Citrus Grove farmers, as the prospects now look good for a big crop this year, and they need it to put them even with the losses of the past. . Each guest take something for lunch, which is spread on the table at the noon hour and more often their spreads are a feast instead of lunch. At the home of Mrs. Barnett last week these ladies tacked three comforts, and did many other items of work, besides having a most delightful and helpful day. The hostess regaled her guests during the afternoon with ice cream cones.
Palacios Beacon, October 3, 1929 |
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By Harry Austin Clapp
[Local information taken from longer article.]
Well, anyway, this week witnessed the passing of Rev. Merriman L. Smith. Sunday, September 29th, he preached his last sermon at Collegeport. Monday night about everyone in the community appeared at the community house at a good-bye reception and gave him "Vaya con Dios." Tuesday morning, via the "Master Six Buick Route," he left for his new field, Leadville, Colorado. There be many who will regret his leaving; there be a few who are glad, but not many. He was a likable man, a Christian man, filled with the desire to be of some service to his people.
Friends of Homer Goff will rejoice in the news that he will be associated with The Trust Company of Texas as a field representative appraising land values.
There is a girl in this burg who grows her own complexion and it blooms like a flower on a skin of velvet. Ripe, red lips, without the aide of a lipstick, teeth white and even. She is tall, slender, graceful. She does not go abut in bare legs, but that portion of her anatomy is always neatly clad. She is gracious, always has a happy cheerful "good afternoon" for those she meets. She shows culture refinement in her every action. She is a born aristocrat but she does not know it. She is gentle, sweet and kind to children. Her eyes are placed far apart and in color are--Oh, those eyes! If I gave the color the reader would know her name and for that I advise looking on page 1905 of Webster's Dictionary. I guess the school has a dictionary.
Some time ago I mentioned that because of the cotton crop failure the miserable wretch thought I should economize by giving up my RJR. Friday night comes a letter from an Illinois reader with the information that: "I see by the Tribune that the miserable wretch (suppose you mean your wife) has ordered you to give up smoking on account of the failure of cotton. I don't see how a woman can be so ornery as to even think of such a thing. What is the world coming to? No beer or liquor and now no smokes. But cheer up, fellow, for I am sending you a box containing smoking tobacco and cigs and hope the miserable wretch will not require you to sneak out in the back yard when you smoke, but who can tell what a woman will do? I don't miss the beer but I would miss the smokes. As to beer will say that if anyone should offer me a glass of beer I'd swallow the insult. I am glad there are no saloons, never was much in favor of them but I do regret that with their passing there also passed that grand old-time "free lunch."
I would enjoy a big slice of that roast beef and would enjoy spearing pickles, beets and onions. As I write in memory I again visit the Burghoff, corner Adams and State streets, Chicago, Well, anyway, I take my tea straight. No sugar or cream, please.
If Dr. B. L. Livengood and Mrs. Faye Hurley brought that saxophone artist to Bay City for the band they made an error. They should have brought some dirty nasty sex play or picture and then would have turned people away and filled coffers of the band. Only a few of our folks really love music but all of them love sensation. The local band is doing a worthy work in Bay City when it cultivates a love for good music. I love music and have heard Gilmore's, Conway's Soldero's, Banda Rossa, Creatora, Sousa, the Kilties and about all the others. When I listen to a band I delight in picking out some instrument and listening to it. In music I like "The Rosary," "Ave Maria," De Koven's "O, Promise Me," "The Humoresque" by Anton Devorak, "Pastorale" by Tausig, the "Second Rhapsody" by Liszt, and others in that class. Such music never loses its appeal.
Friday night Prof. Harbison and his merry crew gave a box supper at the community house for the benefit of the school chest. All the girls were there with their boxes of lunch and of course the boys tagged along and incidentally spent about $52.67 for pies. A great crime was committed when those present voted that Dean Merck was the homliest man in the burg. Everyone knows that when Dean is dressed in his Sunday best that he is the "Beau Brammel" of this section. Some loving lovers bid up their sweethearts' boxes to as much as $4.00, while others worked a subterfuge and got possession of their girls' box for as little as fifty cents. All the world loves a chivalrous lover who, as Spencer says, "In brave pursuit of chivalrous emprise." When this money is expended it would be nice if the school published a statement so the people could know for what purpose their money was used.
Some thrifty fellow broke into the fig preserving plant Saturday night and eloped with three sacks of sugar, a Corona typewriter and a gas lantern. Suppose he took the lantern so that while he sipped his coffee he could see the keyboard of the Corona. Manager Boeker thinks he knows where the party sleeps.
Wonder how many of my readers ever attended a performance at Sam T. Jack's Theatre on Madison street, Chicago. Great joint and considered very slummy in those days. I remember that at one performance the girls wore sox and bare legs to about half way up the thigh. It created a sensation and the papers demanded that this vulgar exposure should be stopped at once, or sooner. About a year or so ago, people rose up in indignation and demanded the theatre owners, "for decency's sake," make the chorus girls quit going barelegged. The indecent hussys! Now take a look at the legs devoid of any covering to be seen on every street and some of them are bare to the bone. And, ye gods! forgive me, but some need a shave.
Who says the world does not move?
The Daily Tribune, Friday, October 11, 1929
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Mamie Franzen, Editor
Here we come with news from Bay View school. We have made a good beginning on our year's work. Mr. Harbison, Mrs. Jones and Miss Dorothy are doing all they can to keep us busy, both in the class room and on the campus.
Mr. Harbison is busy figuring out what he can get for our playground with the funds that were raised at the box supper last Friday night.
Miss Dorothy sent in some good English posters last week for the high school to judge. Her room has developed great interest in poster work and has produced some very good posters.
Miss Dorothy Crane was a visitor at the school Friday afternoon.
Jimmie Murry was absent from school the other day. We wonder if he caught up with his work so that he will not have to be tardy any more this term. We hope so.
The high school students and friends gave Mrs. Louise Walter a surprise party Friday night. This was one time when all but one entered into a game of real "42."
Remedies Wanted!
To make Hutchins grow; to make Johnnie stop whispering; to make C. W. study his arithmetic; to make Arthur stop listening to others' recitations; to make Norman keep his bicycle in the road; to make Mary Ethel and Frances Belle get their algebra; to make Gladys stop her giggling; to make Mamie get rid of her freckles; to make Frances Eisel stop returning mail; to make Ruth stop wearing overalls; to make Beth's hair turn redder and Ermine's whiter; to make Raymond Hunt grow slimmer; to make Miss Dorothy Franzen look more like a beautiful wax doll; and last of all to make Mr. Harbison stop his eternal winking.
We wonder if it is Leslie Lee's knife that makes him so popular?
The high school has organized a current event club which meets every Friday morning. Ruth Mowery is acting as president with Leslie Lee as vice-president and Frances Eisel as secretary-treasurer.
The junior girls are looking forward to a trip to the cotton gin with Mr. Franzen this coming week. We expect them to come back with all the details of how cotton is ginned.
While grading papers the other day, Miss Dorothy learned that absolutism was a form of religion existing in Europe during the seventeenth century.
Although we have a monkey, a goose, an owl and a buzzard in our school, the pupils are enthusiastic about the animals that they are going to see at the circus in Bay City.
Contributors to this issue: Gladys Harbison, Hutchins and Frances Belle King, Raymond Hunt and Mamie Franzen.
The Daily Tribune, Tuesday, October 15, 1929
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By Harry Austin Clapp
For several months I lived in a hotel located on the corner of Broadway and 41st, New York City. My room faced 41st, and across the street was another hotel. At the rear of this hotel was a court of area that debouched into 41st, and at the sidewalk like there stood a big garbage can. It was a noble garbage can holding about fifty gallons, I judge; painted a bright red and bearing on its side in black letters the name of the hotel, it added color to the scene. It was a good garbage can, for it did not leak, and it was built strong and sturdy, reflecting credit on its maker. Often as I looked at it the thought came to me that he who conceived the idea of putting out such a fine garbage can in those radiant colors must have an artistic soul.
This garbage can sported a cover painted red and a handle painted black and it was kept clean and immaculate. Once each day a scavenger wagon arrived and by contrivance operated by a crank the garbage can was lifted from its seat and contents dumped into a wagon. This being done it was deposited back in its place and the wagon clattered away. Often I would see a boy come from the rear of the hotel with buckets of refuse which he dumped into the garbage can and at once, as soon as he had disappeared, there came three to six grimy, dirty faced, starving children and disheveled women with hard, hopeless faces and they would fight for a place at the can and hungrily pick over its contents, wolfing the first prizes, and hunger partially satisfied, place other rare portions in a filthy basket which they carried. At sight of a policeman they would scurry like rats from a scuttled ship, but quickly return, for this garbage can meant food and life to them.
One day I went over and examined the can and in it I found half slices of bread, pieces of pie with only the point removed, bits of steak as large as half my hand, bits of chicken, remains of salads, halves of baked potatoes, the rejections from the tables of the rich. Good food had it been properly saved, but now the grub of the dwellers in the tenements. I looked at those children and women and the thought came to me that they represented humanity that had been partially used and then dumped into the human garbage can. Some, no doubt, were worth saving; some, without questions, were so far gone by dissipation and social neglect that they were fit only for the scavenger wagon. My heart went out to those children and to some of the women for in their faces one could see that in spite of their apparent lack of hope, there still remained a spark that might be fanned into flame. Whose business is it to supply the air current that would burst the spark into flaming life? It is one of life's greatest problems.
When we pick something from the human garbage can and make it a fruitful, producing, functional unit in our body politic, we have done an act worthy of praise and appraisal. We will have remade a human rejection and increased its usefulness. So these are the thoughts that came to me as I watched the bright red garbage can from my window of the hotel at the corner of Broadway and 41st, New York City.
We, here in this beauty place on Matagorda Bay, have no hungry folks to care for but we do have some who are starving for sympathy and a bit of brotherly love.
One day last week, a man, whom you all know, whom you meet every day, who lives here, owns property, pays taxes, has a fine family and who is interested in the physical and spiritual growth of the community came to my home and in the discussion which his visits always develops, made a suggestion. This man knows, as I know, that we need to keep all those who are here now and he knows that we should make every effort to attract others and so he suggested that each of us throw away personal resentment, cease local bickerings, desist from knocking the community, the climate, the soil, exercise the spirit of the "brotherhood of man" and especially make new the glad hand of encouragement to them, tell them of the good things that are to be found here. He said that if we all would do this our life in this beautiful place would be revolutionized and the burg would grow and prosper and soon become the home of a happy, contented, satisfied people. A simple suggestion and well worth testing out. So simple that I wondered why all of us had not thought of it. Worth trying anyway.
This week started out in a glorious, illustrious, splendid, conspicuous, noble manner, for on Sunday a big auto raced into our yard and from it alighted Bill, Emily Jane and Emily Jane, Jr., and announced that they came to give us a drive. We quickly washed our neck and ears for company, put on our best bib, and away we went over the "nine foot sidewalk" to Palacios and out on their new cement ribbon to the army camp and back to town where we filled up on ice cream at that swell new dispensary operated by one named Nestor. Then we aroused that good old Scotchman, Duncan R[uthven], for some of those nineteen inch oysters, and back home for a feast. Bill wore his new shirt but I did not notice what Emily Jane had on for was busy watching her face. It was a grand day, thanks to Bill and Emily Jane and guess I will cast my two votes for her when she runs for governor of Texas.
The other day the Kingsville Rotary Club held a very interesting meeting and the speaker made the statement that the Kleberg county cotton crop amounted to about one million dollars of which he estimated $200,000 was spent for picking; $250,000 went for automobiles and accessories; $350,000 to liquidate obligations made in the purchase and operation of farms and for living expenses, leaving only $200,000 in possession of the farmers for labor and return on their investment. He described the condition of the tenant farmer who depended on cotton as "deplorable" and advocated a program of diversification that would include dairying and poultry raising for all farmers, owners and tenants. He told of one Kingsville man who, living on a salary, was infected with the installment buying disease. As analysis of his financial condition disclosed the fact that the items to cover payment for upkeep of his car, (this always comes first), groceries, house notes, radio installment payments totaled an amount only three dollars less than his monthly salary. The speaker advocated a return to a sane and honest practice of living within one's income. I suspect that the same condition exists in this county and community, and I wonder when we will awaken to a realization of what it all leads to.
Well, anyway, the Woman's Club met with Mrs. Corse this week and transacted an unusual amount of business, not the least of which was the welcoming into the club once more of Mrs. Dena Hurd. They instructed the secretary to inform the Industrial League that they wished the library building to be painted white. I expect this is to signify innocence but any way it will be an improvement on the present dirty, brown shade, and it will make the building look larger.
The fig preserving season is about over and no longer does one hear the grumble, rumble, growling of the steam plant or the faint and puny notes of the whistle announcing to the workers that another carload of figs has arrived. As near as I am able to ascertain the season has been a profitable one. A few figs are still being plucked and canned but the day is about over.
Our postmaster and first assistant postmaster general are away on a vacation way down in Dimmit county and we hope they will return in renewed health ready to take up the distribution of our daily mail.
October 17th has been an eventful day in my life for on that day in the year 1889 my mother died. On that day I lost my best friend and I have never ceased to mourn the loss. On that day in the year 1927 Mary Louise left her home nest seeking a life in the business world. Little thought I as I sat at the side of the casket containing the remains of my mother that in two years less than forty I would be the father of such a wonder girl. I am and praise be to my good God.
"Blue is the haze that parts us, my sweetheart, And blue is the sky that hangs over the sea; Blue were your eyes, dearest one, as you left me, And blue is my heart till you come back to me."
They must have wonderful autos in Kansas, for Charles Rutherford wrote to Seth Corse that he had just finished a drive of 1200 miles in exactly twelve hours with one hour off for lunch, but said he, "we had one of the new Fords and it operated without a hitch." Guess he must have used some of that blue gas that Verner Bowers has for sale.
Last Sunday at Sunday School, Rally Day was observed with a special program, one number of which was taken by Roberta Liggett. She recited without skipping a single word, the first, twenty-first and one hundred twenty-first Psalm, the Beatitudes and the Ten Commandments. Wonder how many little eight-year-old girls can equal this.
Oh, yes! that promised package of tobacco arrived. Weighted fifty pounds, more or less. Edgeworth, Half and Half, Lucky Strikes and fifty Ogden's Guinea Gold Cigs made in Montreal, Canada. It pays to advertise.
The Daily Tribune, October 16, 1929
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Last week we read the article that the Midfield students wrote on Peter the Great. We were very much interested in the topic as we have been working hard on this character, too. We wish to add that Peter, who westernized Russia always liked to surprise his fellowmen at the numerous feasts he gave. At these great banquets he served his meals in courses, and it was not at all strange if they should find some raw, skinned rabbit or mice at the bottom of their bowls.
All the school children and friends were glad to welcome back Bob Thompson and family last week.
C. W. Boeker had the pleasure of driving his mother and brother, Kent, to the circus in Bay City last week in their new Ford car.
Last Sunday a laughing party had a great deal of fun riding through Collegeport.
We are anxious to see how Jimmie looks in a picture.
Johnny Ackerman says that he is not going to hitch his wagon to a star as his tongue is not long enough.
We are all sure that something must be done to remedy Ruth's toothache.
From all reports it must have been as much fun to watch Miss Dorothy [Franzen] and Frances Eisel milk the kicking cows as it was to go to the circus.
We wonder if Arthur and Norman have ever seen but one fat woman.
C. W. thinks that the nine-ton elephant which was killed last week would keep the Collegeport cannery busy for some time. C. W. ought to know.
Some of the remedies which were wanted last week must have been secured as Jimmie has been on time every day this week.
The seventh grade is struggling with some more of that arithmetic.
There goes Rosalie with some more of those books. We know why Rosalie comes up with A's.
The campus is now cleared for play. The equipment came last week for the playground. We are glad but we do hate to give up our time that we have been devoting to baseball. Really we are developing some excellent talent.
The Daily Tribune, October 22, 1929
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By Harry Austin Clapp
[Local information taken from longer article.]
The community has taken on quite a naval atmosphere since one of our young girls has come out in ships attire. Not satisfied with wearing the clothes she uses sea language and when meeting one instead of the usual greeting "good day" she sings out "ahoy there" "heave to!" and then something like this: "The bark Ruth Mowery homeward bound" and the answer comes the "brigantine Elizabeth Eisel, loaded with fried peach pies and doughnuts." It seems right and then something like this nice being as we are located on the sea coast that such greetings should be heard on our docks, and quays, piers, and pavilions. Saw a snake about three feet long grab a field mouse and down it went to the bottom. A big cat with six kittens as wild as the wildest. A tumble bug of the family of Scarabacids. He crosses the road rolling his ball of manure easily. He is the fellow that used to be the sacred beetle or Scarab of the ancient Egyptians. Put the stub of a cigarette on an ant hill and they brought out the fire department in a hurry and put out the fire, after which the cig was drawn to the outside of the hill. Quail about on our place and daily I scare up bunches of from fifty to sixty and they be fat fellows because they range in a field of maize. Friday night the 18th heard the first flight of geese. A horned toad sitting on an ant hill busily engaged in lapping them up with his long, flexible, extensible tongue. People along the bay shore who are bothered with ants should collect a few of these little animals and they would soon be relieved. A praying mantis (Mantidae) on our front gallery engaged in capturing and devouring insects. He regards the big green tomatoe worm as a great delicacy and for that reason one should never be destroyed. I have seen them catch in their legs a big tomatoe worm and in less than a minute suck the juices from the body and cast aside the empty sack. A dozen of these boys in a garden will rid the place of all tomatoe worms. Two small green bugs climbing up a cotton stalk. They reach the top when one turns and rushes the other in a fierce manner, driving him away. The victor proceeds to feed on a small and delicate bud. Watched a snail crawling across a plank. Took five minutes to progress a foot and he left a plain trail behind. Found under a board a colony of termites (Isoptera). They had tunneled for several feet and as they are blind and avoid light each tunnel was covered with a hard substance that was weather proof. This is the boy which foundations. The workers are of both sexes but are not developed sexually and they do all the work. Saw a big white heron grab a fish from the waters of the slough. On my approach he took to the air but carried the fish with him. My bittern still comes each night and roosts on the fone pole in the back yard. About daylight he gives his blaring, discordant, dissonant cry and flies away until the next night.
This bird stands about eighteen inches and has been visiting us for about a year. A friendly kuss and I hope some fool gunman does not shoot him.
The King's Daughters met with Mrs. Roy Nelson Thursday, but I was not invited so missed out on those famous Carrie Nelson noodles. About three big plates of those delicious, delectable noodles would have relieved me from the illness I suffered from thinking but not participating.
The work this session consisted of making articles for the annual bazaar. We have five local organizations and all are busy doing little things that improve the community. Every woman and every man should be identified with these organizations. Well, the Woman's Club having decided on white as the color for the library building will enjoy seeing Gus Franzen and his crew shoot the white paint beginning Monday. Hugo Kundinger at the Collegeport Pharmacy sets out a new drink called Collegeport Special. He mixes several different colored liquids in a glass of ice, squirts in some fizz water and O, boy.
Hattie Kundinger has been elevated to the position of second assistant postmaster general. Saturday not being able to work the combination to the exchequer she almost put the postoffice department out of business.
The Al G. Barnes show not only brought to Bay City horses, clowns, animals, artists, but a wonderful band, judging from the program. Selections were rendered from Liszt, Weber, Gomez, Wagner, Litolff, Tchaikovsky, Chapi. The lover of band music was in clover all during the rendition. You know music hath charms to sooth, etc.
"With his toot and toot and toot, O, that's what he played on his horn He stole the heart of my Sarah Jane With his toot and toot and toot."
The Daily Tribune, Friday, October 25, 1929
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By Harry Austin Clapp
[Local blah-blah information taken from longer blah-blah article.]
The facts are that this is an excellent community in which to build a home. People who are willing to work have done and are doing well. We average about four first-class crops out of six and the other two as a rule pay out. Gus Franzen made 25 bales of cotton from 90 acres. He used eight tons of fertilizer and a half ton of poison and he worked, worked night and day with no let up and he made a fair crop while others failed. The fig crop was above the average and the preserving plant operated about four months caring for the excellent crop. Pastures all the year have been excellent. Poultry and dairy stock have been productive. Feed crops grew generously and yet has been a poor season. We want and need more folks but it does not seem necessary to use blah to obtain them. Once they know the facts there is no reason why they should not join us in building the community that Doctor Van Wormer dreams of. One day this week a man drove in here and meeting a citizen said, "Well, how is everything in Collegeport?" Like a flash came the reply. "Same as usual. Everybody broke." Fine stuff with which to build a community. Everybody is not broke. There has been a time when that was true. Plain honey calculated to drive people away. Matagorda county is not broke neither is Collegeport. In my opinion we average in prosperity pretty well up with those of other sections. Good air, good water, fertile land, a fine people. We have them all and there is no reason why progress should delay. Cut out the blah, the blague, the hooey. Encourage and stand back of the men who are trying to accomplish and God will stand by us in the end.
False impressions, misunderstands, old prejudices, wrong viewpoints may be blamed for many of the ills which obstruct community building. None of these are necessary, Let us cast them out and be done with them.
I don't now know whether this is blah or not but it is said that one of our girls has a heart tattoed on her right leg, just above the knee. I have not seen it although I have rubbered often. The right leg boys.
Our Postmaster-general and first assistant sailed in Sunday from a week's trip around the world which included a visit to La Republica de Mexico.
Us Homecrofters had a pleasant Sunday, made so by having Mrs. Attress Jones as a guest. A gentle, refined woman, well adapted for teaching the primary grades.
Miss Rosalie Nelson having reached the age of twelve celebrated by having twelve of her young friends as guests. I was no invited but care not, for no noodles were served.
Mr. McKinnon, Mayor domo for the Fig Company back from Springfield looking things over.
The school children have been busy selling pencils the last week and disposed of two gross, or as one of the said, "two grosses." One was asked how many she had sold and she replied, "I haint never sold not one yet." Thought they taught grammar in our school. Heard a woman ask, "you haint got no bacon have you?" Wonder where they learned their English.
Saw a girl with grown up eyes. Makes a fellow want to sing that wonderful song, "Get Hot, Cold Papa."
Reading of the havoc caused by Lake Michigan during the past week and how seas tore up the shore from north to south thought it about time that the Burton D. Hurds came home. No seas will reach their fine home on the Bay Shore and they can sleep in peace.
Mrs. Carl Boeker is taking a rest from her work at the fig factory by having a spell of illness. We all hope she makes a speedy recovery.
Mrs. John Gainesborough Ackerman comes out in a nifty brown dress.
Mrs. L. E. Liggett (she was Agnes Spence) has organized a Junior Girls choir for a part of the Sunday School program. The members are girls from the age of, well, say eight to twelve or possibly thirteen. It is a pleasure, so the miserable wretch reports, to listen to their songs. They sing lustily, vigorously, radiantly and with distinction. Some have yellow hair, some black and brown, but one red head simply stands out, not as a warning signal but as a beacon, urging the others to come, come, come, along with their song.
The income of our postmaster depends on amount of stamps used and canceled at this office and so Seth Corse is always scheming to increase the use of stamps. His latest is to put on a special sale and so long as the present supply lasts one may buy one cent stamps for a penny each or in lots of twenty-five for two bits. The same reduction is available for stamps of other denominations as well as postal cards. For the next ten days or perhaps longer, it will be possible to buy twenty-five two cent stamps for four bits. Better lay in a supply, for Robert Murry predicts a cold winter.
A girl came into the Bachman store the other day with legs bare, way up to, well I was afeared to look higher. I asked her why she did not wear a dress and she replied, "why I have on a dress." I looked again and sure enough, what I first thought was a belt proved to be a dress. I asked if her legs were not cold and she said, "my legs feel warm but my neck is cold." I never had much use for a cold neck.
Fritzi Scheft comes back. So reads the lines in Time of October 21st. She was one of my favorites. The last time I heard her sweet voice was in New York City in 1905. She played her snare drum as mascot of the troops, she sang her songs, and her graceful figure and beautiful face how restful to the eye. And now at fifty she comes back more than ever a captivating "little devil" more than before the "sunbeam." Wish I could trip to New York had once more near her sing.
"Sweet summer breeze, whispering trees, Stars shining softly above; Roses in bloom, wafted perfume, Sleepy birds dreaming of love, Safe in your arms, far from alarms, Day-light shall come but in vain. Tenderly pressed close to your breast, Kiss me, Kiss me again!"
No wonder her listeners were moist eyed. I was one of them.
The Daily Tribune, Wednesday, October 30, 1929
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Hallowe’en is over. We are proud to say that nothing was done to the schoolhouse. What made them change their minds? We really do wonder, as it is the custom to tear up as much as possible to get out of that dungeon they call school an extra hour or so. Thursday night we had more fun after the party than we did at the party. While we were at the party we were busy trying to think of some trick that we could play when we got out. A little sugar won’t hurt any boy’s car. Oh yes, Mamie Franzen garbed as a poor old man, carried off the prize with her cane. Alline Harbison also won a prize for having a clever costume. We are afraid of witches sometimes. Friday our second months work ended. It was rounded off with some of those things they call examinations. They spell more than that to the most of us. Who likes to take exams, anyway? What would we do if water took the place of air? Some of the pupils think that atmosphere is a body of water surrounding us. Do you know what atmosphere is? It is the body of air surrounding us. The Franzens have a new Ford sedan. We don’t blame them for being proud of it as it is some good looking car. We were so sorry that the rain beat us out of a party that Miss Dorothy was planning for us Saturday afternoon. That’s all right. She is going to make good her word. Before long she will have some sort of entertainment for her room. Miss Dorothy has given up hopes of knowing what she is. She has been called Mama in the school room and the Bay City published her name as Mrs. Dorothy Franzen. Some one is rushing the season. She says she thinks she is awake. Gladis Harbison looked rather different without her glasses. We are glad to see her have some on again. She is one girl that looks good in glasses. Ask Frances King what she knows about Princes, especially when they are followed with S’s. We wonder what would happen if Frances Elsie [Eisel] would not say, “that reminds me of a “joke.” If Mamie would not say, “I don’t give a darn.” If Ruth Mowery told a falsehood. If Jimmy were not so bright; if Frances King could catch a joke; if Monkey stopped giggling like a girl; if Hutchins did not talk to Monkey; if Gladys did not like boys; if Buster wore knickers; if Mary Ethel did not sprain her ankle and if the seventh grade kept quiet. How would Gustave Franzen look without his smile; Aaron Penland without freckles; Minnie in the movies; and Rosalie without a book? The other day Minnie learned that she was the type that the next movie stars would be picked from. We hope she will be lucky.
Daily Tribune, November 5, 1929 |
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By Harry Austin Clapp
[Mr. Clapp relates a story about a man who disappeared one snowy day and was never found.]
Mr. and Mrs. Haisley have returned from their trip to Idaho and other parts greatly improved in health and filled with tales with which they will regale their friends for the next year or so.
Joseph Peletier drove in last week and was given a warm welcome by those who knew him when he farmed here eleven years ago.
On page 65 of November Delineator will be found a good picture of Burton D. Hurd. Perhaps this means he will soon be home.
Always thought of Gus Franzen as a well balanced man, not given to fads, but I found out the other day that he is only one more nut. He wants to take a trip in an airplane and then desires to purchase one of the late Ford planes carrying twelve people and with it take his family to Sweden. He is now under observation and with proper care no doubt will recover.
Every time I look at a certain girl who lives in the burg I think of an awning. She puts all the other girls in the shade.
The Library building glistens in its new coat of paint thanks to the artistic work of Gus Franzen, assisted by that master painter, L. E. Liggett and that world wonder portrait worker, Robert Murry.
The Industrial League held its regular monthly meeting Wednesday night with an attendance of thirty-two. Mr. Liggett reported that the Library roof needed painting and the League arranged to buy the material and have the work done at once. Sandwiches, little Punkin (no relation to Pumpkin) pies topped with whipped cream served and plenty of that superlative coffee that has made Mrs. Liggett famous.
Mr. J. A. Cottingham arrived from St. Louis and will spend the winter in his bay shore home. To while way the time he will breed and raise Ancona chickens and a winter garden.
Since the Tribune came out with the tale about the heart on the girl's leg, I am informed that one of them has a mole on her hip. Nothing difficult about that for the way they dress it is easy to see a mole on a hip as a heart on a leg.
Two men from San Antonio landed here Wednesday sent by Oscar Chapin for some duck shooting. Had they gone to the Postoffice at mail time they could have found some extra choice ducklings and one peach.
The night before All Saint's Day vandalism stalked abroad in this community. At the community house a program was arranged to provide wholesome amusement. It included the usual spooks, goblins, witches and fortune tellers and what-nots, but that seems insufficient. It would seem that all could have sufficient fun without hauling dangerous obstacles into the "nine foot sidewalk" and in front of buildings, tearing down outbuildings, fences, or other mean pranks. At one place the leaders were met with a blast from a shot gun which quickly dispersed them. At another they ordered the watcher to stay inside under threat of being soaked in the bay. In the meantime, they smeared the windows of the business place with mud and deposited a toilet on the sidewalk in front of the door. This may be fun, but it is the fun of coarse rubes. Good, clean, wholesome fun is relished by all, but destruction of property has no flavor, piquancy, zest, it is not a good appetizer. No wonder this community gives a bad flavor in the mouths of non-residents. Let us plan now for something better next year. It will be largely up to parents, for they only can control. For this year let us the charitable and think that the offenders simply had a case of woofits if you know what I mean. Just woofits.
The Daily Tribune, Wednesday, November 6, 1929
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By Harry Austin Clapp
[Local information taken from longer article.]
We have seven members on the school board. Monday, two of them were on the roof of the school building making necessary repairs. A third party was away all day operating the Portsmouth Special. Where were the other four? It seems as though they might have been present by representatives.
Well, anyway, had a letter from Mary Louise and she is counting the days until Christmas and says 'forty-five more days,' and so
"Last night as I looked on the moon-lit bay, The waves breaking on the beach seemed to say We belong Until the bells do ding, ding, ding, dong. When I lifted my eyes to the starlit skies, All I could see was her loving blue eyes." --Fragments from Hack
I am the miserable wretch who sits in our home and tears off another leaf from the calendar and lo, there are only forty-two days. Tempus certainly does fugit.
I read the papers that skirts are to be longer. Well they can lengthen skirts if they wish but I will have my memories. Read in the papers about a fellow celebrating his 101st birthday, and he had never smoked or drank a drink. Gee, it must have seemed a long time.
I am informed that the Fig company having shipped five cars of those superlative, surpassing, peerless, preserved figs, this week sent out the sixth car. This in addition to about a dozen, fifty gallon steel barrels of preserves. A good crop and well sold should reap a fair profit. I also hear by listening in that they are now preparing sixty acres of land for the growing of spinach, which will be packed by the company and sold in the north.
Under the direction of Burton D. Hurd, Arthur Soekland, Jr., is putting in ten acres of onions and the Delta Betta brothers are planting six acres. With a good season these two crops will run into big money and perhaps will encourage others to increase the planting next season. We know that this soil will grow figs to perfection, spinach is faultless, and onions with the sweet breath of a virgin. Mr. Hurd sent down a gas driven seed planter and a cultivator that will greatly lessen the labor of onion growing.
Well, anyway, Doctor Van is slowly but surely seeing his dreams come true. We rejoice for he is a good friend of this burg and every one will realize it some of these fair days.
The Woman's Union met with Mrs. Liggett, Thursday with a very interesting program and most excellent eats. As usual, when she returns home from these affairs the miserable wretch informed me that she was stuffed to repletion which means she had been well fed and so I was obliged to eat my humble meal by myself.
The report card of Miss Rosalie Nelson for last month shows plus on all studies, except two and they are A. No wonder the Noodle maker is proud of her daughter and there be some others as well.
Through the courtesy of the Central and Southwest Utilities company, parent of the Central Power & Light, I have received a copy of the New York Herald of December 21, 1879. It tells of the "Edison Light, the great inventors triumph in electric illumination." It also gives comments by the New York World, Leslies Illustrated, The London Standard, all of them pessimistic. None of them believed it would ever be of practical use. The personal column is filled with requests for dates between men and women. In the brilliant light of the modern electric light date solicitation by advertising is passe.
At 2:00 a. m. Saturday morning Dorothy Franzen was awakened by three knocks on the door and asking who was there the reply was a request to stay there the balance of the night. She called her father, who went to the door and found Arnold and Clifford just arrived from Houston. Two very fine boys I have no idea what readers will say about this string, so paraphrasing what the old Scotch lady said when the minister asked if she liked his address will say "I didna like it much, and for three reasons. Ye writ it! Ye did not writ it well! And, it was na' worth it!"
The Daily Tribune, Wednesday, November 13, 1929
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By Harry Austin Clapp
[Local information taken from longer article.]
One of the readers of this column does not like what I wrote about "What I Think of God," Pish! Tosh! La! La! Wonder if he knows Uncle Judd detests carrots. The fellow who keeps his eyes on the ground these days is missing considerable.
Mr. and Mrs. C. S. Douglas motored down the "nine foot sidewalk" from Citrus Grove Tuesday evening. These people certainly belong to the literati for they appreciate first class literature and read "Thoughts" the first thing when the Tribune arrives. Mr. Douglas announced that the usual Thanksgiving dinner will be held at Citrus Grove. It would almost be a crime to discontinue these affairs after twenty years of social success.
Everybody glad to see Oscar Chapin and some of the women also kissed him. Oscar is a lucky dog. I wish one or two would try to kiss me. Well, anyway, wish Oscar would arrange to return to his own folks. San Antonio don't need him as we do.
The norther which swooped down on us the other day proved the truth of "there are people who never lose an opportunity to enjoy being miserable." The bright side of it is that the roads are all dry and passable although a bit rough. The one good thing about northers is that they do not last long. Yesterday the mercury stood at 42 and today, the sun shines bright and warm and the temperature floats around 70.
Mrs. Tom Hale with Tom Jr., came in for a week-end with her parents. I trust she will go slow eating any biscuits that Tom Fulcher may manufacture.
The Woman's Club met this week with Mrs. John Gainesborough Ackerman. The program was the subject of Thanksgiving. A good attendance was out in spite of the very rough roads.
The Collegeport school Chronicle will have as its editor this week, Miss Frances Eisel. Judging from the person appearance of Frances the column will be extra fine.
It is reported that Harry Lewis Eisel, Jr., already knows a nut when he sees one.
A gang of men under direction of L. E. Liggett covered the Manse with new green shingles in just five hours Saturday.
The Library building with its glistening white paint and black sash looks very splendiferous. Just another of the "little things" the League is doing.
It is reported that the farmers have signed up for about sixty-acres of tomatoes. This is good news and with the sixteen acres of onions ought to point to the way to some extra money for our growers. In my opinion the soil and climate, nearness to the sea, combine to give tomatoes an extra fine color and flavor.
Mrs. Gus Franzen told it again, but this time with a fine young pig ham roast. I suspect that Gus had something to do with the deal and so we Homecrofters express hearty thanks to both these fine people. We regard the pig as an answer to prayer for only the night before the miserable wretch, always ready to devour meat said, "I wish someone would come around with some fresh meat." A wish is a prayer and lo, here comes Gus Franzen answering the prayer.
Saturday night, a letter from a Tribune reader says, "how is your supply of the filthy weed? If about exhausted, I'll send you some." As I have stated before, advertising pays. There are so many things in the world from which one may extract joy and happiness that I often wonder why there are so many people who never lose an opportunity to enjoy being miserable. God put us in this world and said, "go to it." Be happy or be miserable. Many hours of joy are lost looking at the hole in the doughnut.
Thanks to the solicitous attention of a nurse, Louie Duffy's infected hand is making rapid recovery. The nurse even changes the dressing while riding in an auto. This gives Louie practice driving with one hand.
My bittern has not occupied his perch on the fone pole for about a week and I miss his harsh note as he lights at night or leaves early in the morning. I fear some fellow has shot him, but I hope he has only taken a journey to some other southland.
The Daily Tribune, Tuesday, November 19, 1929
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By Harry Austin Clapp
Ben R. Mowery smoking a new and curious crooked stemmed pipe.
Louis Walter looking up the turkey market so he can decide how much to soak us locals.
Gus Franzen getting ready to pick the last of his fine cotton crop. Fine considering the season. Had he used less than eight tons of fertilizer and less bone and muscle he probably would have had none to pick.
Mr. Goode coming in with his two cylinder horse and muleobile.
John Merck's truck with a heavy load of feed. Someday perhaps we will raise our own feed, but that is a long time in the future.
Mrs. Crane still taking in cream but in reduced quantities and the price going down to thirty-two cents. I remember when I paid 19 cents for a pound of fat.
The Bachman store with a fresh supply of fruits, oranges, raised by Seth Corse, grape fruit from the valley, apples from Washington and lemons from California.
Verner Bowers made fourteen dollars in one day last week.
Tom Fulcher getting ready to dig some more canals for us. He calls them roads but they hold water and after a rain are navigable.
Dorothy Franzen shows her white teeth with her ever present smile.
And say, what do you know about this: Mamie Franzen wears stockings pulled clear up. The cold weather has its advantages.
Ruth Mowery skipping about in sailor breeches shows a trim ankle every little while.
North Cable nursing a sprained wrist and cussing his neighbors chickens for tearing up his garden.
Jack Holsworth inquiring about road conditions from here to Pledger.
Prof. Harbison blowing up a volley ball. He perhaps does not know it, but there is plenty of free air at the postoffice every night.
Hattie Kundinger delivering three cents worth of yeast. Hugo getting tired of taking in money at Collegeport's Palatial Pharmacy takes a trip to Bay City to spend a portion of the surplus.
E. L. Hall's Master Six stands in the road all night because a tiny spring broke. A spring about the size of a hair nestling down on the car's guts, but like the English soldiers, wound it was sufficient and the car was out of business.
Five hunters here for a shot at the ducks and geese Mrs. Corse assisting the assistant to distribute the mail.
The Hurd's will be here about Thanksgiving day or some time next Spring. When they arrive they will drive past Homecroft and we shall be glad to hear the honk of the horn.
Cottingham now has 25 chickens so says North Cable.
My daughter, Mrs. Harry B. Clapp and granddaughter, Nancy B. Clapp are in Phoenix, Arizona for the latter's health. Harry B. is batching when he is not hitting the road which is about 30 per cent of his time.
The miserable wretch making handkerchiefs. If I worked half as much as she does I would be worth several million dollars. I was not born that way and she was. I am lucky to have such an industrious partner.
Glad that Mr. Anderson has decided to come out for County Judge. He is a well-read man, thoroughly posted on the County Court business. He is honest, reliable, energetic, splendid speaker and will no doubt make a real judge of the County Court if enough voters think so. Wonder what kind of cigars he smokes. From now on there will be lots of fellows ready to make personal sacrifice. I shall confine my voting to those who know enough to smoke R. J. R. About time Oscar [Barber] showed up with his never dimming smile.
Mr. Fred Goff hauling a load of wood.
Arthur Soekland shipping a crate of chickens or maybe they were fowls. Who knows?
It's a funny proposition when one hears of a family that is hard-pressed for food to eat and yet they drive an auto. Queer things happen in this twentieth century.
One of the Harbison girls is learning how to whistle with her toes.
The League meets Friday night with North Cable, J. J. Harbison and H. A. Clapp as entertainers. Being the next day after the members should have turkey sandwiches.
Amos Johnson in town, and announced that the regular Thanksgiving dinner will be held at Citrus Grove. Now that we have a "9-foot sidewalk" between here and Citrus Grove guess I and the miserable wretch will take our little basket and attend. The walking is good all the way and having no auto we are still able to use our legs, and are provided with tail lights.
John B. Heisey has invented a device by which he can sweep with two brooms at the same time. Ought to be worth a fortune.
Mrs. Attress Jones, our primary teacher recovering from a severe cold. Mrs. Holsworth thinks she will buy an auto. Some dealer will read this and perhaps make a sale. I shall expect the usual commission.
Mrs. Boeker collecting Collegeport's Red Cross quota.
A copy of the "Rail-Splitter" of Milan, Illinois is on my desk. Its business is to stir up religious dissension. For that reason, had I the power, it would be barred from the mails.
Now Carey Smith announces that a third floor will be added to the Tribune building. No doubt but that Carey gives this column credit for much of the improvement in the building and mechanical equipment for since "Thoughts" was first printed it has been necessary to put in a new press and other costly machinery also a sixty-foot, two story extension in the rear of the building and now comes this third story the first one in Matagorda County. I suspect that Carey will fix up a room for me to write in, all dolled up in green and gold with electric fans and etcetera. Then Judd Mortimer Lewis will cease his bragging.
It certainly pleases me to know that this column has made necessary this last improvement. Huh! Gadzooks man.
Elizabeth Eisel with her beautiful red coppered hair and Frances King with her flaxen locks blowing in the breeze.
The green roofs of the Liggett buildings look like fresh moss in the spring time.
Mrs. James Hale takes the miserable wretch on a trip to Bay City where the latter will consult with Carey Smith on the advisability of putting a fourth story on the Tribune building.
Arthur Liggett puts out a trot line and the first night catches six red fish and a trout, a total of say, 35 pounds of fish. The one he sent me was delicious as cooked and served by the miserable wretch.
Rosalie Nelson trying to make a new peep hole in the postoffice door.
After a four weeks grooming in the Kingsville car shops the motor car has been returned to the Portsmouth division of the Missouri Pacific lines. Its puny whistle is not heard often, and so it slips in at night, unknown to the village listeners.
The Della Betta brothers busy setting out bermuda onion plants.
Robert Murry delivering cream to Mrs. Crane and stopping to roll his own.
Mrs. Merck exhibiting with much pride a photo of Henry Legg in his Allen Academy uniform. No one would recognize the boy who packed ice last summer.
While the miserable wretch was in Bay City the other day she called at St. Mark's rectory and enjoyed a visit with Mr. Shipp. He made "cawfee" and while they sipped the brew he told her about some wonderful tobacco he had and said he would send some to me. If it is any worse than R. J. R. hope he will make delivery soon.
W. E. McNabb comes out for County Judge. I have a high opinion of this man. He has been a very obliging and courteous judge, and maybe I'll cast my two votes for him provided he smokes R. J. R.
The Chickasha Express says "In at least one respect, Democratic and Republican politicians are very much alike, both are funny." It is not true. It will also be funny, if any man on the ticket I proposed some months ago, is elected to a County office.
The King's daughters met Thursday with Mrs. Wright. The only gals present were Mesdames Liggett, Merck, Nelson, Wright and Penland. They had the usual good eats and cut out some baby clothes. No noodles, hence my absence. Had I smelled the delectable, rapturous, agreeable odor of those famous Carrie Nelson Noodles, i would have walked through the rain and mud in order that I might assist in cutting out the baby clothes.
For years the "phair phemmies" have howled about emancipation and now comes longer skirts. O, emancipation, where are thou?
Drizzles, mist, precipitation, a norther with a temperature of 34 is what us dwellers in the sunny Southland are enjoying this week.
Last year 38 states were visited by calamity and the Red Cross gave relief to more than one million people.
It is customary in most states to name, dub or sobriquet, bridges in honor of some person. The new bridge over the Colorado River, if constructed according to specifications, and with honest work and material, free from graft, will be a sterling bridge, therefore why not name it "The Sterling Bridge" and thus honor Mr. R. S. Sterling, chairman of our State Highway Commission.
Have just been informed that Miss Frances Mayfield has visited Bay City and cut out coming on down home. All right, Miss Frances, just for that you shall not look at my tonsils.
Have just read "Dr. Nye," by Joseph C. Lincoln, a writer of Cape Cod stories. I found this book humorous, amusing, cheerful and above all clean and wholesome.
The dog Tut killing twelve mice in the Bachman store.
A girl wearing hip length boots, a girl whose face might be pretty were it not covered with a mess of paint. Lips painted an unnatural color that suggest disease.
A hunter receiving a charge of shot in his upper thigh and almost bleeding to death. The careless way many hunters handle a gun it is a wonder that we do not have more accidents. A good right leg is a stiff price to pay for a little sport.
Wonder where the quails are. Guess they know the open season has arrived and departed to safer climes.
The Daily Tribune, Tuesday, November 26, 1929
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Monday we begin a new month's work at school after having several days free for Thanksgiving. We don't know if we have too much to be thankful for, as we have not received our grades as yet.
We were not able to have the program that we planned for Thanksgiving because of the bad weather. In some ways we were real sorry as we were anxious to see how some of our amateurs would act on the stage.
Miss Ruth Mowery and Ella Maye Chiles enjoyed their Thanksgiving dinner at the ranch. Some of us really envy them. Many times, we find that the boys make fair cooks.
Miss Dorothy reports that she had a good time while in Houston. She says that it makes one feel good to be back with the old gang but that it gives one a mighty lonesome feeling when one strolls around the campus. The new faces cannot take the place of the old ones.
We learned that we have a real fisherman in our midst. Arthur Liggett reports that he has been making hauls of 25 pounds of red fish at the time. We know this to be fact as it has happened several times recently.
What shall we do if this rainy weather continues? We are going to have to learn to swim or get an airplane. But, where is the plane going to land?
The high school was glad to welcome back Mary Ethel to their midst. She has been ill for some time.
Leslie Lee spent the week-end at the Duffy ranch. He does make a good cowboy.
Ask Frances Belle how she likes for her friends to be put behind the doors. It does get rather embarrassing at times. Well, it was just a good joke, although we did not realize it at the time.
Mamie Franzen does not think that she will turn out to be a carpenter although she served her apprenticeship Friday. She often hit the wrong nail or no nail at all!
We are anxiously awaiting dry weather so that we ca get out on the playground to carry on our activities there. Although it is nasty out we have to spend most of our time on the grounds. Our teachers think that we get a sufficient amount of time in the classroom during study hours.
Rosalie Nelson spent the weekend with her aunt, Mrs. G. Braden, at Blessing.
The Daily Tribune, December 3, 1929
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By Harry Austin Clapp
[Local information taken from longer article about milk.]
The Phoenix Dairy Company has opened a milk plant in Wharton with a capacity of 10,000 gallons per day. None of these towns present such a logical point for a profitable dairy industry as does Bay City and yet it seems to be marking time and dairymen all over the county are wondering why. When the dairy industry is well organized in this county the loss of a cotton crop once in five years will not be felt, for a living will be assured for every farm family. Well, anyway, it makes but little difference to us Homecrofters, for Mary Louise will be home in about 21 days and then we will all have a wonderful, happy, satisfying Christmas. The presence of our daughter is the only gift we desire.
"All night long I dream of thee, As I sleep in my bed at night, When the waves beat the shore soft and low And the stars are like diamonds bright Then I think and dream of thee, In the morning as I stand upon my feet I wonder will I pass the day and how, While still I dream of thee daughter sweet." --Fragments from Hack.
For Thanksgiving one of the items was a sauerkraut put up by the Guinea pig queen, known by some as Ora Luce Chapin and we can testify to its most excellent, admirable, choice, quality. We had some sompin' else as well and as Horace once said "Take as a gift whatever the day brings forth."
Dorothy Franzen teaching her pupils the use of the hyphen used as an example "bird-cage." Now said Dorothy: why do we place a hyphen in bird-cage?" The reply came from one bright youngster: "It's for the bird to sit on."
"Knowledge and wisdom far from being one. Have oft times no connection. Knowledge dwells in heads replete with thoughts of other men, Wisdom in minds attentive to their own."--Cowper.
Being out of wood, the school closed on that bitter cold day Monday.
Gus Franzen reports as many as five hundred geese feeding in his cotton fields and I saw a bunch of twenty-five slide into the Pilkington Slough on morning.
Henry Ford, called to Washington, seemed to be a sort of a dummy. The other fellows thought all they had to do was to pass a few resolutions and go home and they did. Henry, foolish fellow, that he was, announced that he would increase production, decrease price to the consumer and boost wages and he did.
Stanley Wright has 57 calves growing fine and half ready for the market, all prime stuff.
A price list from the Carnation Farm offers some young Holsteins at from $400.00 to $2000.00 per head. Some price but then they are "The Breed that Leads."
Cities are reaching out and annexing adjacent territory, hoping to boost their census enumeration. I suggest Bay City take in Palacios and other near by communities and thus make a showing.
Quail season is on and E. L. Hall is wondering who borrowed his dog, Sport.
Celery, head lettuce, cookies, cakes, fruit and other luxuries at the Bachman store.
Dorothy Franzen taking advantage of the few days' vacation goes to Houston where she will attend the Rice Whoopee and on to the A. & M. Thanksgiving game.
An editorial in Labor states that the Chicago schools will suspend for lack of funds. Eight hundred employees are to be dismissed altogether, 3,200 others given a 60-day furlough without pay and the schools closed for two months probably, December and January. Labor pronounces it the most shocking and disgraceful thing reported from any American city for many years.
The League called off its regular meeting this week because of the bad roads, cold and rain.
The Woman's Union will hold their annual banquet and oyster supper Friday night, Dec. 6. Confederate money will not secure discounts at this sale.
Here is a short poem which disgruntled cotton farmers might cut out and paste in their hats and when everything looks black and fruitless as hell, read it over:
"Keep a-goin'! If you strike a thorn or rose Keep a-goin'! If it hails or if it shines Keep a-goin'! 'Tain't no use to sit and whine When the fish ain't on your line; Bait your hook and keep a tryin'-- Keep a-goin'!" --Anon.
The Daily Tribune, Tuesday, December 3, 1929
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By Harry Austin Clapp
[Local information taken from longer article.]
It is well to know that the Tribune is a home religious paper and that its editor is a stickler for the truth, so in relating this episode I will attempt to stay inside the truth. Arthur Liggett is developing into a great fisher and it is nothing for him to pull in from fifty to eighty pounds of red fish at one pull. The other day he brought in something like one hundred pounds be it more or less. I think less, but anyway he gave one to the miserable wretch and when dressed and with head and tail off, measured fifteen inches. Must have weighed less than fifty pounds.
The miserable wretch stuffed it and spiced it with generous portions of garlic, peppers and we had one grand fish dinner. The next day she served fish cakes and then fish chowder and no wonder that when we said prayers at night we asked blessing and further success to Arthur, the fisherman.
Then Dorothy Franzen had to come out all dressed up in a Swedish peasant costume, which made her more charming than ever.
Monday the mercury went way down in the last row and sat down at 24 degrees and we all shivered.
Homer Goff drifted in Saturday night and at 4 a. m. Sunday, accompanied by Mr. McKinnion and Mayor Domo, left for Houston.
We are filled up with visitors this week for here comes Glenn Dale Welsby and baby son.
Look, who is this? Why, it is Fleming Chiles and wife and Fleming, Jr., and I always like to see these young folks return home with additions for that is what keeps the old world agoin'.
Large flocks of blue cranes fly across every day. I counted fifty-seven in one bunch. The breast of a blue crane is a very good dish to place before any king.
The Woman's Bazaar went off in fine shape. Many fine articles were on sale at fair prices. Oysters in any style, served with many kinds of pie, coffee and cake and the result financially was pleasant.
A fine set of dishes was on sale and I advised Dorothy Dick to buy them but Dick Dorothy [Corporon] had just invested his spending change in a new Chevie, so they had no coin for dishes.
Monday night was cold and blustery. The north wind blew a gale and the mercury down to freezing. This was outdoors, but inside the Liggett home all was warm, cozy, hospitable, being the fifteenth anniversary of this worthy couple.
"Thou hast sworn by thy God, my Agnes By that pretty white hand o' thine And by a' the lowing stars in heaven. That thou wad aye be mine! And I hae sworn by my God, my Agnes, And by that kind heart o' thine, By a' the stars sown thick ow'er heaven, That thou shalt aye be mine." With apologies to Allan Cunningham.
This is what was said fifteen years ago, and now comes the crystal anniversary. Invitations were written with white ink on crystal cards and the color scheme was green and white with chrysanthemums predominating. Place cards were crystal wedding bells inserted in the tops of green marshmallows each bell bearing in white letters the name of the guest. Brilliant electric lights were shaded in green and white. The table spread with snowy linens, sparkled with cut glass and glistened with silver.
As a crowning piece to the color scheme, the bride was dressed in gown of a beautiful shade of green. The following guests were present: Mrs. Helen Holsworth, Mr. Mason S. Holsworth, Mr. and Mrs. Gustave Franzen, Mr. and Mrs. Roy Nelson and the Misses Rosalie and Ethel Nelson, Mr. and Mrs. Harry Austin Clapp, Mrs. Edward Lindwood. Of course, the bride and groom were present, as were their accumulations during the past fifteen years in the persons of Arthur Liggett, Roberta Liggett and Master Milford Austin Liggett.
As for the menu, it was all the most fastidious gastromer could wish, beginning with roast stuffed capon, mashed potatoes, cranberry gelatine squares, creamed oysters in patty shells, celery, wonderful sweet pickles, salad, hot rolls, green pine apple sherbet, angel food bride's cake and coffee, and surmounted with miniature figures of a bride and groom. When the latter was served, Mrs. Harry Austin Clapp rose and gave a toast to the bride in these words:
"Love be true to her Life be dear to her, Health stay close to her, Fortune find what you can for her, Search your treasure house through and through for her, Follow her footsteps the wide world over, And may her husband always be her lover."
After dinner the bride donned glasses and lo, Ethel Spence was present and played the accompaniment, while Misses Rosalie Nelson, Roberta Liggett and Ethel Nelson sang for the guests.
Gifts of crystal from their loving friends were in evidence a plenty. The guests departed wishing Mr. and Mrs. Lester Liggett a long and happy life. I have attended many similar affairs but none more brilliant, satisfying, or exquisite. I and the miserable wretch went home and we listened as our Edison played for us: "The End of a Perfect Day."
The Daily Tribune, December 10, 1929
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By Harry Austin Clapp “And then the blue eyed Norseman told A saga of the days of old.” --Longfellow A saga of Collegeport properly begins generations ago, when all these lands were covered with roaming herds of cattle and the home of a few, very few, people, but for the purpose of this tale it goes back to about the year 1906 when a man on horseback rode over its expanse and with ambitious eye visioned its future. Allowing his horse to graze, he folded his arms and stared at the brilliant scene. He did not see the landscape. His eyes were projecting visions. He saw nothing but tall grass up to the belly of his horse, clumps of huisache, groups of grazing cattle and driving all day he came upon but one wandering cowman. In his future reaching eye, however, he saw, farms with men busy putting in crops, roads, radiating from all parts of the territory, women singing at their work, children laughing at play. He saw schools, fine homes, a railroad and other evidences of progress. In his mind he laid out the country into blocks and the blocks into large and small farms and on a delightful bluff overlooking the bay he saw a town occupied with a busy, happy contented people. Came a surveyor in the year 1907 who ran lines across the country with a compass and these lines were transcribed onto blue prints. The bell was tolling for a long occupied pasture land and the day of cowmen and cattle was passing. For my purpose in
this tale the time begins when I read an advertisement in the Chicago
Tribune, which called me to the Collegeport, like The five years beginning with 1909 were golden days of the community, for it was during that period, the railroad came, the post office was opened, a bank established. People came fast and soon the town boasted of twelve business houses, a weekly newspaper, The Collegeport Chronicle, a splendid hotel, two big rooming houses, fine residences along the bay shore and the principal street. Then came the days of retroversion. People began to turn back from whence they came. Some of the older ones died after trying to snatch back some of their youth, jaded ones who were getting a thrill out of what they called pioneering, disillusioned ones who tiring of the effervescence of home seeking. These left. Some others stayed and are still here living a contented life. Old timers, do you remember with what pride you used to listen to the wonderful music produced by the Collegeport band? Do you remember those boys? L. E. Liggett, business manager; Mr. Harsh, director; Abbot Kone, cornet; Donald Travis, cornet; J. Walters, clarinet; Carl Judin, Clarinet; G. Yeamans, baritone; C. Yeamans, bass; A. Morris, snare drum; Geo. Martin, bass drum; Ora Turner, alto; Joe Paine, alto; George Corporon, slide trombone. In 1911, Mrs. Emma B.
Ruff of Came those who are here now whose names it is not necessary to mention, but also came Smith, Travis, House, Sholl, Knight, Judin, Pierson, Miller, Kone, Gaumer, Van Ness, Spence, Palmer, Olsen, Morris, Sicks, Hurd, Sr., Sterling, Darling, Lipsitt, Glasser, Herbage, Livers, Adams, Sweet, Dierke, Lake, Leach, Jones, Brown, Wilkinson, Pfeiffer, Cobb, Ives, Black, Clark, Aucutt, Harrington, Delaplain, Gableman, Kanht, Grimes, Sellers, Wilder, Carey, Maples, Hutchison, Hoffhines, Sarchet, Hansel, Elmer, Pridgeon, Mott, Price, Edwards, O’Kane and a host of others whose names my memory does not recall. Now as I look back I regret those halcyon days of Collegeport. I recall the night we met to organize our first school district and count all the children then living here and those whose parents were planning to come we had about ten names and so the first school was opened in a small tent about where the library stands now, with a devoted teacher whose name I do not remember. Mrs. Elmer started the first Sunday school, in the Mott grocery store, with Chauncy Brown as superintendent and H. A. Clapp as assistant. The assistant was needed, as we had as many as six or seven members. I can hear Mrs. Elmer’s voice as I write, singing, “Bringing in the Sheaves.” Then there was the Dena
H. What memories the name brings to us as we think of the many happy
trips on that gay ship from the Collegeport dock to Mrs. O’Neal still preserved the old register and a perusal of its pages will bring back to one many happy thoughts of the days that are gone forever. How about the pavilion, the land company provided with its promenade, its dancing floor, its bath rooms and facilities for water sports. There is was, that Mary Louise took her first swimming lesson and as I took her into the water she clung to me like a leach from fear. Now she dives and swims like a seal. Remember the building of the fine hotel, the opening of the townsite with the two bands and after a banquet in the dining room, two hundred people dancing on the gallery and in the lobby. There being no postoffice or railway, our mail was brought from Palacios and deposited in a box on the beach and each one selected his own mail. Groceries came from the same source. We all felt quite swell when the postoffice was opened with Howard Sholl as postmaster and the day the first train arrived, the town turned out in full force. Everyone suffered from the citrus fruit and fig bug and many acres were set out and for a time it looked as though Collegeport would bull the fruit market. No one counted much on the dairy cow or the sow or hen. Note the change, for now they are the standby for the payment of the grocery account. Only a few things are mentioned but they will serve I hope to bring back happy memories to those who are now in foreign parts. Last week my copy mentioned that Gerald Merck, wife and baby boy were here for a visit and that Glenn Dale Welsby and wife were here also. The fellow who manipulates the keys on the type machine ignored the Merck copy and then stated that Glenn Dale Welsby and baby boy were here. In as much as Dale was married on the day before Thanksgiving, the announcement is a trifle previous. Some day it is hoped he will come with his baby boy. Arthur Soekland shipped five crates of superlative fat capons this week, and Mrs. John Gainesborough Ackerman sent out a big bunch of turks. The Fred Robbins ranch shipped out eight cars of short yearling calves in a special train. Some thief, while Seth Corse was busy reached in the delivery window of the postoffice and swiped the postal scales. A serious offense. Gus Franzen drove in Thursday and from his car dumped out fourteen school kids. Shows what a Ford can do. At last, Oscar Barber has made his wants known. The miserable wretch swears she will vote for him but as for me, I dunno until I have talked the matter over with Oscar. It is my humble opinion that Mr. Kleska should be retained in his office for several reasons, the foremost being that he is a very proficient collector. A downpour of five or six inches of rain Tuesday postponed land breaking for some time. Balance of the week, “good old summer time.” I feel sorry for George Harrison. It seems that he told his girls that every time they made the honor roll in school he would honor them with a cash deposit and here come Ruth, Naomi and Marion all in the honor roll and George will have to come across if I know those girls. The woman’s club held its annual Christmas party at the Boeker home with a regular tree loaded with gifts for each member. Old friends of the
Sims family are delighted to know that they have arrived for a stay of
several weeks and are at home in their Mrs. Crane, manager of the Bachman store, has a tempting display of toys surrounding a Christmas tree all located in one of the show windows. The Collegeport Pharmacy is all dolled up with mistletoe, holly and yupon and an extra fine display of gifts. This display will in no way detract from the quality of hot and cold drinks he draws from his fountain. Hugo has not only made a reputation as an oyster chef, but is known far and wide for being a prince of good fellows. My copy last week
mentioned that among those present at the Liggett dinner was Mr. Edward
Linwood Hall. The typer made it read Mr. Edward Linwood. Mr. Hall is the
man who owns and operates the Mrs. Seth W. Corse
and Mrs. Carl Boeker attended as delegates from the local club, the A letter from Mr.
James Ford executive director better homes in Louise Walter comes out in a nifty dress of black and white check, big red tie and a bright red coat. Makes her look like a cardinal, but anyway she is a bird. The Daily
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C. W. Rutherford, who made his home in Collegeport, a number of years, but has been in Nevada, Mo., the past two years, in order to be near his relatives and to look after his farms in that state, and Kansas, in renewing his subscription to the Beacon this week, has this to say that might be of interest to our readers who knew him and Mrs. Rutherford: “Dear Editor, As my time is about out for your papers I am sending you a check for another year’s reading, as we can’t get along without the Beacon. My wife looks for it every week and reads it before any of the others. It is just like getting a letter from a friend. We still own our farm at Collegeport, and think it is the best place in the United States to live and would like to be there now, too cold up here, nine months of winter and three of fall. We are hoping to make a trip down there in the spring. The good roads will make that part of Texas the garden spot of the earth.”
Palacios Beacon, December 19, 1929 |
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[Local information taken from longer article.] Often I have wondered just what a treasurer was. I of course, knew that he had some thing to do with a treasure. I find then that a treasurer is “an officer who receives public money arising from taxes and duties, takes charge of the same and disburses it upon order made by proper authority.” This is what Charles Langham, our present County Treasurer has done and because he had done this work well and faithfully he seeks to retain the office. I have little sympathy with a voter who would turn out a faithful officer, just because he has served a certain term. Keep the good ones, the proficient ones, at work is my idea of good government and so this day of Christmas, 1929, I am thinking that my two votes will help to keep Charles Langham in charge of the public monies. Santa Claus was mighty good to me this year. All my children aided in filling my stocking to overflow and as the day ended with a big turkey feast, I thanked God that he had given me such wonderful children and such a dear grandchild. I cannot enumerate the many gifts and remembrances from all parts of the United States. They brought joy and happiness to us. Two gifts stand out because so unexpected. The Tribune remembered me generously with a tool that will keep me thinking of Carey and his force for many years and then came a big box of those Carrie Nelson Noodles with a letter telling me of the regard the maker has for me. I shall preserve the latter and as for the noodles come around about Sunday and look through my window and watch noodles depart for their destination. The thought that prompted Carey Smith and Carrie Nelson to remember me is the thing that lights the candle of love and lights in one’s soul. It burns bright for me this day and will continue for a year and a day. Of course the greatest gift that came to I and the miserable wretch was the home coming of Mary Louise and to our great joy the tyrants who rule over her office told her to stay a full week. You folks who have children coming home know how happy we are.
“To me she is like a sweet flower in the morning
She is my one great weakness, --Fragments from Hack. Gus Franzen knows all about it for he had all his children at home and so his face is wreathed with smiles of happiness. Mrs. Merck had her brood with her accumulations of grandchildren and so she too was happy. Say, boy, isn’t this a great old world? At the Christmas festivities held in the Community house about two hundred people gathered. Clifford Franzen took the part of Santa and distributed gifts to every child. None were forgotten. After the distribution he passed through the audience and every one was soon munching a big red apple. A program of songs, recitations and stunts provided by the school pupils supplied amusement a plenty and so passed Christmas Eve. December 26, represented the sixteenth birthday of Ruth Mowery and the old saw of “sweet sixteen” but half expresses the deliciousness of Ruthie. She is a bright and shining star and she possesses the prettiest and daintiest pair of, O, well, what’s the use of going farther, so long as you know what I mean. Friday was the seventh anniversary of the marriage of the Duke and Duchess of Kundinger, sometimes known as Hugh and Hattie and about fifty people, young and old gathered at the Collegeport Pharmacy to do them honor. Cakes and drinks and good cheer brought comfort to these old people. Saturday Margaret Holsworth, who returned this week from her duties as teacher in the Chicago schools, gave a bridge party which was attended by the phemmie elite and eclaire of the village. Paul Braden was a guest at the Homecrofters for dinner on Thursday, and by the way he ate I am under the impression that he has entirely recovered from this late indisposition. I acknowledge that Clifford Franzen made a fair Santa Claus but at that he never can fill stockings as some of our girls can. This is the last spasm, convulsion, agitation, disturbance, the Tribune readers will be bothered with this good year of 1929 and so I write the last line of the last string of the last bundle of slum I wish you all a very Happy, Happy, New Year. The miserable wretch joins me in this and bids me tell you that she has survived the distress and suffering of living with me and will try it out again for 1930.
The Daily Tribune, December, 1929 |
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| Created Jul. 18, 2008 |
Updated Jul. 18, 2008 |