Showing posts with label Texas. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Texas. Show all posts

1990 The Train

In 1990, when we were living in Vernon, we were literally "on the other side of the tracks".  We lived on what we called Smith Hill.  There were only 4 families living there:  A Vietnam vet, Jay, who lived with his wife in a trailer right by the railroad crossing (who suffered from PTSD and when he got drunk on whiskey, would get his guns and shoot at the trains); my in-laws, Martha and Ben Smith; Trey, Benjamin, and me; and the Masons, which included Jean and her two daughters, Tammy and Tiffany.  Jean's ex-husband, John, lived in Lubbock and we had visited him a couple of times.  John was a great guy, the lift of the party, but he had an arrest warrant in Wilbarger County so couldn't come to town to see his daughters. Tammy Mason was a great singer and sang at almost every local event.  Her younger sister Tiffany occasionally babysat for Benjamin, who was about 3-1/2 at the time.

SMITH HILL
Red = Martha & Ben Smith // Aqua = Fay, Trey, & Benjamin Smith // Red = Jean Mason // Yellow = Jay
The coal trains would go by our house all the time, sometimes several times a day.  Our RR crossing had no lights or barriers, just a stop sign, and the engineer would blow the whistle from pretty far away.  Our dog, Critter, would howl every time she heard the whistle, which was really annoying.

On May 12, the day before Mother's Day, 1990, I was washing my hair in the kitchen sink.  I had all the windows open because it was hot.  Benjamin was playing somewhere.  There was an airport just north of us on the Oklahoma side and the Altus AFB was close as well, so we often heard plane noises, as well as trains.  I heard what sounded like a jet engine, very loud, not normal at all.  I shut off the faucet and listened and it was a horrible metallic screeching noise.  I ran to the back door which faced north because I thought a plane was crashing, but there was nothing.

I then ran to the front door and I saw a train moving slowly along the track.  I could only see the top half of he locomotive because the track dipped down after the crossing so it would be able to go under Hwy 287 a little further down.  There was what appeared to be a huge cloud of smoke above it.  I couldn't imagine what was going on, but I had a bad feeling.  I towel dried my hair and got Benjamin and we set off on foot down to the crossing.  By the time I got there, the train was stopped and was blocking the crossing.  There were several cars on the other side and there were emergency vehicles there as well, one in particular on the bluff above where the engine was.  As I got closer and came around the bend, I saw something lying on the ground near the track.  It was a little boy.

I picked up Benjamin and turned him away.  It was a little boy about Benjamin's size, wearing blue jeans, and a white shirt with a brown belt.  He was lying face down in the dirt.  Benjamin saw him, though, and kept asking me, "Why is he lying there Mommy?  Why is he lying there?"  By this time, I had a sense of what had happened.  I told Benjamin that the little boy was taking a nap because it was hot.  Benjamin, bless him, kept asking more questions,  "Why is he in the dirt?"

I walked further down the track and saw my worst nightmare.  There was a car in front of the locomotive.  At that point, a police officer called over to me to stop and not go any further, so I walked back to the crossing.  My head was buzzing.  I kept looking at that little boy.  He didn't seem real.

Suddenly, I saw Trey looking through the railroad cars at me and waving and yelling.  I walked closer to the train and a police officer push him aside and asked me if I was okay and if I had seen what happened.  I told him that yes we were okay and no I didn't see what happened, but I heard it. He said they would come talk to me later.

I was able to talk to Trey and apparently, there was something on the radio about a train hitting a car at the Harrison Street crossing, that there was a small boy killed, and that it was a brown car.  One of Martha's friends heard it and immediately called Martha, who was in Colorado with Ben at the time. Martha  called Trey at his shop and told him to get home.  We lived on Harrison Street, I had a brown car, and Benjamin was a small boy.  Obviously, Martha and Ben were frantic.  Eventually, I passed Benjamin between the cars and Trey took him to the shop.  I wanted him away from the scene.  

I sat on the ground and stayed near the little boy.  Someone called to me and handed me a blanket through the cars and asked me to cover him up.  I didn't even know his name, but I couldn't help picturing that being Benjamin.  

Car (red) and Train (black) on Track
There was a lot of activity at the bluff. I walked down to my side and was able to see what was happening.  The car was crushed.  There was debris everywhere.  The paramedics had just run down the bluff to get to the car and they had set up ropes to get victims up to the road.  Eventually they brought up a little boy, older than the one on the ground, who wasn't moving.  Then they pulled up a woman who didn't appear to be badly hurt.  Two ambulances left for the hospital.  But there were still several paramedics at the car working on someone else.  Eventually, they stopped and other people went down and started trying to get parts of the car open.  At that point, they blocked off the car and I couldn't see anything anymore.  I still didn't know who these people were though.  Benjamin and I were the only people on our side of the track.  Martha and Ben, Jean Mason and her daughters, Jay and his wife, all seemed to be gone.

After some time, the engineer uncoupled the cars so the crossing was open, and I was able to drive across.  I went to the hospital, which was very close by.  As I pulled up, a medical helicopter was just taking off.  Someone said it was the bigger boy who had severe head injuries.  I asked if they knew who the people were and they wouldn't say.

I went home after that.  I was terribly shaken.  I think I was still in shock.  I stopped at the bluff and looked down.  The train was still there, of course.  But so was the car.  It was mangled so badly that it was almost unrecognizable.  There was just one part that wasn't, the back seat behind the driver.  I crossed over the track.  I wanted to walk down the track, but there were police guarding it so I went home.  I just kept walking around aimlessly.  I thought I knew who had been in the car, but I wasn't sure.  I kept seeing that little boy lying there, with those clean blue jeans and that clean white shirt, face down in that red dirt.

Eventually, we found out who was in that car.  This is what happened.  

The driver was Janna Hardage, who was a local school teacher.  She had gone to the Masons' house to pick up Tiffany to take her to a school concert.  In the car with her were were her 2 sons, Colby and Connor.  Tiffany's sister Tammy and her mother Jean had already left for the concert.  Janna picked up Tiffany and they crossed the track on their way to the school.  Then Tiffany realized she had forgotten her purse and begged Janna to go back and get it, as they were still very close to the Mason house.  Janna was not happy about it, but she turned around and drove quickly back.  She looked both ways at the crossing (per her statement) and the next thing she knew, there was a terrible impact and the car starting moving sideways.  When she looked back to see if Connor was okay, she realized he was gone!  The car seat was there but he was gone.  His window had been open because it was so hot.  She looked for her son Colby and saw him lying on the back seat.  Tiffany, in the passenger seat, looked unhurt but was not moving.  Janna herself didn't appear to be hurt.  She said that when the car stopped moving, she tried to get her door open to go look for Connor, but she couldn't.  She couldn't hear anything because of the screeching of the train pushing the car along the track.  As soon as the train stopped, the engineer was able to gt her out of the car.  By then, the first ambulance had arrived.  It just happened to be at the hospital about 2 miles away, and they heard the noise.  It was also called in by people working at Celanese, right beside the crossing.

The little boy on the track was Connor Hardage.  He was ejected from his carseat on impact, and throw out through the window.  He died of head trauma.  The boy who was airlifted was Colby Hardage.  He had severe head injuries.  Apparently he was flown to Dallas, where they performed some experimental surgery on him, successfully I think.  The person in the car was Tiffany, Benjamin's babysitter and our neighbor.   At impact, her aorta ruptured and she basically bled to death in the car.  She died before they could remove her from the car.

AFTERMATH

After I got home, I was in shock.  I couldn't sit down.  I couldn't do anything.  I called Trey and fell apart.  Trey called the police to see if anyone had notified John Mason in Lubbock that his daughter was dead.  Apparently the Police Chief had done so and had told him that as long as he stayed out of trouble, they wouldn't pursue the arrest warrant they had for him, they would turn a blind eye at the funeral as well.

The next day, Mother's Day, John came to see us.  I will never forget what it was like, seeing him standing in our yard, looking at the train, and crying.  It was  heart wrenching.  We all cried a lot that day.   It was while he was there that they moved the train.   

I called in sick on Monday because I wanted to go to the funeral home to see Connor.  In fact, I couldn't stay away.  I went 3 or 4 times on Monday.  On Tuesday I went back to work but all I did all day was draw diagrams of the crossing, where Connor had been lying, etc.  Dr. Gilmore, the Director of the Research Center came and talked to me and said that if I wanted to take some time off, it would be fine.  In fact, he recommended it.   But I didn't want to.  It would have made it even easier to obsess about it.

Example of Diagram Trying to Make Sense of It
Every day that week, when I left work I would go to the funeral home to visit Connor, then I would go home and walk along the track with Benjamin, both sides, over and over.  I found a lot of things.  I even found one of the wheels from the car that had rolled a long way down the track.  Every day I would take home anything I found, no matter how tiny, and put it in a pile under one of our mesquite trees.  I guess I was building a memorial in a way.

One day that week, I was interviewed by the police.  I showed them where I had been washing my hair, where we had walked down to the track, etc.  They kept asking me if I had heard the train whistle.  I had to tell them I couldn't remember.  When you hear it so often, you tend to block it out.  Plus, I was washing my hair at the time.  I just couldn't give them a yes or a no.  It wasn't until I had gone over it in my mind probably hundreds of time that I realized that I hadn't heard Critter howling, which would definitely had been audible even with the water running.  If Critter didn't howl, did that mean the whistle didn't blow?  It was important because there was a wrongful death lawsuit against Burlington Northern in the works.  I had to write a detailed statement.

The day after the accident, as I was coming home from town, I saw piles of flowers at the mailboxes at the crossing.  Every day, people came and left flowers.  They sometimes parked by the crossing.  Sometimes when I was combing the tracks, I would talk to them.  I understood, because I have done that myself at scenes of tragedies.  I just never expected to be living near one.  I put a notice in the Vernon Daily Record thanking everyone for the flowers and promised as long as they kept coming, I would take care of them.  After that, people started leaving flowers in vases and plants.  Every day, Benjamin and I would walk to the mailbox with water and take care of them.  It helped me, actually.

About a week after the accident, Benjamin starting having his Ugly Man nightmares.  That's also when his friend Shelfis arrived (see separate posts).  

I'd lie awake at night reconstructing the scene in my head, over and over.  When Janna was driving around Celanese, did she hear a whistle and decide she had time to cross?  She said she didn't hear a whistle.  But were the kids chattering and she didn't notice it?  Why would the engineer not blow it when he knew the train was a little hidden behind the Celanese buildings?  My gut feeling was that he had blown it, but there was the Critter thing....  The people at Celanese had the same problem I did, they tended not to hear it anymore.

A few weeks later, Benjamin and I were walking up and down the track when a pickup parked by the mailboxes.  A man got out and started walking toward us.  it was Mike.  He said he sometimes came and did the same thing I did, walk the track.  He told me that Colby was recovering slowly but they were optimistic he could have a normal life.  I told him about the 'memorial' I had of items I had recovered and asked if he wanted to see it.  He said yes so we got in his pickup and  went to the house.  I told him to take anything he wanted.  He found a keyring and took it; He said it had belonged to Colby.  My heart went out to him.   

Janna took a leave of absence from teaching for the 1990-91 school year.  I found out later that she and Mike were divorced a few years after the accident.  She had no visible scars but two children, one of them her own, had died in her car, and her other son was seriously injured.  She has scars.

Later, I heard that the engineer of the train had previously been involved in a death through no fault of his own.  After this happened, he retired.  He was suffering from PTSD, not surprisingly.

About a year later, Benjamin and I went to an EMS demonstration and talked to one of the paramedics who had responded to the scene and who had worked on Tiffany.  He said she was awake while they were working on her.  He could tell she had a very short time to live unless they could get her to surgery but she was pinned in the car.  He said they all knew she wasn't going to make it, and all they could do was reassure her.  It was a painless death, he said she just went to sleep.  He said it was so traumatizing that he took a 3-month leave of absence from EMS.  I am eternally grateful that she didn't know she was dying and that she wasn't in pain.   

Every time I saw a Burlington Northern train for years after that, I checked the number on the locomotive, just in case.  It was burned into my brain.  It actually did go by a couple of times and it gave me a chill.

We moved to Denver about 5 months later, in October 1990.  I kept looking at trains, but never saw that locomotive again.  

About 18 months after the accident, I was interviewed over the phone by a lawyer involved in the lawsuit.  I also had to send them a written statement (see below).

This is my opinion of what happened.  Janna left the Mason house after picking up Tiffany.  She turned around in the Celanese parking lot after Tiffany said she forgot her purse.  Because there was arguing in the car about being late for the concert, Janna probably didn't think much about a train coming.  She wasn't used to the crossing like we were.  She left the parking lot driving as fast as she could and didn't look down the track like we always did, as she wasn't really tuned in to it the way we Smith Hill residents were, plus she was distracted.  She starting to cross the tracks at the same time the engineer realized she was there.  He probably didn't see her until she was almost at the crossing because of the Celanese buildings.  By the time he hit the brakes, it was too late to make any difference.  A train going 30 mph takes a long time to stop.  Whose fault was it?  I don't think Burlington Northern  and the engineer were at fault unless he did not blow his whistle.  Obviously, the driver was at fault for not stopping at the crossing and looking.

I found out later that the suit had been settled, with Burlington Northern accepting 25% responsibility and Janna being held 75% responsible.  That fits with what I think happened.

I still look at trains, even though I can't remember the numbers.  I think I forgot it on purpose.  But I always stop at every rail crossing.  



Ironically, the train track is even closer to me than it was in Vernon, and I have 2 crossings nearby.  Instead of upsetting me, it comforts me in a way.  I always stop at every crossing and look both ways.  If anything, I am over cautious.  But I have reason to be.


I also stopped celebrating Mothers Day.  I told Benjamin that if he wants to send a card or something to me, that's fine.  But for me, it just brings back very traumatic memories of John Mason crying over his daughter, and the screech of that car being pushed down the tracks.






1990 The Ugly Man

When he was about 3-1/2, for about 6 months, Benjamin had nightmares.  He would wake up screaming and crying.  Sometimes I brought him into our bed, and sometimes I stayed in his car bed with him.  He said in the dreams he was stolen by "an ugly man".  He couldn't really describe him, just that in various situations, the "ugly man" would grab him and run away with him.  



I talked to Uncle Carl (our family doctor) about it, and he said it was probably a reaction to the train accident.  A boy about his age was killed, and even though I didn't really talk to Benjamin about it, he saw it and he saw Colby lying there.  It affected me greatly, and I'm sure he heard me talking about it.  It's possible that because he couldn't really express his fear, the only way he could visualize it was that he was stolen, the way Colby was "stolen" from his family.  In that context, it makes sense.

That is probably also the origin of his imaginary friend, Shelfis.

After we moved to Denver in September 1990, he didn't dream about the "ugly man" anymore.

1978 Laundry Day

When I lived in Vernon, Texas, our house was next door to a laundromat.  Our goats would escape on almost a daily basis and go there to hang out.  The learned really quickly that there were kids there (homan ones) and that human kids usually had things to eat.  They also had lots of trash.  Goats love paper.  People think they eat tin cans, but they don't; they eat the labels off the cans.  There was a vending machine at the laundromat, so there were a lot of wrappers lying around.  The owners didn't do much cleaning either.  It was goat heaven.

Occasionally I would get a knock on the door asking if those were my goats next door, but usually people tolerated them or just chased them away.   They rarely went out onto Wilbarger St, which was a main road through town.

Goat eating clothes
One day, I went and rounded them up, only to find that Vincent van Goat had a large piece of denim hanging out of his mouth.  When I went to the laundry to find out what damage Vincent had done, someone told me that Vincent had grabbed a pair of jeans out of her laundry basket and run off with it.  When she finally got it back from him, there was a large piece missing.  I offered to pay for the jeans but she thought it was so funny she wouldn't let me.  She said she could cut off the other leg and wear them short. 


Goats are browsers, not grazers.  They damage grass.  But they are great at trimming trees.  We had several beautiful honey locust trees in our lot.  The goats would stand on their back feet and eat up as far as they could reach.  As a result, all the trees were nicely trimmed to an even level. 

1980 Orphan


Then there was Orphan.

One day we got a call from the Vernon Police Department asking if we were missing a goat.  This happened regularly; they would go right over the chain link and through the hot wire at the top.  But that particular day, everyone was accounted for.  

"Well", the dispatcher said, "There's a goat tied to a stop sign downtown and if it's not yours, whose is it?  Will you take it until we find its owner?"

Of course we would.  Not long after the conversation, a trailer pulled up and out walked Orphan.  He was not a Pygmy, not at all.  He was a Nubian!  He was adorable.  He was much bigger than our goats.  He had long ears like an Afghan Hound or a Lop rabbit.  He was very tame, like a big dog.  It was love at first sight.  He immediately fit into our family.


He was so docile  that he and Jim marched in the Santa Rosa Roundup parade that year.  They were a float!  Jim was dressed up like Buffalo Bill (of course) with chaps and a big floppy cowboy hat, leading Orphan.  When everyone lining the street saw Orphan, they threw him all kinds of candy and other things, which he loved.  But then Orphan spotted something he didn't like.  He got away from Jim and started to chase this person down the street.  It just happened to be the publisher of the local newspaper.  He chased him for almost an entire block.  I never laughed so hard in my life.

1980 Goats and Dancing Dervish

When I lived in Vernon, Texas, husband #2, Jim, and I decided we wanted to get some goats to keep my horse Sugar company.  He contacted Carter McGregor, a rancher who had bought some of his paintings.  Carter was a very well known horseman.  He said he had herds of goats, and of course we could have as many as we wanted.  


Not long after that, we went to the McGregor Ranch.  He took us out to the pasture where there were literally hundreds of goats roaming around, and told us to pick a couple.  We decided on a black nanny goat and a chocolate brown billy goat.  A couple of Carter's hands caught them and loaded them into the back of the pickup and the deal was done.  They were put in our horse trailer and we were taken on a tour of the ranch house.


It was amazing.  But the thing that really captivated me was a painting of the great Thoroughbred, Native Dancer.  When I asked Carter about it, he said he had something to show me.  We went out to the barn and he took me to a stall where a beautiful white horse was munching hay.  "That's Dancing Dervish", he said, "Native Dancer is his dad"  I was in awe, I got goosebumps, and I actually petted him.  I petted a son of Native Dancer.  When we went back to the house, Beth McGregor and Jim talked about art and paintings, but Carter and I talked about horses.  


Many years later, around 2007, I went to the local eye doctor in Aberdeen, Washington and for some reason, we started talking about horses.  He told me had a couple of racehorses and asked if I ever went to Emerald Downs, the track about 60 miles away.  I said that yes, I had gone many times.  Then I told him about the beautiful white race horse I had met so many years ago, Dancing Dervish.  He stared at me and said "Could you repeat that?"  I told him again that many years ago in Texas, I had met a beautiful white racehorse, a son of Native Dancer, named Dancing Dervish.  He shook his head and said, "It always amazes me what a small world it is.  I have a horse who is the grandson of Dancing Dervish".



1969 Jamie and Texas

In 1969, I secretly got married and knew that I would be moving to New York's Greenwich Village to live with David when I graduated from Katharine Gibbs Secretarial School.  It was a volatile time.  My dad didn't know about David and when he found out, I moved out of the Bernardsville house under a black cloud.  


Originally, I had planned to take Jamie with me; I had no doubt in my mind.  My dad talked me out of it, telling me how miserable Jamie would be in the city.  

He was right.  We were living in a tiny, 1-room studio.  It just didn't seem right to bring him there after he'd spent his whole life virtually running free, so I kept putting it off.  


One night my dad called and said he might have a solution.  My uncle Bill in Texas wanted him.  Bill's wife Becky had some kind of disorder causing her to lose consciousness without any warning.  Bill thought Jamie would be a perfect companion for her, to help keep her safe, and give her a little more freedom.  She was basically confined to the house.

At first, it was a shocking plan.  As long as Jamie was in New Jersey, he was close enough for me to visit and see on a regular basis.  But Texas?  I said I needed to think about it, but a few weeks later, my dad called and said they were moving to London.  That forced me to decide - should he come live with me or go to Texas?  As hard as it was to admit, I knew the right decision was for him to go.*



My dad built him a huge wooden crate; it must have weighed 200 lbs.  He took him to the airport and off he went.  My uncle Bill picked him up in Dallas and drove him to Vernon.  

Apparently, Jamie kept trying to escape, but fortunately, he was not successful.  My dad didn't tell me any of this at the time.  I would have been terribly upset to know how unhappy he was.  

Then one day, he was with Becky and she passed out.  Jamie stayed by her side, barking, and my grandmother found her.  After that, Jamie had a job, and he never left her side.  He even went to the beauty parlor with her, sitting outside the door.  Once he had a job, he was a happy dog.  

When I heard about this, I was jealous. He was still my dog.  But I was glad too.  My uncle called him Haus and he was a local legend.  If Becky had a spell, Haus would run and get my grandmother. Because of him, Becky was able to leave the house, which she hadn't been able to do before he came.  He was literally a life saver and I was proud.


  • When I moved to the Village, I met an amazing dog named Khan.  He was an Afghan Hound and I knew someday I would have one.  When I agreed to send Jamie to Texas, I basically blackmailed my dad and told him he should give me the money to get another dog, since he had stolen mine.  He sent me $300.  A couple of months later, David and I bought our Afghan Hound puppy, Bandirran Mona Lisa (Shendi).

1989 Sunny on the Tracks

When he was about 3 years old, my son Benjamin had a Wolfhound named Sunny.  I had an adult named Shadow, and I had decided Benjamin needed his own puppy.  He loved Sunny, they went roaming around together.  We lived in a trailer house on my in-laws' land and there was plenty of space.  We had a fenced yard as well, where the dogs could stay.  But sometimes we liked to let them out and take them "out back" where the land dropped down to fields and then the Pease River.

Smith Hill

Not too far away from our trailer was the railroad track.  The trains went by pretty regularly.One day, I went outside and didn't see the three dogs, Sunny, Shadow, and our white German Shepherd, Critter.  Then I found a hole dug under the fence.  I started running up our towards the track and the street because that was I feared the most.  As I did, I saw Shadow and Critter come running towards me.  Critter kept going to the house, but Shadow was visibly upset.  I went with him up the embankment to where the train track was, and then I saw him, a pile of fur a little way down the track.  He didn't appear to be moving.

I ran all the way back to the house to get my car, which was a little Dodge Colt Premier Turbo.  I put Critter and Shadow in the yard and grabbed a couple of blankets.  Then I called our vet, Dr. Roger Lacy, and told them I was coming, and took off to the track.
When I got there, I left the back door of the car open.

Then I climbed up the embankment to where Sunny was lying.  He wasn't moving, but he seemed to be breathing.  He had a long singe mark all the way down his side from his shoulder to his flank.  I wasn't sure what to do, what if he had a broken back?  But I couldn't leave him lying on the track, knowing more trains would be coming.  I spread out one of the blankets and dragged him onto it.  He made some movements, so I know it must have hurt, but he didn't try to bite me.  After I got him on the blanket, I managed to get him down the embankment to the car.  He weighed about 80 lbs, I would imagine.  Somehow I got him onto the back seat, shut the door and took off to the vet.

Lacy Vet Clnic
When I got there, they took him in and told me to wait.  It was a long wait.  When Dr Lacy came out to get me, he told me Sunny was lucky that he was still alive.  He didn't appear to have any broken bones, but, he had a severe concussion and his responses were not good.  Roger thought he might have been hit a glancing blow on the head and landed between the 2 rails.  That would account for the singeing of his coat, from the heat of the metal wheels going by him.  It was close to a miracle that he actually only had the concussion.

Sunny stayed at the vet for about a week.  When he came home, he was subdued and lethargic.  I didn't think he would ever be back to normal.  But he remembered Benjamin, and Benjamin remembered him.  That was the important thing.  Shadow was extremely protective of him, but Critter never had liked him since he stole a snake from her as a puppy.

Sunny recovered to be almost completely his old self.  He retained the singe marks down his side for a couple of months, but otherwise, he was okay.  Dr. Lacy later told me "I wouldn't have given that dog a 30% chance of surviving, much less being back to normal".

I was just grateful I found him so quickly.  If he had been there when another train came by, we would not have been so fortunate.

1932 Horsefly

When my dad, Travis, was just a sprout, he desperately wanted a horse, but my grandmother Mary kept saying no, it was too dangerous.  Finally though, when he was 11 or 12, she agreed.  She told Earl what she expected and one day Earl came home with a horse trailer containing Travis's horse.   He was large, and a mangy white color.  Travis was not particularly impressed, but he was a horse, his own horse.  

After a few days, they got to know each other well enough, and he decided to set out for town to show his friends.  Off he went that morning.  Then, couple of hours later, Mary saw him walking back down the dirt road, dejected.  

When he got home, she asked "Where's the horse?  Did he throw you?"  "Of course not" Travis replied.  "He dropped dead right in the middle of the road!"  

My grandmother Mary felt so bad that she let Earl pick the next horse.  This one was black, and apparently very nasty.  He bit everyone and kicked everything.  His name was Horsefly.  He was impossible to ride, or even approach.

Finally, after Travis had been thrown several times, they all agreed that going from one extreme to the other was not a good idea.  This time, they would let Travis make the choice. 

They sold Horsefly and Travis found a little 2-year old filly that he named Pony.   She was a pretty girl, sorrel with a flaxen mane and tail.  My dad was the one who broke and trained her. I loved her.  She died at age 30, in 1952.

1982 Dale Robertson and Jubilee

I always say that Fabian was my first crush, but I actually did have a crush before Fabian. I loved Dale Robertson’s horse Jubilee almost as much as I loved Dale himself. That was in the early 60s when he was in 'Tales of Wells Fargo'.  

I met him once, in the early 80s at a horse auction at the Williamson ranch in Iowa Park, TX (home of Yellow Mount). He was surrounded by a crowd of people, and was wearing a black cowboy hat.  I just stood on the edge of the crowd for a while, just listening to that voice.  It was really him, Dale Robertson!  He turned towards me and I told him, "I just wanted to tell you how much I loved Jubilee, and how beautiful he was in all his silver".  Dale gave me a big smile and said "Thank you for remembering him, I loved him too".

I was just as flustered as I would have been 20 years before. 

Then in August 2012, I went to the Washington Thoroughbred Breeders and Owners Association auction at Emerald Downs near Seattle. I was talking to some of the employees and was talking about the auction at the Williamson's years before.  When I mentioned Dale Robertson. they told me been at the WTBOA auction the year before, and was supposed to there that day, but he was sick and couldn‘t go.  That was only about 6 months before he died.  


1979 Terrible Tuesday

During the storm, my neighbors told me to keep an eye on my horse, Sugar, and I did.  She was definitely acting strange.  At one point, she kept running and stopping, running and stopping.  I went outside and looked at the sky, and I knew exactly what the expression "my blood ran cold" meant.  The sky was green and black, and all the clouds were rushing together They were coming from the west and from the east and from the north and from the south.  And they were colliding right above me.  I had never seen anything like it.  That’s when I heard the tornado siren.

When I heard the tornado siren blow, I ran in the house and grabbed Glider (my dog) and Farmer (my cat).  I put my Amelia (my rabbit) in her carrier.  I brought my goats in and closed them up in a kitchen closet.  Then I got in my downstairs closet which was not very big.  I had Glider, Farmer, and Amelia with me.  I also had my transistor radio.  I worried about Sugar and my pony Lightning, but there was nothing I could do.  I remember sitting on the floor, hearing noises, roaring and wind whistling, and just static from the radio.  I don’t know how long it lasted, but it seemed like a long time.  Finally every stopped.  I opened the door and there was no power and it was hailing.  I looked out my back door to check on Sugar.  Thank goodness, she was all right although very freaked out and galloping around.

When the wind died down and the rain stopped,, I came out of the closet and put the goats and rabbit outside.  Then I heard other noises, sirens and horns, a lot of sirens and horns.

I went upstairs to our balcony and looked out and all I could see were dark clouds swarming overhead, and car after car flying down Wilbarger headed out of town.  It was really dark, they had their lights on, and they were flashing their lights.  There were ambulances and pickups, and there were 2 hearses.
That's when I started getting scared.  The radio had quit, but then it came back on, and I heard that the Sands Motel and the Canton Cafe had been hit, that a tornado had touched down. and that it was very bad.  That was right down the street from me.  I ran next door to the La Fonda Motel, but they didn’t’ know any more than I did.

I went back home and then Jim came home.  I don’t remember much after that.  We listened to the radio.  This was around 3 pm.  This tornado hit the west side of town, hit the Sands, the Canton, the 4-H arena. and beyond.

When I first got Sugar, I kept her at my friend Judy's house. I brought Sugar home about 2 weeks before the tornado. Judy and her husband Max had a palomino.  Max was in the Santa Rosa Palomino Club.  Judy had a horse, and their daughter Kimberly had a beautiful buckskin named Beeline.  Kim was very competitive in barrel racing competitions all over the state, and Beeline was a champ.  They also had a little pony Trixie, who had belonged to Kim as a little kid.

Judy was a school teacher and had come home early that day because Kim was sick. They heard the siren and they got into their bathtub with a mattress on top of them.  The tornado went right over their neighborhood.

When it was over and Judy and Kim came out of the tub, the only things left of the house were the bathroom walls.  The rest of the house was totally gone.  Trixie was dead and Beeline was gone, just gone.  Trixie was in the stall where Sugar had lived 2 weeks before.  They think Trixie had a heart attack.  They found Beeline days later, out on the Waggoner Ranch about 30 miles away.  He was never the same.  He became an old horse overnight.  His coat turned a strange gray and he lost all his spirit.  They gave him to a friend who was afraid of horses, because the old Beeline became the new Beeline, a tired, aged horse, who loved to be petted but had no spark. I did not believe it until I saw him and it was true. Beeline was gone.

He actually had a few articles written about him. They think he was picked up and then dropped at the Waggoner Ranch. It took a long time for them to figure out who he was, and when they finally identified him by his registration tattoo, no one could believe it.

The house next to Judy’s belonged to Bobby Riggins.  The roof had been picked up and turned around and dropped back on top. The house had a roof, but it was on backwards.

Where I rode Sugar behind the 4-H arena was an old neighborhood that I loved.  There were old houses with a lot of trees, with people who had lived there forever.  They had chickens and dogs, and the roads were dirt. I would ride Sugar up and down those dirt roads and got to know a lot of the people. They thought it was funny that I would prefer to ride a horse around then drive a car. There was one house that I particularly loved. It was a little Victorian-type house, run down, paint peeling, but with lilacs completely surrounding the house.  I would ride Sugar there and then get off and sit under the lilacs and let her eat grass while I pretended this was my house.  I imagined I lived out in the country with horses and dogs. The trees made it so private it was easy to imagine. That spring the lilacs were in full bloom.

I remember a few days before the tornado,  I rode over there and a lady a few houses away stopped me. '"Going to your house?" she said.  I laughed and said, "I guess so". Then she told me it was for sale, that it was part of an estate that had just been settled, and it would be going on the market in a few days.  She told me if I an offer on it before that, i could probably get a good deal on it.  I told her that I already had a house (and a husband) and she was shocked when I told her where I lived.  She had known my grandparents.   That day, though, I remember really living that dream, thinking "maybe...'  I left that day knowing that the house would not be the same, someone would buy it and clean it up, cut the grass, trim the trees, ruin my dream.

The day after the tornado (against my better judgement) I drove to that neighborhood. I couldn't ride Sugar because of all the debris.  The whole neighborhood was was leveled. There were still chickens running around, but no houses, no trees, no people. and my house was gone.   There was nothing but a pile of lumber.  The trees were gone. The whole wonderful neighborhood was gone, forever.

But I didn’t know what that really meant.

Later, of course, we learned of the tremendous devastation.  Many of our friends were injured, both in Vernon and later that day, in Wichita Falls.  We lost some friends, too.  One of my friends from the Vernon Riding Club died, along with her baby son.

My doctor's daughter had a horse named Cherry.  She was about 8 and she loved that horse.   He was like a dog to her.   He died that night from trauma, they think a tree fell on him.  They had to put put bars on her window because she would wake up at night and climb out her window. She had to go find Cherry.

This may look like a piece of wood.  But it’s not.  It’s a slice of wood from a tree at the Wilbarger county 4-H barn. It came from a tree that was destroyed on April 10, 979.  So many memories on my mind, I keep thinking I should write them down, but even though I can feel them so strongly, like flashes in my mind, I can't seem to get them out on paper.  The 4-H barn was just a few blocks from my house.  I to ride my horse Sugar over there all the time. I went a few days after the tornado, and the entire roof had been ripped off the building and the arena stands were demolished.  There had been beautiful trees all around the arena.  The trees were all gone, and there were men there cutting down what was left. I remember walking Sugar over to them and asking if i could have a slice.   One of the men stopped his saw and said, "Remember that pretty tree that was right there?  This is it."   Then he cut me a little slice.  I still have it. a little slice of wood that represents it all to me.

Many of our friends were injured, both in Vernon and later that day, in Wichita Falls.  One of my friends from the Vernon Riding Club died, along with her baby son.

That day is called Terrible Tuesday, the day of the Red River Valley Outbreak.  At the time, it was one of the worst tornadoes to ever hit the United States.

The Wichita Falls tornado caused over $400 million in damage, making it the most expensive US tornado on record until the Moore, OK tornado on May 3, 1999. As of today, it is ranked as the 10th costliest.

The Vernon tornado, an F4, killed 10 people.  The Wichita Falls tornado, also an F4, killed 45 people.

I'll never forget, a few days later I was at the supermarket.  In front of me was a man holding a little boy.  The boy had bandages on his face and his arm.  The checker, making conversation, said something about his injuries, and asked if he had gotten into a fight with a lawnmower.  The little boy said that no, he was in a bad storm, and his mommy got killed.  Of course, the checker was terribly upset.  For quite a while after that, no one dared ask questions about any kind of injuries, it was just too emotional.

That day is called Terrible Tuesday, the day of the Red River Valley Outbreak.  At the time, it was one of the worst tornadoes to ever hit the United States.

1955 Port Arthur, Janis

I went to school with Janis Joplin, it’s true.  She was 4 years older than me, and of course, she wasn’t famous at the time.  I doubt I ever saw her.  My dad vaguely knew her dad, they were both engineers at the Texaco refinery.  

Many years later, when I lived in New York, I was talking to a friend about this and she said it was funny I brought that up.  When she first moved to New York a few years before, she had a roommate who would not stop singing, and she was loud.  My friend said that finally she couldn’t stand it anymore, and asked her to move out.  It was Janis.  

1955 Port Arthur

My mother hated Port Arthur.  I liked it okay.  I got to spend a lot of time outside, at least when we first moved there.  

Then the polio epidemic hit, and it hit that area hard.  Everyone was paranoid.  In fact, our next door neighbor was a doctor and he had a son named Doug.  Doug wore braces on his legs and used crutches because he had polio. I remember my parents talking about how awful it was for a doctor’s son to have it. What is it they say? The doctor’s son is the last to get the shot? It was so true in this case. I remember they also had a Boxer like our dog Velvet. I was never allowed to talk to Doug and I felt so sorry for him.  Sometimes I would sneak a conversation over the fence.  It was very sad, and I wasn't allowed to play outside anymore either.  

We followed the progress of the Salk vaccine thanks to my Uncle Abbey who worked for a drug company.    When it was finally approved, it was like a miracle.  It was like we had been set free.

Interestingly, when we went to Normandy not long after that, we took some vaccine with us because it wasn't yet available in Europe.  It stayed in the refrigerator until we were due for our immunizations.

"April 12th had almost become a national holiday: people observed moments of silence, rang bells, honked horns, blew factory whistles, fired salutes, kept their red lights red in brief periods of tribute, took the rest of the day off, closed their schools or convoked fervid assemblies therein, drank toasts, hugged children, attended church, smiled at strangers, and forgave enemies."

1955 Summer in Texas, the Hancocks

Earl loved to sit and chew the fat with his buddies. One of those was a fellow farmer and close friend named Jess Hancock, who was in the world famous Santa Rosa Palomino Club.  Earl would take me with him to Jess’s farm and Jess would get his Palomino out, saddle him up, and hoist me up there.  I would ride around the pasture while Jess and Earl discussed the problems of the world.  I loved it.    

When Jess would come visit Earl, they would sit around the table in the breakfast room and argue about cars.  Earl was a GM guy.  He drove Buicks and my grandmother mother drove Cadillacs.  Jess was a Ford guy through and through.  They would sit for hours, smoking like chimneys, arguing about the cars.  I was totally fascinated.  

Mary would take me with her when she went to visit her friend Madeleine Hancock.  She would get me dressed up in a pretty dress and put bows in my hair.  I would sit in the living room and read while they played their bridge.  

Going to the Hancocks was one extreme or the other.  Needless to say, I much preferred going with Earl.

1955 Summer in Texas, Working in the Fields

One of my grandmother Mary's favorite stories was about when she was driving home from bridge club in town and saw her two globetrotting granddaughters in their nightgowns chopping cotton  out in the field with Otha and the rest of the black field workers.  We also would go out and pick watermelon and cantaloupe.  Earl got in a heap of trouble over that.   We, however, loved doing it.  We had just returned from Australia.

1951 Hanging Out with Earl

My grandfather Earl and I would sit and watch Westerns on TV at night, me sitting in my little rocking chair that had a dark green leather seat.  We would sit and eat ice cream from the carton, which drove my grandmother Mary crazy.  "Earl, for heaven’s sake, get the child a bowl!" she would say.  


One of my favorite horses, Trigger


I would go with Earl to feed the cows in the pastures by our tank stocked with catfish.  

He was very very tight with a penny.  I remember Mary would have to give him every cent of change whenever she did errands.  We would get cards from them for birthdays and Christmas with a $5 bill inside, with the notation always, “Enclosed from Grandma King”.  I’m sure he never knew. 

He was an old codger, a curmudgeon, but I worshipped him my Grandpa King.  He was tall and thin, and he always wore overalls, usually the striped ones.  When he had to wear a suit you could tell how much he hated it.  His hands were knobby and always covered in dirt and grease.  He would sill in his recliner and smoke away.  

That farmhouse in Vernon (actually on FM 1763 on the way to Oklaunion) was something I always kept in the back of my mind during our worldly travels.  I knew it was the one place where I would always return, and that it would always be mine.  It was our land forever.  Unfortunately, that did not turn out to be the case.   

1951 Pony, Junibug, and Little Hairs

The summers in Texas were magical for me, on the farm, with my dad's old horse Pony, and the two German Shorthaired Pointers, Junibug and Little Hairs.  

Pony was so old she had barely any teeth and I wasn't allowed to ride her, so she was like a very large dog.  She followed me everywhere, always nosing at my pockets.  She was lame but she was game.  I would take her into the barn and get corn for her and it would fall out of her mouth.

Junibug and Little Hairs were great.  I was particularly smitten with Junibug.  She had big patches of brown, she wasn't ticked like Little Hairs.  She also had a long tail.  I wonder now if she was more English Pointer than GS Pointer.  Little Hairs had the docked tail.  Junibug was more mellow.  She was always within touching distance.  Little Hairs was more inquisitive, always running ahead, scouting out the trail.

Every morning, I would set out with Pony and the dogs, with my double holsters and my silver guns, and my red cowboy boots, and a lunch packed by my grandmother.  There was a small canyon behind the house with a bunch of vines and cacti, etc.  We would go hang out down there.  I can't believe I was never bitten by a snake, actually.  Of course the dogs would have warned me.   I did have multiple encounters with cactuses though.

Pony died in 1956 at the age of 30 when we were in France.  My dad and I both cried when we found out.