Let's leave school tales and kid activities, and I'll tell you about my trips back to Smithville
over the years.
In 1928, during my summer vacation from S. M. U., Pop, J. P. Kirkpatrick and I borrowed George's one seater and, early one morning, lit out for Tennessee. First, there was East
Texas, and lots of it. As a matter of fact, we barely got out of the state the first day, spending the night in
Arkadelphia.
You may have read "Slow Train Through Arkansas." The author of that gem must have
been following us. The second day out, several things impeded our progress, including but not limited to my running
off into a shallow ditch, and then a small collision east of Little Rock. In the first occurrence, a farmer, who
fortunately lived nearby, pulled us out with a mule team. My only chastisement was Pop's plaintive, "Son,
why did you do it!"
The second was not so easy. The road had been built up quite high by a fill through the swamps,
and the driving surface was narrow and covered with loose gravel. Under these circumstances, it behooved a novice
driver to crowd the center, and try to ignore the muddy water below to the right.
In this setting, we met a car driven by a colored man, with two white and seemingly rich females
in the rear seat. He apparently shared my aversion to muddy water and there simply was not that much room -- to
borrow the vernacular -- on the crown of the road.
In the resulting unpleasantness, we learned that their overhanging luggage rack had speared
our rear fender. Several pieces of their luggage had been scattered along the road, and two or three hat boxes
had rolled down the embankment to the water. One of the most incongruous scenes I ever witnessed were those brightly
colored chapeaux slowly floating out of reach.
The ladies were livid. They accused me of causing the collision deliberately because their driver
was a black man; and they threatened me with arrest as soon as they could find a telephone. We helped them pick
up their scattered luggage (all but the hats) and each car went on its way. We never heard from them, but I must
confess I was relieved when we had passed through the next two towns.
We drove and drove, crossed the big river, and finally stopped for the second night in Jackson.
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We hit the road again early the next morning, and had no further trouble until we got to Nashville.
We followed the river road around tall bluffs and hairpin turns and came to the descent into the city.
There, in great big letters was a warning sign "Very Steep Hill - Descend in Low Gear."
I read and understood, but I didn't heed, and when we had reached the bottom, our brakes were
smoking and gone.
We limped into the first garage we could find, and had the brakes re-lined. Had this happened
today, it would have meant a full day's delay, and all the money and credit cards in our pockets. In that case,
it cost only a few dollars, and about three hours of time. We headed on through the city toward Smithville, with
a firm resolve on my part to obey all road signs in the future.
Incidentally, I tried in vain in later years to find that hill monster. Maybe it has been dozed
under.
We proceeded the last seventy miles without accident or important incident of any kind, as the
creator of my boyhood hero Cave Porter would have put it; and
about nine o'clock in the evening arrived at Uncle Trab's house.
Pop stayed with them and J. P. and I put up with Patsy and Carlyn and their
three boys.
Dotie and Uncle Trab
were in good health, but Munner, who was living with them, was
ninety-one and very feeble. She knew I was one of Nannie's boy's
but it took her two or three days to remember I was the middle one who rode so many miles on the corner of her
rocking chair.
We had a great time. Patsy was a wonderful
hostess. She let us sleep as long as we wanted, ant then plied us with those great Tennessee breakfasts which were
new experiences to J. P. We drove all over that beautiful countryside.
Virginia went with us to Seven Springs and J.
P. was ready to rank that phenomenon with the wonders of the world. We went fishing,
got caught in a rain storm, and caught a tow sack full of fish while it rained. We went swimming in the Calfkiller
River above the power plant. We harmonized on the square at night. I remember Harry Gordon
Phillips' beautiful baritone. Rebecca Crowley gave a party for us. She was J. P.'s Date. My date
was Evelyn Staley, my cousin, and one of my secret teenage loves.
Both girls were lovely dancers.
On Sunday, Virginia and Jenny
Rae Potter went to church with us. We walked , and on the way ran into our old boyhood
pal, Ed Bell. You, of course, remember our many camping trips,
always accompanied by Ed's little white poodle, Midge. Ed asked about you.
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It was a great week. The only difficult part was leaving Munner, whom I knew I would never see again.
J. P. was so grateful to Patsy and Carlyn and the boys, and to everyone else for
the many kindnesses they showed him. Over the years, he has asked me many times about the Moore family, and about Smithville.
Twenty-eight years sped by before my next visit. It was in 1956. Mildred and I had been married twenty-four years, and Jimmy
was eighteen. We three and Al and Bess
Donnell were going to the Great Smokies, and passed through Smithville. We stayed one
night at the brand new motel on the hill overlooking Sligo Crossing, and were awed by the view. We came back to
town next morning and visited with Jim John and Virginia in front of their store. I think we saw Norval, but I can't be sure.
My next trip to Smithville was nine years later, in 1965. Mom had gone earlier that year to
be with Pop, who had left us in 1961.
That trip, of course, was the one you and George
and I made together. We stayed overnight in Nashville with Patsy,
and brought her with us to Smithville. Again, we stayed at the same sligo motel.
you and I rented a boat, and fished all afternoon, without success. In the meantime, George and Patsy had gone
into town, and stayed for Wednesday night church services.
Elzie and Nellie McBride came to see us that night, as did Mattie Franklin.
The next morning we visited Mr. Frank.
That day was pretty crowded. We went by the Cannady Cemetery, and looked for Grandpa Jack and Grandma Josephine and little Alice, but couldn't find them. The cemetery
had been improved a great deal, and I understand the program continues.
We then went by to see Miss Myrtie. She was
bed-fast, but was mentally alert and knew all three of us. She recalled our many visits to her home to play with
Dub and Joe,
and called us her four boys.
We then went to an afternoon party at Lucille Webb's beautiful home. She and two or three others were most gracious hostesses. It was a wonderful gathering
of old friends. My old pal, Roy Conger, was there, and I believe
Eugenia was with him. Billy J. was there, now a man of responsibility and power, a long way from the little boy who became an orphan
when Sallie left them so many years ago.
Virginia was the one I was happiest to see. You know, we grew up
more like brother and sister than cousins. Although she had gained a pound or two since I had last seen her, she
has lost none of her charm and beauty, and I could see in her that pretty little
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freckle-faced doll who used to run after me when she was four and one-half and I was five.
I know all three of us enjoyed our trip immensely; all except a sorrowful visit to our old home,
which had been abandoned, and was falling in decay. I wish we had carried out our threat to buy it.
We had a nice visit with Miss Lassie Atnip.
She and her family were our good neighbors after the Hoopers
moved. I don't know if your old pal, Huston Lockhart, and family
were still living at Uncle Trab's old home.
The next morning we went back to Nashville to spend a few days with Patsy and her boys and families.
She was still the great hostess she had been thirty-seven years before. Her kids helped her
more this time.
Paul and Marian
and Winston and Martha Nell entertained us at an elegant eating place. After mid-week church service with the Granny White congregation,
we went to Winston's and Martha Nell's beautiful new home and had a fine party. The next evening, we were invited to the beautiful home of Jim and Sammye Bell Fitts.
I hadn't seen either of them in over forty years. It couldn't have been nicer, or more appreciated. Jim did not have the loving cup.
The next morning we started back to Dallas. it doesn't take so long when you can cruise at eighty.
I remember we stopped at Jackson and I sent a telegram congratulating Jay on his first birthday. That made it September 1, 1965.
This is bringing us closer to the present, and I must tell you about Howard and Barbee Hooper. They were among several co-sponsors
of a Billy Graham Crusade which came to Dallas about 1970. They
came by the bank to visit me, and we went around to see Lew Lyne,
an old Nashville boy who came to Texas and made good. He was a vice-president at the time; is now Chairman of the
Board. By the way, we hit the billion dollar footing for the first time last December.
We had a great time with Howard and Barbee. They are super people. Mildred came down and acted as tour guide for a bus load of the Nashville contingent. We went to one of the rallies
at Texas Stadium with them. The crowds were tremendous, over 50,000 several times.
We had breakfast with the sponsors, and met all the principals except Dr.
Graham.
Howard and Barbee
were hosts for a group at Trader Vick's for midnight supper
after one of the rallies.
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And when the Crusade was over, Howard presented
an exquisite necklas to Mildred, which she treasures highly.
I'll bet it cost a lot more than we found in that cigar box!