Monthly Archives: April 2014

Growing up in Port Arthur in the 70’s

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A few things come to mind when I look back on growing up in Port Arthur in the 70s and early 80s. For example, I remember walking to school across Pioneer Park and past the fireman’s training facility. The latter is particularly noteworthy because my father was a firefighter. I recall him telling me of the time he climbed the big blue water tower next door to the training facility. He made it halfway up before the ladder curved backward. I’m sure he felt as if he were climbing monkey bars 100 feet up. He descended back to the ground—I have no doubt that was the last time he ventured upward. And I don’t blame him. His lack of appreciation for heights runs in the family.

Pioneer Park was a nice place to visit, but I always enjoyed our trips to Rose Hill Park, which is located on Woodworth Boulevard and Proctor/Procter Street (I still don’t know how to spell Proctor since the spelling is different depending on which avenue you’re on). I remember climbing “the Rocket,” which was three tiers of awesome. When I was eight, it was the ultimate rocket ship in which to blast into space.

I always thought it a treat to walk through Alston’s Nursery on Ninth Avenue (earlier residents may remember this as Eagleson’s Nursery) while my dad was picking out Better Boy tomatoes to plant in our clay- and shell-filled soil-garden. All jokes aside, they did grow! Having said that however, it must have been due to the rabbit poo. (For a time we also had a rabbit.)

Thinking back, I can remember that we spent many days on Ninth Avenue, especially Saturdays. Saturday was grocery shopping day and that meant Howard’s! For many residents, Howard’s was the all-stop shop. It even had a great eatery called J.P.O.T.S. (or Just Part of the Store). I think most will remember Howard’s for its covered parking lot. How many grocery stores have you been to that have a covered parking lot? Thank you, Howard Hatfield!

Living on 20th Street (how many people know where 20th Street is without looking at a map?) meant coexisting with the ever-present trains, but we spent much of our time going up and down the tracks. Whether it was picking blackberries, walking to the train bridge, or sliding down the large pile of limestone on a plastic baby pool that someone had left at the old Sears warehouse, these are good memories indeed.

Probably one of my fondest memories of this creosote-smelling railway line was the adjoining bike trail located at the back of St. Mary’s Hospital. One could spend hours riding up and down this ditch, which had a large pipe and a cement wall that looked out of place, but we didn’t care—we were doing good to not run over a snake or two. Years later I would discover that this was part of where the Interurban ran between 1913 and 1932. I’m still uncertain if the cement wall and its railing were part of the Interurban, or possibly a leftover from an old KCS track. Time and more digging will tell.

Speaking of the Interurban, in the same way as we would roam the tracks on foot, so we would ride our bikes under the high lines. Most people will know the huge electrical poles that start at the big blue water tower located at St. Mary’s Hospital and run behind (what was then) Weingarten’s on 25th North, cross Ninth Avenue, and eventually end near Gladys City, Spindletop, in Beaumont. This was the route the Interurban took so many years ago. Not too many people know this.

I just mentioned Weingarten’s. One of our most frequent stops was at a store called T.G. & Y., located in the Weingarten-owned Village Shopping Center. In fact, it was a daily stop for us—that is, unless we weren’t at Ace Hobby Shop a block away, looking at model kits of all sorts, or at the Tropical Fish Store a few streets down.

As for going to a movie theater, I vaguely remember going to the Don Drive-In once or twice. I do not recall what we saw, but I still remember the place every time I pass its location. Mostly, we frequented the Village (on 16th Street and Gulfway Drive), the Port (Ninth Avenue), or the Park Plaza (36th Street).

Many of you will have similar memories of your SETX town. These memories are a part of us all and should be shared. Please feel free to comment here or on our Facebook page. We always look forward to your input.

Monster of the Swamp: Bigfoot in SETX?

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Port Arthur News 10.31.1984

 

A few weeks ago, I was listening to one of my favorite podcasts, Extreme Wildlife Radio. (For those who do not know what a podcast is, it’s basically a radio show that you can upload to your iPod or other listening devices.) Extreme Wildlife Radio is a local podcast hosted by journalist, author, and SETX wildlife expert Chester Moore, along with Terri Werner, Director of Operations at the Tiger Creek Wildlife Refuge in Tyler, Texas.

I will start off by saying that I love the content of the show. It is, as its name suggests, about wildlife. Whether it’s big cats, black bears, wolves, or our many species of fowl in SETX, the show does a great job of promoting and presenting historic facts about our wildlife. With that said, I also love the other side of wildlife that comes up from time to time. During the week in question, the topic was “Bigfoot: A Roundtable Discussion.”

Bigfoot? What do I know of this so-called primate that has eluded visual documentation for hundreds of years? Absolutely nothing! As a child growing up in the early 70s, I remember having dreams about this creature visiting and peeking in the window. I had always wondered why I thought this—until I came across another podcast talking about the Boggy Creek Monster. I found out the movie had been released around 1974. This would fit the timeframe of my childhood puzzle, and I have a sneaking suspicion that one of my older siblings (whom I shall blame only for convenience) saw the movie, and I had overheard her description of this frightful documentary. Other than this scenario, I have never really been interested in this thing called Sasquatch, Bigfoot, or Yeti.

Well, there was that TV episode of The Million Dollar Man that . . . On second thought, let’s skip that. Oak Bluff 1

Last year, one of our SETX residents was visiting Oak Bluff Cemetery in Port Neches. He claimed to have seen, and also photographed, two “primates,” which he called Bigfoots. Unfortunately, as always, the photos are blurry, and nothing in them is distinguishable. I frequent this part of Oak Bluff Cemetery, and I also have photos. Many clear photos, in fact, of the same area where our primate friends supposedly spent an afternoon skipping rocks. Honestly, I have never seen anything other than a beautiful sunset in this bayou, but to each his own.

Sabine LighthouseSo, is there an actual documented historical record of something in our area that fits the description of a hairy man who walks, undetected for the most part, through SETX swamps—besides possibly Boudreaux or Thibodeaux? Well no, not that I believe, at least in these times, but there is an article in the Port Arthur News dated October, 31, 1984, by staff writer Peggy Slasman. Slasman had interviewed a Port Arthur resident whose father was the Sabine lighthouse keeper in 1905.

The story began as the fog rolled over the marsh, and the lighthouse keeper’s 10-year-old daughter stepped out on the porch to enjoy her favorite time of day. Unfortunately, this morning was different. The silence of the early morning was broken by movement in the marsh. She peered out over the railings, wondering what could be lurking near, when suddenly, she saw something so terrible that she screamed and fainted.

Her parents later found and revived the child. Both dismissed their daughter’s story as a figment of her wild imagination, but they couldn’t help but notice her obsession with her tale.

A month later, the lighthouse keeper was hunting in the marsh when he heard movement in the reeds. He crouched down and stared in the direction of the sound. To his dismay, there stood an eight-foot hairy, dark, and ugly “thing” that scared the lighthouse keeper so much that he ran away toward the safety of the lighthouse, forgetting his loaded rifle in his haste.

The monster was seen by others 12 times that year, but it never harmed anyone. Most Sabine residents believed it to be a bear, and that is indeed quite possible, but one can only speculate. That same year, a storm flooded the marsh, and the beast was supposedly drowned or washed out to sea. However, according to Slasman’s article, there are those who say it still lurks in the marsh . . .

So, do I believe there is a hairy primate living amongst us here in Jefferson or the lower portion of Orange County? Probably not, but you never know what lurks in places like the Big Thicket. There are many different species of animals living undisturbed in our dark forests, so it may be quite possible. With that said, I will take this opportunity to reach out to the other amateur paranormal, cryptozoologist ghost hunters out there and recommend that they take photography classes. Blurry is bad!

Blanche’s Journey: An Early Look at Life in Port Arthur

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In February of 1905, as winter’s hold clamped down hard on Mason City, Iowa, Blanche’s mother lay sick with a high fever. As the doctor looked on, he knew her health would not improve if she continued to live in the Corn Belt state.

“Mr. Rowley, you will have to leave the North. You have got to go to a warm climate near a sea shore if your wife is to get well,” explained Doctor Marston.

And so this is how the journey began for the Rowley family.

The following are excerpts, written on May 25, 1962, from Mrs. Blanche Lee Morgan’s journal. I thought it appropriate that you experience her journey in her own words.

It was the first of October, before father had sold all his rent property and our lovely home.  Finally, the day came for he and brother to leave. He kissed us good bye and held mother close to him and said, “Now don’t you worry, I am going to find a place where the sun shines all the time.”

We were lonely without father and brother. Grace and I went to school and finally one day mother received a letter from father which said, “I am on my way south to Port Arthur, Texas. While I was in the depot in Kansas City, Missouri on my way to sell the apple orchard I met a man named Gates and another named Stillwell. I got to talking to them, and what do you know – right across the ticket room hung a canvas which said, “Port Arthur, Texas – the Flower of the South.”  Mr. Gates said the town was close to the sea and was built on Lake Sabine, that it was sunshiny and warm.  He was taking several other men with him to Port Arthur. He bought my father and brother a ticket and said to come on this excursion with him to Port Arthur.  My father gladly accepted the offer and traveled with them.  Port Arthur was not much of a place to live in.

The Journey:

I took along a note book to write down events and things which I saw out of the train car window. Laura, my oldest sister had her pet canary in his cage to take care of. Mother sat back in the car with her eyes closed, and I noticed tears rolling down her cheeks. My youngest sister, Grace, saw them too, and she said, “What are you crying about, we are going to see Daddy.”  I kept up with the stations we stopped at, and watched the people get off and on the train. We reached Albia, Iowa, and changed cars to the Wabash. It was so dark now you could not see anything out of the windows.

Time passed and everyone was sleeping, or lying quiet. I just couldn’t sleep but somewhere between midnight and 8 a.m. in the morning of the next day mother was shaking me and saying, “Gather up your things, we are in Kansas City, Missouri.”  We climbed on a bus drawn by horses and sat up on top, and it was awful cold. The bus took us to the Kansas City Southern Railway station.  We went inside, and there was people from everywhere. We were pretty hungry and mother opened her basket of food and spread out a tablecloth on the bench, and she gave thanks for the food, and for getting this far safely. We were about halfway now, on the road to our new home, a place of excitement, awe and disappointment. If mother had of just known what kind of place we were coming to, she never would have come.

At 12 noon we boarded the Kansas City Southern train for Port Arthur, Texas. We were 2 days and nights on this train, all of us growing tireder all the time. After we left Kansas City, Mo. the snow left and finally the last day, all we could see was farms, hill sides all green, flowers blooming, the sun shining, and it was unbelievable to us, at this time of the year to not see snow and see green trees and flowers blooming.  When the conductor would come through, we would ask him, what kind of place was Port Arthur, Texas. He just grinned, and said, “Oh, I can’t tell you anything, just let it be a surprise.” And believe me, it was a surprise.

On the third night we arrived in Port Arthur, Texas. It was dark and hot for we had on our winter woolens for Iowa weather. The Kansas City station still stands and looks like it did when we first came here. Father and my brother came and helped us off of the train.

Entering of Port Arthur, Texas

As I stepped off the train into the darkness, I was afraid for in those days there was very few electric lights. My brother walked with me, we was going to a hotel to stay all night.  In the dim light I could see one story wood frame buildings, dim lights shining out of the doors and windows. One block away from the station, on Proctor Street on each corner was a saloon.  I heard my mother say, “What kind of place is this, for you to bring your family to.”

In those days there was saloons on every corner. Procter Street was the main street, it ended at Greensport. The streets was shelled and nothing but board sidewalks, with most of the board being loose or gone. As we walked along father warned to watch our step, and not fall on a loose board.  We arrived at the hotel – a one story framed building, were given our rooms. We three girls together, father and mother, a room and brother one by his self.  The air was filled with the odor of the refineries, and we could hardly stand it. We girls finally got bathed and into bed, for we had not slept in a bed for three nights. It felt good and I am sure we never turned over, for all three of us were worn out.

We were awakened by our father who rapped on the door and said, “Come to breakfast.” That is one thing our family always did was have breakfast, and supper together. If one was late from school, the supper was held up until all could sit down together. You talk about a surprise, we were used to creamery butter on our toast and what we had was so rancid we could not eat it. The bacon was all right, but the milk was canned, and nobody in Iowa ever used canned milk. Well, our meal was not eaten. We found out later, that everything had to be shipped in and by the time it arrived here it was too old. As you know there was no refrigeration in those days. You got your ice from the icehouse and had those old ice boxes, that by night fall, the ice had already melted.

The drinking water was tanks of rain water. Every home had a large galvanized cistern attached to pipes from the roof of the house where it was caught and ran into the cistern. All drinking water had to be boiled and all milk had to be brought to a boil.  There was very little sewage. All toilets had a galvanized container in them, that was emptied by negroes who pulled a large tank on a wagon drawn by two horses, down the alley and emptied them into the tank. The odor was sickening, when this was being done.

After we ate breakfast we went for a walk out to the peer. The sun was shining on those white shell streets and it was beautiful. I never saw so many yellow roses as was blooming here then. The peer was a wooden frame buildings, dance floors, band stands, restaurant, but on piling. We walked out there and looked at the lake, which was beautiful, a white sandy beach was all along Lake Shore. This was before the canal was cut through and ruined our beautiful bathing resort.

There were excursions every Sunday who came in to visit our peer, and bathing resort.  Gates and Stillwell had did a good job of advertising of Port Arthur. Boats came in from Lake Charles, Orange, and Port Neches – all tied up at the peer, loaded with men and women in their Sunday best to eat or sit and listen to the Mexican Band who played all Sunday and way into the night.

On our way back from the peer I gathered up some of the shells and put them in a box and sent them to my school teacher I had left in Iowa. Oh – I thought to have streets covered with shells was the most wonderful  thing I had ever seen. As you know people who live away inland never see boats and sea shells in large quantities, like they do when living near the Gulf or Sea.

Sunday finally arrived and we had always went to church. So father, mother, and all of us children went to the Methodist church. It was a 1 story framed building on fifth street. We had left a large brick building with pipe organs, plush seats, and when we entered this church it was quite a contrast. We sang the same hymns and the preaching sounded the same, he was reading God’s word from the same bible I knew, and it made no difference to father, when I heard him say to mother, “God is everywhere, Bless his Holy name.”

Learning the latter history of this strong woman’s life was, for me, even more amazing than her journey to our little part of the world. Mrs. Morgan had married and had three children by 1917. She was pregnant with her fourth child when tragedy struck. On November 2, 1917, Robert Morgan, Blanche’s husband, kissed her and their children goodbye, and set off with a few coworkers to work at the Gulf Commissary. While in transit, a man stepped in front of the Ford, which was being driven by Percy Deveries. Percy slammed on his brakes and managed to avoid the man, but the car turned over, and Robert was severely injured. He later died in hospital.

Now a widow, Blanche took a job at the Gulf Commissary. I would note that, back in 1917, working at a refinery was not the friendliest of work environments—especially for a young widow with four kids. But Blanche worked at the commissary until it closed in 1935. She was then transferred to accounting, where she remained until the end of her working career. She retired in 1952 after 35 years of service.

You would think that once she had retired from Gulf Oil, she would settle for a happy life filled with friends, family, and grandchildren. But Blanche was not finished yet! Upon her retirement, she enrolled in Lamar Tech to study religious education. She also taught an adult Sunday school class for over 25 years at the Central Baptist Church in Port Arthur.

Mrs. Blanche Lee Morgan passed away following a sudden illness at the age of 84.

I am honored that one of her descendants would share her story with me and allow me the privilege of doing the same on this blog. I am also glad that Mrs. Morgan took the time to document her story.

There are many of our SETX folk who are passing every day, and their stories are passing with them. Please bear that in mind when a grandparent, aunt, uncle, or even a neighbor shares their tales of the past. It may be their history, but it’s our history as well.

 

Tales From Hallowed Ground: Evelyn Keyes

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Evelyn Keyes

This month, Tales from SETX’s Hallowed Ground takes us to Port Arthur for a look at one of our early daughters who achieved fame and fortune but never forgot her roots.

Evelyn Louise Keyes was born in Port Arthur, Texas, on November 20, 1916. The daughter of Methodist minister Omar Dow Keyes and Maude Olive Keyes, her life in SETX was brief to say the least. At age three, her father died, so she and her mother moved to Atlanta, Georgia, where her grandparents resided. In her biography, Scarlett O’Hara’s Younger Sister: My Lively Life In and Out Of Hollywood, she tells of her impoverished youth and the hardships that she would overcome. In her teen years, she took dancing lessons, which signaled the start of her journey out of poverty and into what would become stardom.Evelyn in Port Arthur

Discovered by Cecil B. DeMille, Keyes was cast in a few lesser known pictures until she landed the role of Suellen, Scarlet O’Hara’s sister, in the movie Gone with the Wind (1939). She then went on to star in other motion pictures, including The Jolson Story (1946), The Prowler (1951), and A Thousand and One Nights (1945), and played Helen Sherman in the classic The Seven Year Itch (1955). She officially retired from acting in 1956 but did take on a few roles in her later years.

Sueellen 1939Keyes’ private life appeared similar to that of a Hollywood script. Her first husband committed suicide in 1940. After divorcing her second husband, director Charles Vidor, after two years, she married director John Huston. The couple adopted a boy that Huston had discovered in Mexico while filming The Treasure of the Sierra Madre. Unfortunately that marriage failed as well, and they were divorced in 1950. After her retirement from film, she married bandleader Artie Shaw in 1957. That marriage would last 28 years.IMG_1178

In her later years, on occasion, Keyes traveled back to her birth city and donated memorabilia from her career to the Museum of the Gulf Coast. Unfortunately, she was diagnosed with uterine cancer, and at the ripe old age of 91, succumbed to the retched disease at her home in Montecito, California. She died on July 4, 2008.

She now rests in her birth city of Port Arthur, but when scanning the old stones from Greenlawn or the Calvary cemeteries, I found no mention of her. This is because, “it was her last wish that, upon her death, her ashes be placed in a lamp, similar to the one she emerged from when she played a genie in the 1945 film  A Thousand and One Nights.”IMG_1181

When you visit the Museum of the Gulf Coast, you will find that there is a lot to see. But remember when you are strolling through the Evelyn Keyes exhibit that you are, for all intensive purposes, walking through hallowed ground.