1940s – Page 63 – I Don't Get It

Don’t Mess With DPS

Today’s post is Part II in the ongoing bliss that is discovering the Dept of Public Safety’s pictorial heritage. Pictured above is a badass Texas Ranger in an armored vehicle. As I lack a penis, I have no desire to commandeer said vehicle or even go near it. I will speak for most ladies who have no desire to appropriate or operate any sort of tankylooking thing. But those of you who do might want to take a little spin in it.

Police officers have a noble history of enforcing the law, which often means sucking the fun out of your good times. I would have let this guy go, since his car is so boss, but they have quotas to fill.

And don’t try to outrun them; they will go all Ponch and Jon on your bippy.

The Texas Rangers are part of a major division within the Texas DPS, who investigate serious crimes. They also will suck the wind out of a criminal’s sails. Cross the border to nasty swampland-subpar-highway-system Louisiana if you want to play craps; there’s no gambling in Texas.

And weed is still illegal, too–no matter what the dreadheaded, tiedyed-shirt-wearing potheads would have you believe. I don’t have glaucoma nor a criminal history, so I don’t get up close with Mary Jane, but I didn’t think it looked so much like a Charlie Brown Christmas tree.

And don’t think they’ll let you off with a warning. This Amish guy just galloped in from Pennsylvania, and he is exhausted, so he won’t think twice about putting a bullet in your gut. And he’s not the only one.

When Sergeant Guthrie smells something fishy, it is on. It is SO on.

And Sergeant Hall? Some say he’s certifiably insane, a bonafide 5150. I heard he picks possums off the highway, and eats them snout and all. Don’t sass him. He may take you to a Mexican prison if he’s feeling ornery. And that’s just for jaywalking.

And don’t let Officer Lowery fool you. Word on the street is he used to be the lethal injectioner at Huntsville. He thought sterilizing needles was a waste of time. So do I, for that matter.

Now look, they’re not all gruff. Officers Turner & Powell run the night shift, so that might be the perfect time to rob a 7-11. Just saying.

But you won’t run forever. Justice will have its day. They will see to it. Once information is sent from the transceiver, all hope is gone.

And trust me, you do NOT want them sicking Investigator Padgett on your ass. He’s a superhero, and I don’t mean his demon eyes. His power is oft compared to that of Spiderman, only his wide lapel shoots out disco balls filled with elephant tranquilizer. You don’t want to wake up from that sleep, ripe for interrogation.

Am I right or Amarillo?

You feelin' lucky, Punk? — You feelin’ lucky, Punk?

(All of the above is purely for humorous purposes and in no way meant to disrespect any officer of the law. So please don’t sic Padgett on me…)

Yucca Part Deux

All hail Nikki Hendricks, the North Texas 1946 Football Queen. Watch her ride “in royal splendor.” I think we both know which one is Nikki and which one wishes she were Nikki.

And here is a rare shot of Tina Fey’s grandmother, Dude Neville McCloud. That’s what it says, folks. Click to enlarge if you don’t believe.

Note the publicity staff “during a busy hour.” Mercy, how bustling. The supervisor checks for typing errors while one girl evidently knits and glares.

Below is the W.R.A. tumbling team. One of the support gals in the middle appears to have sprained her eye.

Hey, remember Time & Temperature?

Oh, how I wish I could have been a Trojan’s date to the Sadie Hawkins Dance. The one with the eyebrows, sitting on the haystack.

Let’s end with this portrait of the Baptist Student Union Council.

Just take a moment to really absorb the Doublemint Twins in the front row, Yes, F. Day and J. Day. Perhaps it was in honor of D-Day and VJ-Day? You can see the disdain all over F. Day’s face. But J. Day. Oh, J. Day. She looks like she smelled a fart.

Now look to J. Day’s left. Another set of twins! Dang, Baptists! Way to be fruitful and multiply. Janel and Janet Barr. I know, super creative, right? You just KNOW people rhymed her name with “channel” instead of the exoticish J’Nelle. That’s why Janel is fidgeting with her fingers. In the twin crapshoot, she got the bad name. And Janet is so over this. She threw off her jacket in a fit of rage only moments before the shoot. She’s all Oh, yes, please let me dress in identical clothing like those damn Day hussies. Like we’re toddlers. As if. Can’t people SEE we’re fraternal? Look at her. I bet she wasn’t Baptist for long.

The 1947 Yucca, Part I

Today we’re going back to 1947, to a post-war era at North Texas State University, when women looked like the Andrews Sisters and frat boys took preventative measures against osteoporosis.

I love the pretty print dresses on these ladies.

Even just one row from the yearbook can reveal a lot.

Let’s hope for his sake, that “Dwyane” was misspelled. But check out his two-tiered locks. And what about John’s tousled look? Sexy. I’m certain he knows his way around a tractor. And Fred’s sharp threads are pretty snappy. I’m afraid these ladies’ names have gone by the wayside. Any preschools catering to Margie, Betty, or Ada Jo these days?

Yes, Virginia, there was life before iPods and iPads. Youth culture existed free from technology. Before Supercuts and Starbucks, there were barber shops and coffee shops. Look at that TEENSY coffee cup! No blue tooth in sight. People were actually looking UP.

Such was life in “Collegetown.” Stay tuned for Part II!

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