History – Page 168 – I Don't Get It

Comin’ Up On Juneteenth

If you’re not from the United States, you may not realize that each state celebrates different “Emancipation Days,” depending on which date slaves learned of their freedom. When Abraham Lincoln issued the Emancipation Proclamation on September 22, 1862, it was set to go into effect on January 1, 1863. Obviously, the states that were not yet a part of The Union would have no cause to celebrate. Kansas entered the Union as the 34th state in 1861, but West Virginia did not enter as the 35th state until June of 1863.

This is what The Union flag looked like at that time. Feel free to count the stars!

In Texas, Emancipation Day is celebrated on June 19. It commemorates the announcement of the abolition of slavery made on that day in 1865, when Union General Gordon Granger stood on the balcony of Galveston’s Ashton Villa to read the contents of “General Order No. 3”:

The people of Texas are informed that, in accordance with a proclamation from the Executive of the United States, all slaves are free. This involves an absolute equality of personal rights and rights of property between former masters and slaves, and the connection heretofore existing between them becomes that between employer and hired labor. The freedman are advised to remain quietly at their present homes and work for wages. They are informed that they will not be allowed to collect at military posts and that they will not be supported in idleness either there or elsewhere.

In Texas, that day has been an official state holiday since 1980. We call it Juneteenth, a name coming from a portmanteau of the word June and the suffix, “teenth”, as in “Nineteenth“, coined by 1903. (Thank you, Google.)

Also in 1903, a book was published on U.S. Presidents, which I have in my collection.

Except for a loose binding, it’s in remarkably good shape for a 110-year-old. God willing we should all live to such a ripe old age. I keep it as reference for the next generation, since history is constantly being rewritten by present ~~dictators~~ publishers. As the Academy Award-winning movie Lincoln showed us last year, interest in President Lincoln has not faded. This book paints a loving portrait of the “awful smart chap.” CLICK TO ENLARGE.

As the audience is “young people,” the tone is consistent in its intent, which I find endearing. Here it explains why a tender-hearted Lincoln did not have each deserter shot dead, per accepted war protocol.

“While the world lasts, no one will ever forget the Emancipation Proclamation of Abraham Lincoln.” Let’s hope not.

The Poor Man’s Six Flags

Today I showcase a fascinating assortment of another favorite picture book of mine, In Search of the Corn Queen. In it, Greta Pratt shares pictures of various county fairs in the American Midwest. Some are hopeful; some are hopeless. But all are a window into small town celebration.

This one gives me a glimpse of that adolescent excitement over what could be, with the whole world laid out before you, an endless possibility.

Osage Indian Heritage Festival, Missouri 88

Like I said, boy, all you gotta do is pop 10 balloons to win those skateboards on the wall. It’s a piece of cake. Would I steer you wrong?

Drench the volleyball coach!

Dang, I thought I was hot, but she’ll totally be hotter than me in ten years, when I’m like, ancient or something.

I learned it from watching you, Dad.

No, that’s cool. You just sit in your overalls on the tailgate, and I’ll hold our wriggling young’un and try to down this cup of Mad Dog before I get pregnant again.

High point of the afternoon; winning bundt cake in the last round of the cake walk.

Good clean fun or a gateway to Spring Break mud wrestling?

Two tickets for a dollar, six tickets per ride, means three dollars for the ferris wheel, or I could just blow it all on a Fanta and funnel cake. What to do? What to do?

No, I am absolutely not living vicariously through my grandbaby.

Oh, yeah, life goes on. Long after the thrill of living is gone.

Stickney Centrennial, South Dakota 89 — Stickney Centennial, South Dakota 89

Cap ‘n’ Gowntime

Recession be damned! The world awaits you, graduating seniors–who were born when Shania Twain hit the video scene, cavorting about in midriff-baring vests like a show pony, which, incidentally, seems like it happened early Tuesday. See how time flies? No matter! You’re a high school graduate now. March into college with your chin held high! Inevitable burden of student debt be damned!

Can’t you see the looks on those happy teen’s faces above? The world is your oyster! Actually, that guy has quite a firm set of crow’s feet there, doesn’t he? And that receding hairline. Is he a senior or a senior? Whatever, I’m getting sidetracked. The point is, high school is over. So over. So yay! Although you will think about it intermittently over the next few decades, as you fret over lost relationships or struggle with regret and forgiveness and bitterness.

But whatever–your generation has the benefit of social media! Like, you GREW UP with it already existing. You know all about apps and tweets and those stupid things like L8R that young people text, which isn’t even connected to proper English. Do you even know how to write cursive?

Anyway, the point is that life is like lying on a bed of daisies from here on out. That picture reveals all. Granted, it was taken in June 1941, so I guess those teens are your grandparent’s age? Oh, great-grandparents? Damn. Well, look how happy they were. Maybe technically we weren’t fighting in WWII yet, so the future looked bright at that moment. Of course, by December, there was Pearl Harbor and then you know what followed. Oh, you don’t? WTH? Don’t they teach History anymore?

So what happened was the Allies won ultimately. Cool, huh? And then there was peace and young people moved into cookie cutter houses like Levittown and all was right. Except then there was the Korean War. And the Cold War. And Vietnam. That one didn’t work out; you can see the aftermath of that on street corners. You’ve probably never heard of the Falkland Island War or Desert Storm… Anyway, the Berlin Wall came down, so it’s all good. Except for the Middle East and North Korea and the debt to China. But things will totally work out. Ebb and flow, you guys. You got this. Totally.

And just in case you’ve never heard this SUNSCREEN song (which I still cannot FATHOM is as old as YOU ARE), take heed: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I5NAPZp2w-o. It’s a way better motivational speech than I could ever give.

Dream Big, They Said

Fred's Lounge, Mamou, LA, 1977 — Fred’s Lounge, Mamou, LA, 1977

Here it is in a nutshell: the reality of 1:30am bar life. Verbena sees the 2:00am last call on the horizon. Semisonic will play “Closing Time,” and the jukebox will stop, the lights will come up, and the illusion will shatter. But in this brief moment, with Lloyd’s arm around her, his warm bourbony breath on her cheeks, and fiery hot nuts so accessible and so amazingly affordable, life is good.

This is one of the most telling portraits from Henry Horenstein’s book HonkyTonk, a book of fascinating black and white portraits he took mostly from the country and western scene in the 1970s. It’s hard to narrow a brief selection down, but there are sites that showcase many of them, such as http://clampart.com/2012/07/honky-tonk-portraits-of-country-music-2/#/13. However, I prefer to leaf through the book itself and create my own back stories.

Is Earl waxing nostalgic for his salad days, missing the boys in his high school rockabilly band, before the tattoos and the Kool habit? Before Arlene cheated with Vernon, his supposed best friend, and then a twister took Vernon to his maker, and isn’t that sweet justice?

Lookin’ for love in all the right places.

Tootsies Orchid Lounge, Nashville, TN 1975

Last call indeed.

Tootsies Orchid Lounge, Nashville, TN 1974

Hey, Ladies

The ladies of DPS knew how to live large near the tail end of The Great Depression. And boy howdy, could they tilt a hat just so!

As the war got into full swing, women assumed roles formerly filled by men, and literally got their hands dirty.

But women with administrative duties were not left idle; check out the STACKS of driver license applications behind Cicely and Mrs. Miller.

After the war ended, applications continued to pour in.

Meanwhile, lucky teens were trying their hands at the new Aetna Steerometer, which simulated driving conditions.

Student drivers got to take a spin in the snazzy Studebaker training car. Hold on to your boater straw hats, gents! Maybe they’re going to pick up the fourth member of their barbershop quartet?

As the years rolled by, DPS workers changed with the times, as seen by the lovely hairdos of Ms. Davis and Ms. Deeds, bookending a stern bespectacled Gene Kelly.

But secretary Tom was not about to be upstaged.

She knew how to stay abreast of current trends.

Some women were forced to wear uniforms, so they had to assert their individuality with enormous glasses. Three of these people are actually women.

But let’s go out on a high note, with the cheery Loveboat-cruise director smile of Ms. Stade and the blonde wings of love about to give Ms. Steele lift-off into space.

And with that, we close the chapter on DPS. Remember that it’s the end of May, if you’re inspection sticker is almost due. You wouldn’t want to get ticketed.

Superfly Media Pie Chart

Just click to watch 30 years of music sales by media. Feel old yet?

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…)

License & Registration Please

Memorial Day seems as fitting a day as ever to begin our weeklong (we’ll see about that) Texas Dept of Public Safety pictorial history retrospective, seeing as many officers lost their lives in the line of duty. However, today’s focus is not on lost life, but on the superbadassness of the department from 1935-1980. I realize this seems hyperspecialized, but these pics are a treasure trove of early law enforcement, as well as insight into the long-gone TWENTIETH CENTURY. You will witness early outdated, inefficient ways of doing things, like searching for fingerprints by hand and how to confirm if someone is a doublecrossing liar.

See how people used to communicate with typing thingies and wirey boxes.

Experience the communications hub, the leader in advanced technology.

You will meet important characters, like Pop and Paul!

Shoot the breeze with Viola and Barbara, both fashioned from the hands of Jim Henson!

And FYI, Mr. Curb is not about to take any crap from you today.

So join me as we take a long stroll through the halls of public safety. Drive safely!

1972: Year Of The Messed-Up World

From Pam to Renee in their 1972 yearbook:

Actually, Renee, you may not have known it at the time, but it was gonna get a whole lot more messed-up. Reference the 2013 gas prices. What do you think Wayne Stevens would think about that? He was pumping gas for a quarter a gallon. A QUARTER PER GALLON!!!!! Super duper indeed.

But I get it. It was high school. Life wasn’t peachy keen. Clearly, you had it in for Miss Toni.

I have decades upon decades of yearbooks, but there is nary a HINT of profanity in any year until 1972, when the world went to hell. Miss Toni must have liked one of the numerous boys whose name you underlined in red. Was it Steve? It was Steve, wasn’t it? This is all so very Marsha, Marsha, Marsha.

Big deal. Take a chance on Leslie. His hair swoops majestically like an eagle over a canyon. Plus, he has that Taylor Lautner hammerhead shark forehead that the tweens like so much.

And hey, if you’re still bitter, shove her in a fridge, like your peers did to poor Vickie. I think we finally found a job for the Maytag repairman.

Gracious, Renee! What was your problem? I just found another girl whom you evidently perceived as the dark lord, horns and all.

Honestly, I’m more concerned with Sandy, who seems to be melting right off the paper.

You just need to chill out in a new Pinto, car of the future.

Or take some barbiturates–I know they sold them then. Ask these two classmates. They should know where to score some.

Or hang out with the annual staffers; they know how to have fun. Buy the world a Coke and keep it company. And rock that tie, girl.

And hey, if that doesn’t work, you can always pledge Zeta Phi.

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!

Category: History

Comin’ Up On Juneteenth

The Poor Man’s Six Flags

Cap ‘n’ Gowntime

Dream Big, They Said

Hey, Ladies

Superfly Media Pie Chart

Don’t Mess With DPS

License & Registration Please

1972: Year Of The Messed-Up World

Yucca Part Deux

The 1947 Yucca, Part I

Horseplay

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