Reliving the Fifties, Nocona-Style

(Bill Stone, Bob Bashe, Robert Winter, Tom Chambers Robert McGaughy, Mary Ann Lesh, Martha Spencer May, Robert Reeves, Janice Patterson Pieroni) If you know stories about the city of Nocona, please send them here.

Introduction

Growing up in the fifties in Nocona was a special time, a simpler time. We did not notice the lack of gadgetry or yet to be invented telecommunication devices. We only had print and radio; subsequently, most homes were without the “vast wasteland” of television. Our telephone numbers had only three digits (my family’s number was 238), no area code or other prefixes, and we had to tell the operator what number we wanted. Some might say we were an isolated rural area, since Highway 82 had only been paved for a few years. The train that passed through town was still a popular mode of transportation, and there were scheduled daily bus stops mostly to other cities along Highway 82.

We kids did have the will and imagination to make our own fun, usually out of the simplest of things. We had bicycles, which basically meant freedom, and parents at this time felt safe to let kids explore neighborhoods for hours at a time. However, freedom to explore and the eagerness to invent interesting experiences allowed kids like me to keep a good mental picture and a feeling for the ambience of Nocona in the fifties. I think that most of the place positions that I have marked are relatively accurate.

As a preteen, I did not visit every place in town; consequently I could only travel as far as a nickel would carry me. On a hot day this might only be as far as the closest small store such as Cochran’s Station or Jennings’ Store; they sold soda pop in those small, six-ounce bottles. By the way, one had to drink the pop there or leave 2 cents for the deposit. But there were places to appropriate fresh water in a pinch. Most back yards usually had an unattended water hose, and most neighbors did not mind the intrusion. We did not know it at the time, but our water had the sweetest, freshest taste that it would ever have because it came from wells. Later when we got Lake Nocona, about 1960, all of my friends agreed that the water tasted like dirt.

This report is about places that for the most part are gone now. Many of the buildings are still here, and are being used by new businesses; however, the main goal of this essay is to remember places that may over time be forgotten. I would also encourage readers to help me remember businesses and other places of the fifties, so that we will have an archive, albeit incomplete, of the 1950s in Nocona.

Eisenhower had just become President, and the War in Korea was winding down. Consequently, in the early 1950s we did not yet fear the likes of Ted Bundy, Charles Manson, or Son of Sam. The Cuban Missile Crisis was ten years away. JFK was yet to be president; therefore, the word “assassination” was a word that we had never heard. There may have been a few people with dark secrets hiding away in small frame houses, cautiously bending a Venetian blind to peer out, but we did not believe that evil could find its way here. While our families may have had some quirky, slightly dysfunctional goings-on that they kept inside the four walls, we thought that all other families lived in perfect harmony. Many of us had neighbors who had served in Europe or Korea, and had come home with what we called “shell shock.” They may have acted strangely, but they were not really a threat to anyone. For kids, so it seemed, the days were always warm, the streets were safe, and people were always friendly.

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(Bill Stone, Bob Bashe, Robert Winter, Tom Chambers Robert McGaughy)

Small Town Boomtown

They now call us Boomers. After Korea, and the preceding World War, people were ready for a quiet period to relax and prosper. This was the time to rear families, build up the homestead, and to forget the Depression and World Wars. The American Dream was now a reality, with the increase in good paying jobs, and world stability. In Nocona, citizens were buying and building modest homes. Two new divisions were going up near the City Park and along Hillcrest Drive. Our Parents, who had lived through the Depression, were quick to tell us how fortunate we were to have plenty of food, clothes, and even a few amenities like cars, and later on, televisions. Moms all over town had the primary job of keeping the family running smoothly. Most days for women were filled with household chores including ironing, cooking, and cleaning. Men might carry the trash to the barrel behind the house to burn it, or some might even push a hand mower (not a gasoline mower) around the yard. Men were expected to earn the money, but few chores around the house were directed their way. Children also had chores and were expected to do them.

The rules were inflexible about the way the sexes would behave. Men never thought about getting “in touch with their feminine side,” or at least never admitted it to anyone else. Very few people could exist outside the rules of conformity in the 50s. To live the American Dream, compliance was expected and even demanded. It would be the next decade before this quiet time would be replaced by the seemingly urgent need to examine social issues and certainly no student in geography class could find a small country called Vietnam on any map. No one suspected that in a few years the country would experience total culture shock as the mindset of the 50s met the free thinkers of the 60s.

The economy in Nocona in 1953 was good. Always a farming and ranching community before, Nocona had gained a reputation as a leather producing center with at least three factories. Factory jobs were a very interesting phenomena in Nocona. For boys like me, riding Western Flyer Bicycles, it was almost overwhelming to ride by a factory like The Leather Goods (Nokona Athletic Goods) and see so many cars parked in one place. The factory was one block from my home, consequently, friends and I played all around it. The thick cedar hedge that bordered the building was especially good for hiding, but it made us itch all over. The Leather Goods and Boot Company also produced interesting smells. One smell was the faint musky odor of leather. I thought it was a rather pleasant aroma. Leather workers always smelled like that after work.

I noticed that factory workers seemed very orderly and clean people. I heard rumors about the mind-less repetitive nature of some of these jobs, but then I thought that the work looked enticing. I never noticed them getting dirty at work as my Father did in the North Field. They also seemed very punctual as they lived by the clock, or actually the factory whistle. Men would go to work in well creased Levis or slacks, decked with neatly starched sports shirts, while most women wore dresses. Also, men wore hats then, not baseball caps, but regular felt hats. Factory whistles bellowed out the time like church bells at 8:00 and 4:00. Factory workers apparently made good wages, because there were always nice cars parked in front of the factories. Shiny 50s Fords and Chevys equipped with huge chrome bumpers crowded near the sidewalk and cedar hedge that ran parallel to the Leather Goods. The fanciest of these cars cost less than $2000 new. Some of them were purchased at Matheson Chevrolet or at Branch Chapman Motors. At the Boot Company and Leather Goods cars spilled from the parking lots into the residential areas, causing mild aggravation to nearby home owners. Several yards along Baylor had signs posted that said “No Parking.” These same cars produced the Nocona-style rush hours at noon and quitting times. On Saturday mornings, so many of these cars might be angle parked along Clay Street that late comers would have to search for parking (many other people, like my family, often walked the four blocks to town).

Oil production north of town was in full swing, and all of the major companies were busy pumping crude out of the ground. Dad said that some of the wells were “flowing,” so I took this to mean that oil was just automatically gushing to the surface. But while factory workers may have been stitching western boots all day, the real cowboys might have been working on well servicing rigs and in roustabout crews in the North Field. Instead of cowboy hats, they were required to wear steel hats. For the most part, they were deeply tanned, and some had almost leathery skin from constant exposure to the hard Texas sun. Compared to leather workers, oil field hands were generally dirty or at least sweaty. Oil field workers could never touch anything without leaving a brown smudge on it. They smelled of petroleum, and wore khaki pants and shirts, usually stained with it. Much of the time they dangled cigarettes from their mouths, even as they worked. Their steel toed boots were permanently polished with a black soup that reeked of crude oil.

Crews of oil field workers gathered at first light near dimly lit crew rooms or coffee shops, where pushers and foremen would pick them up in winch trucks or pickups. Most wore cleanly starched khakis that their wives had ironed the night before. Most were darkly tanned, wore burr cuts, but all were clean shaven. On their heads they usually had steel helmets stenciled with the name of their company. Smokers would carry an extra pack of Luckies or Camels in their lunch sack. Around a table at Maurice’s or Hoffman’s, roustabouts would clutch coffee cups with fingers that were already stained with several early morning cigarettes. Occasionally, one would hear the metallic click of a cigarette lighter fire up a short unfiltered cigarette. As often as not, the lighter might have a familiar logo with the word “Mercers” printed on it, since that company did most of the well servicing in the North Field. The user might heave a couple of shallow coughs before inhaling, and then with up turned chin, blow the white cloud toward the ceiling. With heads crowded together around a small table, men would get their instructions on the plans for the day, and when the pusher finished his coffee, that was the sign for everyone to load up.

The first stop would be the “Ice House” on Cooke where oil field hands would get a block of ice to put in their water can. They might have to chip on it with an ice pick to get it to slide easily into the steel can. Some used pocket knives that smelled of recently skinned catfish, while others kept a regular ice pick tied to their water can. Oil field workers did not care, but one could also get delicious snow cones at the Ice House. From there, trucks would head north on Clay toward the North Field. The North Field encompassed all the oil producing leases generally north of Nocona near Prairie Valley, Spanish Fort, and the River. Along the highway heading north, one could hear the creaky sliding of rod lines as they sawed back and forth along the ground. Rod lines were metal rods that branched out from power houses to each pumping unit to make it pump. Nearby cattle would be grazing nonchalantly as they had become accustomed to the noisy, mechanical rhythm of machinery. Even the pop-pop-pop from the engine-powered units did not bother the cattle.

Farming and ranching was the original industry of north Montague County. All of the oil leases were also producing crops and grazing cattle, and Dad knew all of the land owners. Often we would drive through cultivated fields to get to oil leases. The Red River bottom land seemed to be the most productive land. Seems like most everyone had wheat, but there was a substantial amount of cotton under cultivation. Cotton production had declined since the 1920’s Boll Weevil disaster. The discovery of oil north of Nocona could not have come at a better time as many bankrupt farmers found new prosperity as oil lease owners. The area farm economy then turned to more profitable “truck-patch” operations.

Land owners had several ingenious ways to keep cattle away from oil. Cattle guards were a blessing to see if I rode along with Dad. Wire gates were not so simple. The passenger was expected to get out, take down the barbed wire gate, and let the truck pass through, then stretch and hang the wire back. A boy needed a strong arm and I thought that it was rather difficult. This had to be done both going and coming. Once I was remarkably surprised when Dad came to a “bump gate.” He simply tapped the gate with his bumper, and then quickly drove through, and suddenly the gate closed behind us.

Land owners along the river bottom let Dad have access to good fishing spots. This was where my brothers and I learned how to swim. The only problem was that our swimming suits, usually nothing more than underwear, were permanently stained red. In the early 50s, Red River got so big that it flooded the whole river valley. The cables and supports for the old “burned out” bridge were still mostly visible then. When the river flooded that year, all of cabling of “Burned out Bridge” was under water. This was a most impressive sight. In a year, someone had tried to saw up the strands of cable for salvage. Each single strand was a foot across, and was composed of hundreds of smaller wires. In a few years signs of the old bridge were gone. Today, the river has even claimed the road down to the old bridge.

Going to the North Field near Prairie Valley and Spanish Fort one could see virtually wall to wall pump jacks (pumping units) bobbing up and down. There was plenty of money being made here by everyone connected to the business. Everything needed for oil production could be bought in Nocona. Engineers, roustabouts, pumpers, well servicers, equipment suppliers, and drillers had offices here.

Oil field hands worked long hours, and got dirty, and sometimes got hurt, but made enough money to buy new cars and homes. The dirty work seemed to lend itself to the acquiring of dirty habits. Many of the hands smoked or chewed incessantly, and a number of them imbibed frequently. Strangely, one might notice that when they were with others of their trade, they cursed almost constantly; however, if a woman or child was around they were always polite. However, these men would clean up nicely, and when they put on their Sunday clothes, one would only notice that these men had slightly darker complexions than factory workers.

The oil boom spun-off many oil field related companies. National Supply, Republic Supply, Johnson’s Supply, Towery Welding, Mercers, J.N. Cardwell’s Company, and Myers Oil Well Salvage were just a few. Many major oil companies had crews that lived here, including the Texas Company, which later changed its name to Texaco. The Texas Company and other majors hired local roustabouts, well servicers, and pumpers to see after their production. Land owners in the North Field made significant amounts of money from their share of royalties. Citizens felt optimistic about their chances for success in Northern Montague County.

When going to a Texas Company Picnic at the American Legion Hall, one noticed the impact of oil on the local economy. Easily 200 people, representing at least 50 families, attended one warm night in August circa 1954. The wife of one employee played records, and a few couples awkwardly tried to dance to the tick-tock rhythm of Jim Lowe’s “Green Door.” The song cranked loudly, a bit too fast for the couple used to slow-dancing. Make-shift speakers roared “Saw and eyeball poking through a smoky cloud behind the green door; when I said Joe sent me someone laughed out loud behind the green door.” The Texas Company bought all the soda that we kids could drink. The “Friendly Pepper Upper,” Dr. Pepper, was the standard fare. Also, there were more adult drinks for the thirsty oil patch laborers. One of the younger employees asked my Dad if he had brought his “church key” with him. I thought that this was odd, since my Dad seldom went to church. I later found out what this key really was since this was before the day of the pull-tab and aluminum cans.

Even though oil was an economic staple in the 50s, the leather industry gave the city its name recognition. The Leather Goods made ball gloves that were used all over the world. Professional players used the gloves and even endorsed them. One could buy a Nokona ball glove at the local White’s Auto or Western Auto. My Nokona mitt had been passed down from two older brothers, but it was as good as new. It did not look like the large fancy gloves that are made today. It looked more like what one sees in the old news clips of Ty Cobb. Using a glove like mine meant that one had to catch with two hands, which was a good fundamental concept, or one would definitely drop the ball.

The Nocona Boot Company had mysticism even in the 50s. Anyone knew that if one could afford a pair of Nocona Boots, one had made a good investment. They were thought to be a cut above the rest. As a boy, I soon realized that people all over the United States were wearing Nocona Boots. When one mentioned that their hometown was Nocona, listeners would often say, “Yes, I have heard about Nocona….you make boots down there.”

(Bill Stone, Bob Bashe, Robert Winter, Tom Chambers Robert McGaughy)

Stroll Down Clay

The fact that Nocona had so many food stores says that the era was a time of prosperity. My family traded at Nocona Cash Grocery at 311 Clay. Apparently the name was a misnomer because; we never paid cash for anything until pay day. Windy Lee and his father ran the place. We shopped there almost every day. Mother would always park in the alley behind the store; enter from the back, walk through the store room past the butcher counter to the front to get a cart. Usually we would pick up a six ounce Dr. Pepper from the box-cooler to drink as we shopped. We started at the southeast corner of the store near the produce and made every one of the five isles. Mother carefully selected items to be placed in the cart. Bread cost about .15 a loaf and a gallon of milk was less than a dollar. Mother always bought meat from Ernie Patterson at the rear of the store. He would quickly wrap the cut in white paper, tape it shut, weigh it, and then scribble a price on it with a black grease pencil. Then we went to one of the two booths at the front to check out the day’s haul. Mother simply signed an adding machine tape of all the purchases that she had made, and Leatrice, the clerk, stored the paper in a cigar box, which still smelled of cheap cigars. On the way out Mother would tell me to ask for bones that the butcher threw away, so that I could feed our bird dog.

Across Clay Street, which many of us kids mistakenly called Main Street, there were several other good grocery stores including Molsbees, Painters, and Alexander’s “Stoar”. Later there came a larger store named Parkers a block west of Nocona Cash, just up from the Leather Goods. On Clay back toward the south, there was an A&P store. Aroma of freshly ground coffee greeted the customer on entering the A&P.

Four blocks along Clay from Pine to HWY 82 housed most of the commerce of the city. Starting at Pine, where Ray’s Food Store stood, one could travel south and find anything that one wanted to buy. Taking that path south on Clay, the first structure that one would see would be the warehouse and lumber yard known as Foxworth. Looking back over ones shoulder to the north, one might spy a customer going into Dr. Spivey’s for new glasses. Next to Spivey’s orange brick building was the home and business of one of the builders of Nocona, Othor Oldham. The Elder Mr. Oldham and his son Louie poured most of the concrete in Nocona even before cement trucks were invented. Mrs. Oldham sold Avon and did a steady foot traffic of women. Behind the Oldham home were stacks of lumber use to make concrete forms, rebar, pallets of cement mix, and piles of sand. The cement that Othor poured in the 50s is still sound and bearing his signature today.

Still traveling south on Clay, Russell’s Variety Store might be ones first stop if looking for dry goods. My Mother made her own clothes, so this was a favorite stop for her. The next store to the south was a small, leather repair shop owned by Paul Haggerton. Paul could repair anything in the way of shoes or boots. He also sold shoes. Next to him was Nocona Cash Grocery and Brownie’s Bakery or Coffee shop. The store was also owned by the Allen’s and Tubbs, with incarnations as diners and bakeries. Brownie owned several businesses in Nocona at various times. My Mother baked everyday and was a good cook; consequently, we did not visit the bakery very often. The last business on the west side of the block was Lipscomb’s, or Popular Dry Goods. This was where I got my first pair of boots. Lipscomb’s sold clothing, shoes, fabric and other goods.

Looking across Clay to the east, one might see a barber pole in front of a small barber shop. The City Barbershop had three chairs and several slow moving ceiling fans hanging from the tin ceiling. Continuing with this view, one would notice windows painted with sale pricing and other product logos. This establishment would be Molsbee’s Grocery Store. The A&P Grocery was also on the east side of the street. Finally toward the end of the block, one would see a two-story building that used to be a hotel, and a billiard parlor. The front section of this building housed one of the two local drug stores. The rear of the hotel, along Elm had a small diner.

Crossing to the 200 block of Clay, one would probably overlook a small sign in the middle of the road that said “No U turns.” For some unknown reason motorists even today still find it necessary to make U turns right where Clay and Elm meet. Also, south of the Elm-Clay intersection one would observe that one parking spot was marked “Reserved for the Police.” If one looked west from this spot, one would see Weldon Robb’s Independent lumber yard. The Independent Lumber Co. had previously been located on Highway 82 near the intersection of Grayson. If this happened to be on a Saturday, one might not see a vacant parking spot at all along Clay or any blocks bordering Clay. Looking up one would still see traffic lights regulating the flow of traffic at every intersection along the red-brick street. Clay was nearly the only paved street in town. The bricks, used as pavement during a Depression Era project, were relatively level, compared to how they would be in 30 years. Streets that crossed Clay were dirt, but they were maintained by road graders.

Gilbert’s Department Store would be the next dry goods store on our stroll south along Clay. This block must have been a good location for businesses because there was always foot traffic, including J-walking, in the 200 block. Weldon Cowan owned the Ben Franklin’s Variety Store, which he advertised as “your self-serve variety store.” Weldon doubled as the town’s Mayor. On past Ben Franklin’s was Paul Brand’s White’s Auto Store and the Ritz Theatre.

The Ritz was the hub of the city on Saturday afternoons. Being the main activity for kids before television, one could get admission for a quarter and watch classics like “The Creature from the Black Lagoon,” or “The Incredible Shrinking Man.” One had to be careful about etiquette inside the theatre. Propping ones feet on the seat in front, or talking loudly during the film were not permitted. Chief Drive-in, owned by the same proprietors took care of evening entertainment. It was located just east of the Boot Company on HWY 82.

The east side of this block seemed to set higher in elevation than the west side. For some reason the sidewalk was noticeably farther from the brick paving. Perhaps it was an optical allusion caused by the two-story marbled F&M Bank building. Farmers & Merchants Bank was an attractive building and gave an air of importance. Next to the bank was Gist Drug. A small sign in the window of the drug store said A. Billings, Proprietor. On entering, one would immediately notice the soda fountain and cushioned seating near it. Mother would buy cough syrup there, as at least one of her six kids would have the croup at any given time. That cough syrup was the real stuff, codeine and all and no prescription was needed.

Looking on toward the east on the 200 block of Clay was Curlin’s Insurance, Crain’s Cleaners, Earl Fitts’ Law Office, Bill’s Clothiers, and Z-Dude’s. A small jeweler’s shop was also in this mix. At the very end of the block was the People’s National Bank. People’s was a long narrow building with teller booths along the south wall. All the businesses along Clay kept counter checks from both F&M and People’s on hand. Blank bank checks in tear-off pads were used for everything from buying goods and services, to writing memos, or even making your shopping list. If one looked east along Oak, here, one would see The Nocona Phone Company.

One might cross Oak Street going south if looking for hardware or appliances. On entering Scott’s Hardware at Clay and Oak, one might hear his footsteps on the creaky hardwood floor. The echo of footfalls might be unnerving if a customer really did not know what he wanted and was just looking around. On past Scott’s were the Nocona News and Hinds Clark’s. One might buy larger appliances at Hinds Clark’s store. Air Conditioners were not available yet, but attractive kitchen appliances were stationed in every nook and cranny.

Across the street from Hinds Clark was another leather factory, Justin’s. Justin’s covered about half the block. Justin’s made smaller leather products like wallets, purses, and belts. We kids knew that Miss Enid was a Justin, and we mistakenly thought that she owned this business also. Behind it was the City Office and Police Department.

If one continued south along Clay, railroad crossing signs would warn the traveler to be on the lookout for trains. My Mother would always say this rhyme when we passed here: “Railroad crossing…look out cars… can you spell “it” without any “Rs?” I never understood what she meant by this, and she never would explain it. She was an intelligent lady, and I have heard other persons say this jingle, but I do not understand it. Just south of the crossing was the train station. Train service to Nocona would soon be abandoned. In another ten years, the rails and tracks would be gone.

(Bill Stone, Bob Bashe, Robert Winter, Tom Chambers Robert McGaughy)

A Day in the Life….

It is not hard to remember what it was like to spend a routine day in a small, rural town, in a large family with one wage earner. We were well-off compared to many neighbors on the block near Pine and Young, but we never thought in those terms back then. We had a modest frame home in which the white or gray paint (we alternated every five years) was usually falling off. The house had six rooms, one bath, a large front porch, and a back porch. The floors were hard wood, not a sign of a carpet or throw rug anywhere. The house had no halls; therefore every room led directly to at least one other room. I know now why many houses were designed this way, but I did not think anything about it at the time. We heated with small, gas heaters that we called “fires.” One or two of these fires had to be left on cold nights to heat the house. There was no insulation either in the walls or ceiling of the house. If someone wanted privacy and shut their door, they would freeze. The main fire was always in the master bedroom. Dad did not want the kids sleeping in the same room with an open flame. There was no air conditioning until the end of the decade when we started using a swamp cooler.

We had modest curtains on the windows, but no pictures or paintings on our walls. The walls were covered with wall paper, water stained in some places and peeling in others. We had one closet in the whole house, and that was used by Mother and Dad. The six children folded their clothes into chest of drawers or hung dry cleaned clothing on back of bedroom doors. We did not have locks on our three exterior doors, but we did have latch hooks on the black screen doors that covered the main doors. It seems odd but the only time we tried to lock our house was when we were home, not when we were away. The screens were latched at night, but when we left home, none of the doors were ever locked. Strangely, we never heard of any theft of property anywhere in town.

Our yard was usually unmowed, and the old ’49 Ford family car was parked as close to the front porch as possible. We had sizeable patches of goat heads, the thorny stickers that stabbed deep in the skin when stepped on. Goat heads would usually leave a small point after the impalement that usually had to be removed with a needle. Yes, we parked in our front yard. The term had not been invented yet, but we would probably be known as “red necks” today. We had a ramshackle garage made of cedar boards that we never parked the car in. Behind it was a tin building which served as a chicken coop. Directly behind the house was a large fenced garden area. I do not remember having many gardens, but my older brothers dug tunnels all over it to play in. A neighbor with a team of donkeys would come in the late winter to plow the patch.

The day always started the same. Smells of coffee and frying bacon would start to permeate the home, signaling everyone to get out of bed. No one was allowed to sleep later than 6:30 during the week. Even on Sunday morning, bells from The First Baptist Church would awaken us, and then we would proceed to get ready for Sunday school. Mother then fried eggs in a deep skillet full of bacon grease. Later she would pour the grease into quart jars that would be used to fry other things. I never knew her to buy shortening in a store. After breakfast and the dishes were washed, Mother would start on the housework. She only had to make one bed, because all kids at home had to make their own, and it had to be made neatly.

Everyone was gone to school or work by 7:30, except for me. I was expected to help with the daily chores. First I would dry the dishes standing on a kitchen chair as Mother washed them. Then I took out the trash which we kept in a large grocery sack left from the last trip to Nocona Cash. We put the trash in a big 50 gallon oil drum that Dad got from work. I was allowed to burn the trash even at a very young age, and I thought that this was great entertainment. We never disposed of food in the trash. Uneaten food was always stored and used again in some other recipe. Anything else was given to the bird dog waiting by the back screen door. Jackie never chewed any scrap that we tossed him. He just swallowed everything whole. Most of our trash was of the tin can variety. We used no paper products or paper towels, except for the essential bathroom necessity. Mother put the coffee grounds, which she called “grinds” in the flower beds.

Dusty screens covered all windows and doors of the house. Before air conditioning, windows and doors were left open all the time except in winter. The problem with open windows was obvious to housewives. Blowing dust and sand came down Young Street and put a fine earthy blanket on all our furniture, floors, and window dressing. Nocona had very few paved streets; consequently, each car that passed by the house raised up a small dust storm, usually drifting from south to north. Dusting was a daily chore that had to be done, usually in the morning.

Dad was an oil field worker. Mother often had to soak Dad’s clothes in gasoline before she could wash them. Mother would wash most of the clothes for our eight family members by hand, but certain clothes she would take to the laundry. We would usually drive 4 blocks east along the dirt street called Pine, then south along Cooke. Then after another 3 blocks, we would be at the rock laundry. Before the automat era, women would seek the convenience of laundries that had do-it-yourself washers. These were basically big tubs with hand ringers on top. Mother used great quantities of bleach, strong detergent, and a strange liquid called bluing. There was one gumball machine near the door, and often she would let me have a penny to feed it. The gumball machine was like playing roulette because all the colors were good except for the black ball, and it tasted like licorice. If I got this color then I considered my penny a bad investment. This was usually the only bright spot in this boring, humid, pungent smelling endeavor. When finished, we would drive home, but we still had to hang the wash on the long wire behind the house. When Dad was training the bird dog we chained him to the same clothes line and let him run back and forth like a trolley car attached to electric power. Our clothes line ran the whole length of the back yard. We needed a long clothes line because there were eight members of our family.

Near late morning, Mother and I would take our daily trip to Nocona Cash Grocery. This seemed to be the high point of the day for both of us. We love buying and eating food. Mother was a good cook. The family may have cut corners on buying clothes, furnishings, and appliances, but we always bought plenty of food. While at Windy Lee’s store, we might go next door to Russell’s Variety Store to look for cloth or thread because Mother made most of our clothes.

Lunch, which we called “dinner,” usually consisted of a sandwich or a bowl of soup, Next, Mother would sew, and I would take a nap. From then on I would play outside, while Mother started the preparations for the evening meal. Strangely enough, the custom at my home was to have an early supper. Remember, that we had “dinner” at noon, so we always called the next meal “supper.”

Dad always brought the Texas Company winch truck home after work. He would park to the side of our dirt drive way, but leave the two-way radio on. For the next several hours loud-speaker voices barked from the truck as remote dispatchers mumbled orders to unseen drivers of tank trucks and roustabout crews. Dad never seemed to pay attention to all the voices booming out of his truck, but he left the radio on just the same. The neighbors must have been dismayed by the loud voices and constant radio static. Dad always had the same routine as he walked in the back screen door, left his oily boots on the back porch, and then went to wash his oily hands with Lava soap.

I could always tell when Dad was coming home from work because I could hear the chains and boomers rattling on the head board of the Texas Company truck that he drove. Our bird dog Jackie would predict when Dad was arriving by barking rapidly and turning in circles. Jackie acted the same way when we let him out of the car trunk to go quail hunting. It must have been an instinctive thing for dogs. By the way our dogs usually roamed the neighborhood at will since we had no leash laws to worry about. An hour before Dad’s arrival, Mother would have started supper because one detected the smell of hot grease coming from any open window. Dad was pleased to see his supper waiting for him, and we always ate setting at the table.

(Bill Stone, Bob Bashe, Robert Winter, Tom Chambers Robert McGaughy)

Not All Work

Typical workers might work five and a half to six days a week, but rural, small town life had its simple pleasures. Ritz Theatre and Chief Drive-in were places where young imaginations grew, and citizens could experience cultures from other parts of the world. However, before we think that Nocona citizens in the early 50s were inward looking, we need to remember that many residents had fought in World War II and Korea; consequently, many men in the community were cosmopolitan in nature. Leisure activity was only limited by imagination, and there was plenty of that in this small town.

Kids had to be creative; that was their nature before TV pictures took away the ability to conceptualize knowledge by using the imagination. While listening to the radio, one had to supply his own mental pictures as to what the actors or broadcasters were saying. My home had a huge console radio the size of a chest of drawers. In fact that was what it looked like. It also played records. My family sat together and listened to a favorite recording of “So Dear to My Heart” with Burl Ives recorded in 1949. Prior to 1955, few homes had televisions but everyone had a radio. In 1952, favorite songs included “High Noon” by Frankie Lane, “Unforgettable” by Nat King Cole, and “The Glow Worm” by the Mills Brothers.

The Chief Drive-in was doing a good business on east Highway 82. There was another drive-in just north of Montague called the Hilltop Drive-in. Both The Ritz and The Chief showed double features, which were usually of the B-movie variety. In 1952, two good movies aired including “High Noon” and “Ivanhoe.” However this was the beginning of 3-D films; consequently, “It Came from Outer Space” and “Bwana Devil” were big draws but lacking in quality. The Saturday Matinee at the Ritz appealed to the school age population, and it consistently had a bustling business. At usually a quarter till one o’clock, a line of kids would start to form at the box office and wind down the sidewalk toward Ben Franklin’s on Clay. Typical fare at the Ritz was spine tingling horror or science fiction movies such as “The Creature from the Black Lagoon” released in 1954. Admittance cost a quarter, but you could enjoy entertainment, including a feature and

a cartoon, lasting all afternoon.

By 1955 many homes had television sets, but had to use tall antennas to reach stations in Wichita Falls. Our set was not very reliable, so we were often calling Leonard Bertram, the local repairman, to come out to put new tubes in it. Many of our neighbors did not have sets yet, and programming was limited. Most stations only stayed on air from about 8:00 am to 10:00 pm, running test patterns the rest of the time. Around 1955, the first children’s programming was aired as “Winky Dink and You” came on at 9:00 am. Mother sent off for Winky Dink paraphernalia including the plastic sheet that you put on the screen. The idea was for you to use crayons to draw on the plastic sheet to help Winky Dink get out of danger; consequently, we had the first interactive television program. To listen to the theme song and see pictures of the characters follow this link: http://www.winkydinkandyou.com .

Nocona may have been a small place, but civic leaders had aspirations for the city to become a metropolis. Highway 82 had been paved for while, designated as a U.S. Highway, and had the potential to become a major east to west route across Texas. Citizens were expecting that the creation of a nine-hole golf course might attract new population as well as businesses. The course was laid out west of town near the Park. An interesting thing about the greens on the course was that they were actually made of oily sand. Once a golfer landed on the green (dirt), he had to take a turf roller and smooth the path to the cup before he could putt. The old club house, which is gone now, used to stand a hundred yards southeast of the present club house. The old club house resembled a modest frame home, and I believe the greens keeper lived in it.

My older brothers introduced me to the sport. They had several wooden shafted clubs and a putter. Since we never had the $1.00 cost for green fees, we would usually start on the third hole, well away from prying eyes. Our main goal was to find golf balls which we could sell for a nickel or a dime. Luckily for us, there were several oak barrels containing water, strategically stationed at several holes. The water always tasted a bit musty, and had bits of floating debris, but it kept us hydrated enough to keep searching through the broom grass stalks that grew in the roughs.

This was the first time that I came in contact with people who thought that they were in a higher social class than others. Most of the regular members were nice to us, but a few were always willing to run us off the course. One member, with a brand new extra large golf bag, filled with Ben Hogan clubs, could always be counted on to ask us if we had paid our green fees. He had personalized golf balls with his own name printed on them; consequently, we thought that he must own the course, as he acted like he did. Interestingly, we found many of his balls that we knew resulted in shanked drives into very tall rough. We kids had many good laughs upon finding his marked golf balls in various out-of-the-way places.

At least one group of citizens had aspirations of making a country club west of town just north of Highway 82. The remains of the old club house stood just north of Club Lake until the early 70s, and then someone cleared them away. Information about the Club House is sketchy at best, but the place was in use as late as the mid-1950s. Later the lake became a favorite “lovers’ lane” for high school kids. Today the lake has disappeared, as the earthen dam apparently gave way and the water ran out. This is one interesting episode of the 50s that needs to be investigated more thoroughly.

Summers still lasted until Labor Day. No thought was ever given to trying to take up school before August was through. Before the Sputnik Scare, there was no worry about how educational institutions were performing. That ignorance was a blessing to barefoot kids who played outside all day, coming in only for meals. Even into the late evening, kids were still playing outside, until one parent or the other yelled out the back door for the kids to come inside. The feeling was that kids were safe as long as they were at least on the neighborhood block somewhere. Most kids would keep an ear tuned so that when their parents yelled “come home,” they could make it back within a few minutes.

Kids could manufacture fun without even trying. Several spots around town had patches of bamboo canes, which made excellent spears or lances. Once obtained, it would only be minutes before someone was flailing someone else with a stout cane. Mini-wars would be fought until someone brought blood, and the poor victim went home crying. Similarly, rock fights could get dangerous, subsequently, we had to sneak several blocks from home to engage in such activities, so parents would not give us the standard lecture.

When thunderstorms crossed into northern Montague County, kids along Pine Street had a nice swimming hole as the gutter usually filled quickly. Near Pine and Fayette, the gutter became a creek and started running rather swiftly. From there it was channeled under Pine and headed off in a northerly direction toward sewer creek. This area could collect about 5 feet of water during downpours, and the current seemed very swift. Before the swimming pool was built near the High School, this was our only swimming place. Near Pine and Travis, there was an abandoned swimming pool that neighborhood kids played around, but it was never used for swimming in the 50s, and was later filled in.

There were a few organized activities for kids. Little League Baseball was very popular. The games were played at the American Legion Field (Beck Field) near the cemetery. Before 1960 games were moved to Yarbrough Field north of the High School. Area sponsors included Nocona Boot Co., The Leather Goods, Mercers, Rotary, and Lions.

(Bill Stone, Bob Bashe, Robert Winter, Tom Chambers Robert McGaughy)

Small Town Institutions

Looking back, it seems remarkable that Nocona Schools could have had a full “Doctor” as Superintendent of Schools. In 1955 Dr. Charles A. Lindsey was the Superintendent. Kids like me thought he was a medical doctor that just happened to be working for our school district. The fact that our Board of Education would pay a little more to get someone with a degree that few people in 1955 possessed, says a great deal about them. Also, on the Board was another interesting doctor, A. D. Major. Dr. Major was President of the Board in 1955; consequently, he will also be mentioned later in this essay.

South Ward, the old elementary school which would soon burn down, was situated on the same site as today’s school. Mrs. Pribble was the Principal as well as a Third Grade Teacher. A back door on her classroom would allow her to promptly exit class to take care of wayward boys and girls in her office. Meanwhile her third graders were expected to sit quietly while she momentarily dispensed with her unlucky victim. Being a member of this class, I think that we were usually too awed to speak; however, we communicated with eyes and facial expressions. As if we could read each other’s minds, we would ask only mental questions, too afraid to utter a sound. “Who has she got in there this time? Will she use her paddling machine? (The paddling machine rumor went on for years.) Did Johnny cry after his whipping? I bet he got 50 licks.”

The old South Ward had a long hall running north to south where most of the classrooms were located. At the north end, the combination stage and cafeteria were located. First grades were at the south end and third grades were at the other end. The playground actually had tall swing sets, which by today’s standards would be outlawed by State and Federal Safety codes. Other so-called dangerous toys included seesaws and merry-go-rounds. Kids could swing as high as they wanted and teachers did not care. One could get in trouble if one jumped off the seesaw while a partner was up in the air.

Fourth through seventh graders traveled to the old North Ward building near Cooke and Pine. North Ward was a two-story square building, but during the forties it actually had a third floor. During this time, the High School was located here also. A gymnasium was located on the east side of the school that bordered Grayson Street. The gym doubled as a cafeteria. At North Ward students could leave the campus at lunch and visit eateries and other establishments at lunch. Seventh and eighth graders were housed on the second floor; consequently, this made a substantial disturbance when classes changed. Younger students below could feel the ceiling shake and sway as students moved above them.

The new High School was considered state of the art in the early 1950s. Several area natives state that the school was built on swamp land that no one wanted to use. This rumor has persisted for many years, and it may be impossible to substantiate. Local taxpayers apparently wanted local youth to have the best. Including a large gym, auditorium, field house, along with other amenities, the school had a distinctive style and elegance.

As for Churches, Nocona had an abundant share. Sunday school and Church were considered a “must attend” event. It was customary for Churches with bells to ring them prominently on Sunday morning. Waking up on a cool summer morning, with the window near my bed open, I could already hear church bells ringing. No work was scheduled for Sunday, and few if any businesses were open. It was not even a good idea to mow the lawn on Sunday. If citizens valued what others thought of them, they kept Sunday free to do only church related activities. I worried about my Father’s habit of going to the river on Sunday morning, because the rest of us went to church. Later, I reconciled this behavior by thinking that fishing was probably a spiritual experience for him.

Every male wore much the same outfit to Sunday school. With a white shirt and dark slacks, one would fit right in. One might put a tie with that white shirt to upgrade his appearance to what some might call “slick.” Men added suits or sports coats as well as nice looking hats to their ensemble. Women of course wore dresses, and more often than not, wore hats also. I do not recall anyone ever wearing Levis or shorts to Church. There were unwritten rules about what to wear, and most everyone fell into line with the plan.

Most of the Churches that I visited had much the same message. The sermon was likely to be basic, hard preaching. The words “eternal damnation” were used quite often as the Pastor got into the flow of the service, his voice raised to almost shouting, then suddenly he would use a dramatic pause, a pin drop could be heard, then away again with a high pitched wail to finish his point about Hades. It seemed that a Preacher’s reputation could swing on how hard he made the congregation sweat. Oil field hands, who cursed and swore while on duty at the North Field, were likewise on their best behavior for most of Sunday. Factory workers, store clerks, school kids, and most everyone went to church. And if someone missed one week, church regulars were quick to call to find out why.

At the corner of Grayson and Locust Streets, the constantly busy medical establishment called Major Clinic resided. Locals at this time called it the “Hospital” because few if any residents knew the difference between a clinic and a hospital. Besides, Major Clinic could do just about anything that a major hospital could do. Brothers John and David Major owned the clinic at the time. My experiences at the clinic were always positive; consequently, all my childhood illnesses were handled quite competently. My first experience with physicians was in 1955 when the Doctors Major and nurses came to school to give us polio shots. The first round of vaccinations was done with needles. Most of the kids took it well, but a few cry babies had to be consoled by nurses. The next series of doses were given orally with sugar cubes.

Competent medical care in a small town like this was a blessing that was often taken for granted. Most people did not have insurance, and had to pay costs right out of their pockets. Remarkably the Clinic seemed to have staff on duty 24 hours a day. Emergency patients came in the north entrance where they were met by one of the Doctors at any hour of the day or night. Private Ambulances from local funeral parlors picked up patients and carried them to get treatment. It seems strange now that medical transport was handled this way when today even small hospitals have trained paramedics that can perform first aid to stabilize and move the injured to safety. However, Major Clinic performed a significant service that could not have been replaced in 1950.

Circa 1953, I met Dr. David, as we liked to call him, one evening about 6:00 pm at the Clinic. Even at four years old, I noticed that Dr. David was all about business. As he clasped my head in his forceful hands, I got a good look at his features as he shined his small flashlight up my nose. With dark piercing eyes, he examined my nose with various tools. His square jaw was set, and his mouth seemed to have a semi-smile; consequently, I could not read his face to tell if my condition was fatal or not.

Earlier in the day, I had been taking Dad’s pocket watch apart, and had one part left after putting the gadget back together. The small stem for winding the time piece would not screw back in, so I decided to hide the evidence in a place no one would look, up my nose. As luck would have it, Mother found out about this adventure, and proceeded to try to remove it. Dad was home by then, so he loaded me up to go to Major Clinic.

Dr. David told Dad to hold me down on the examining table, but by using peripheral visions I caught a glimpse of the Doctor sneaking a long metal probe behind his white frock. I learned later that these instruments were called forceps. Dr. David did not want me to see what he was about to do because I was already crying. Before I could scream again, I tasted the cold metallic bitterness of the probe deep in my nose. Strangely, the sensation lasted only a split second before it was over. The Doctor was smiling now, as he examined the screw that he held in the foot-long forceps. I was never scolded over this incident, but was kidded unmercifully for years afterwards by my brothers and sisters.

(Bill Stone, Bob Bashe, Robert Winter, Tom Chambers Robert McGaughy)

Conclusion

Nocona in the 1950s was a safe, benevolent shelter for its citizens, especially its children. Kids had the freedom to explore, create, and learn in an atmosphere free from some of the most jaded influences that kids live with today. The innocence of this decade was appealing, and one might wish for the simplistic lifestyle as opposed to the treadmill of today. However, the fifties had some rough edges that can not be ignored. If a survey was presented to ask participants the question about whether they would want to go back to these simpler times, most people would certainly say no. Especially after thinking about the labor intensive household chores, the numerous childhood diseases, and the lack of entertainment, one is usually satisfied to just reminisce about earlier times. Consequently, if one grew up in the fifties, one can visualize, feel, and almost smell or taste the sensations of a living in a small, rural town. The purity, simplicity, and innocence of the time add a pleasant accent to nostalgic thoughts of yesterday, just like spice adds zest to food. And certainly two or three decades from now, people will also express nostalgia at the world we live in today.