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Member Since 23 Jun 2008
Offline Last Active Feb 18 2010 12:30 AM
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Posts I've Made

In Topic: Where were you November 22, 1963?

18 February 2010 - 12:33 AM

I was in sixth grade at O.H. Stowe in Haltom City. We lived half-a-block from the school so I always waited till the last minute to leave—“class starts at 8:30? I'll leave the house at 8:25” was my motto. I opened the front door of the school at about 8:28 on the 22nd and was shocked to find the front hall packed with kids. For a moment, I was panicked—how would I get through this crowd to class in time?—and then I realized that class wouldn't start on time. The school had a large B&W TV on a rolling stand—they'd brought it out so we could watch the President's speech at the Hotel Texas. We watched the speech and then went on to class.

Just after lunch, one of the janitor's opened the classroom door and blurted, “The President is been shot!” (Yes, he said, “is been” and not “has been”--I remember that clearly.) He closed the door and dashed on down the hall. We sat in stunned silence for a while, unsure of what it meant, until we noticed the teacher tearing up. He was the first male teacher I'd ever had—it was disconcerting (to say the least) to see him fighting back tears. Some of the girls began to cry softly, probably reacting to his reaction—even though we were twelve years old, I don't know how well most of us really understood death, but the sight of a beloved teacher about to cry was too much for some of us.

A bit later, the principal came on the PA and announced that the President was dead. There was more crying from the girls while the boys worked hard to be stoic. We didn't go home early but we also didn't do any school work.

Recess time came, and the teacher told us to go outside for a little while. We milled about aimlessly until one boy said, “Well, I'm glad he's dead—my daddy didn't like him anyway”. A group of boys immediately grabbed him, picked him up and started carrying him toward the back of the playground. There was some confusion about what to do with him (there were no trees on that entire block so there could be no lynching) until one kid said, “Let's go stuff him head first into one of the cracks!” The soil in that part of Haltom City was that black gumbo stuff that expands when wet and contracts when dry—there were times when the soil was dry enough for foot-wide cracks that stretched twenty feet long. I have no idea how deep they were but that's where they were heading. I wasn't participating in carrying him but I was walking along to see what happened. I didn't say anything to stop it.

At any rate, the kid's screams brought a teacher, who insisted that he be released and that everyone go back to class. The rest of the day passed quietly and I was able to maintain my proto-masculine stoicism until I got home and found my mother, sitting crosslegged on the floor with her nose inches from the TV (she always complained when we kids got too close to the TV), with tears streaming down her face—that's when I lost it.

In Topic: PBY Catalina SeaPlane

03 September 2009 - 10:27 PM

I don’t have any information about the specific location of the landing ramps but I do remember a little of the story of how they came to be. Those flying boat ramps led directly to one of Fort Worth’s largest employers.

(This is from memory—but it probably came from somewhere on this website anyway.)

Consolidated Aircraft Co. had a contract with the Navy to build the flying boats. The PBYs were assembled in a plant in San Diego and had to be flown cross-country to Florida for delivery. Amon Carter (or some other Fort Worth civic leader) saw the potential for some positive PR for Cowtown—Carter contacted the president of Consolidated and explained that Fort Worth had a nice lake, perfect for landing PBYs—and if the aircraft company would commit to stopping in Fort Worth as they ferried their new planes to Florida, the city would build ramps to provide a good landing place. Consolidated agreed and city leaders got to work, buying land, getting concrete poured and so on (I think they got in done in two weeks). When the aircraft arrived, the city leaders ensured that the flight crews got the best of treatment.

Now, in the late 1930’s, as the wars began in Europe and Asia, the US government became concerned about the vulnerability of defense plants on the coasts; they declared that new plants should be built away from the coasts. Consolidated was planning a new plant, somewhere in the middle of the country—there were a couple of sites in Kansas considered most likely—I think that one Kansas site had actually been approved by the Army.

Amon Carter wanted the plant for Fort Worth, of course, and used the example of the can-do spirit from the rapid completion of the PBY landing facility, along with Fort Worth’s better winter weather, in his approach to the president of Consolidated—and it worked. Consolidated went back to the Army and asked that Fort Worth be considered. Apparently, as far as the Army was concerned, Fort Worth was fine, and the site selection was changed, and the Bomber Plant came to Fort Worth.

(The government's concern about the location of defense plants and the weather also brought Bell Helicopter here, but that's another story.)