The Dynamite Hole
When I was a kid, Delaney crossed the bayou and pretty much went to the Delaney ranch, there was a telephone switch building on the left (still there) and a brick home right passed. And that's were the”road” ended. Beyond that, there were two ruts in the mud that if you followed them, after awhile would lead you to Texas Ave (some body's short cut), were just across Texas there was a tiny little wooden store with a Rainbow Bread banner on their door.
Okay, well about half way to Texas Ave from were the road ended was what I was told was the dynamite hole. It was on the right hand side of the ruts in what looked like a hay field. It had tallow trees grown up all around it, so it took some chopping to get to the water.
The hole itself was no bigger than maybe 12 feet across. The water was well over my head, so it was deep. My brother pulled a five pound bass out of it, I pulled a few small fish out of it. Bass and perch. It was a hell of a journal out there, if it was wet, you were fighting the mud, it it was dry, oh hell the ruts were tough on a bicycle.
Now why it was the dynamite hole, I don't know, that's the name I inherited... Why it was called the Dynamite Hole is somebody else's story. I have no idea were it was, now. Delaney has grown up so much, with the apartments, the churches and the neighborhoods. I've tried to figure out were it would have been, but I haven't got a clue. It's like it was never there.
George Henry Nichols
September 10, 2025
Hitchcock Memory #104
When I was a kid, Hitchcock was quite the place, it was small town in the true sense of the word. Everybody knew everybody, if not directly, then by word of mouth. Every body knew who the rich people were, and nobody really cared. Everybody knew who the poor people were, and nobody cared. We were Hitchcock.
When I was a kid on a bicycle, Hitchcock was paradise. Hitchcock business was ran by Hitchcock people. There was the Matranga Humble Station (later Enco). There was a Happy Motoring Oil Drop tile in each restroom. It was run by Joe and Bessie Matranga. They had a soda machine, air and conversation.
There was the Freeman Gulf station, on the corner of FM 519 and Six. They had a soda machine and air and conversation. Across six there was a Seven Eleven convenience store. Big deal in those days…. Had a candy rack, a big one and soda. Right next door, in the same building was a drug store, The Medicine Man, he was a heap big Indian, from Alto Loma I think. (I made the heap big Indian part up, it’s the school’s mascot). He had model cars. Yes.
There was a Sinclair and a Philips 66 and a Plymouth dealership. There was doctor, Longmire and a dentist who name slips me.
Right next to the Medicine Man were two or tree real big bushes, well over a little kid’s head. Certain time of the year, they would filled with Cedar Wax Wings, and just be alive with fluttering and chattering. Just beautiful birds, gave the town life.
Back across the highway from the bushes, next to the Freeman Gulf, was Nanc’s Drug store, he had model cars, yes… And a counter. A counter in those days was a big deal. It might have had a dozen stools. There were beautiful ladies behind the counter, whom you knew, who were ready and willing to fix you what ever you wanted. A sundae, a banana split, a coke float, ice cream, in three flavors. A hamburger, fries. A chicken or tuna salad sandwich, with chips.
Back in the day, Mom would give me a dollar (maybe paper money, maybe four quarters, which in those days, added up to an once of silver), and tell me to go down to Nanc’s and get a hamburger for lunch. Now with this dollar, I could get a full sized hamburger, lettuce, tomato, pickle 35 cents, an order of fries 25 cents, a coke, 10 cents or a milkshake 25cents. And…. I still had money in my pocket.
There was Polanski’s, it was another drug store down the highway were the old city hall was. He had model cars, yes… And a counter, but just drinks and floats and stuff.
The was a Texaco across bulldog from the Seven Eleven, not sure who ran it. Didn’t spend much time there.
Behind the Gulf station, 150 yards or so down FM 519 was a very small building with a big picture window which was always filled with flowers, and surround by flowers. It was the Hyway-Biway florist. I believe it was owned by the Stringfellow Farms right behind it. A little further down the road, past the cemetery, but before Marshland Bayou was the Hyway-Biway Bar. They had neon lights. Never went in there, by the time I was old enough, it was gone.
There was Shanzer’s grocery store, Run by Luke and Joe Shanzer, and the Matranga grocery story (police station now,) run by Victor (Tape) and Anne Matranga. (Tape Matranga built the house I live in.) The old downtown was on Wallace, had a lot of old abandon buildings, (which we explored, one had a sure enough ‘Ice Box’ in it) the old bank had been turned into the post office. Heckle Lumber and Heckle plumbing (game room now) was there. I think their names were George and Cecil. The old train depot was there, and interesting place to explore.
There was a place in east Hitchcock called Freddie’s, it’s were the Catholics and the Baptist drank together, I won’t mention what they drank. But it was so famous the whole east end of Hitchcock was called Freddie’sville. I had a number of friends that lived down there.
Joe and Mary Matranga had a plow mule, Queeny was her name. She live right behind my house, I could see her from my yard, she was huge. She of course was a point of fascination for a little kid, she lived to be thirty-six. She used to plow the land I lived on. When I was a kid, I could see the blimp base from my yard, now I can’t see past my yard.
We had a number of men’s clubs, one of them the “Lions” used to have a community fund raiser every year. There was a large empty lot between Henck and Neville just east of Fourth Street. It was quite the ordeal, with a mid-way, a few rides, candy, popcorn-balls, candied apples and the works. The big draw (and got them close down because of gambling,) were the Turtle races and the penny-toss. Both were considered gambling.
The turtle races consisted of two circles, a small one inside a larger one. You brought your own turtle (in those days, turtles were considered pets,) they put a number on it’s back and placed all the turtle in the center circle and said ‘go.’ First turtle to cross the outer circle won! You bet on the turtle of your choice. (they were actually tortoises.)
Then there were the cemeteries. They were beautiful places were all the old Hitchcock folks were, and a few famous ones, like W.L. Moody, the Tycoon of Galveston, Rosario Maceo who basically ran Galveston for years, Black, the man who brought hardware to Galveston. There were a lot of old names like Volk, Perthious, Hypolite, Tacquard. There is a boy out there who was killed about the time I was born. ‘Beach,’ he was killed playing baseball. It’s were my grandfathers were, and now, my grandmothers, my parents, and an Uncle and Aunt. So it’s a special place to me, has been all along.
Hitchcock was a nice little town, run by local people, it was friendly and had everything a little kid could want. It was home, it was Great. It was Hitchcock. I even knew the first mayor, ole Mr. Briggs. God Bless Hitchcock.
George Henry Nichols
The Fault
When I was about five years old, (57-58) I was following mom around the kitchen, as a five year old will do. Well one morning, the whole house vibrated, like a tuning fork, not violent at all. All the dishes rattled and mama's crystal, she ran to the cupboard and held it closed. She did it like she had done it before, and she didn't get excited, so I didn't get excited.
Hitchcock was a great place to grow up. It was a great little small town, lot of business to visit, three drug stores, all had model cars. There were five gas-stations to air up the tires on your bike. Two grocery stores, both with candy racks. There was at least one bar. In the old downtown there were several abandoned houses, one had a sure enough ice box in it. Hitchcock also sat on the edge of the abyss (Latimer land) were there was nothing, open prairie. It was a little kid's paradise.
So let's move forward to little kid era. I'm eight to eleven. ('60-'63). I grew up in an era were the kids were not so important, true they were the future, but, some didn't make it. My dad actually told me, 'Id better watch my p's and q's cause me and your mom can make more of you.' So to say the least, you looked after your own ass when out of the house.
One of the great things about growing up in Hitchcock in those days was the incinerator. Who remembers the incinerator..? Today I figure it was were Delsandri makes a curve in the park. That unruly pile right there next to the canal. I figured that's what happened to it, they buried it with the dirt from the canal.
In those days, it was still standing, a relic of days gone by. A couple of the walls and roof had collapsed, there were piles if bricks everywhere, one of the smoke stacks was in a pile, all the tanks were filled with debris and the whole of the place overgrown in weeds. It was great. Basically, it was the sewerage plant for Hitchcock Navel Air Station, (in the day).
Like I said, it was great. It was a German town all blown up when we were playing army, it was a fort when we were playing cowboys and Indians. It was a castle when we were playing damsel in distress, usually when a girl tagged along. We killed rattlesnakes out there, copperheads, coral snakes. We had BB guns, sling shots, knives, canteens. We were well equipped little kids.
The incinerator was whatever we wanted it to be. But.... Looking back on it, it was in ruin. The walls lay right were they collapsed, the roof lay right were it fell, the one smoke stack lay in just a pile of rubble. No effort and been put into tearing it down, It was just down. Like something had shook it.
Now, a few years later, I'm going to junior high. I'm twelve to fourteen years old now. '64-'65) I became aware of the old high school. They had recently built a new high school (my brother went there, it's gone now, although the foundation remains). This was the OLD high school. Not sure what that means though, I think it was built in the twenties or thirties. I think the first school was wooden and is long, long gone.
The old high school faced Barry. It was rather grand as I remember, typical school building, a long narrow building with with a long hall down the middle, with classrooms on either side. The entrance was in the middle. Thing about it is, it was broken in half. It was, it was broken just one side of the center, cracked all the way through. It was broken in half. It was two pieces.
They were still using it as the locker rooms for football, baseball, field and track, cheerleaders. That was back before free government money and a buck was still a buck. By the time I got to high school it was gone, torn down and carted off. Funny thing is, I think the new-ish gym is sitting right on top of were the old, old, old, old high school was.
Okay, I'm fifteen or sixteen ('66-'67) and I have started my driving career. There I was, hell on wheels, in daddy's car. I sure was tough on daddy's car.
Now on second street, there was a bump. It was between White and Leigh. Now where the backyards on White meet the backyards on Leigh, from there, if you come back toward White about half way, there was a drop in second street of about four to six inches. They would pave over it, and smooth it out, but it was there, and they repaired it regular. Going south, you could almost leave the ground if you were doing fifty miles an hour or so. Going north, it was a hell of a rise, and again it would almost launch you, if you were scooting along pretty good, (daddy's poor car). Now if you stood on the bump, you could see the crack in the ditch, it ran a little south to the were the backyards met, and then down the property line until it disappeared into the grass. That bump was a landmark. It seems to be gone these days.
Now as adult, I've been thinking. Could all of those memories be related to a fault. Is there a fault that runs through Hitchcock that nobody talks about..? I'm thinking maybe so. I'm thinking not too long after the war, after the Hitchcock Naval Air Station had been abandon, and before I felt that tremor as a kid, I think there was an earthquake that broke the school in half and toppled the incinerator.
I've never heard mention of such a thing. But there wasn't much to Hitchcock in those days, the school damage might have been it. The incinerator having already been abandon. Tremors might have been a little more common, because mother never got excited about it, and I don't remember any mention of it elsewhere.
Might be found in the Galveston Daily News archive. Don't really know. Anyway, that's my story, and I'm sticking to it.
George Henry Nichols
September 11, 2025
Hitchcock Memory #105
The Women of Hitchcock used to have parties when I was a little kid. Being a little kid, I got dragged around with my mother. She would attend parties at various ladies homes. Now this during the day, they would have coffee and cake or pie and play canasta, and talk shit, oh, they were ladies, they chewed the rag.
One of these ladies lived on Lazy Lane. Lazy Lane was very intriguing, it was dark, with heavy trees all around shading the road, which was narrow and winding. On the left, deep in the shadows of the trees was a mysterious mansion, you could barely make it out through the all the branches. It had two big iron gates and an iron fence that ran along the front, all kind of overgrown, and hidden there in the underbrush was an old iron car and plane. They weren’t real, but they were there to intrigue a little kid. I always figured Dr. Frankenstein was cooking something up in there.
If you went on down Lazy Lane it opened up into a brand new neighborhood, Greenwood. But… Just passed the (Leigh-Henderson) mansion, on the same side of the road, was a driveway that disappeared into the trees, in there was a new brick home, and whoever that was, had canasta parties. They also had a radio sitting on top of their toilet, as a little kid, I come running out of the bathroom declaring they had an electric toilet.
Down Delaney, just over the bridge, Dr. and Mrs. Delaney built a new home, a real mansion with an indoor swimming pool. Mrs. Delaney used to have card parties, of course that was a favorite of mine because of the pool.
There was a material (cloth) shop behind the seven-eleven, a tiny little place mom use to buy material, she actually made most of our clothes. Right behind the cloth shop on Wallace was a green tin building, and that was Cleveland Howard welding, he was good for fixing you bike. There was also Dickies’ Dress Shop (Across from city hall.) I think her name was Lois “Dickie” Henckel Herman.
There was another new neighborhood going up over by where they built the new post office (the old post office was in the old bank building on Wallace, long gone) called Oak Ridge, there was a lady out there who used to have card parties. It was a very nice neighborhood with lots of oak trees and shade.
Now on North Railroad Ave. (MLK) was the old Schanzer store, it faced the railroad (still there.) It was rectangle, square to the roads, North Railroad & 2nd Street, but the corner of the building that faced the intersection, was at an angle, and faced the intersection. That end of the build was a gas station when it was built. The old pumps still stood when I was a kid. But… But… When I was a kid, there was a cobbler in there. He as an old man, and he made and repaired shoes and boots. He fixed my baseball glove a couple of times, and I used to stop and talk to him. I am ashamed to say, I have no idea who he was, or his name. God bless him, he fixed my ball-glove.
The other end of the old Schanzer building was the Sunshine Shop, and my mother ran it. It was a second hand store (still there, relocated,) she had two old black women who worked with her, she loved them, she said they did most of the work. Again, I am ashamed I can’t name them. But...But… All this trouble started there, when I bought a 1922 Underwood typewriter for ten bucks. It must have weighed ten pounds. Been banging the keys every since. When I finally got a computer, I started using it as a boat anchor. (Actually, I sold it at the flea market for ten bucks.)
My brother was older (six years) and he had been cutting grass and saving money for a gun. So Dad took us down to Western Auto on highway six (Transmission shop now) and he bought a Revelation 22 WMR, It was a beautiful gun, and of quality, he still has it and it still shoots fine. It is also were I bought bb’s for my Daisy. My 26” bicycle came from there. It was a Cadillac. (Actually a Western Flyer) I got it one Christmas, and the very next year, the banana bike came out.
Now with a bicycle, I had a few rules. I could not cross highway six, accept at Bulldog and fourth and I had to go straight across. Well I crossed it at Bulldog cause I had a friend that live out at Oak Ridge. I crossed it at Fourth cause ever two weeks the big green ugly Book-Mobile would show up there at the Plymouth dealership. It was an extension of the Rosenberg Library in Galveston. You could get books, and then bring them back in two-weeks. If you missed it, the was a fine of a dime. So….if you were late, you better have the book and a dime. If you didn’t have a dime, they hit ya with the book. I know.
There were two beautiful homes on either side of Fourth Street there at highway six. I used to admire them when I went to the book-mobile.
There was an occasion when they brought a dead whale to town. It was in a ten wheeler refer truck. They parked it down there at Jack Frost, (in those days, highway six was two-lanes, so Jack Frost had a much bigger parking lot) way…..down the highway. So I had to get permission to ride my bike way….down the highway to Jack Frost to pay my dime (everything was a dime) to see the dead whale. Sure enough, it was a whale and sure did smell dead. I saw it with my own eyes. Right down there at Tacquard and Highway Six.
There was a dime store (speaking of dimes,) at Second Street and Highway Six (smoke shop now), Curtis Five and Dime. That place was choke full of stuff, and all of it fairly cheap. I was in and out of there a lot. Across second, at Schanzer’s grocery, there was a coke machine, ya put in a nickle and a penny, and ya had to turn a crank and then open a door, and there it was, an ice cold Coke Cola. Ya had to drink it there, or cough up another two cents for the bottle.
That was little kid big business, bottles. Talk about recycle, they had every little kid in the country recycling bottles for the soda and beer companies, and paying them to boot. That was a big source of income for little kids. There were always bottles to be found, and all you had to do was take them to the grocery store, and they paid two-cents each. When everything was a dime, two cent bottle added up pretty quick.
The story of The Beer Can Man; I had a friend in the neighborhood whose father had built their house (Tape Matranga had built ours,) and I thought that fascinating. It was a nifty house too, I really liked it, the floor layout and all. He was a build it or fix it guy, he built a brick bar-b-q pit in the back yard, and was always working on something.
He drank beer, he always had a beer in his hand, never saw him drunk. There were empty long neck beer bottles all over the garage and back porch, each with a Lucky Strike butt in the bottom. As time when on, slowly the long neck beer bottles traded out for a short stout beer bottles, one by one, each with a Lucky Shrike butt in the bottom. Time marches on and soon, each of the stout beer bottles changed out for a beer can, one by one, each opened with a church key and each with a Lucky Strike in the bottom.
Another big, big source of little kid income was cutting grass and doing yard-work. Ya got anywhere from two dollars to five for yard work… Big bucks…. Model cars & airplanes, cokes, hamburgers, bb’s, candy, it was little kid economics. You learned the value and power of the dollar.
Gary Bernius
March 2026
Hitchcock Memory #106
Ya tired of me yet. Another card party story, this I’m still pre-school. We went to a canasta party at one of the ladies houses on Robinson, a nice new ranch house with a big yard. Here, they through us kids out, told us to go outside and play, so we did. This time is was three girls and myself. Well the three girls sat right down and started playing jacks. Me, being the boy, there was exploring to be done, and so the excursion began.
Well it was a pretty big yard, seems there was a pump-house or a dawg-house, something to that effect, and I come around the back side of it and the whole world came alive. It was a big ole rattlesnake, and he was rattling to beat the band. He was sitting on an old tire, and he was as big as the tire.
Well hot damn, look at this, This had adventure written all over it, so I hollered for the girls to come see. So they got up and came over to have a look. The ole snake just a rattling, and about that time their dawg showed up and started barking, and when the girl that lived there saw it, off she went.
“Mommy, mommy, mommy!!” As she ran into the house, “There’s a rattlesnake out here as big as a tire.” Her mother told not to poke with a stick and to leave it alone, and so she came back out.
So we’re standing there, gawking at this snake, and he’s just a rattling and the dawg is barking and the tension is growing. Another one of the girls said, “I’m telling mom.” and she ran into the house.
“Mommy, there is a snake out here as big as a tire, it really is mommy!” Her mother told her not to poke it and to leave it alone.
So she came back out, and again we’re standing around studying this snake, the snake is just a rattling and the dawg just a barking and we’re squealing no doubt, as the tension grows.
So the girls looked at me, “Go tell your mother, she’ll believe you.” So I went in and told mother, “There is a real big rattlesnake, as big as a tire, and he’s rattling at us.” Mom said, “a rattlesnake will kill you, so don’t be poking it, just leave it be.”
So once again the four of us are out there admiring this snake, who’s still rattling to beat the band. The dawg barking to the rhythm of it all.
About that time, the daddy came home, he who lived there, and he went into the house. In a few minutes he came out, “I hear you kids have a snake out here as big as a tire.” Yeah, yeah!! We chimed in pointing to the snake, “There he is!” and the ole snake was just a rattling and the dawg was barking, and we were jumping up and down and he (the daddy) looked at the snake, he got a real sober look on his face and said, “Now don’t poke it, leave it alone and I’ll be right back.” And he went into the house.
Well the tension is growing, the snake’s a rattlin’, the dawg’s a barkin’, we’re jumping up and down with excitement screaming, “rattlesnake, rattlesnake”
The daddy came back out of the house, he had a big ole gun in his hands, he walked over to the rattlesnake and BLAME>>!!!!
And as mother used to say, “and that was that.”
Gary Bernius
March 2026
Hitchcock Memory #107
Now this from my bicycle days. When you had a bicycle, the whole world was at you disposal, as long as you could get home before dark. Hitchcock was wide and vast, with plenty of roads to cruise on your Western Flyer.
Of course you had a couple of friends along to help with courage and gall. One destination was the old incinerator, which lay in ruins from an earthquake some years earlier.
It was over off of Center Street, (Delesandri now) had to chop your way to it through the weeds. We had banquets, canteens, a compass, pocket knives and bb guns.
Now the incinerator was the old sewage plant for Hitchcock Navel Air Station (the Blimp Base.) It was made of brick, two tall stories with a smoke stack that lay in ruin. At least two of the walls were collapsed, which left the place wide open. There was a concrete staircase up on side. Out in front of it were the separation tanks all full of debris and weeds and critters. It was intriguing to a kid, filled with mystery, and I learned later, history and education.
We didn’t play any video games, we chopped our way through the weeds and bugs and snakes with our banquets to get to the incinerator, and then climbed all over it, playing cop and robbers, cowboys and Indians, “Bang, Band your dead.” – “No I’m not, you missed” So on and so forth.
If you climbed to the top of it, you had a pretty good view of the area, at that age, the world.
From the top of it (the incinerator), you could see the Blimp Base. There they were, the four great columns of the blimp hanger, standing against the sky like centennials. (I remember the hanger, but Carla of 1961 had taken it out.) Among them stood a concrete water tower, and a brick smoke stack. You could see the headquarters and the officers quarters, a couple of huge mansions standing in the weeds.
It was really quite the sight to a little kid, it appeared as another world over there, an old used up world. A world that a little boy needed to explore. After all, his dad flew a B-17 in the war, and there was a big old plane out there. A C-47 I believe it was. So my cohorts and I made a plan.
We had our bikes, our canteens, our banquets, our knives, bb guns, a compass and a sack lunch, just in case. We told our parents we were going out on the prairie (Ladimer’s land out Second street,) but we headed out Neville instead.
We rode on by Cow Gully and on to where the trees hang over the rode, giving it an almost tunnel feel, with the light flickering through the leaves, Few people lived on Neville in those days, except the Babbin’s who live on the corner there at Tacquard and Neville, it was a three story, story book mansion with a large stain-glass window in the staircase (still there.) There was a house across the street, hidden back in the trees, a cute little cottage (in ruin now.)
Well ya go left on Tacquard and right on Jay and on down Jay to Blimp Base Road (Mecom Way now.) There at Blimp Base Road where the Mecom apartments, about three different buildings along the west side of the road. They were two-story with several apartments in each building. They were alive with people, with clothes hanging on the lines, fluttering in the breeze.
All this just north on Blimp Base, nothing else all the way to the highway, nothing. Straight ahead, Jay road was dirt (shell) and disappeared into the trees (great rabbit hunting road). Blimp Base Road to the south had a gate across it, and a guard shack there on the right. No guard, the whole of the property was abandon.
So we skinny ed our bikes and ourselves up under a barbwire fence and headed south on Blimp Base. The whole of the place was overgrown with weeds and vines and blackberries (must have been blackberries season.)
We rode on south on Blimp Base, it was kind of grown up, full of rocks and debris cause it didn’t see any traffic. On down a ways there was a rode off to the right that lead to a rectangle brick building, but we were interested in the great mansions. So we rode on down until we stood in front of the officers quarters.
Wow….Just Wow..!!! It was magnificent, to look like a house, it was ginormous. It was at least two stories, but it had real tall ceilings so it was huge. There were thirteen steps up to the front porch, which itself was huge, with three large sets of glass french doors. Large windows went out on either side of the porch.
We giggled the door knob on the center set of doors, and wallah, it opened right up and we went in. Again, Wow… We must have step into the ballroom. It was one large room, the size of four basketball courts, and it rose all the way up to the ceiling of the second floor where there were skylights. The walls were filled with windows so the room was very well lit.
Over to the left wall was a room with a dutch door, inside the room were several coat hanger racks and cub-by holes...ding… it was the hat & coat check. (Seen them in the movies.) Next to the hat check was a large dinning room, and behind them was the kitchen. If you went through the dinning room toward the back of the building you came into a full size basketball court sure enough, with room to walk around it. Complete with locker rooms and showers. We were amazed.
Now on the other side of the ballroom was a full sized band stand and next to it a bar. Behind the bar was a lounge and behind the bandstand were showers and labs…. If you went through the showers towards the back of the building you came into a room with a full sized Olympic swimming pool with diving boards at the far end, with room to walk around it. It was empty, but we were amazed. Wow…! Again, complete with showers and lockers.
Now… we sat down in the middle of the ballroom and ate our lunch, and looking up and a round, you could see there was a mezzanine which went all the way around the ballroom so you could view it from above. Windows front and back, top and bottom. At either end, above the dinning room and the lounge areas were what appeared to be apartments. But the truth is…. We never found a way up. The staircase remained a mystery. We flat couldn’t find it. No clue.
As it turned out, the whole of the building was a rectangle, with a wing off the back at either end (the basketball court & the pool) creating a courtyard, you could see from the ballroom.
If was magnificent, the envy of any rich guy surely (remember, we’re little kids.) We just could not understand how a place like this could stand empty…. Without anyone interested. Even the rich guy who owned all of that land. ...and there it stood… rotting, a relic of the past…..ancient Rome.
Well…. It was so over whelming, we didn’t even make it to the headquarters, we pretty much ate up the whole day inspecting this house, and so we headed home, adventured up for one day.
Ssssshhhhh………………… nobody knows we did this.
Gary Bernius
March 2026
Hitchcock Memory #108
Way back in my bicycle days, there were a mess of boys around here pret near my age, some a bit older, some a bit younger.
*Couple of the older boys built a go-cart. It was a shabby thing, with a two-cycle lawn mower engine on it. They didn’t have a clutch, so they direct chained it to the axle.
*Now all of this happened over on Steward, between Matranga and Shiro. We are all mulling about trying to figure out how to make this thing go. The plan was to make the block, down Steward to Matranga, which was a ‘L’ shaped street which took you to Shiro, down Shiro to Steward and back. Simple, a square.
*They figured, now I’m standing around watching all of this, they could put it up on a brick, get the back (drive) wheels off the ground, then they could start it, get on, and push it off the brick. Well sounded like a plan to me, didn’t see why it wouldn’t work.
*So… they filled up the gas tank (that was the mistake,) one feller got on it, the brother started it, got it running good, and push him off the brick and he was off to the races. Round the block he went, again, and again, and again, and on and on…. He’d wave at us frantically as he went by screaming “I can’t stop it.”
*Indeed he couldn’t… The only way to kill it, was to push a metal tab against the spark plug, which he couldn’t even reach, or run out of gas. Trouble was, the gas tank was big enough to mow a yard, and they had filled it up. Round and round he went, it was funny, and of course, it ran out of gas the whole other side of the block. And we (the support team) had to walk over there. To say the least, they didn’t fill the tank up anymore.
*That go-cart ran around about three neighborhoods for months, and it improved with age. Those were smart brothers and they figured it out as they went along. They had a switch to kill it from the driver seat, they had a light on it and after cutting a few lawns, got a clutch for it. It was quite the motor-gadget.
*Now in those days, kids ate a lot of cereal, and read the back of the box as you did (pre-curser to reading the paper.) There was always something interesting on the back of the box. A mirade of various pieces of junk you could get for the price of a stamp and two box tops. Box tops in those days were little kid money.
*Well one time, I think it was Rice Kripies (apparently I can’t spell it) had a deal that for two box top and fifty cents they would send you a real live alligator. A real LIVE alligator, Wow!!
*Well with a deal like that, mom said, “No way, he was grow up and eat the dawg. We don’t need any alligator.” Well that was that.
*Except one of the fellers who was standing around watching the go-kart ordeal, his father had a nursery around the corner on Shiro. Let’s just say, he sent in two box tops and fifty-cents and about six weeks later, got a tube with holes in it and a stamp on it.
*He opened it up, and out slid an ugly little lizard with big eyes. I said, “you been had, that ain’t no alligator, that’s ugly lizard”
Well I was wrong, that thing grew into a sure enough, dye in the wool alligator. I think he named him Alfred. Alfred the Alligator. He put him into the icebox when he was bad or too rowdy, being cold blooded animal that worked.
*So, we had an alligator in the neighborhood, named Alfred. The last time I saw Alfred was in collage, and he was eight feet long, and lived under the couch. The way the story goes, I think Alfred lives in Clear Lake these days.
*Gary Bernius
April 2026
Hitchcock Memory #109
The Great Newport Caper
*This more my high school days. Dad for some reason got a wild hair and decided he needed a motorcycle. Well, me being a young feller thought that to be a great idea. So…. Over to La Marque we went, there was a Honda motorcycle dealership right there on Cedar. They had a number of bikes in there, and Dad settled on a bright red Honda 65. I think that comes to about 4 cubic inches and whole 6.2 horse power. It was a Humm Dinger. Dad rode it to work over to Carbide for awhile, while I was busy getting my motorcycle license.
*Well after I got my License, it kind of became my bike. I have a feeling that was the plan all along. It was still Dad’s bike, so he could yank it away from me if I got to far out of line. My Dad was mellow fellow, quiet and tough as nails. So I tended to stay in the lines, ‘just because’….as I was told many times.
*Tangent: A lot of my friends liked my parents, not sure why, I liked them. They were tough people, Mommy was an Ursuline Lady and Dad an Air Force Officer. So they knew their way around. Mom ran around with Robert Moody and Rosie Malloy in high school. Rosie used to get the family hearse (Malloy & Son Funerals) and Mom, Rosie & Gladys ran around Galveston in a hearse, they were known as the ‘Three Bee Dee’s.’ (I never knew why.)
*To give you an idea who they were, I was about twelve and sitting around the house ‘bored.’ Mom said, as a matter of fact, “Why don’t you go to the beach if you’re so bored.” I replied, “How am I suppose to get to the beach?” She said, “Go down to the highway and stick out your thumb, you’ll be down there before you know it.” I look at her like she’d lost her mind. “Go on, you know your way around Galveston, if you get in a jam, call Uncle George.” To say the least, my ass was down the highway and into Galveston just like she said. You might say my parents weren’t scared of a whole lot and thought you should kill your own rattlesnakes.
*Back at the ranch; So…. I have a motorcycle, I’m a bad-ass, except I was a small fry bad-ass. There were kids at school had cars, some had trucks, every truck had a rifle or shotgun hanging in the back window. Never knew of one being stolen, never heard of any shootings. The gun was a tool, ya didn’t think of it unless you needed it, but it was handy to have in case you did.
*So… there is a new kid at school who’s father (step-dad) owned the local wrecker service (aka-towing.) His dad had a wrecker, a green one, the new kid had one, a red one, much older truck, and they had a big truck for big jobs. Well, me and Wrecker Boy got to be buddies. I mean he had a wrecker, and drove it to school. If there was a wreck somewhere, the school’s PA was say, “Wrecker Boy, you’re needed at Highway 6 and 646,” and off he would go. He had a job you might say.
*So one day he shows up in about a ‘57-58 ford two-door station-wagon, a little nomad. It was nifty.. So… he wants to ride my motorcycle, well I wanted to drive his little nomad. So we swapped, and took each other ride… for a ride.
*Well….. to say the least, I spun a rod bearing in his nomad (not good,) and he tore third gear out of my bike. Oh well… we been buddies ever since, to this day.
*So I start hanging out with Wrecker Boy, down highway 6 across the street from Jack Frost and every now and then there would be a wreck and we would hear about it on the radios. He had quite the set of radios, he had one picked up local police, had one picked up the Sheriff’s department and a CB him and his Dad used. So off to the wreck we would go, I didn’t do anything but watch, but it was interesting to watch (in fact a few years later I got a job driving a wrecker in San Diego, because I knew how.)
*Well we’re sitting around one day, and over the radio comes a call about an RC Cola truck overturn at 2004 & 6, off we go. Sure enough, there he is in the middle of the road, with RC Cola everywhere. So Wrecker Boy and his Dad right the truck while I pick up RC Cola off the highway. So after about an hour or so, we got it all squared away, and the RC truck driver gave us a couple of cases of RC Cola. I’m not sure where the sardines came from, but for about three days we ate sardines and crackers and drank RC Cola. (Keep in mind, Jack Frost is across the street.)
*Now we’re doing shit boys will do, I think we were dragging a piece of tin down the railroad tracks to activate the signal at 2004 and watch the traffic stop when the radios began to squawk, something about a car being in the Blue Hole. So off to the Blue Hole we went. I don’t think that’s it’s official name, but that’s what it was called in the day. It was an old sand pit which had filled with rain water down Freddiesville. It was just a block off highway 6 (even though you can’t see it,) just before the railroad crossing, with a dirt road that run right next to it, and houses on the other side of the road, they were kind of water front.
*So we arrive at the scene, and the Hitchcock Police and the sheriff department is there, along with a number of local residents standing around talking. Seems Bill’s brand new Newport had been stolen by somebody, and they drove it into the Blue Hole.
*The the police are writing up reports and the sheriff is writing up reports, and everyone is standing around. Wrecker Boy’s Dad had showed up with the big truck, between the two of them, they pulled the Newport out of the water. There was water running out of all the holes, when they opened the door, a big gush of water poured out, what a mess.
*Yep, Bill’s Newport had been stolen and somebody drove it into the Blue Hole, so that’s the story, and everybody’s got it written down and just about that time, a Texas State Highway Trooper shows up. He gets out of his patrol car, he’s a tall feller in uniform, pressed, and looking the part, putting his big old cowboy hat on as he walked over to the scene.
*“What’s going on here?” Not sure he was suppose to show up, seems everybody got a little uptight. So they explained to him how somebody stole Bill’s Newport and drove it into the Blue Hole, and he listens, nods his head as he takes it all in.
*Then for the first time I saw, the Trooper walked over to all the people standing around and asked, “Did anybody see what happened here?”
*Snap...Just that quick, a little boy of about ten years of age stepped from within the crowd to right in front of the Trooper, he wasn’t wearing anything but swimming trunks, in fact he was still damp. “Yes sir, I saw the whole thing!” The Trooper looked down at him, smiled, squatted down in front of the boy. “I was swimming.”
*“You saw the whole thing did ya?” The Trooper said reassuring the boy, who was shaking his head up and down “tell me, what did you see?”
*The boy, without hesitation, using his right arm fully extended, and with his index finger pointed out exactly what happened, and I quote, “That man right there! Drove that car right there! Into that lake right there!’
*….and that was that, the jig was up.
*To say the least, Lucy had lots of splainin’ to do, and so ‘The Great Newport Caper,’ drew to a close. Solved by a ten year old boy.
Gary Bernius
April 2026
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