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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