Leaving Denton

The memories that stick with me of Denton include walking to the town square to watch movies on Saturday afternoon.  I was six but my parents felt secure in sending me off on my own.  The movie was always preceded by a newsreel, fighting in Europe and Japan and some sports, then a cartoon, then a sing along, a bouncing ball hopping on the words we were supposed to sing.  Everyone joined in, then we sat back for the show.  I really enjoyed the westerns.  My favorite was Hoot Gibson, a former trick rider who kept his six shooter in his boot.  Mom bought me cowboy boots, and I always kept my cap gun in my boot to honor old Hoot.
I also remember the silver thaw.  One early spring morning I awoke to find all the trees covered with a sheet of ice.  A cold wind had blown in from the north as it was raining in the night and frozen the whole town.  It was beautiful.
As it got warmer the fireflies came out at night and the landlady's two kids and I and others would run around the front lawn barefoot with a jar to capture a firefly.  The parents sat on the front porch.  One evening we were playing "mumbly de peg" with our hunting knives.  This involved seeing how accurately you could throw your knife in the ground.  The landlady's daughter thought to give it a try, and on her second throw the knife went through her foot.  She started squalling.  On the porch the landlady spit in her can and said, "daughter, stop that yelling and pull that knife out and come up and let me look at your foot."  I checked a quick glance at my mom, certain that she would have rushed to my aid if it were me.
In April, before my seventh birthday, dad got some leave and we drove up to Oklahoma to see moms relatives.  We had a 39 Plymouth coupe with jumpseats in the back.  First we visited aunt Neva, who lived on a farm outside Enid, Oklahoma.  We parked in the town square so mom could call Neva to come and show us the way to her farm.  This was the first time I saw cars double parked as a general practice, farmers and ranchers pulling their pickups alongside a parked car and strolling into the store or barbershop.
Aunt Neva owned a burro, which she urged me to ride.  I got on, cowboy boots kicking the burro's ribs as I had seen in the movies.  The burrow stopped and lowered his head, and I slid off over his neck onto the dusty corral floor.
There were two sets of relatives, the Pricketts,  Grandma Abercrombie's family, and Grandad's family, the Abercrombies.  The Pricketts claimed to come French royalty, according to mom, who laughed explaining about the "D'Bonfoy Finger" which was a slight bend in her little finger and a sign of her royal background.  Grandma was the oldest of about fourteen children, her youngest sister being the same age as my mom.  Mom said they were great enemies as children because that aunt wanted mom to do as she said, being the aunt.
The Abercrombies had come over from Scotland early in the eighteenth century and settled in Georgia, where they had land.  By the mid eighteen sixties they had a prosperous distillery that was situated between Atlanta and Savannah, which a few years later became part of the wasteland left by General Sherman when he subdued the South.  The remnants of the family made it to Kansas but did not prosper so when the Cherokee Strip, the last of the land in Oklahoma promised to the eastern Indian tribes for settlement, was taken back by the US Government and opened to homesteaders, they drove their wagons south and found free land, where they spread out and began raising wheat.
After visiting a few more of the Prickett side we drove to Great Grandad Abercrombie's farm.  I was amazed to see so many cats on the barn roof that they were pushing each other off.
Great Grandad Newt taught me to milk a cow, showing me how to squirt a shot into the mouth of one of the cats mewing around us.  He sent me and his hound dog exploring the rolling hills, where we jumped a large animal that bounded away.  I ran back shouting that we had seen a deer, but they all laughed as said it was only a jack rabbit.

On the eighth of May, 1943, the Germans finally surrendered to the Allied Forces, and the war in Europe was over.  Shortly thereafter, the Army told Dad that he could extend his stay and become regular Army rather than a reservist, or he could be separated from the Army.  He wanted to go home, so he chose separation.  At the end of the school year we headed back to Oregon.   We stopped at Carlsbad Caverns, the Grand Canyon, and spent a night in Santa Barbara.  In San Francisco we stayed with Dad's sister Lela and her family.  They owned an apartment house on Hayes Street.
Her children were Jack, a couple of years younger than I, Judy, two years younger, and a baby, Rick.

Finally we were back in Wendling.  I was excited to see GD and hear all the news.  On the morning of the 15th of August we were playing in Grandma's yard when the mill whistle began blowing.  We looked at each other, startled at this uncommon occurrence.  The George, the older boy who lived behind Grandma, came running out with a bugle, which he blew loudly, then shouted: "The Japanese have surrendered!  The war is over!  The war is over!"  We hugged and danced and shouted to Grandma.
This was the first time I stayed up till midnight, as the adults partied and sang songs and planned what they would do when the boys came home from the war.

things to do in Denton, Texas

If you wanted a social life you could always get in a fight.  On the way home from school one afternoon one of the public school kids started walking alongside me.  His tone was insulting, and I took offense, and soon we were rolling in the grass struggling for supremacy.  I finally was able to hold him down, get in a couple of punches, and force him to say Give.  We sneered at each other and I walked on home.
Our apartment was on the third floor of a large house, and we had a stairway out back that served as a fire escape.  I was reading a comic book before dinner when Mom called me.  "There is a boy here to see you," she said, and went back to her preparations.
At the back door was a larger kid whom I had never seen.  I stepped out onto the landing and he grinned evilly.  "You the kid who fought my friend Jimmy? "
"Was that his name?  Yeah, I guess so."
The big kid had blond hair and a round face.  He was holding a paper bag out of which he pulled a knife, a rope, and a pair of pliers.  "These are what I use to torture kids who beat up my friends.  And I'm going to use them on you if you go after Jimmy again."  He tried to look menacing, but he had a dumb expression.
I was skeptical.  I could not believe that someone would torture me.  I looked down into the yard.  "It's a long way down.  You better get out of here."
He frowned.  "I better not see you around."  He descended.
Mom asked, "who was that?"
"Just some kid who wanted to play.  I told him we were eating dinner."
I asked the son of our landlady, who was older and went to the public school about the big kid and he laughed and said not to worry.
The next few days I kept my eyes open but I never saw either of them again.
One day we had a terrific rain storm, and afterward I went outside to float a wooden boat in the rushing gutter.  The water emptied down an opening in the side of the street, taking my boat with it.
I followed the street to where I could see a small crowd of boys playing.  There was a storm sewer opening into a big field, creating a creek where none had existed before.  The boys told me this happened when there was a heavy rain, and we spent an hour or so making dams and throwing sticks in the water, then the flow slowed down to a trickle, revealing a tunnel with a sandy bottom.  We began exploring the tunnel.  Our was was lit by the openings in the street, little windows above us.  Because we were small, we were able to crawl through them out onto the street.  This was very exciting for me, because I was just reading about Jean Valjean  escaping Javert in the sewers of Paris, and here I was, in a tunnel under the street!
I spent many happy days under the streets of Denton after this.
One morning Mom woke me up.  "Nicky, you've got to see this.  There's been a silver thaw."
Everything was covered in ice.  I slipped on the sidewalk on the way to school, and the teachers let us out of class to walk around campus and look at all the trees encased in ice.  The sun came out and it was like living in a world of glass.  By midday it had all melted.

Mom and Dad

Walking down the streets of Denton I began to notice that Mom was shorter than most other ladies.  She wore  her hair combed up in back,  piled atop her head, held in place by decorative combs, and she had very good posture.  She smiled and laughed a lot, and when she did housework she sort of sang, a vocalized humming, la la la without any real tune.  She could lose her temper, but was mostly kind and loving.  She often seemed to forget I was there, staring into space and not responding to questions.  If I finally got her attention she would just laugh gaily, dismissing any concerns I may have voiced.
In his uniform, with his first Sergeant stripes, Dad was an authority figure.  Once he took me to his office, and all the younger enlisted mean were very wary in his presence.  He was also shorter than the other soldiers.  He had a big grin, rendered kind of goofy by the big gap between his two front teeth.
When he got home from the training base he would start drinking beer.  I was urged to play outside.
Sometimes other Army friends and their wives would come over on Friday night.  In my bedroom I could hear them talking and laughing.  In the morning there was always a mess of empty bottles and snacks of food on plates.  I helped myself to the snacks and sometimes tried a sip of beer from a bottle not emptied, then I went into their bedroom to say that I was going outside to play.
If it were a Sunday they would make sure I was dressed in my suit and send me off to Sunday School at the neighborhood church, but on Saturday I wore old clothes and went outside.
I also liked to sit and read.  I had discovered Classic Comics, which were comic book versions of classic novels.  My favorite was Les Miserables, mostly because of the scenes of Jean Valjean running through the sewers.  I also liked Robin Hood.  Actually I read almost everything I could get my hands on, from Thornton W Burgess to books featuring Mickey Mouse and Donald Duck.  Dad offered to read to me, but I said I would rather do it myself.
There was not much interaction between my parents and me,  they mostly left me on my own.

School in Denton Texas

Denton Texas was like nothing I had ever seen.  The streets were paved, long, and lined with trees.  The trees were all deciduous, not a fir tree among them.  Even in midwinter they still had big flat leaves.
Mom held my hand as we walked down the street.  She had directions to the grade school from our land lady, who had shifted the can she spit in to her left hand and waved her right up the street before us.  "Straight up there,  honey, go a few blocks, you cant miss it."
So off we went.  After a few blocks I saw children walking down a cross street, headed for a large building, but we plowed straight on.
The houses got larger, and changed from wood to brick and stone construction.  A group of big buildings stood before us, sidewalks purposefully leading across vast green lawns.
We were both overwhelmed.
A young lady walked by and mom asked her if the grade school was nearby.  The young lady pointed to one of the large buildings and told us to go in there to register for the elementary school.
A man with grey hair and rimless glasses wearing a grey suit asked mom to fill out the proper forms and took me aside to ask me some questions.  He showed me a couple of books and I was able to read them with no problem.  I had been reading aloud from Horton Hatches the Egg to GD for months.
We did some addition and subtraction problems.  He smiled and told mom to take me to the first grade classroom.
The school in Wendling was small and simple.  The alphabet marched in order across the top of the wall and the students sat in desks attached to the floor in orderly rows and all recited in unison.
The classroom I entered in Denton was noisy.  Children stood or sat in small groups, and there were at least six young ladies helping the teacher in leading the separate groups in discussions or demonstrations.
Mom said, "They must do things different in Texas," and kissed me goodby.  I was led to one of the groups by a pretty young lady and after a few minutes I was eagerly engaged in the discussion.
At the end of the month mom got a bill, and we realized that she had enrolled me in the teaching lab of the North Texas State Teachers College.  She had to pay tuition, but she said that the education was worth it.
We were taught Spanish as well as English, typing, cursive writing; we discussed everything with the young ladies rather than listen to the teacher lecture.  Once a week we marched  hand in hand to attend college concerts and plays.  I shall never forget their production of "Showboat," and the young man in blackface singing "Old Man River."

Off to Texas

We were leaving Wendling.  Mom and I were to drive the Hudson Terraplane to Denton, Texas, where he had found us an apartment.  Mom's sister, Carldene, had returned from Georgia, where her husband David had been training as an infantryman and had shipped off to Europe.  Carldene was a jovial aunt, barely out of high school, who had locked me in the closet, had told me the barber was going to cut off my ears, and otherwise amused herself at my expense.  Now she had a little girl not yet two years old.
Grandad said Carldene should accompany us to Texas.
I was leaving GD.  No more games in the woods or meadow, no more walks across the mill pond to town to watch the loggers with their big suspenders, their stagged pants, fit to length by chopping the cuffs off with an axe, their high laced spiked boots, their muscular strutting walk.
Not knowing what to expect I stared out of the back seat window as we drove down the valley.  We stopped in Glenwood to fill up with gas and we took 99 south.
The Hudson Terraplane lasted until we got to Stockton, California.  I wandered big eyed around the hotel while telegrams passed back and forth and soon the four of us boarded a train.  Along the way we were joined by a Captain's wife, who also had a daughter, named Kim.
My little cousin began showing spots, and the two sisters told everyone she just had  a rash, but it turned out to be measles. (Nicky, you mustn't tell) they were afraid we would be put off the train.  The wife was quite vexed when Kim came down with measles soon after we arrived.
Denton,Texas turned out to be a wonderful place.
Our apartment was four rooms on the second floor of a large house owned by a lady from Arkansas who chewed tobacco and carried with her a tin can to spit in.  She had two children, both a couple of years older than I.  Kim and her mother briefly resisted in an adjoining apartment until officers ousting became available

Logging town schools

In 1944 I was six and began the first grade.  Mom would drop me off at the cousins on her way to work in the mill.  N and C walked with me down to the main road then, keeping our eyes open for the log trucks that came barreling down the road with two or three huge newly cut logs on the way to Springfield, we hurried through the covered bridge that crossed Mill Creek.  The school was about half a mile on down the road.
The school had a small room for kindergarten and four classrooms for the eight grades, two classes to a room.  There were not always two teachers to a room so a teacher might be forced to move from one side of the room to the other.  We were taught to read by looking at cards held up in the front of the class showing a letter or group of letters making a sound which we would all repeat in unison. Similarly we were shown cards with 1+1:2 etc which we would all repeat in unison.  I had already begun to pick up on reading at home so I spent a lot of my study time listening to the second grade lessons.
Both classes would listen as the teacher read a story.
For recess we would go out back of the school and mill around.  There was a large shed where we would go on rainy days.
We had indoor plumbing and there was central heating.
When I was in kindergarten an older boy named Albert got angry with me and smashed my head against the wall in the bathroom, dashing away all my memories prior to that moment.  In the first grade I kept an eye out for him but I never saw him, or else I did not recognize him.
When school was out my cousins would walk with me back to their house then I ws on my own walking on the plank road up the hill to the grandparents house.  There Grandma and GD would greet me and he and I would play war or cowoys till dinner.  On rainy days I would read to him.  Horton Hatches An Egg was a big favorite.
Then dad came back from New Guinea and after Christmas we moved to Denton, Texas.

The Warrior Returns

the Warrior Returns

By the time I was six mom had a hard time convincing me to go out and cut a switch when I had misbehaved.  She said, "You just wait, young man, till your father comes back from the army.  He's a tough first sergeant and he'll make you behave."
I had a few memories of my dad, but it had been mom and I since I was three.  She tucked me in, or if some radio show played scary music she let me sleep in her bed.  We had our disagreements but mostly we had a good time together.  She was about five feet tall with dark hair pinned up in back, like Bette Davis in Now Voyager.  She had dark moods when memories of her late sister caused her to sit and stare into space ignoring me, but mostly she laughed.  We into Eugene to watch movies and shop in Penney's, and sometimes stop at Seymour's on Willamette Street for an ice cream soda or banana split.
In our house we had two pictures of dad.  One was from the cover of Life Magazine, titled, A Yank In Australia Reads His Mail.  It showed dad in his uniform with a pack on his back reading a letter.  In another he is in uniform in front of a tent, smiling.  He had a  square face and black curly hair, combed back.  His smile was accented by a gap between his two front teeth.  He had written me saying a  Koala Bear was in the mail to me. When it finally arrived I was disappointed to find that it was stuffed!
As 1944 came to an end GD and I were in the living room while grandma prepared dinner.  We were arguing whether the King of the Cowboys was Gene Autry or Roy Rogers.  I heard mom yelling my name from outside.  She came in waving a letter. "Nicky, your daddy's coming home."
When he finally arrived I was nervous, waiting for a spanking, but he was very friendly.  He picked me up and gave me a kiss and kissed mom and we danced around the kitchen of our little house.
It was election time, and we had a good time sitting front of the radio saying: Phooey on Dewey!  and cheering when Roosevelt won.
A few days later dad and Grandad drove GD and me down to a farm outside Marcola that raised turkeys.  "Boys," grandad said, "go pick yourselves out a turkey for Thanksgiving dinner."  He opened a gate and in we went among a herd of turkeys.  They were as tall as we were, walking around us clucking and scratching the dirt.  We heard his quiet snort and turned to see him smiling.  "Choose one, boys, the farmer is here to chop off his head."  GD pointed in front of him and I nodded and we quickly stepped out of the crowd of big birds.  There was a lot of blood when the turkey lost his head.  Then the farmer dipped it in a tub of boiling water to loosen the feathers and took out the insides.
When we got home we  had to help grandma pluck the feathers off.  "Dont forget those pinfeathers," she admonished.
After Thanksgiving dad had to go back to duty in Texas.  He was to train the Air Corps boys to become infantrymen so they could fight in Japan.  Before he left we drove to Springfield to see his parents.  There were a lot of uncles and aunts and cousins.  His parents were a lot older than granddad and grandma, and Grandma Ellen smiled a lot more.  She had a gap between her front teeth just like daddy.
Then he was gone.
At Christmas we got a letter from dad.  He had found an apartment in Denton, Texas, and we were to hop in the Hudson Terraplane and drive down to stay with him.