Dad's Stories: Growing Up In Meridian

GROWING UP IN MERIDIAN (written in summer 2004)

From the second grade until I graduated from High School, I attended school in Meridian, Texas. Living in a small town has its advantages. That’s what I would like to concentrate on. I doubt if our entire school system had over three-hundred and sixty students at any one time. The school averaged around twenty-five to thirty kids per class in grades one through twelve. In most cases the kids you went to school with in grade school were the same ones in high school. There was a rather low turnover in teachers, with a few young college graduates filtering in every now and again. Most of our teachers were wives of businessmen in town or from the surrounding farms and ranches.

Like with any other school… some teachers you fondly remember and others you desperately try to forget. While I was going to school I saw the construction of both new grade school and high school buildings. The gym I played high school basketball in, was once a dormitory of an old college that operated in the 1920’s. There was also a very old and large four story main building, left over from Meridian College days. The top two floors were condemned and cordoned off. The first two floors of this lovely old building was used for offices and classrooms. There was a large assembly hall on the second floor with a stage.

My granddaddy, Sam C. Smith, was an attorney who held public office for some forty years. He also owned and managed a profitable Abstract business for several years. Mostly, I remember him having an office in the beautiful old Courthouse Building that served as the county seat of Bosque county. My grandmother, Minnie Dunlap Smith, had lived in Meridian since the turn of the century. Her daddy was Lewis Dunlap, Pastor of the Cumberland Presbyterian Church, in Meridian. My grandparents had two daughters, Elma and Lila. Granddaddy, for whatever reason, didn’t give his daughters middle names. Elma, was my mother, married to my daddy, William Arnold Walk, of West Virginia. Daddy, was a career Army man and served his country for over thirty-years… reaching the rank of Master Sergeant and occasionally pulling duty as “top sergeant” on several assignments. He was a proud man, who had to fight up-stream for all his commendations, awards and accomplishments.

My mother, Elma, grew up in Meridian and called it her home throughout her entire life. She’d attended Baylor University and had dreams of being a school teacher, but the Great Depression changed all of that. She had to drop out of school for financial reasons. She never was able to go back to college and I sincerely believe that it caused a lot of unpleasantness in her life. Unfulfilled dreams can sometimes haunt you with a tenacity.

My daddy grew up in the coal mining district of West Virginia. He had a tragic childhood life. His mother died one Christmas when he was six-years-old. As the oldest of three children, daddy was shoved from pillar to post and lived with various relatives until he was a young man and could join the army. He dropped out of school around the fifth grade and worked as a water boy in the step mines. He told me he would go from man to man with a water bucket and dipper. When someone yelled out, “water boy” and he would immediately go to where they were digging coal and give them a drink of water. He got very little rest between trips and no sympathy. To the best of my recollection, he was paid thirty-five cents a day. Very hard work for such a small boy. Years later, he joined the Army and served during World War I. Daddy went to France by ship and was preparing for combat when the armistice was signed and the war was suddenly over. Both my mother and daddy had a lot of funny stories they would share with us kids. I enjoyed listening to their stories and had a great amount of love and respect for both my parents.

The first seven years or so of my life was spent in several towns and cities. First, San Antonio, then Fort Worth, next Stillwater, Oklahoma and finally… Meridian, Texas, where I spent the majority of my childhood and young adulthood. I have a lot of wonderful memories about living in Meridian. I had the privilege of being raised by Christian parents and grandparents which provided a strong spiritual foundation that has lasted my entire life.

I had one brother, who was fifteen months older than me, William Arnold Walk, Jr., and one sister, Betty Jean Walk, who was a couple of years younger than me. We were raised as a close knit family and realized much love for one another. I
tried hard to follow in the footsteps of my brother Billy and admired him all my life.
As an adult he joined the Texas Highway Patrol and eventually became one of the select few, no not a marine… a Texas Ranger, just like the Lone Ranger. I was always very protective of my younger sister, Betty. She suffered a severe case of rheumatic fever when she was about three years old and suffered from poor health most of her early childhood. She grew up to be a fine young lady and lived in Waco, Texas, most of her adult life.

Bosque County was founded in 1854, in a grove of oak trees in what I believe is the south end of Bosque county, toward Waco (You can read more Bosque County history in the book, Bosque Primer, written by Rebecca D. Radde and Published in 1976). While I lived in Meridian, the population ranged from a high of around seventeen hundred citizens to a low of twelve-hundred. It would definitely be classified as a rural town. When I was a boy, there were a lot of small farms and ranches scattered around the county. As I grew older, huge cartels swallowed up the smaller outfits and the people moved off.

There was no real industry in town, so most of the young people went to the larger towns and cities for work. Mostly, the Dallas - Fort Worth metroplex. The nearest large University is Baylor, in Waco, Texas, about forty-five miles to the south. Most of our back to school and Holiday shopping was done in Waco. Although, we did try to support our local businesses too, but they had a limited selection of shoes and clothing. We had a place that sold music records and two well stocked drug stores. There was usually at least a couple of grocery stores that serviced the area very well with most of the major food brands at reasonable prices and of course a wonderful selection of beef, pork, goat and lamb.

Our volunteer fire department was second to none. It did take a few extra minutes to get the group together and drive the fire truck to where the fire was. It goes without saying, they saved many a house from total annihilation by fire and I’m sure saved lives too. As Meridian was the county seat, the Sheriff’s Department was located on the bottom floor of the courthouse. One of my school chums was the High Sheriff for several years, before dying an untimely death from lung cancer.

The Bosque River, which started in Stephenville, Texas and snaked along side Meridian and then on to Waco, would frequently {spill} out of its banks and flood. The town itself was built on higher ground, so the river was never a real threat to the town or its inhabitants. I’ve seen the old Bosque River, which was normally thirty feet at its widest point, grow into a hundred yards wide and become a torrent of muddy water. After the river would start going back down, the kids would wade into the open fields and catch stranded fish in isolated ponds of water. We spent a lot of time playing on the river.

To everyone’s surprise, I built a boat in Future Farmers of America shop and my brother Billy, helped me tote it to the Bosque river and make it water tight. We used it for two or three years running trot lines and fishing {out of}. A sudden flood one day destroyed it. We had it chained to a tree on the river bank and the flood waters rose high above the chain’s reach and tore the boat to pieces. We never built another one, but we sure had a swell time with the one. I can’t believe we never named it.

Another favorite recreation spot for me was one of the highest points in Bosque County, Bee Rock Mountain. At one time the bees were so prevalent that you had to roll up your car windows just to drive through the area. Town people would come out to the mountain and rob the honey. The bees eventually moved off. I never really saw any bees and I ran all over that old hill. However, you sure could see where they’d once been. On the front side, facing highway six, was about seventy-five of rock face and ledges that contained numerous small caves.

These rock ledges were a fantastic place to rock climb and explore. In all the years I played on that old mountain, I only saw one small rattlesnake. It was on a cold winter morning and I had stopped for a breather and put my hand right down on top of it. When I saw what it was I yelled out in surprise and dispatched it to the next world with a nearby rock. The danger level of falling, depended on where you went and what you did on the rocky cliffs. I was quite a daring climber and to this day, not afraid of heights. I never fell, but I had some serious scares.

A favorite past time of rock climbers was to either chisel either your name or initials, plus the date in the rock. Sometimes we’d paint our initials on the rocks, but they wore off over time. I can show you where some of mine are located some fifty years after I carved them into the ancient rock. When I was active on the mountain, I recall some of the names dated back to the eighteen hundreds. {Nowadays}, you have to get permission to climb Bee Rock… but not back when I was young. In the summer, I would climb that rock just about every single day, for weeks at a time. One summer, I frequently carried my mandolin with me and would pitch a hammock between two cedar trees right on the top. Many years later I thought it would had been funny if someone had accidentally discovered me up there lying in a hammock, playing my mandolin and singing folk songs. I’ve got some stories about my adventures on Bee Rock I’ll share with you later.

The thing most lacking in Meridian, was entertainment. All the time I was growing up we had at least one small movie theatre that showed first run movies. When TV hit in the early fifties, the movie house shut down for good. I enjoyed many a Saturday afternoon movie at the old Capitol Theater on Main street. It was there that I first met my cowboy movie heroes, Gene Autry, Roy Rogers, Rex Allen, Lash Larue, The Ringo Kid, Jimmy Wakely, Red Ryder, Johnny Mack Brown, John Wayne and many others. We were thrilled by such movie serials as, Captain Marvel, Don Winslow - -U.S. Navy and Captain America.

In the early fifties, Royce Hall, built and operated a lighted miniature golf course. It only stayed around for a couple of years due to a low volume of business. There was a roller rink out near the circle, which was a small community just on the other side of the Bosque River. It did double duty as a place for western bands and dances. I remember seeing Bob Wills and the Texas Playboys, along with Tommy Duncan, performing there one night.

Of course, all types of activities were held at the Meridian Public School auditorium. Gospel concerts, plays, band concerts, music recitals and other entertainment.

Also in the early fifties, the city constructed a nice swimming pool that was enjoyed by all, especially the kids. To the best of my recollection I can’t think of any other recreational areas or entertainment centers. There were a few western bands that appeared at the Meridian State Park concession building, along side the Meridian Lake. The Meridian State Park featured hiking trails, bike trails, along with various types of flora and fauna.

One very enjoyable feature of a small town is that you can walk to just about any place in town in about twenty-minutes from your house. If you ride your bike, even less time. So, on any given day, you could visit a lot of sites and see a lot of people and do a lot of things. In such a small town you would think you’d know everyone in town personally and by name, but that is not the case. Growing up in Meridian, I would occasionally see someone that I didn’t really know. But on the whole, you would be familiar with most of the faces I’d see while running errands downtown. I was never allowed to just hang out downtown. People who did, were a breed apart from the rest of us and were literally referred to as “curb sitters.” They were looked down on by most of the other town people as ne’er-do-wells. Which, as I think back, fairly well described most of them.

There was another groups of men who would sit on benches around the courthouse and discuss everything from history to current events. The benches were a place for exchanging views, canvassing, telling historical events, disputing and arguing. They were the “spit and whittlers.” Quite often, I would stand around them and listen to their talk. They’d of course totally ignore me. I especially enjoyed the stories the older men would tell… some going all the way back to the Civil War, when they were very young boys. Yes, I definitely lived in an interesting time and in a very interesting town. Today, it would be totally impossible for a young lad of eight, to sit and listen to first hand accounts of the Civil War.

It was rare, but every now and then, a couple of the men would dispute a topic to the point of fisticuffs. The sheriff’s department was located in the courthouse about thirty feet behind them, so these disputes would be settled quickly. I never recall anyone getting seriously hurt in these low-intensity scuffles. If someone exhibited truculence on a regular basis, the were expunged from the benches. On a Saturday, I’ve seen as many as fifteen men on the benches yakking up a storm. The benches were placed there for that specific purpose.

My granddaddy, Sam C. Smith, held the office of County Attorney for close to thirty-years, which has got to be some kind of record. If my memory serves me right, he was defeated only once in that span of years. Except for that one term, he held the office until he was eighty-one years old and very few would take it upon themselves to run against him. In fact before each term was up, men would visit my granddaddy, to see if we was going to run again. If he said yes, they usually backed out. I remember hearing a story about this Mr. Cherry, defeating my granddaddy. My favorite uncle, Kenneth Busby, had to be restrained from going back downtown and as he succinctly put it, “Wipe that smile off Mr. Cherry’s face!” Granddaddy Smith, told him, “Now Kenneth, it’s a free country and the man defeated me in a fair race. We need to accept defeat graciously.” Uncle Busby begrudgingly acceded to granddaddy’s advice. We all had a tremendous amount of love and respect for granddaddy Smith, so did the entire family, as did most of the people who lived in Bosque {country}.

If I’d been older, a few years older, I’m afraid I’d been downtown right beside my Uncle Busby… {taking names and kicking butt!} By the way, I wouldn’t have wanted to tangle with either my daddy or uncle Busby. Both of them were career army men and in their younger years, had frequently participated in the manly art of fisticuffs and brawling. I can recall each of them telling me they lost only one fight. More on that a little later. Neither of their families had a lot, but they came from darned good stock and were both devoted family men who were greatly admired and loved by their children and others who knew them. I’m proud of my family heritage.

Lets see if we can get a better perspective of the times I grew up in. While I was a youth, the “moral man,” along with the Godly man, mostly ran the country. Out of twelve-hundred people living in Meridian, there would be well over half of them attending the church of their choice on Sunday morning. Those are impressive figures. You could definitely say I was raised in a Christian community, but not in a religious commune, there is a distinctive difference that delineates the two. My upbringing, as they say, has served me well.

On the other hand, I lived in a time of well defined segregation and biases. I was not at all comfortable with how separation of races applied to society as a whole and let it be known by the questions I asked and things I did. On the other side of a small creek that meandered through town, was a territory referred to as, Negro Town. Looking back, I’m certain that there was never over a hundred black people living there at any given time. There were no race wars or riots. The black people were God fearing, law abiding people who were just trying to get by like everyone else.

The Meridian black community had their own unofficial representatives who were often consulted before certain town decisions were made. I had many friends and acquaintances who lived over in Negro Town. I was an avid fan of their semi-pro baseball team and referred to it as our team. Today, many of the black families in Meridian have moved to this side of the creek. I’m not proud of how the blacks were treated when I was young, but much of that has changed. I can honestly say that I was never taught to disrespect black people or look down on them. My granddaddy would often represent them in court and provide other legal services pro bono. As I mentioned earlier, he was a good man.

Growing up in Meridian, I can remember only one car my granddaddy owned, a 1936 Chevy coup and it was always in the shop. He finally sold it and never replaced it. He could walk to the courthouse in about fifteen minutes and would do so in rain or shine, hot or cold. My mom and dad bought their very first car in 1948. Even brand new, it was a real lemon and gave us nothing but problems. As a matter of record, my mother had to learn how to drive all over again and be tested for a drivers license, so she could legally drive the car. It was quite interesting to go on the road with granddaddy and mother, so she could renew her driving skills. To her credit, she accomplished her goal and drove until she was around eighty years old. Mother quit driving after deciding that she might either kill herself or someone else. I would say that was sound logic.

As any of my classmates might tell you, I wasn’t a good student. For whatever the reason, my teachers couldn’t kindle an interest in me for book learning. If they were depending on me to do it, they were sadly disappointed. I could do math, but only as it applied to either construction or electronics. I loved to read, but only what I enjoyed. Writing was always a hobby of mine, but only if I could write about something I liked. With an extensive background in Radio Broadcasting and Advertising Agency work, you could say I learned how to speak good English and write adequately. As Program Director for several big market radio stations, I supervised personnel, designed and implemented radio formats. As a GM I had to compose annual budgets for all the various departments. I had direct supervision of the sales staff and was responsible for station promotions and advertising packages. I filed engineering applications for station licensing under control of the Federal Communications Commission in Washington, D.C. Most of these skills were realized after graduating from high school. I had some college, but never graduated.

I recall needing my high school grade transcripts for enrollment in some college courses when I was around forty years old. Someone at in the school office had hand written on the bottom, “Graduated last in a grade of twenty-five students!” When I handed it to the registrar at St. Phillips College in San Antonio, he said, “Hey, did you notice what they wrote at the bottom of your grade transcript?” I replied, “Yes, I had seen that terse, but rather pungent little addendum.” He answered, “Well, they can’t do that, it’s against the law.” He grabbed a bottle of white out and marked it off and made another copy for his files. When he handed the original back to me, he said, “Man, that’s some mean stuff, evidently someone doesn’t like you.” Quite possibly, but it happened to be a lady that was a good friend of my mother. They certainly had the last word on that part of my life! The occasion typified my experiences with the Meridian school system.

I was somewhat of a free spirit and loved to explore and wander the countryside. I had a tremendous imagination and applied it liberally to my thinking and reasoning processes. I loved to read, especially the Hardy Boys and War stories. By the time I was a junior in High School, I’d read well over twenty-five Hardy Boy books. With the exception of {Franklyn} W. Dixon, I preferred history and non-fiction. The Bible has always been the most important book in my life. I enjoy research and technical material and still read mostly non-fiction, along with Christian literature. I have no real favorite authors and generally read whatever appeals to me.

As a boy, my idea of a fantastic day was to get up early in the morning, eat breakfast… grab my Stevens semi-automatic .22, pack a light lunch and head for the Bosque River. I would explore the river bank and adjoining land and set up targets in the river bank to plink at with my rifle. My daddy, who worked as a military science instructor with the R.O.T.C. at Tarleton State College… also coached the rifle team, so we had all the .22 long rifle cartridges we wanted. I’m certain that I shot more .22 rounds than anyone else in the entire area. I was always careful not to abuse or worry the livestock and if a Posted sign was encountered, I respected that too. I had a deep esteem for nature and enjoyed communing with it. Of all the years I did this, I seldom encountered others of the same ilk. Many of the boys in town occasionally hunted and fished, but the Bosque river and Bee Rock were my home away from home. I can’t tell you how much I enjoyed spending endless hours in the countryside surrounding Meridian. It was a glorious time in my life and I’ll always treasure it. A couple of my early childhood heroes, were two frontier characters found in the only Zane Grey book I’d read. Their names were Wetzel and Jonathan Zane. A couple of tough, no nonsense, silent types with the acquired outdoor skills of a master hunter and dedicated avengers of the innocent. I wanted to stalk the countryside as they had in The Last Trail. Minus the wild Indians, wild cats and bears, of course.