Carnival of Genealogy: Gulf Coast Summer 1962

Right: Craig and The World's Smartest Sister at the beach in Rockport, Texas, August 1962.


As far as I recall, my first time at a beach was in the summer of 1962. Later that year, at age 8, I did my first major writing project. It's presented here just as it was written 46 years ago, including photographs (the notes are new).

From the book My First Vacation Trip, copyright 1962, by Craig Manson


The Book Cover


My brothers, sister, and I live in New Mexico. On July 28, 1962, my Nana¹ came for a visit. She wanted to take my sister and I on a trip to Texas. Arrangements were made. So my Father, Aunt², and I went to buy my sister and I some "swimming clothes." When we came back, Nana sat down at the sewing machine and made us some beach jackets. Father readied my fishing line.

At last the day came. On Sunday, August 5, 1962, we left for Houston, Texas. The ride was comfortable³,. . . . .Next morning, I was up at 4:00 with Nana and later my sister got up at 5:00. I changed clothes in the men's room. Sister combed her hair, and Nana got ready too. At 11:00 we arrived in Houston. The train backed into the station. On the platform we met Uncle Herman⁴,. I relaized that in Texas, it's quite hot! Uncle Herman drove us to his house. At the house, we met Aunt Ida⁵.

Left: Sister with Uncle Herman Walker

[After several days in Houston, it's time for our travelers to move on!]

. . . Mrs A. Dolphin⁶ took us to the Greyhound bus depot where we would leave on a bus bound for Rockport, Texas. There we would meet my other Aunt Ida⁷ and Uncle Johnny⁸. It took us 5 hours to get there. . . . When we met Aunt Ida and Uncle Johnny, it was quite joyous because we had not seen each other since 1958. After we had unpacked, Uncle Johnny took us down to the beach where we went swimming as we did every day.

Above Right: We play in the Gulf

When we went fishing, I caught mostly catfish, but sometimes I caught perch and trout. Sometimes we went to visit cousin Ethel⁹ and Rabbit¹⁰.
One day Rabbit took us to Taft where we met Aunt Pearl¹¹. Aunt Pearl owns a motel and cafe in Taft. So we stayed at her motel. When we got back [to Rockport], Aunt Maria¹² and her husband¹³ came to take us to Corpus Christi.

In Corpus Christi, I long talked with Uncle Leroy¹⁴ who I had not seen once before in my life. After staying in Corpus Christi one day, we started back to Houston.

Right: On the shrimping dock



Below: Modeling the "beach jackets" Nana made

NOTES

¹My paternal grandmother, Jessie Bowie Manson (1909-1973), then known as Jessie Manson Givan.

²My mother's sister, Delorise Annrie Gines, then 22 years old, and spending her summer break from college with us.

³In pre-Amtrak times, "the ride" was the Atchison,Topeka & Santa Fe RR's Super Chief.

⁴Herman Walker (1906-2002), Nana's brother.

⁵Ida Mouton (1910?-1992), Uncle Herman's wife.

⁶Alice Dolphin, who was a major figure in my fathr's early life story.

⁷Ida Bryant (1895-1991), widow of Nana's uncle, Sam Bryant (1881-1951).

⁸I have no present clue as to this person's identity or actual relationship to me.

⁹Ethel Bryant (1903-1996), daughter of Isaac Bryant (1879-1936), Nana's uncle.

¹⁰I have no present clue as to this person's identity or actual relationship to me.

¹¹Pearl Bryant Richardson (1897-?), Nana's mother's sister.

¹²Should be "cousin Maria." Maria Bryant (1905-?) was Ethel's sister (see note 9).

¹³I do not know his name.

¹⁴Leroy Goins, aka Leo R. Bryant (1924-1983), Nana's brother.

Happy 55th Anniversary, Mom & Dad!

My parents celebrate their 55th wedding anniversary this weekend. Here's a recent photo of them, but for a glimpse at their wedding in Houston, Texas, in 1953, see the Carnival post on weddings here.


[Updated 7/18/08, 10:15 PDT to add photo. Blogger was having an upload problem earlier. Previous post deleted]

Ancestral Gleanings from the Dinner Table

Thanksgiving is a great time to learn a little or a lot about one's relatives and ancestors. Unexpected things may pop up. I gleaned a fair bit from our Thanksgiving conversations, most of which I'll share after some further processing.

But one of the surprising bits was this: I asked my father if he recalled ever talking to a census taker. He replied, "I was a census taker."

In 1950, he answered a newspaper ad in Houston, Texas, to become an enumerator for that year's census. He was assigned to Houston's fifth ward (where he lived). He said it was hard work, involved a lot of walking. Most everybody was cooperative, including Clarence "Gatemouth" Brown, who was awakened after just having gotten to sleep following a long night of work.

Carnival: The First Black NASCAR Driver

I was thinking of sitting out this Carnival because I couldn't come up with anything appropriately funny or foolish about my family. That's not say there isn't any funny or foolish about my family . . . just nothing I thought would be interesting or publishable. But Jasia's story about her mother learning to drive reminded me of a couple of driving stories.

My great-uncle Herman Walker was born in 1906 in Taft, San Patricio County, Texas. His parents were Hattie Bryant and Toby Walker. He graduated from high school in Rockport, Texas and then attended Paul Quinn College, which was then located in Waco, Texas. He later moved to Houston where he was the chef at the renowned Ye Olde College Inn during its heyday. Uncle Herman was a member of St Nicholas Catholic Church for sixty-six years. He was a proud and independent man who lived to be ninety-six years old.

For sometime after Uncle Herman turned eighty, various relatives began to suggest that it was time for him to give up driving. It was apparent that his eyesight was not good, and it was difficult to understand how he navigated intersections in particular. On a visit to see Uncle Herman, my father learned Uncle Herman's strategy for dealing with intersections. Upon seeing what he thought might be a stop sign 0r traffic light, he would slow down, and blow his horn loudly. If nobody else blew their horn, Herman would keep on going!

The other story has appeared earlier in this space, but it's perfect for replay for the Carnival.

It's said by historians that Wendell Scott was the first NASCAR driver in 1961. But I have evidence to the contrary. A news story from the San Mateo, Calif., Times, dated August 1, 1955, tells the tale of the true first black NASCAR driver. The story recounts a NASCAR race at Bay Meadows in Northern California. The winner of the race was Tim Flock of Atlanta, then the nation's leading stock car driver. But then the last paragraph of the story says:

Unintentional comedy relief during the grim racing was provided by Elias Bowie of Oakland driving a 1955 Cadillac in his first stock car race. Bowie toured the course as a Sunday driver checking the scenery. He had the largest pit crew, topped by a lanky double-jointed chap in green fatigue uniform. He also had provided a full tank car of Mobiloil gas. In spite of (or because of) these precautions, Bowie completed the race.

[San Mateo Times, Monday, August 1, 1955, p.10].

Elias Bowie was my grandmother's brother. He ran several transportation companies (jitney buses, taxi cabs) in Oakland, San Francisco, and San Jose. He loved Cadillacs. He always wore a fedora when he drove. I can just see him tooling around the track with his hat on and one arm hanging out the window!