© John D. Beeson September, 2007
Growing up in the 1940s in East Texas during World War II was a time of small towns, no TV, no computers, and very little radio. The doors to our home were never locked, nor were those of our neighbors.
My boyhood friends and I did whatever we could to earn money. There was not much to spend it on, but we did have a tent show in the town. We could see the movies; have pop-corn and a cold drink for a quarter.
The bench seats in the tent show were separated by the time of the year. In the winter, the seats near the center aisle were more expensive because they were nearer the heater. In the summer, the seats near the edges of the tent were more expensive since they were cooler with the sides of the tent rolled up. We sat on the edges in the winter and in the center during the summer.
Shepherd was a small town about 60 miles from downtown Houston. We had one paved road in the town, highway 59. There was a cafe right at the intersection of Highway 59 and state road 150. Later there was a blinking light at the intersection and it was a great pastime to watch this light blink. One never knew when it would stop blinking, but when it did it was a great occurrence that was much remembered and talked about. You just did not want to be one of the ones who did not see it happen. I never did see it happen! I wonder now if it did ever quit or if the grown-ups only said it did to make us feel that we had missed something special.
We boys hunted, trapped, fished, went to school and participated in childhood pranks to fill our days. Days that seemed endless were filled with nothing short of the wonder that our active imaginations could conjure up.
We played cowboys and Indians, knights of the realm, soldiers and rarely thought of girls. Girls were a pain that played with dolls and such. We avoided girls as much as possible.
Somewhere in that jumble of activity we stumbled upon the idea to build a fort to help guard Shepherd from depredations of any brigands that might come upon our fair city.
We were not novices in fort building. We had dug trenches and covered them with logs and dirt to be used as secret club houses. These were fine until they got invaded by scorpions and we got stung thereby driving us from our fine digs.
We decided upon a building site that was on property owned by my Dad. It was hidden by trees and bushes from the general neighborhood; therefore could provide privacy. We scrounged old lumber, trees that had fallen and other assorted building material to make the fort.
Initially, it was a one story structure with one regular entrance door, but with a hidden entrance in the floor that one could access via a “tunnel” we dug and covered. One could never know when we might be surrounded and have need of this escape or resupply access. It was a well known fact that such emergency entrances had been used for castles, homes and forts throughout history. We had seen this in the movies!
The fort defenses were formidable! We had our Red-Ryder B-B guns, spears, bow & arrows and a large supply of hand grenades. Yes, hand grenades! At that time you could purchase big red cherry bombs at anytime during the year. These were perfect to mold clay around and while still damp it could be scored to resemble actual hand grenades used by our military forces in fight with the Germans and Japanese. We dried these in the sun and stored them for use within the fort. All one had to do to defend the fort was to light the fuse and throw these grenades in the direction of any attacking enemy. We knew the devastation among the attackers would be a sight to behold because we had seen what their effects could be in movies at the tent show.
We had a weapon that was special. A trained war donkey, Virginia! She would lie down and we could hide behind her just like the cavalry did with their horses in the movies. She performed her tasks much better if tempted with hay or sweet feed. Virginia never really got into the spirit of things since once the hay or sweet feed was gone so was she!
After some time, it dawned on us that the front door was our only means of providing an effective defense of the fort. How could we have been so short sighted? Well, the only solution was a second story addition to the fort. So we built a second story. We did not want to cover the entire first floor, as we needed a fighting platform from which to rain down death and destruction on invaders.
The result was a room that covered ½ of the first floor, with the rest of the second floor area being devoted to a fighting platform with side walls to crouch behind. It was a true work of art and a tremendous defensive strategy. Access to this second floor was via a “small” trap door between the first floor and the second story half room. We could get to the fighting platform via a small trap door just big enough to allow boys through.
The fort was really something! Other boys from the town began to get wind of our fort and made a few overtures about joining our select group. Since they had not been with us since the beginning it was decided in a war council that their introduction into our fort was not in our best interests. Naturally this led to some hard feelings, but our defenses were so strong that little ever came of them.
This occurrence got us to thinking. Our fort was great, but lacked an advanced warning system to allow us time to get our defenses up and operational in case of an attack. What we needed was a watch tower. We certainly had the platform for it and began to build again. We used four long timbers as the legs, supported on the four corners of our second story fighting platform. The legs were topped with a railed platform where our lookout could keep a watchful eye out for any brigands or otherwise nefarious individuals looking to overcome our fort and Shepherd.
The whole fort was just beautiful! Our watch tower was above the small trees and bushes giving a clear view of the surrounding area and the town of Shepherd. Nothing could approach without an alarm being raised. Our call to arms was a piece of metal that could be rapidly beat raising such a clamor that our defenders could come pouring out onto our defensive structures (sort of like ants coming out of a mound) and be prepared to rain down destruction on the invaders.
All of this was fine and our proceedings to this point had not been too much observed by the men folk (namely my Father) until our watch tower poked itself up into the clear sight of even the most casual observer in town.
We received a delegation of men folk (our Fathers) who marveled at the fort. While they recognized the wonder of it and recognized its worth to the defense of Shepherd, they felt that it was a risk to our lives and limbs. The doors and entrances were too small for them to enter easily. I think that was the real reason we were told to “take it down”, but maybe it was when my Dad tried to climb the watch tower and it swayed pretty good that finally convinced him.
My little brother was given the task to bring the fort down. He did not really want to, but the direction came from on high. He started at the bottom; which in a short period of time made the rest of the fort extremely dangerous to man or bird. He asked and received permission to use our Father’s truck to help in this demolition. He used a chain and attached it to one of the sturdy main posts. Attesting to the strength of the structure, the truck reared up on its rear wheels, but finally the fort collapsed into a pile of rubble.
The members of fort were Richard (my little brother), Hal McClain, Charles Murphy, Herman Pittman and I.
We did learn a lesson from all of this: never build your watch tower where it can be seen!
Our childhoods are gone. Most of our childhood friends are gone, but the memory of the fort and its defense of Shepherd remain.
As featured on www.ezinearticles.com
© September 2007 John D. Beeson
As with much of history, it’s the untold stories that are interesting and provide additional insight into specific points in our past.
The Gemini program of NASA was the two man capsule follow-on to Project Mercury (which launched the first American into space).
There were many differences between Project Mercury and the Gemini Project, not the least of which was the propellants used for the on-board engines. The Mercury capsule propulsion system used hydrogen peroxide forced across a metal screen into the engines producing steam which steered the capsule. The Gemini capsule used nitrogen tetra oxide and hydrazine that were each forced into the engine chamber. These two chemicals automatically ignite upon contact (hypergolic) producing the force for the steering and reentry engines of the spacecraft.
These two chemicals were stored in Teflon bladders which when pressurized with helium “squirted” the respective chemical into the engine chambers. In the early 1960s a lot about Teflon, as with the two chemical propellants, which was unknown and there were trials and errors.
During the checkout of Gemini 6 it was discovered that the check valves (which were to keep the chemical vapors from migrating back into the common helium supply) were sticking open. No one knew why and it was of such a magnitude that the subsequent launch of Gemini 6 was, scrubbed moving Gemini 7 into the next launch slot.
I was working as a chemical specialist in the NASA Propulsion System Office at Cape Canaveral and felt that the sticking check valves were being caused by something having to do with the chemical propellants. I suggested that a series of tests be conducted to find out if this was in fact the reason and if it were, to find a solution to the problem.
I conducted a series of tests at an unused launch complex with the assistance of Joe Fitzsimmons (a NASA summer aide). Helium was blown over individual canisters of nitrogen tetra oxide and hydrazine and allowed to mix in a column outside the block house in case of an explosion.
Sure enough a yellowish substance deposited onto the inner surfaces of the column. We had found the source of what was causing the check valves to stick. Now the question was how to get rid of it.
We found the solution – blow across the yellowish substance with dry helium or nitrogen and the substance “melted” away. With this information, we were able to fix the sticking valves of Gemini 6 allowing the subsequent launch of Gemini 6 and the “face-to-face” meeting of Gemini capsule 7 and 6.
For this work, Joe and I were presented with large pictures (framed with no glass) of a Gemini capsule on a Titan Launch vehicle at liftoff. I still have that picture today.
It is a pretty unique name, but then in the 1800s there were some different names for towns, like the town of Coon Skin in Polk County, Texas.
It was located near the present town of Elgin, Texas. Stephen F. Austin’s, Little Colony, included land granted to a lady named Elizabeth in 1829. Her daughter, Sarah, married a John Litton and they built their home on the grant.
Hog-eye was already a town in 1841 when David Burnet, the President of the Republic of Texas issued a land grant to John Litton for a “league and labor of land” located around the town of Hog-Eye.
One story of how it got its name is: during the time the prairie in this area was first settled, there was a traveling fiddler who could play only one tune, “Hog Eye”. Hog Eye stuck and when the Butterfield Stage Line route was established one of the station stops was Hog Eye. The station was managed by Joseph Earhart, who also had a “ranch” thereabouts.
A post office was established in 1849 with John Litton as the post master. The name, Young’s Settlement, was chosen probably after one Michael Young. The churches and local Masonic Lodge used the name of Perryville.
There was a well, Owens Well, with soft water about two and a half miles from the original home site of the Litton family. The well was about 30 feet deep with a windlass to draw the water.
The site of Hog Eye was about 16 miles east of present Jacksboro in Jack County Texas. It was a “sizable” settlement before 1860 with a saloon, store, blacksmith shops and, grocery. This town disappeared into the pages of history when the Houston and Texas Central Railroad bypassed Perryville and the people moved to what is now Elgin. The post office closed in 1872.
The Hog Eye Butterfield Stage Station was “well known” for its distilled spirits and good food.
As with many things and places Hog Eye is gone, but not forgotten.
