Times Were Hard
My family
settled in Wichita Falls when I was seven years old, where we would reside for
the next ten years before eventually moving back to Seymour. When the city was
first laid out around the railroad, Ohio Street became the first main street of
Wichita Falls, just a half block from the tracks. Buildings that first sprouted
up catered to the many businesses that served the needs of the people and the
railroad. Many of these establishments were two-story structures, the business
on the ground floor and living quarters on the floor above. In the late 1800s,
Ohio Street was the main hub of activity. But by the 1940s, it had become a
street of bars, winos, and poorer class families trying to eke out a living,
while the main business district had moved a block over to Indiana Street.
The
apartment where we lived was across the street from the Gem Theater on Ohio
Street between 7th and 8th Streets, above a bar owned by
an older woman who lived in a nice home at the edge of the city. Her daughter
ran the establishment, and lived in the apartment at the top of the stairs. She
had a son my age, and we played together and went to the same school. I never
knew what had become of my friend's father, but he and his mother were alone -
most of the time.
It
seemed that everyone was struggling in 1947. I don't remember very many of the
dwellers, although the Martin family lived across the hall from us. They had
two daughters and a son. Their son was a teenager, and rode his bike to Reagan
Jr. High School every day. I didn't know him very well, but I do remember that
bike. It was my duty to go for milk and bread every morning, and at the bottom
of the stairs was usually a wino or drunk, passed out from the night before. I
always had to jump over one of them to reach the outside door. My heart would
stand still until I was on the sidewalk and safe. I would then pray that the
sleeping man would be gone by the time I returned. Sometimes they were, but
most of the time they were not, and I would have to climb over them again. It
was scary! But when the Martin boy left for school, he rode that bike down
those stairs and made the most awful racket you ever heard as the wheels hit
each step. Before he reached the bottom, the doorway would be clear of drunks!
Another
man I remember was a big redheaded fellow. I heard he was recently discharged
from the Army. But now he was setting up illegal card and dice games in the
rear of businesses along Ohio Street, and staying one step ahead of the law. I
don't know if they ever caught him.
Another
product of the Army was an abundance of photographers. There must have been
several from Wichita Falls, for we encountered them quite often. Returning from
the war in Europe, they had no skills, except for a camera. Some got jobs with
studios or the newspaper, but others turned to freelancing, and would approach
families in cafes or stores hoping to take their pictures for a little bit of
money. The "man on the street" usually worked for a studio. For a
while they were tolerated by the businesses, but by the 1950s I think most were
forced off the street by city ordinances. Later, I would see the independents
in little communities going from door to door, trying to take pictures of
families, while the studios mailed postcards soliciting business. The independents
got smart later, and a few brought small ponies around, with little cowboy
outfits, and talked parents into having their children's pictures taken on the
pony!
But
even in the late 1940s, there was a demand for other type photographs. Some of the
photographers ended up taking pictures of nude women to sell. My older sister,
age 13 or 14 at the time, answered an ad in the newspaper for a babysitter.
When she arrived at the house, there was a man who told her he wanted to take
her picture, and started undressing her. Just in time, the police broke in the
door and arrested him. They had been watching his house ever since he placed
the ad in the paper. Evidently, he was a known pervert. I don't know if he was
going to take nude photos of my sister, or molest her. But the police warned my
mother not to let her answer ads in the paper after that.
I
mentioned my friend and his mother. Every so often my friend would tell me that
he had a new father the night before. At the time I didn't understand, as these
things were beyond the knowledge of little boys. But the same oddity was
happening down the block. We were only a couple buildings down from the Holt
Hotel. I got a job selling newspapers along Ohio Street around this time. I
made a lot of money outside The Hub. Airmen from the base often gave me a
quarter for a nickel paper, which gave me extra money fpr those
two-for-a-nickel comic books at the magazine exchange on 7th Street.
I even sold a few papers in the beer joints, then I used to sneak into the Holt
Hotel and go from room to room, knocking on each door, trying to sell
newspapers. I often saw older men with younger women, but never thought
anything about it. One old man started to run me off when the young woman told
him to buy a paper from me … because they had time. I even ran into my teachers
coming out of the Holt Hotel one
morning, and I don't think he was married. He told me not to tell anyone I saw
him there. Of course, I didn't understand that, either. I saw just about
everyone at the hotel at one time or another. The teacher went on to become the
principal of my school. Today, I sometimes wonder who was with him that day,
another teacher, the parent of one of his students, or a "friend"?
Even
though the Korean War started in 1950, there was a boon in the economy in
Wichita Falls, and jobs opened up. I think some of the photographers went back
in the service. People were moving to the suburbs. Soon there would be a TV in
just about every home, along with a two-car garage. I'm sure that everyone was
glad to see the 1940s come to an end. We moved from Ohio Street, and I left the
winos behind. I never went back to Ohio Street or the Gem Theater.
But for some
families, life did not change much. My dad started drinking more, and we had
trouble paying our bills, and never had enough to eat.
Times
were still hard for some.
Postscript: I was overseas in
1968 when the Gem Theater burned down, and two police officers were crushed in
their car as the outer wall fell over on their car. I think my childhood
finally came to an end when I read that the Gem Theater was gone.
Unfortunately, today the downtown theaters are just a memory. The Wichita
Theater remains, but it just isn’t the same. I will revisit the theaters in
some of my coming articles, as well as other things about Ohio Street in the
1940s, but for now I will move to the next seven years remaining of my time in
Wichita Falls. I hope you will Bookmark this Blog and check in once in awhile.
There will be more pictures, and more tales of the early days.
