Waco History Podcast Rogue Media Network

Bullies are people who try to harm or intimidate others who they perceive as weaker. It starts in childhood.
Maggie Langham Washington moved to Waco in the fifth grade and remembers how she was an easy target for bullies:
"If you were a minister's child that's new in a school, you saw hard time, a real hard time because kids would do things to you just because they felt like you weren't supposed to do anything back to them because you were a minister's—you were preacher's child, preacher's brat. And after a while that got a little old with me. I decided that I wanted to be a regular person."
Washington recalls a story involving a girl who others had told her was cruel:
"And we were playing pass ball, and I was a tomboy. I could jump, leap high, and get that ball. So she decided, let me guard her, and I heard her. I trembled in my boots. I kept letting her get the ball, and finally I decided this is just not going to work. So when I knew they were throwing the ball to her, I just stepped in front of her and jumped up and got it, and she hit me. When I realized what was happening, the lady that was supervising the game, Mrs. Bevis, one of the teachers, was tapping me on my shoulder saying, ‘Langham, Langham, that's enough.' So that called for a spanking. I knew that. So it was reported to my homeroom teacher; we were both in the same class. And my homeroom teacher carried me into the cloakroom and she says, ‘Every time I hit something, you holler.' (laughter) And I did. And then when it came time to get Henrietta, every time she hit she needed to holler. So nobody in my class ever knew I didn't get a spanking."
Interviewer: "Uh-huh. Yours was all dramatics."
"Yes."
Mary Darden of Waco describes an encounter with a bully in sixth grade in Connecticut that helped shape her passion for social justice:
"And he was beating the crud out of this kid. I mean, the kid was bleeding, and nobody—everybody was standing around, nobody doing anything about it. I went running in, and I pushed the kid out of the way he was beating up and I got in a fight with him. And I started fighting with him, and he—he hurt me. He—I mean, I had a black eye, I'm sure. And, I mean, my face showed it. I mean, you could tell for a week afterwards I'd been in a fight. But I stood there and fought him until the teacher came out and broke us up. And I realized at that point that I was not probably going to draw a line between my personal safety and, you know, that I would take a stand."
Bullying shows no signs of dissipating, especially with today's cyberculture that offers even more methods of terrorizing others. Although bullying is often dismissed as a normal part of growing up, it is harmful, and in some cases the effects last a lifetime.

At Maggie Washington's school, a bully took advantage of a game of pass ball.
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Swimming is a favorite summer activity in Texas, as it provides respite from sweltering temperatures.
Charles Armstrong grew up in the Bell's Hill area of Waco and describes where he and other boys would go to cool off:
"And from Twenty-ninth Street over where the Baylor stadium is now, there was a fence across there, and it wasn't anything but mesquite patch up there where the stadium is. And it had a little—back over there by the railroad track, had a creek come through there, and it was pretty clear water and had swimming hole up there called Little Lake. And we'd go up there and go swimming in Little Lake. And it was—you had to cut across that pasture there by where the stadium is now to get down to it."
The swimming hole was isolated, and the boys were very informal, as Armstrong explains:
"If you had some swimming trunks, fine. If you didn't, fine. You could just go in naked, whatever. (laughter) And when a train come along, we all got up and paraded for them as they come by. They'd [be] sitting there with white tablecloths on them tables and little things like we keeps on the table here, little—look like a little lamp there with a candle in it, you know, sitting on a table and people all dressed up in suits and everything. We'd stand out there naked [and] wave at them. (laughter) But we did that—we did that many, many times."
Alva Stem, former director of Waco Parks and Recreation, remembers the role of swimming in his childhood in Waco:
"My father worked for the police department as a detective, and they were given a pass to the municipal swimming pool, or ‘the beach,' over on North Fourth Street. This was a season pass to go swimming free, and so my brother and I—my brother Jack and I—always went down to the swimming pool once a day to go swimming. Later on in the years, when I became about twelve years old, I was hired as the basket boy, and the basket boy is a young man that takes the baskets that they had there and they would give to the patrons to put their clothes in when they changed into their bathing suits. Then it was my job to put their baskets in the proper numbers in the proper location in the basket room with the swimming pool, and to give the patrons their basket when they came back."
John Lott Jr. of Goliad recalls that escaping the heat was sometimes a family affair:
"Well, we went to the river every summer for about a month: Cousin Henry and Cousin Ella and Virginia Mae, Aunt Helen and Happy and Butch and our family and Aunt Hattie and Atch. And we had tents, and we'd camp down there at the bend, and Cousin Willy even came down and made a swimming suit out of a gunny sack: cut holes in it and put his feet in it and rolled it up and tied it around here. And we had a diving board and a swing. I know we had a—Dad made them a canvas house, partition with canvas, to where women and men could put on their bathing suits."
Swimming helps make the summers in Texas bearable and more enjoyable. That initial splash every time erases all discomfort from the stifling heat.

Boys enjoying a swimming hole. (Courtesy of Library of Congress)
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An annual tradition for many students and teachers is looking for summer employment. During the 1940s, these jobs were becoming easier to find, with a recovering American economy and the war overseas.
Jane Martin, former missionary in East Africa, lists a few of the summer jobs that she held in the 1940s to pay her way through Mars Hill College in North Carolina:
"I worked for the government at the Department of Interior, and I worked for the Department of Navy."
Interviewer: "In Washington, DC, those things are possible."
"You know, but you don't say that I—you were sorting mail and things like that. (both laugh) You weren't—yes. I worked one summer for a community program for underprivileged children. I worked for a department store, but I wasn't working in the store; I was in the warehouse. And to my amazement, they came to me one day, and I thought, Oh my, have I done something wrong? They said, Come with us. We want to talk to you about something. And they put me on the loading dock, as a fourteen-year-old, to receive the trucks as they came in. Their concern was—I had a—I was sitting in a little enclosed room. Their concern was that the language would be pretty bad. But when the truckers arrived bringing in the goods for the department store, they see this young teenager, (both laugh) and they—they minded their language."
Dr. Eugene Jud, former executive director of Caritas in Waco, remembers an encounter he had while teaching in Corpus Christi:
"At the end of that year, we had a big PTA meeting on the end of the year. A man came up, was a big old guy; name was George Bellows. He said he just wanted to meet the teacher that helped his son become a public speaker. I accepted his comments, and that was fine."
Jud describes how that meeting helped him in the summer of 1941, when he was looking for a temporary job:
"Teachers always do a little moonlighting. So I went out to the naval air station. Just everybody would be going out there from all over the country; they—they were applying. So we'd go to the personnel department, and I sat there a long time waiting for my turn. And one of the guys who came in, I said, ‘Who are you waiting for?' And he said, ‘I come—I'm waiting to see George Bellows.' And I said, ‘Who's he?' He said, (laughs) ‘Oh, he's the guy [who] runs this place.' I said, ‘Is he George Bellow Jr.'s dad?' He said, ‘Yeah—that's'—and said, ‘I'm George's good friend.' So I—that gave me an idea. So instead of going and seeing a personnel man or filling out all the forms, well, I went in to see George Bellows. (laughter)
"I introduced—he remembered me. And he asked what I wanted, and I told him I wanted a summer job. And he just said—he buzzed his little buzzer and called for his personnel director. And he says, ‘Put this man on.' (laughter) The personnel director was very smart. He asked me a question or two, and he said, 'I'll tell you what: you report here tomorrow, and you report in my department. You'll be one of the personnel.' So I became one of the members of the personnel staff."
As long as a college education is not free and educators are underpaid, many students and teachers will continue to seek out temporary jobs during the summer months.

Sorting mail in the 1940s.
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Originally Aired 06/2019

In this episode
In one afternoon, 114 people lost their lives and Downtown Waco’s skyline was forever changed. Eric Ames, Assistant Director for Marketing & Communication for the Baylor University Libraries and ITS, walks us through the day the 1953 tornado touched down. We talk about the damage the storm caused, stories of hope in the aftermath, and ways the tornado’s effects are still felt today.
You can find Eric’s book on Waco on Amazon, and most places books are found.
Be sure and follow Waco Walks to learn about other historic walks in town. 
The photo in the album artwork for this episode was used with permission by the Texas Collection at Baylor University. The Texas Collection is Baylor University's oldest special collections library and serves as the University Archive that collects, preserves, and provides access to materials on the history, heritage and culture of Texas. Learn more on their website.
 About the podcast
The Waco History Podcast is co-hosted by Randy Lane and Dr. Stephen Sloan. Randy Lane is the great-grandson of Waco architect Roy E. Lane. He’s also a former American Forces Network Radio DJ and is currently the host of the High Performance Leadership and Charity Champions Podcasts. 
Stephen heads the Oral History Institute at Baylor University. He’s authored several books and created and developed WacoHistory.org, a website and free mobile app for learning more about Waco’s history. 
Together they’re telling the known and unknown stories of Waco’s past.  
Find out more at wacohistorypodcast.com.
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Since its dedication in 1910, Waco's Cameron Park has grown from 125 to more than 400 acres, with land gifts from the Cameron family, and has provided children with countless hours of exercise and enjoyment.
Charlie Turner of Hewitt recalls playing in the park as a young boy in the 1950s and 60s:
"There were some little wading pools we would go play in, and then, of course, I would get in trouble every now and then because after I got in the wading pool, I'd get back in the dirt by the flowers but had a real good time. And, you know, it was just a great place to play because where I lived, there was no grass in the backyard. So going into a park like Cameron Park, it was like a kid's dream because there were all the trees down near the Pecan Bottoms. There were these big swings that I remember and this merry-go-round and the seesaws, and then there was a climbing ladder and then the monkey bars.
"Every now and then—I had an old Tonka truck. It was a moving van Tonka truck that I had a string on, and I'd take it with me once in a while and pull it around on the—on the street part that was paved. If I had a ball, I could throw it as hard as I wanted to and not get in trouble because it was in the neighbors' yard. I could play ball; I could hit the ball as hard as I could. Cameron Park was a paradise to me."
He describes the many adventures the park afforded him:
"There were these trees there, there was vines growing through the trees, and I remember moss down there—whether it was there or not. As a kid, I remember it. And I remember seeing pictures in books about these forests and all, and so when I'd get in Cameron Park I'd go looking. And here were these forest-like-looking areas that I remembered from reading the books. And I could be in England, or I could be in Germany, or I could just be in the Brazilian jungle, or—so Cameron Park took on a new personality each time. I was in the Amazon one time. I was in Nottingham Woods the next time, the Sheriff pursuing me, and then, trying to get away from the piranhas in the little wading pools and all, you know. I had a—well, we'll say I had a fertile imagination."
Frank Curre of Waco shares memories of Cameron Park from the 20s and 30s:
"Proctor Springs. Being able to go down there and get that cold water coming out of that hill and get in that little pool. And we could take watermelons down there in the summer and put them in that cold water and get them good and cool and break them open and eat. They had duck pens with exotic ducks in them for you to visit and a little pool for them to swim in. It was just great to be in the park."
Curre explains that some of his favorite activities involved the Brazos:
"Mama used to tell us, ‘You boys don't get into that water down—' talking about the river. And we'd spend hours in the water and come home in the afternoon, and our eyes are bloodshot. And she'd say, ‘Y'all been in that water?' ‘No, ma'am.' And your eyes are bloodshot. (laughter) But we had ropes tied off the trees hanging over the river, and we'd swing into the river. We'd swim from one side to the other. We just had a ball. We'd play piggy-wiggy or something: touch each other and try to swim away and all that stuff. But we had a great time. We loved fishing. We always kept throw lines in the river."
Today, Cameron Park remains mostly undeveloped and is one of the largest municipal parks in Texas. No matter what new technology and toys come along, nothing will replace exploring and playing in the great outdoors.

A vintage postcard of Cameron Park in Waco, Texas. It's easy to see how the park could transport Charlie Turner to other places and times. (Photo
courtesy of The Texas Collection)
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Among southern states, Texas was a leader in the desegregation of public education. In 1964, Texas accounted for approximately 60 percent of integrated school districts in the South.
Robert Lewis Gilbert was the first black teacher to be hired in a white school in Waco and describes taking on that position:
"Everybody was telling me before I went, Well, you know, white kids, you're going to really have to do something to teach them, you know. And—and there was a kind of a question in my mind as to whether or not I would be able to keep up with these kids if they were so smart. But after a few moments of observation during my student teaching, I detected that there were some—some geniuses, some average, and some mediocre whites just as there were blacks. And, boy, I said, ‘Well, you know, this is'—it dawned on me that, you know, people are people. And those kids, many of them, they'd looked for guidance toward knowledge, and they were looking for me to pour it out. And many people had me under the impression that I was to go there and these children were going to ask me certain questions and things that I wouldn't be able to answer them, and it would show me as inferior."
Maggie Washington pioneered teacher integration in the Midland Independent School District. She recalls the reactions from her new white co-workers:
"Even the custodian tried to give me a hard time. A lot of teachers were so disgruntled that they were working with a black teacher that they went to the principal. He was a Christian man. And he said, ‘Now, anybody who doesn't want to work with Maggie Washington, put your request for transfer on my desk.' So several of them put their request for transfer on his desk. And one man on my wing, he went to the principal and said, ‘I just want to know something. What criteria did you use to get Maggie Washington here?' And the principal told him; not only told him, he let him read it."
At a PTA meeting, that teacher made sure Washington spoke last:
"But, baby, I spoke. And I was talking about my favorite subject as related to everyday life. I brought it right on down front to them. When that meeting was over, the white parents just rushed up. Girl, you couldn't see me. And there was a—a teacher whose husband was there, and he was a doctor. He said, ‘Oh, put her on the air. She is good.' So the principal called me in the next morning and just fell out laughing. (laughter) He said, ‘You fixed them good.' I said, ‘I wasn't trying to. I just discussed social studies.'"
Washington also faced a challenge in winning over some of her students. She recalls an encounter with a girl in her fifth-grade class:
"I said, ‘Eldemina, what's wrong, honey?' ‘My mama doesn't like Negroes.' I said, ‘Oh, why?' She said, ‘She said they steal and fight.' I said, ‘Are those Negroes that live in Mexican town that—that's doing all that stealing and fighting?' ‘Oh, no ma'am.' (interviewee laughs) ‘Okay,' I said, ‘you tell your mother that.'"
The Supreme Court case Brown v. Board of Education is more than half a century behind us. But since then, de facto re-segregation has become a growing concern, especially in large cities in the Northeast and Midwest, where the most segregated schools today are located.

Teacher integration typically took place in areas where student integration was under way.
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