I'm listening to a set of recordings that my sister-in-law made with my deceased father. He passed in 2001 and these seem to have been made in the mid- to late-1990s. My dad's father was a Texas Ranger but had moved west to Idaho in search of riches-- gold and silver in particular. My dad was born in 1915 in Soda Springs, ID but the family moved to Houston in 1929. They rented a house on West 22nd in the Heights for $32.50/month. Sixteen people lived in that house- aunts, uncles and cousins. When the landlord wanted to up the rent to $35/month the next year, the family bought the 3BR bungalow across the street for $2500. Any of you have some rich, Houston, family lore?
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Very well, where do I begin? My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My mother was a fifteen year old French prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet. My father would womanize...he would drink, he would make outrageous claims like he invented the question mark. Some times he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy, the sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament. My childhood was typical, summers in Rangoon, luge lessons. In the spring we'd make meat helmets. When I was insolent I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds, pretty standard really. At the age of 12 I received my first scribe. At the age of fourteen, a Zoroastrian named Vilma ritualistically shaved my testicles. There really is nothing like a shorn scrotum, it's breathtaking, I suggest you try it.
I'm a 4th generation Houstonian through my Dad's family....my kids are 5th generation. I can trace it very well through both sides of my family, both of whom have roots that I can't trace back further than about 1750 in Ireland. My mother's father's family is the one I know the most about. They came to the US having lived in or near Dublin. They landed in NY...a baby was born to one of the women on board the boat. The boat register shows them leaving as a family of 6 and arriving as a family of 7. Two of the younger men were immediately drafted into the Union Army to fight in a war that they had no stake. At some point one of them finds himself in Texas and he writes to his family telling them that the land looks good there, and that they should settle there. After the war, they settled near Tyler..and ultimately my grandfather came to Houston. He opened a Sinclair station near Shepherd and what is now the Southwest Freeway that he operated in the 50's and 60's. He was a huge Astros fan, seeing the MLB's expansion here as proof his city had finally made it.
My parents moved to Houston from Oklahoma right after they were married in the early/mid-60's. They lived in an apartment on I-45 North which is now a no-tell motel. They used to go down to the pool and see a guy sitting with his guitar every day. My dad would make fun of him and say he'd never make it in Houston. That man's name was Mickey Gilley..... My dad saw Jimi Hendrix in Jones Hall. No one knew who he was. My childhood friend's dad has reel-to-reel tape of him playing drums with Billy Gibbons and Dusty Hill (ZZ Top) in high school. My dad used to take me to Rocket games in the Astrohall and Hofheinz Pavilion. He was one of the first to buy season tickets a few years later when the Summit was built.
most accomplished musicians play several instruments...that and its was probably a bit of a bother to take a piano out to the pool and back everyday.
My dad played on his junior high basketball team. Against their bitter rivals, he was the high scorer in a game his team lost 17-1. Yeah, one. I believe it was an underhanded free-throw....
I'm aware of that.... I'm guessing he plays more than one instrument? Or maybe dabbled with the guitar 40 years ago?
My grandfather has an elementary school named after him. My great-grandfather has a state building named after him. There is a small mural of my great-grandmother on a building in 2nd ward. My uncle owned a club off the gulf freeway when I was younger and I would work clean up during the concerts. One time, during a concert, he asked me to take bottled water to the people on the stage and I gave one to Selena (Quintanilla). Boring, but to me it was like a dream.
One of the neatest things I've seen recently as a Houstonian was the walk down the Memorial trail that ends at sesquicentennial park. We started around Studemont and walked in. Even with the occasional homeless folk, it was amazing. You not only get to see the old docking sites from back when the Bayou was our main commerce, but you also see how and why all of the bridges down there are so ornate. They renovated the docks at the park, but I found the ones in disrepair even more fascinating. I highly recommend it to anyone when the weather gets better. http://www.houstontx.gov/sqpark/gallery.htm
