Sunday, March 15, 1998

Abilene's past sounds through the night like a train whistle

By Jay Moore

From my house, I can hear the whistle blow. Late at night, I can hear the whistle and low rumble of the passing trains. Our house is six blocks from the tracks, and in the night air I hear the trains announce their arrival.

Tucking my 3-year-old daughter into bed, I ask if she hears the train. She nods and says, "Why does the train go by?"

I tell her the very reason Abilene exists is because the train goes by. Listening in the dark, I think about Abilene and of the people who built it and the stories I will tell my daughter.

Some days we go to the park. As she grows, I want her to understand that before the names Scarborough, Kirby and Will Hair became parks, they were men who helped build this city, each serving as mayor.

I want her to know the generosity of a wealthy couple from Burkburnett and a preacher from New York -- strangers to one another -- are the reason the names Hardin and Simmons are now linked. I hope she will understand that McMurry and Abilene Christian universities are here due to the generosity of earlier Abilenians.

I want her to know the former president of HSU, the one-time president of Baylor University, the former state superintendent of schools and the namesake of a high school are all the same person -- Oscar Henry Cooper. I will tell her about Coach Chuck Moser and the mighty Abilene Eagles of the 1950s.

I will tell her the chocolate treats she likes to eat are the result of Greek immigrants named Vletas who came here at the turn of the century. And as we leave the candy store, I will point out the long wooden barrack in back, a reminder of Camp Barkeley and the legacy it brought.

I will tell how my grandparents and parents watched the soldiers in 1941 march in, only to trickle off to war. And how I stood decades later and watched as the first B-1 swooped low on its way to Dyess Air Force Base. I will explain who Lt. Col. Edwin Dyess was and what he did.

I will tell of the day Sen. Lyndon Johnson came to Abilene to announce an air base would be located here. I want her to realize its presence is due to the tenacity and foresight of men named Wright, McMahon, Meek, Campbell and others, who raised more than $800,000 to buy land for the base.

Perhaps such stories will instill in my daughter some measure of the same pride that today compels fellow Abilenians to cultivate Pentagon relationships, to revitalize downtown, to set aside tax funds for enticing industry and jobs, to look to the future.

While listening to the bells chime near our house, I will tell her the story of a woman in Brookline, Mass., willing to donate $1,500 to a local congregation in the early 1880s with the stipulation the church be named Episcopal Church of Heavenly Rest. I want my daughter to know the architect of Washington's National Cathedral, Phillip Froman, was also the architect of that beautiful Abilene church.

Driving down streets named Sayles and Leggett, I want her to know that first they were people. John Sayles was a Civil War general who helped start Baylor law school, who literally wrote the book on Texas law and who practiced law in Abilene. Later, his son Henry, a Presbyterian, joined with K.K. Legett, a Baptist, to donate land for a Methodist college. I will tell her Legett was one of the founders of Hardin-Simmons, served as chairman of the board for Texas A&M -- and that the street named in his honor is misspelled.

Gazing up at the stars in the ceiling of the Paramount Theater, I will tell her of the quiet philanthropy that helped keep them lit, the same that lined the railroad track with grass and trees.

To my daughter, T.G. Hendrick is the familiar hospital teddy bear mascot. But I want to tell her about the Odessa rancher who was nearly broke when oil was discovered beneath his land. Mr. and Mrs. Hendrick generously donated to a struggling Baptist hospital during the Depression, later renamed in their honor, and also established Hendrick Home for Children.

My daughter and I will listen to the fountain in Everman Park, and I will tell her about the land auction staged just across from it in 1881 by the Texas and Pacific Railroad Company. The first lots were sold to J.T. Berry, who paid $355 for the northwest corner of North 2nd and Pine.

As I tuck my daughter into bed tonight, I will ask if she hears the train go by. As the train's low rumble vanishes in the dark, I can hear the past go by. And I want my daughter to know -- from our house, we can hear the whistle blow.

Jay Moore teaches world geography at Abilene High School.