A Small Sample of Aggieland

Posted on May 13, 2014 by admin

Texas A&M University is a big place. I looked it up: the main campus currently occupies 5,500 or so acres, and accommodates 56,000+ students. Systemwide – because there are other campuses – the school boasts an endowment of $7.6 billion. It also seems like a lot of construction is going on, so those figures will probably be outdated in a few years. A&M’s pretty much the main industry in the twin towns of Byran and College Station, Texas, which also have the distinction of not being on an Interstate, though I-45 runs fairly close.

Jay and I took a stroll around campus for an hour or so, which is time enough to see a small fraction of the buildings, as well as a lot of Aggies. They look pretty much like college students anywhere in North America, except for Corps of Cadets members mixed in, who are easily distinguished by their uniforms, which have a remarkable resemblance to WWII vintage U.S. uniforms, in as much as I’m familiar with them. Membership hasn’t been mandatory in 50 years, but the Corps is still a defining tradition at the school. But of course there are many Aggie traditions, some of which are common knowledge among Texans.

If we’d done much planning, we might have been able to see a building or two dating from the time our grandfather attended A&M (again, he was Class of 1916). Mostly, though, we came across buildings dating from the 1920s and ’30s – there seems to have been a large building boom then – as well as some remarkably brutalist structures from more recent decades. Of the structures we saw, I most liked the Civil Engineering Building, built in 1932.

The plaque on the building describes it this way: “A classical revival two-storied stone structure is faced in brick, with cast stone and ceramic tile ornamentation.”

Note the ornamentation here: two Hermes figures, a cow, a couple of horses, and a couple of dogs. Elsewhere, pigs.

The reason for all of those animals on the Civil Engineering building? The plaque again: “Originally used as a veterinary hospital with two additional buildings in the rear, used as [a] stable and anatomy laboratory.”

Not far away we happened on the Cushing Memorial Library, where there’s an exhibit for the centennial of the opening of WWI: “The Great War: Memories of Service and Sacrifice, A World War I Exhibit Featuring the Aggie Experience.” Just the thing to see – free, not too large, and connected to our family’s experience. Class of 1916 meant that it wasn’t long before Grandpa was in the Great War. We told a woman behind the desk at the entrance about him, and she seemed pleased to hear it.

The displays featured some material from Aggies who’d been in the war, but the exhibit had more than that, including wartime posters, photos, letters, everyday items, and more, and not just from American soldiers, but also British, French, German and Italian. (What, nothing from little Montenegro?). The material is from the Ragan Military History Collection at the library.

“A enlarged image of the tattered Gold Star service flag that most prominently captures the World War I Aggie experience will also be exhibited,” notes the A&M release about the exhibit. “Part of a national tradition that began with World War I, the service flag contains approximately 2,000 maroon stars honoring those Aggies who served, and 50 gold stars memorializing those Aggies who gave their lives in the war.”

Fortunately for him and his 13 descendants (so far), Grandpa came back from France, though as an engineer, unexploded ordnance — and the Spanish Flu — were likely the main dangers he faced.

Corsicana

Posted on May 12, 2014 by admin

Everything about this picture says Texas: the Collin Street Bakery sign, marking a famed Texas bakery; the Texas flags; the HEB grocery store; the pickup truck driving by; the onion domes off in the distance. Onion domes?

First a little background. On April 24, 2014, Jay and I drove south on I-45, the main road from Dallas to Houston. About 50 miles south of Dallas is Corsicana, seat of Navarro County, and home of the Collin Street Bakery. I’ve been eating its fruitcakes on and off for years, mostly by mail order, but in 1996 (I think) I passed through town and visited the bakery store.

As the web site notes: “The DeLuxe Texas Fruitcake or Pecan Cake you order today is still baked true to the old-world recipe brought to Corsicana, Texas from Wiesbaden, Germany in 1896 by master baker Gus Weidmann. He and his partner, Tom McElwee, built a lively business in turn-of-the-century Corsicana which included an elegant hotel on the top floor of the bakery.”

The hotel is gone, but you can still buy baked goods at the bakery store, including the signature fruitcake. We bought one to take to our mother, plus some smaller items for more immediate snacking. From the parking lot, we noticed those nearby onion domes, and being curious about onion domes in small-town Texas, we went over for a look. After all, how often do you see Moorish Revival buildings in small-town Texas? Probably more often than I’d think, but anywhere there one was.

It’s the Temple Beth-El, a former synagogue on 15th St. in Corsicana. A shot from across the street is here; it’s a handsome building.

Like the Collin Street Bakery, Temple Beth-El too dates from the late 19th century. The Jewish community of Corsicana isn’t what it used to be – they probably went to Dallas, like everyone else – so in more recent years, the building’s been a community center overseen by the Navarro County Historical Society.

Now fully in a look-see mood, Jay and I went over to the Navarro County Courthouse grounds. Navarro himself was there. A statue of Jose Antonio Navarro, that is.

The Smithsonian tells us that “the sculpture was commissioned by the Texas Centennial Commission to honor Jose Antonio Navarro (1795-1871), a native Texan lawyer, merchant, and rancher who founded Navarro County and co-created the Republic of Texas. Navarro named the County seat Corsicana after his father’s birthplace, Corsica. While on an expedition to Sante Fe, Navarro was captured by Mexican soldiers and given a life sentence for treason. He escaped in 1845 and upon his return to Texas was elected as a delegate to the Convention which approved the annexation of Texas and drafted the Constitution.”

Nearby Navarro stands “The Call to Arms,” a Confederate memorial. It’s a little unusual, not being a soldier standing at attention or the like.

The statue’s plaque says that it was erected in 1907 by the Navarro Chapter of the United Daughters of the Confederacy “to commemorate the valor and heroism of our Confederate soldiers. It is not in the power of mortals to command success. The Confederate soldier did more – he deserved it.”

History’s written by the victors, indeed.

Central Texas ’14

Posted on May 11, 2014 by admin

Not long after Easter, I flew to Texas to visit members of my family. First to Dallas, then a drive to San Antonio, then back to Dallas. I also wanted to squeeze in a couple of days in Central Texas, visiting a few places I’d never been. My brother Jay came with me on the excursion, focusing on College Station, Texas, home of the enormous Texas A&M University, which also happens to be my maternal grandfather’s alma mater: Class of 1916.

In all the time I’ve spent in Texas, I’d never made it there. That’s probably because College Station isn’t on the way anywhere, especially if you spend most of your time on the San Antonio-Austin-Dallas axis. But A&M looms large in Texas lore, so I’d have been interested in visiting even if my grandfather hadn’t started his career as a civil engineer there.

We drove on large roads and small. We made a point of driving on a highway called Texas OSR between I-45 and Texas 6. It was a short stretch of road through springtime green, and green is no sure thing even this time of the year; it means there’s been rain recently.

What’s so special about Texas OSR, besides the fact that it’s the only state highway in the enormous highway system of an enormous state to not include any numbers in its name? It’s a stretch of the Old San Antonio Road, also known as the Camino Real, the King’s Highway. The modern OSR is a fragment of the bygone route from Louisiana to Coahuila, by way of San Antonio. Still trod, maybe, by the shades of Spaniards and their horses.

A number of weather-worn markers on the side of the road explain the road’s historic significance. Though hard to read – even if this image were full size, it would be next to impossible to make out — the markers themselves are historic, put there by the Daughters of the American Revolution and the state of Texas in 1918.

Central Texas in the spring also luxuriates in wildflowers, along the side of the roads, stretching off into vast fields, in random colorful spots. You can see the famed bluebonnets and other blue blossoms…

… but also a sea of others: red, white, orange, yellow, pink. Add a windmill to this scene and you have something landscape painters have been focusing on for more than a century.

For true wildflower enthusiasts, there’s this index. It’s an astonishing variety.

Indiana’s Central Canal (A Fragment)

Posted on May 8, 2014 by admin

Canals were all the rage in North America the 1830s, inspired by phenomenal success of the Erie Canal. Something like dotcoms were the rage in the 1990s, I believe, and that didn’t turn out so well either. Yet fragments of both investment-speculation manias survived the inevitable collapse, such as Peapod in the case of dotcoms, and a stretch of Indiana’s Central Canal from the earlier mania.

We spent some time on Easter Saturday afternoon walking next to Indiana’s Central Canal, which had been planned to connect the Wabash River in the northern part of the state with the White River in the southern part and then on to the Ohio River. Work began in 1836.

Then came the Panic of 1837. Only a few miles of the canal were ever built, running through Indianapolis. It’s had various uses over the years, but ultimately the canal-builders of the 19th century bequeathed recreational infrastructure to us in the early 21st century. It’s a pleasant place to stroll, or paddleboat or kayak, on a warm spring day.

The last time I visited the canal was on a cold day in early 2005. It wasn’t quite so pleasant then, but I did notice the memorial to the ill-fated USS Indianapolis near the canal. This time we saw a memorial that wasn’t there in 2005, Project 9/11 Indianapolis, on a rise just above the waterway.

The memorial was dedicated on the 10th anniversary of the attacks, and includes two 11,000-pound beams from the Twin Towers, standing upright. One of them has a bronze American eagle perched on top. It made me wonder: how many fragments of those buildings have made their way around the country?

Maxine’s Chicken & Waffles

Posted on May 7, 2014 by admin

Until recently, I was only dimly aware of chicken & waffles. As a combined meal, that is, apparently known to the Pennsylvania Dutch and as a soul-food specialty in the 20th century. (More about it here.) Not long ago, Lilly started mentioning the combo. Not sure why. Maybe she picked it up from a let’s-go-there-and-eat-something show (e.g., Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives.)

Anyway, the notion had lodged in my mind just in time for me to see a listing for Maxine’s Chicken & Waffles, which is at 132 N. East St., right at the eastern edge of downtown Indy. The area’s still mostly small commercial uses and parking lots, though I spotted a couple of apartment complexes being developed nearby.

Once I saw the listing in one of those publications left in hotel rooms, and did a little reading about the place – this is the age of Yelp, after all – I suggested it for Saturday lunch, after we’d finished with the Eiteljorg Museum. I didn’t want to end up at some restaurant that could be anywhere, just because we couldn’t think of anywhere else to go, and everyone wanted to eat right now.

Maxine’s is about a 20-minute walk eastward from the museum, across the heart of downtown Indianapolis. Along the way we spotted the statue of Vice President Hendricks, but also another memorial that goes to show the veneration we still have for President Lincoln.

It marks the spot where Lincoln stopped to speak, on February 11, 1861, on his way to Washington City to become president. (We should still call it Washington City. Maybe that usage will return if DC wins statehood.)

We arrived at Maxine’s for a late lunch. Good thing, too, because I’ll bet the place gets really crowded on Saturday morning and into the early afternoon. As it was, it was mostly full. According to a sign on the wall, and its web site as well, the place only dates from 2007, founded by the children and grandchildren of Ollie and Maxine Bunnell, whose large family had a knack for cooking (Maxine’s regular job was cooking at St. Francis Hospital).

I’m glad that the restaurant survived the recession. Not every venture started in 2007 would be so lucky. But I don’t think luck was the main factor. We all had a variation of chicken & waffles – plain, blueberry and strawberry waffles – and they were terrific. So seemingly simple, so artfully made.

As you can see, it’s your basic waffle, adorned by three fried chicken wings, with a bit of honey-butter on the side, along with syrup. The combo works. They complement each other. After you’ve eaten some of the sweet waffles, you switch to the mildly spicy chicken, and then back. From beginning to end, not a bad bite in sight. Not even a mediocre one. Whatever soul-food recipes the heirs of Ollie and Maxine have come up with, they’re winners.

The Eiteljorg Museum

Posted on May 6, 2014 by admin

The Eiteljorg Museum of American Indians and Western Art is one of a number of attractions at downtown Indianapolis’ White River State Park, just west of the capitol and the CBD. We parked in an underground facility and entered the Eiteljorg through its back entrance, which faces Indy’s canal. The museum’s small sculpture garden is outside that entrance.

When the museum specifies “American Indians and Western Art,” it means Indian art and artifacts of historic interest, but also artwork by contemporary American Indians, as well as art by non-Indians with a theme of the American West. Its collection along these three lines is substantial, housed in a large building adjacent to the Indiana State Museum, and well worth a look.

Ann’s in front of an example of contemporary Indian art in the sculpture garden: “Water Whispers” (2005), a steel-and-glass creation of Truman Lowe, a Ho-Chunk born in 1944 and professor emeritus at the University of Wisconsin-Madison Art Department.

We entered the back entrance and immediately were face-to-face with a totem pole. Nothing like a totem pole right next to you to get your attention.

It’s a replica of a 19th-century Haida totem pole, carved by one Lee Wallace in 1996, great-grandson of the carver of the original pole, Dwight Wallace. Apparently the original pole had made its way from British Columbia to Alaska to the 1904 St. Louis World’s Fair to Indianapolis industrialist David M. Parry, who kept it on his land (as the Golden Hill totem pole) until it deteriorated and fell in 1939. The new pole, “The Legend of Wasgo,” is made of red cedar with acrylic paint.

The Eiteljorg’s Native American collection, according to the museum, “began with the personal holdings of founder Harrison Eiteljorg and the Museum of Indian Heritage formerly located in Eagle Creek Park. Ranging from traditional objects of material culture such as weaponry, clothing, and basketry, to contemporary Hopi Katsina carvings, jewelry, and Inuit sculpture, the collection includes works of historical and aesthetic significance as well as articles produced for everyday use.”

As for the contemporary Indian art, “the collection consists of copious materials from photographs, beadwork, works on paper and canvas, to beaver fur and hides, traditional paintings and large installation pieces incorporating several mediums. While there is recognizable imagery in a lot of the work, it also represents works that are non-representational such as the work of Harry Fonseca (Maidu/Niseman, Portuguese, Hawaiian) who’s painting is inspired by Navajo blankets or James Lavadour’s (Walla Walla) multifaceted landscapes influenced by hiking through the mountains.”

Two large galleries are devoted to Western-themed art. I’d only vaguely been aware of the Taos School, but I got a lesson about it at Eiteljorg. “The collection is especially strong in art by members of the Taos Society of Artists from the late 1890s to the late 1920s,” the museum notes. “The museum collection also includes an expressive collection of works by early modernist artists who found the West to be inspiring. Among highlights in this broad area are works by Georgia O’Keeffe, Robert Henri, Marsden Hartley, Randall Davey, and many more.”

On exhibit at the Eiteljorg until early August is a fine exhibit of 75 Ansel Adams prints, all apparently selected by the photographer himself at some point as his greatest hits (it could have been as recently as 30-odd years ago; I hadn’t realized, or forgotten, that Adams lived until 1984). A good many images were familiar — great hits, all right — but not all of them, including a handful of portraits of people. Not something he’s known for, but he did them sometimes. One of the portraits was of an elderly woman on a screened-in porch somewhere out West, and she reminded me of my grandmother.

As we were headed for the exit – and the gift shop before that – we chanced across an Art*o*Mat, a repurposed cigarette machine that now sells small pieces of art. I’d seen one of those before, at the Chicago Cultural Center, but that was some years ago. For $5 we got some handmade earrings.

I also got a picture of my family reflected in the Art*o*Mat mirror.

Return to Lilly Lake

Posted on May 5, 2014 by admin

Besides being Good Friday, April 18 this year had a good Friday afternoon, as warm as a spring day sometimes is. It was a good day to visit Eagle Creek Park, in northwest Marion County, Indiana, which counts as an Indianapolis city park, though it’s much more like a forest preserve. It’s slightly hilly, forested, and features a number of small lakes.

The smallest of these, I think, is Lilly Lake. We have to like a name like that, though in fact it must be named after one or another of the Lilly pharmaceutical family, whose land this used to be. We parked nearby and took a stroll around Lilly Lake. It was the picture of an early spring day: puffy clouds, green grass, the smallest of buds on the trees.

Besides being a pleasant setting on a warm day, I wanted to come because we’d been there before. Back in early 1999, we did a similar short trip to Indianapolis, and just before we left town, we stopped at Eagle Creek Park, and took a stroll around Lilly Lake. It had been a wet spring, or at least wet recently, and near the edge of the lake was a muddy patch of ground.

Lilly, who was two years old then, stepped into the mud without warning and immediately found her feet stuck. She pulled and pulled and, getting nowhere, burst out crying. Time for Dad to step in – figuratively, since I didn’t need to physically step in the mud. I reached over and picked her up. Her little boots stayed in the mud, to be retrieved separately. The whole incident lasted maybe 30 seconds, but somehow I haven’t forgotten. One of those things.

This time around, with two somewhat older daughters, we had no mud incidents.

A goose did hiss at Lilly, however.

Indianapolis ’14

Posted on May 4, 2014 by admin

On Good Friday, we loaded ourselves into my car and drove to Indianapolis by way of Lafayette, Indiana, and spent the night and much of the next day in Indy. We walked, we ate, we saw things. (There’s got to be a concise Latin translation for that: vidi would be last instead of first, though it won’t be as snappy.)

Years earlier I’d heard about the Eiteljorg Museum, which is downtown Indianapolis, and since then it had been filed in my large, rambling mental file called New Places to Go. That’s actually a large set of files, but the Eiteljorg had the advantage of being nearby. But far enough for an overnight trip.

Naturally, we hit the road later than planned, and so stopped to eat a late lunch in Lafayette, where we spent time wandering around the main street in town, which is helpfully named Main St. Later, just off I-65 in northwest Indianapolis, we rambled around Eagle Creek Park, which is one of the larger municipal parks in the nation – 3,900 acres of forest, plus some lakes.

Considering our arrival in Indy late in the afternoon, Eiteljorg had to wait until the next morning. After a few hours in the museum on Easter Saturday, we set out on foot in downtown Indianapolis, first along ordinary sidewalks, later along the canal. It was a bright spring day, a pleasantly warm, and so a lot of people were out, probably more than many Midwestern downtowns see on Saturdays. Looks like the redevelopment of the canal has been a success. After a late lunch, we headed back to metro Chicago, arriving back before dark.

A simple but interesting trip. And I got to see a statue of a vice president.

Vice President Thomas Hendricks, that is, who was also a governor of Indiana. He was 21st Vice President of the United States from early 1885 to late 1885, during Cleveland’s first term. The 19th century, of course, was hard on U.S. vice presidents. Hendricks went to bed one night in November 1885 and never woke up.

His statue is on the grounds of the Indiana State Capitol. Oddly, while I was taking these pictures, a Japanese tourist asked me to take his picture with Hendricks in the background, using his camera, so I did. Maybe he’s a U.S. vice presidential enthusiast.

Been There, Seen That

By Dees Stribling

Monthly Archives: May 2014