Forty Years at Aggieland
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About this ebook
Edwin H. Cooper
Edwin H. Cooper specializes in human interest short stories and articles. His writings have appeared in Heartland USA, Texas Parks and Wildlife, Texas Highways, Texas Co-op Power Magazine and as a columnist in selected local Texas newspapers. Forty Years at Aggieland is Cooper’s fourth book. Also, he has appeared as a speaker before civic organizations, school commencement ceremonies, 4-H and FFA clubs, alumni organizations, conservation and sportsmen clubs and chamber of commerce functions. He is a member of the Franklin United Methodist Church. Cooper draws upon a rich background of personal experiences which stimulate unique observations of the world around him which he fondly shares: • Growing up in San Marcos, Texas during the Great Depression and WWII • Pilot of glass bottom boats at Aquarena in San Marcos, Texas • Member of the Texas Aggie Band • Service as a tank platoon leader, 2nd Armored Division in Germany during the “Cold War” • Assistant to Texas A&M Presidents Earl Rudder and Jack K. Williams • Dean of Admissions and Records, Texas A&M University • Author of 4 books
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Forty Years at Aggieland - Edwin H. Cooper
© 2013 by Edwin H. Cooper. All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.
Published by AuthorHouse 04/18/2013
ISBN: 978-1-4817-4050-0 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-4817-4049-4 (hc)
ISBN: 978-1-4817-4051-7 (e)
Library of Congress Control Number: 2013906904
Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.
CONTENTS
Foreword
Early Days In San Marcos
Off To Aggieland
Mexico Field Trip
Army Days
Duty With Texas Agricultural Extension Service
Assistant To President James Earl Rudder
Director Civilian Student Activities
Director Of Admissions
Assistant To President Jack K. Williams
Dean Of Admissions & Records
Director Of School Relations
Staff Member-Educational Information Services
Retirement Reflections
Campus Muster April 21, 2003
FOREWORD
img01.pngBefore graduation from San Marcos High School in 1949, my friends and I would often debate the number of years each of us would live before departing this old world. A couple of my buddies predicated that I likely would fade away at about age 70. This they said was due to what they considered a raucous lifestyle on my part – which was far from the truth.
They missed the mark on that estimate because here I am at age 82 putting this book together based on experiences lasting over 40 years at Aggieland.
My wife Peggy has been exceedingly helpful in reminding me of experiences I have forgotten, along with a few minor corrections which I had recalled as absolute facts. She has proven time and again that her memory is better than mine. That is precisely why there are a number of memories I’ve chosen to omit.
Anyone regardless of their background will be pleasantly surprised to observe and feel the spirit of Aggieland as it exists on campus today. The 50,000 plus students now enrolled will do their very best to make you admire that special dedication.
And if this writing helps you feel the spirit which began in 1876 and is even stronger today, the book will have served its purpose.
Thank you for your interest!
Edwin H. Cooper
Author
EARLY DAYS IN SAN MARCOS
img01.pngGoing back a few years, I lollygagged in aimless activities in and around San Marcos, usually under the care of my mother during those early days. My two brothers were 10 and 15 years older than me and were not excited about baby-sitting.
Mother began taking me down to a safe spot on the San Marcos River where I was taught to swim at an early age. On the way to the river, we would stop at Mrs. Murray’s fruit stand and buy a small watermelon that sold for about 50 cents. I would play with that floating melon in the cold river water until it was time to go home. At that point I would lift the melon as high as possible and let it burst on the gravel bar. We would eat the heart out, wash off and head for home.
Mr. Vogelsang and his wife operated a small tourist court on the east bank of the river. He fished in a particular spot on the low water bridge near where Mom and I were swimming. Nearly always he would catch a nice bass with a minnow placed just under the bridge. As I grew older, I imitated Mr. Vogelsang’s fishing techniques near the bank on the west side of the bridge. Sure enough, one day a slashing monster bass took my bait and gave a ferocious fight until I pounced on him with all fours on the bridge sidewalk.
After stringing up the bass with trembling hands I headed for town to show him off. I found that old men in the drug stores and barber shops brought me the greatest praises accompanied by smiles galore. Not to mention my folks at our bakery.
I suggested to Mom that we should send an item to Ripley’s Believe It or Not but her response was not that encouraging.
I cleaned the bass for storage in the refrigerator. But I did not scale the fish for the benefit of the audience planned for the next day. Mom didn’t know the scales were still intact when she fried the bass, thus ruining my plans. Not only that, the fried scales protruded out from the bass after cooking – which reminded me of old wooden shingles on a barn roof on a hot summer day.
Photos%2040yr%200002.jpgJimmy Turner and Edwin Cooper with a good catch of sunfish – photo in San Marcos Record, our local paper
Well, I’ve caught a good many bass since that one – some quite large. But none gave me the thrill that big bass did, that time about 72 years ago. As yet, no historical markers have been placed on that bridge where my monster bass was caught.
463215.pngBesides fishing, my friends and I enjoyed a variety of activities back during our younger days. Though I’d be hard pressed to tell you what I had for lunch yesterday, those early memories still linger decades later. Below I’ll share a few activities which occurred before my interest in college developed.
My friend Jimmy Turner and I spent many happy hours making mud airplanes – about the size of your hand. Once the mud hardened on those planes we would construct small airports on the ground and place them there as if they were enemy aircraft. WWII was underway at the time and it was fun to participate. Then, entire flights would be destroyed by receiving fire from our BB guns. No telling how many U.S. troops were saved by our tactics.
The mud airplane construction and ensuing combat with BB guns brought to our minds the matter of bailing out of a crashing airplane should that hard luck come our way. We decided to practice that maneuver by jumping off the roof of the garage with mother’s beach umbrella. We figured that we could hold onto the wooden handle of the umbrella and waft to the ground with about the velocity of falling leaves.
I jumped first and plummeted to the gravel driveway at about the speed of a bowling ball. My body, upon impact, doubled at the knees. My chin collided with my left knee and unfortunately my tongue was between the upper and lower teeth when my mouth was slammed shut. The pain was beyond belief, offset somewhat by the wonders of yellow flashing balls of light that appeared around my head. As I finally arose from the driveway bleeding from the mouth and knuckles and staggering among flashing hallucinations, Jimmy announced from the roof that he had decided not to jump.
March or April each year would provide warmer weather after a cold winter to allow us to go barefooted, usually earlier then our mothers preferred. The supreme test of bare-footed toughness was to trudge completely across Mr. Gulledge’s Texaco filling station drive-ways, made of sharp edged discarded soda bottle caps. The caps were much cheaper than having to pour concrete for a driveway. In later years we bought gasoline from him to fill our motor bikes. At 17 cents per gallon we could fill up for about 34 cents. And Mr. Gulledge would repair flats on our bike tires with a product known as hot patches
which were ignited and melted into the tire inner tubes where they were punctured. Tire repair cost was about 50 cents per puncture, depending on its severity.
When Buster Williamson became manager of the boat and bait-house on Springlake, the world changed dramatically for those who loved to fish or go boating and mingle with others that did likewise. Buster’s personality and friendliness attracted an outdoors crowd to the boathouse young and old alike. It became the absolute headquarters for all who loved the San Marcos River, Springlake being the origin of the river resulting from the springs bursting from the rocky Balcones Escarpment.
In 1689 the Alonzo deLeon Expedition discovered the San Marcos Springs rising from the Edwards Aquifer. It had long been headquarters for a number of tribes of American Indians based on artifacts discovered through the years. One reference records their presence 11,500 years ago. It was discovered on St. Marks Day by early explorers and thus the river and the town attained the name San Marcos. General Edward Burleson of the U. S. Army, after many conflicts with the Indians, was finally successful in securing the area so it could include early settlers. Researchers later proclaimed from their findings of artifacts that the river headwaters may be the most continuously occupied area by humans in what became America.
Photos%2040yr%20003.jpgRogers Oliver on top of the statue of General Edward Burleson – who finally took the San Marcos River area from the American Indians living there.
Anyway, in the late 1940’s Buster Williamson’s four boys and I became fast friends and fishing buddies remaining so to this day with the exception of older brother George who passed away. Leroy, Johnny, Roger and I still meet on occasion and recall the good ol’ days on the San Marcos River when we were boys.
463215.pngThe irresistible urge to try smoking tobacco usually struck most of us boys at about age 13. Some of the trial efforts ended the habit at about the same age. Though there was a temporary halt with some, others continued those misguided efforts forever. It was tempting to stop if a cedar bark cigarette caused you to throw up your lemon popsicle in front of