I wrote this over a year ago. (June 2013) I think it may be of interest to some : Growing Up in Lawton, Part One of Three Parts My earliest memories of Lawton are of 1926 when we lived in the 300 block of I Avenue, a short distance from my father’s work at the Cotton Seed Oil Mill. The street was graveled and divided down the middle by a canal that was to play an important part in our lives. An odd looking building at one end of the block was a combination residence and little grocery store. Nice folks on the east corner had a very interesting back yard with fruit trees, garden, and raised pigeons, rabbits, and chickens for food and of course eggs from the chickens. Next door was a sweet little girl; we played together most every day. Our block was very interesting but down the street was a much more interesting place with huge trees and no houses where people could go and have what was called a picnic and you could run and play. It was called Union Park. I didn’t know it then, but that park was to grow, both in importance and accommodations, as I was to grow to manhood. It covered several blocks but the area between 5th and 6th Streets was of the greatest import to me. You could still tell where the creek had meandered through the area before the canal contained its course. My two brothers were infatuated by the canal and got in trouble for walking the pipe bars that lined the channel and even dropping down into it to explore. My main interest at the age of three was my stray cat pet and playing with the girl next door. Our interest in the canal changed drastically in the spring of 1927 when heavy rains fell and the water crept up the walls of the canal, spilt over the street and our yard, drowned my cat beneath our front porch, then invaded our home. My Father was at work but, learning of the flooding, he came through the waist deep water and carried my mother and me, then my sister to some kind people who took us in up on H Avenue. My two brothers waded the water without aid. When the water receded, a search for new residence found a house on high ground in the 800 block of H Avenue. A life lesson had been learned for neither my parents, nor I, ever again lived in a potential flood area. We were still very close to Union Park. Part Two, Growing Up in Lawton My maternal grandfather’s estate was settled while we lived on H Avenue and my parents used some of that money to buy a block of land from Mrs. Waldman just outside the city on I Avenue. It had a German style barn and a small one room school house on it. As a family, we tore the barn down and reclaimed lumber to build our first two room house. It was more of a homesteader type cabin with 12 inch vertical siding and 1 inch by 4 inch strips nailed over the gaps. To make it slightly more weather proof, my father nailed some cardboard boxes on the inside. Two of the first words I learned to read were on those boxes; Armstrong Corkboard. Those two rooms are inside the house, still standing, where I grew into manhood. Although a little further, Union Park was just a short distance down the street. The Works Progress Administration (WPA) built some additions to the park including bath houses by the swimming pool, a band stand, and a fountain with brightly colored fish. Playground equipment was also added. My main memory of the swimming pool was when it was closed and drained because I and many other children were infected with Impetigo, an infectious disease that causes sores and blisters. Union Park Fountain and Band Stand; playground in the distance. As we grew to teenage, the coolness of the park continued to attract us and we made acquaintances. Some developed into close friendships with a commonality of interests. Two boys became my buddies; Lavern Mosely and Albert Kelly. Similar in many ways but especially our love of music. Lavern played the fiddle and guitar, Albert played harmonica, and I played the guitar and mandolin. Albert had a good bass voice and I sang tenor. We often played and sang in the evenings from up on the band stand; sometimes drawing a small audience. After work or school, it became habit to gather at Union Park. Boxing gloves and some other sport equipment was kept under the band stand along with park maintenance equipment. With no coaching or supervision we just went at it with wrestling or boxing. Of course the park was coed; there were some girls. We would play on the teeters, swing together, or perhaps leave and go skating or a show if we happened to have a dollar. This same group was in attendance at Calvary Baptist Church on Sunday. Our mode of transportation was by foot or bicycle. Some of the more daring, boys and girls, might attempt to ride their bike over the teeters. One couple attempted to kiss while riding separate bicycles down the street. Most of what occurred was innocent fun. Occasionally some would invade our paradise with other intentions and cause trouble. I had two fist fights with one such boy. Slowly, some members of our group changed and started getting in trouble. It took a war to separate Lavern, Albert, and me. I attended Lavern’s funeral in the 1950s without having seen him alive since 1941. Albert looked me up in 1978. It was like we had parted the day before. I last saw him in California in 1983 but had to miss his funeral in 1984. Part Three: Union Park, Remembering I wonder what happened to the first girl I sat here with. I can’t even remember her name; wonder if we just sat and talked or perhaps I put my arm around her shoulder. Was she brunette, redhead, or blonde? The street looks strange without the open canal running down the middle - - and it’s paved, too. Clarence Johnson lived on that corner that you can see behind my head. Where did all of the kids go? What could have happened to them? Oh Lord, can it really be seventy years since we were all here. Albert couldn’t serve in the Army; failed the physical and went to California. I just lost track of Lavern until I learned of his death. Two boys went to the South Pacific on the same ship with me and we came back on the same ship but there was no home for them. They went on a robbery spree and then to prison. I saw some of the girls from time to time; some with home and family and a few not so lucky. And then there is me. I’ve had a good life but lost my children’s mother to cancer after thirty four years. I then remarried and lost her to a bad heart after twenty four years. Someday, I will go back to Lawton, back to Union Park; there to sit alone on the old decrepid band stand and recall the friends, happy times, a few fights, many sad partings. The tree where I carved my initials fell long ago. The old swing set rusted away long ago. That’s where I kissed a girl for the first time. I don’t know what month it was but her name was June. The Merry-go-round is gone. The swimming pool is filled in. The bath houses are gone. I would like to see if young people still gather here, especially in the evening, and make friends as we did. If they do, and I hope they do, I wonder what life events will send them on separate ways. Will they ever return. I wonder which one may one day sit in my place when he is very old and recall the chapters of his life. Maybe he will be thankful, as I am, for this historic and wonderful place called Union Park. I have seen some painting and maintenance done to the band stand and the playground equipment is in pretty good shape. I appreciate what has been done and I hope it will continue to be kept up so this precious jewel can continue to bring joy and comfort in the cool shade and in the evening times.
Posted on: Sun, 04 Jan 2015 13:31:17 +0000
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