Forward thinking as much a part of Midland as character and important early buildings Vision.
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Midland has long history of patriotism through kindness, service to others ![]() Since even before the June 1941 day when Sloan Field was leased to the U.S. government for the establishment of the Midland Army Air Field, Midland has always taken care of its veterans. From 1942-1945, the life of “Bombardier College,” and the telling time that followed when scores, perhaps hundreds, of veterans who returned to Midland stayed here and called West Texas home, it is one of the most unmistakable distinctions about Midland: men and women in uniform have always been held in the highest esteem. Just a few years ago, it seemed improbable to be able to visit the Midland International Airport without having the opportunity to join with the Patriot Guard in giving a hero’s welcome to a service man or woman in uniform returning from a tour in the Middle East or other international location. Almost three years ago, after Midland High School graduate and U.S. Marine 2nd Lt. Patrick Wayland died suddenly in a training accident in Florida, on Aug. 5, 2011, an estimated 75 Marines descended on Midland in support of their fallen brother. In return, and probably quite unexpectedly to those visitors, the same 75 Marines witnessed firsthand how much Midland loves the military. Col. Joseph P. Richards, Wayland’s commanding officer, who attended Wayland’s funeral, said, “It was something you just don’t have words for, to feel the honor and patriotism of Midland. Your tremendous respect for Patrick and the Wayland family was a beautiful sight to see.” Then, three years ago this November, the community came together as it often does, in support of veterans felled by a horrific train collision just as those soldiers and their families were being honored. Terry Johnson, organizer of Show of Support’s Hunt for Heroes, pours his life into the annual event. A year after the tragedy, he still clearly remembered the instantaneous response of Midlanders. “The businesses across the street from where this had all happened began taking people in instantly,” Johnson said. “When we found out everyone had been accounted for, we headed to the Hilton. Buses were sent to take us all to the hotel. Over the next four days the folks at the Hilton let us move into the ballroom. They brought water, blankets, they just let us get our heads together for four days. We had people manning phone banks, calling moms and dads, sisters, brothers. We had offers to send private jets all over the country to bring family in.” One of the most remarkable aspects of the generosity that poured forth for the veterans and the families involved in the accident came with the news that in the span of a few days, donations totaling $500,000 poured in to Hunt for Heroes. Of that total, Johnson estimated 80 percent — $400,000 — was raised just by the people of Midland. What is even more remarkable, are the words the veterans and their families leave with Johnson and others at the conclusion of a Hunt for Heroes event. “People always ask me if the veterans are from Midland,” Johnson said. “But we pick them from all over the United States on purpose. We want the guy from Ohio to go back and say, ‘You’re not going to believe what they’re doing in Midland.’ They come to Midland and tell us, ‘Man, I want to move here. Y’all are the best people, the friendliest people I’ve ever met. Where I’m from, when I came home from the war, it’s like I never left. But I come here and y’all don’t know me, and yet you love me.” An excerpt from “A History of Character: The Story of Midland, Texas” In his 2001 book “The Stars Were Big and Bright: The United States Armed Forces and Texas During World War II (Vol. 2),” author George E. Alexander quoted Thomas Bellingham, a cadet at the Midland Army Airfield: “There was just absolutely nothing to look at out there. One old timer I knew called that whole Midland-Odessa part of Texas the ‘Flat Brown,’ and I think he was being overly generous.” First impressions can be important and long lasting. Yet for the thousands of men who came to train at the bombardier school at the Midland Army Airfield in 1942 and throughout a good portion of World War II, first impressions were often followed by impressions that ran much deeper and longer. When those displaced cadets met the people of West Texas, many, perhaps hundreds, made the decision to stay here after they returned from the war. In a Reporter-Telegram article headlined “Science of War taught,” written for the publication’s centennial edition, the bombardier school was called “Uncle Sam’s most potent weapon. Not only was the school one of just 14 across the country that taught bombardiering, it was also the largest. The government believed that at the type of bombardier schools found in Midland and elsewhere, the men learning and working with bombsights would actually shorten the length of the war.” “The value their training had in the overall war effort defies calculation,” Judge Hyde told the Reporter-Telegram in 2011. “Within a few months of the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor and America’s entry into the war, the old Midland Sloan Field became Midland Army Airfield. In a span of just three years, the school graduated more bombardiers than any other training base in the United States, and in the first 17 months of its operation, more than 800,000 practice bombs were dropped.” “A History of Character: The Story of Midland, Texas” will be published in September by The Abell-Hanger Foundation and the Permian Basin Petroleum Museum. For information about a presentation on the book for your civic organization or church group, email historyofcharacter@gmail.com. Courage: Overcoming discrimination, racist attitudes required extra character for many![]() The telling of a town’s history is not comprised simply of its progress, successes and optimism. It does not consist solely of talking points from its visitor’s center brochure. Authentically recalling any place’s past must include those moments — or even eras — when a citizenry was, by and large, far from proud of the treatment of all of its people. As ugly as memories can sometimes be, episodes of struggle and strife provided many the opportunity to grow and change because of what society put in our path, or what individuals often put in their own paths. On any comprehensive town history list must be the experiences of those who suffered or were held back in any number of ways simply because of their skin color or race. Midland was never immune to discrimination. African Americans and Mexican Americans were often forced to hear words of hate common during the time, or they were hidden away in theater balconies unable to sit in floor seats with whites. Even flaming red crosses burned on lawns during MISD’s desegregation years. Those kinds of instances — and likely more — occurred in Midland. Failing to acknowledge that part of our past is to pretend wrongly that it never happened. Longtime Midlander Sid Trevino, the first Hispanic detective on the Midland police force, investigated a burglary at the Yucca Theatre in the 1950s. Two weeks later, Trevino’s sisters, who lived in South Texas, visited Midland and decided to see a movie at the same theater. The manager insisted the women sit upstairs where the other non-whites were sitting. When they refused, the women asked for their money back. They were denied. Trevino arrived at the Yucca a few minutes later after receiving a call from one of his sisters. The manager remembered the detective’s assistance in investigating the burglary, but did not yet know who the women were. “He asked me if the three women were related to me, and I said, ‘Yes, they’re my sisters.’ And he said, ‘Well, it’s okay, they can sit downstairs.’ I told him, ‘They don’t want to sit downstairs. They want their money back.’ He said, ‘No problem, we’ll get your money back. No problem.’” Many blacks in Midland were sequestered in their own neighborhoods south of the railroad tracks near a place that, through the years, has come to be known as “The Flats.” Not many realize the name is considered derogatory and refers not to the entire southeast side of Midland, but to a small patch of cement upon which African Americans often gathered on Lee Street. African Americans in Midland experienced the same kinds of discrimination and treatment found elsewhere in America — including two crosses that burned on lawns during the years Midland was desegregating its school system. Incredulously, Midland law enforcement passed the incident off as the work of “pranksters,” according to a Reporter-Telegram article at the time. The desegregating of Midland’s schools itself was long a sore point and took 12 years to fully implement, an unnecessarily lengthy transition, many felt. Today, although we remain far from perfect, many African Americans will talk openly of Midland being a place of opportunity for people of all colors. Pastor George Bell of Greater Ideal Baptist Church, who grew up and spent most of his life here, calls Midland “one of the most God blessed cities I have ever seen.” Director of the Texas Education Agency Michael Williams refers to his hometown in much the same way as Bell. “I cannot imagine another city in this country that would have taken a kid who was black, who is out of law school by the age of 25, and by the time he is 27 would have served on the boards of directors for the United Way of Midland, the Midland Chamber (of Commerce), and the Midland County Housing Board. Where else could that happen?” he said. And then there’s Austin attorney Novert Morales, a Midland native and brother of Mayor Jerry Morales. Several years ago, Novert purchased the Ritz Theater on Main Street — 40 years after his parents, Felipe and Celia Morales, were confined to the balcony because of their race. “When Celia and I were dating a long while ago, I took her to the Ritz Theatre downtown,” said Felipe, who has always spoken highly of his adopted hometown. “They would always tell us to go upstairs to sit. We were originally from San Antonio so we’d never experienced anything like that. Many years later, our son Novert bought that theater. I just thought, it’s funny how you can buy a piece of property where you used to be told you could only sit upstairs. It made me feel very good when he bought that building.” Exerpt from “A History of Character: The Story of Midland, Texas” Longtime Midlander Joe Chavez described his experience in Midland public schools in 1938: I remember being in the eighth grade. The school I went to was near downtown, and I loved school. I’ll never forget how two days before I finished the eighth grade, my teacher came to me and said, “That’s all. There’s no more school for you after next week. But since you like school so much, you can repeat the eighth grade if you would like.” Chavez was crushed. At that time Mexican Americans in Midland attended their own separate public school, which ended at eighth grade. It was not until 1946 that Mexican Americans were allowed to attend junior high and high school with white students and continue with their education through the 12th grade. The first Mexican Americans graduated from high school in Midland in 1952. Another public school in Midland was just for African American students. Carver School, which opened in 1933, was later expanded and eventually included a junior high and high school. Its first 12th graders graduated in 1943. However, African American students were not integrated with white students in Midland until 1968. Chavez fought through the limited educational opportunities afforded him and others of his descent during those times. He and his wife raised three children, all of whom not only graduated from high school, but now have master’s degrees. The Honorable Sylvia Chavez, a child-protection associate judge in Midland, is their daughter. “A History of Character: The Story of Midland, Texas” will be published in September by The Abell-Hanger Foundation and the Permian Basin Petroleum Museum. For information about a presentation on the book for your civic organization or church group, email historyofcharacter@gmail.com. It's a little grainy, but this is downtown Midland from the 1950s, courtesy of the Midland County Historical Museum. No doubt a lot of you can recognize a lot of the structures. I've got the Wilco Bldg. identified. Anybody else? Jimmy Patterson's book, "A History of Character: The Story of Midland, Texas" is currently in the research phase. It will be published in the Winter of 2011-2012.
![]() As I started lining up folks to interview for the research portion of "A History of Character: The Story of Midland, Texas" I was told repeatedly, "You better talk to this person before it's too late" or "You might want to call her while she's still here." Although he was 81, Bill Kleine (pictured) wasn't on that hurry-up list. Bill was always full of life, right up til the end when a blood clot after knee surgery took his life. He died June 25, 2010. If it's possible that an 81-year-old was taken too soon, it certainly applies to Bill. At his funeral at St. Ann's last week, his daughters tearfully described their daddy as their hero. The pictures that were painted of Bill in his memorial Mass made him an even larger figure. He didn't attend Notre Dame University, but he got up every year at the St. Ann's Mardi Gras and sang the school's fight song with gusto with his close friend Joe O'Neill, and it always made for one of the high points of the annual fundraiser for the Catholic school, and a tradition that may not be repeated in his absence. Bill Kleine was deeply ingrained in both his community and his church, so much so that I was able to visit with him on May 19, about both the history of Midland, and for a book I am working on about the history of the Roman Catholic Diocese of San Angelo. He was sought out as a community leader because of his generosity, his gentle nature, his heart and his undying spirit. He was a wonderful man. He simply made the room a better place to be whenever he walked in. Before he passed, we talked at length about MIdland. Here are a couple of this thoughts. "When I moved to Midland (in the 1950s) it was a young person's town. And it was a wonderful place to be. The optimism was everywhere; there were so many things happening, a lot of parties. ... "I wouldn't trade my life in Midland in the oil business for anything." Bill Kleine made Midland a richer, better place to live for 60 years. This town already misses him dearly. --- Jimmy Patterson's book, "A History of Character: The Story of Midland, Texas" is currently in the research phase. It will be published in the Winter of 2011-2012. |
About the BlogWelcome, and thanks for your interest in what will be a rewarding trip through our shared past. This "History of Character" blog is only the beginning. A book by the same name -- "A History of Character: The Story of Midland, Texas" -- will be published September 2014. Through this blog you'll be able to track the progress of the project and learn along with the book's author, Jimmy Patterson. If you have stories to share that you think deserve mention in the history of our city, drop an email to historyofcharacter@gmail.com. Archives
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