Man From "Redhill" Cooke County Texas

The summer of 1962 was as usual in Dallas, Texas, hot. My son, Rockie, was eleven years old, and as most boys his age, liked to go with dad, especially if the trip was a little unusual or if there might be adventure, or the slightest inkling of such.

Really there was no difference in this summer than from some before. We had always discussed things that a dad and a son would talk about, such as, hunting, fishing, exploring, riding horses and the like.

Having owned my own fireplace servicing company since 1956, naturally it was okay for the kid to ride shotgun in the '51 Dodge service truck with dad. Between calls we could really get some talking done. Since dad was raised on Red Hill, a cross timbers farm in Cooke County, Texas, some sixty-five miles north of expanding Dallas, he had all the answers to the questions that an eleven year old would ask concerning his dad's early life, the great outdoors, Mother Nature, and things that are pertinent to a young fellow, whose bloodline goes back to Jessie and Frank James of the 1800's, but who really don't need any fanfare. Then there was the Duggins boys-Dan, Jim, Lee and George-my great uncles and brothers of Rebecca Gaddie, my grandmother, and wife of W. R. Gaddie, a self-made man, and horse breeder of prize winning stock of the area, who was originally from Kentucky.

Grandma's mother was of the infamous Bass clan of Indiana that eventually gave Texas one more noted gunfighter, one Sam Bass. The owner of the much talked about horse of those days, the "Denton Mare." Sam roamed much of North and Central Texas, including Denton County with hideouts on the East bank of today's Lake Ray Roberts. Sam's band of gunslingers consisted of Richardson, Jackson, Joe Collins, and Old Dad. They weren't afraid to mix it with the Texas Rangers or anyone else for that matter. Additional hideouts were in what is known today as the Longhorn Caverns, Cave without a name and Cascade Caverns in the Hill country, deep in the heart of Texas. Sam was killed in ambush one hot July 21st, and was buried in nearby Round Rock, Texas.

We had not always owned our own business, and as our black friends would say, not quite established, yet. Though was still far better than working six days a week for someone who really did not appreciate your efforts, your lying awake nights trying to solve problems, and looking on your job as if the company was your very own. Since you were the guy who sold most of the jobs, processed and delivered to the client and turned a profit. I loved, and appreciated the job I had prior to starting my own business. But, lying, jealous employees forced a change and, in my case, a change for the betterment of myself, and my family and the beginning of a new era. I am reminded of nearly four years of loyal, and dedicated service to this company of designing and creating in the fireplace field. The end results to several years of hard work was, that I am sleeping better nights, and have no regrets for leaving. As many as three new faces appeared to fill my job, and I am on the threshold of my own business.

Early 1956, my father-in-law was stricken with severe heart trouble, which forced an early retirement from the school system at Gainsville. Having no close relatives there, and really no one to look after, he and my mother-in-law, my wife, Gene, and I conceived the idea of Grandma and Grandad coming to live with us. The entire idea was discussed with our son, Rockie, and daughter, Nelda, age thirteen. Everyone was eager to have Grandma, and Grandad Crowsey come and make their home with us at North Dallas. With everyone trying their best, and with much feeling and love between each of us, we knew things would work out, as our house was just big enough. After all, they would have done the same for us. Mr. Crowsey had always helped those in need. Maybe not with money, because that was a scarce item, but with compassion, two hands, and food. These two fine folks have since gone to their rewards, Grandad passing in July 1971 and Grandma in 1979. They were truly the salt of the earth.

Since discussions were many at our house, naturally daddy, and son did enjoy a few stolen minutes. We really didn't have all that much time to hunt, fish, explore, and do the things we enjoyed talking about, but hoped someday, somehow we could get time to do these things. We even took music lessons together at night with Don McCord, who peddled his music in return for chickens, eggs, and the like during the depression days of the thirties. Don later played lead guitar for some of Gene Autry's biggest hits.