Johnson Space Center at 50

“We choose to go to the moon in this decade and do the other things, not because they are easy, but because they are hard, because that goal will serve to organize and measure the best of our energies and skills, because that challenge is one that we are willing to accept, one we are unwilling to postpone, and one which we intend to win.”

President John F. Kennedy on September 12, 1962.

President’s Kennedy’s rousing words on that hot Houston day, while not his first moon speech, changed everything for the nation. Just a few months earlier, hundreds had moved to Houston to join a small task force, transforming a sleepy, coastal pasture into the command post for humankind’s greatest adventure. In fact, the team at the newly-dubbed National Air and Space Administration would indeed get humans to the moon by decade’s end.

A photo of the Mercury 7 astronauts.

Manned Space Center

On September 19, 1961, NASA announced that the Manned Space Center would be built on more than a thousand acres, 20 miles southeast of downtown Houston. The site grew rapidly in the early 1960s with buildings and personnel, along with engineers and scientists, and of course, astronauts. Houston immediately embraced its new neighbors and celebrated that they were now known as Space City.

A photo of the Apollo 11 landing from Earth.

The Moon

“Houston, Tranquility Base here. The Eagle has landed.”  

Apollo 11

In 1969, only eight years after Kennedy’s speech, Apollo 11 made the historic first lunar landing meeting the president’s goal. Astronauts left behind a plaque declaring, “We came in peace for all mankind.” On July 24, the Apollo 11 crew returned safely to Earth. Celebrating this momentous achievement with the rest of humankind were the flight controllers in the Mission Operations Control Room.

A photo of a crowd viewing planes at the Johnson Space Center.

Johnson Space Center

In August 1973, on what would have been former President Lyndon B. Johnson’s 65th birthday, his widow, Lady Bird Johnson, and her family joined NASA officials to dedicate the center in honor of the late president, a longtime champion of NASA. The year prior, President Richard Nixon approved the Space Shuttle program. The mighty minds at the JSC would be responsible for designing, developing, and testing the reusable orbiters for decades.

A photo

The Next Frontier

The final shuttle mission landed in 2011, when Atlantis touched down in Florida. The International Space Station, constructed from 1998 to 2011, supplied by the shuttle program and the aid of other nations, with 161 spacewalks and a combined 1,021 work-hours, opened on November 2, 2000. The Johnson Space Center manages ISS operations, and coordinates five space agencies representing 15 nations. To this day, astronauts are still trained at the Johnson Space Center, and space remains an important part of Houston’s identity.

Banner ad for Johnson Space Center: The First 50 Years.

President Kennedy’s Final Days in Texas

One of the darkest events in American history happened on November 23, 1963: The assassination of President John F. Kennedy. For Texans living in the Dallas—Fort With Metroplex, all of their colorful, collective history was suddenly overshadowed by the tragedy. It took decades for Dallas to fully address the assassination, but the city understands its place in history, and continues to preserve the sites of historical importance. Here are some of the more notable historic sites.

A photo of President John F. Kennedy with his wife, Jackie Kennedy, at Love Field.
JFK with Jackie Kennedy at Love Field. Image sourced from John F. Kennedy Sites in Dallas-Fort Worth, courtesy of the Dallas Morning News.

Love Field

On November 21, 1963, the president and first lady departed on Air Force One for a two-day, five-city tour of Texas. After stops in San Antonio, Houston, and Fort Worth, the president’s entourage landed at Dallas’ Love Field on November 23. After leaving Love Field, the motorcade, which included Vice President Lyndon Johnson and Texas governor John Connally, followed a 10-mile route that would end at the Dallas Trade Mart, for a luncheon with Dallas civic and business leaders. The clear weather allowed for the top of the Lincoln to be down, providing well-wishers along the route a full view of the president, with Gov. Connally and his wife, Nellie Connally in the front.

A photo of Dealey Plaza in Dallas, Texas.
A photo of Dealey Plaza. Image sourced from John F. Kennedy Sites in Dallas-Fort Worth, courtesy of the Dallas Municipal Archives.
John F. Kennedy Sites in Dallas-Fort Worth book cover.

Dealey Plaza

City park Dealey Plaza is the focal point of a triple underpass traffic diverter, and is surrounded by historic buildings, including the 1892 Dallas County Courthouse, the Dallas County Records Building, the Dallas County Criminal Courts Building, the former Texas School Book Depository, and the mysterious grassy knoll. At 12:29 p.m., the presidential limousine entered Dealey Plaza. with five cars following, which included Vice President Lyndon B. Johnson; his wife, Lady Bird Johnson; Sen. Ralph Yarborough; and a press corps bus. Most witnesses recall hearing three shots. To date, Dealey Plaza is the second-most visited historic site in Texas, after the Alamo.

Parkland Hospital

After the fatal gunshots, the limousine driver and police motorcycles raced to nearby Parkland Hospital. More than a dozen Parkland doctors and nurses in Trauma Room One fought save Kennedy’s life, but the wounds were too grave save him. President Kennedy was pronounced dead there on November 22, 1963.

“What you are attempting to do and what interests me, of course, is trying to maintain and keep alive in this country a very lively sense of our past…making it possible for those who come now and perhaps can only catch American history through seeing and feeling it, giving them some sense of what a great procession this has been.”

PRESIDENT JOHN KENNEDY, A MONTH EARLIER, SPEAKING ON THE SUBJECT OF HISTORIC PRESERVATION.
Banner advertising John F. Kennedy Sites in Dallas-Fort Worth.

Don Herold: The greatest Hoosier humorist you’ve never heard of

Article adapted from Forgotten Hoosiers by Fred D. Cavinder

Herold was born in 1889, and he wrote about his rural upbringing and its cisterns, livery stable, courthouse, and country stores. As a boy he spent a lot of time around Asbury Haines’s barbershop, drawing pictures of those passing by. By 1907, he was a student at the nearby Indiana University, but Herold dropped out to attend the Chicago Art Institute. “I don’t believe college did me any permanent harm,” he joked later. 

Herold’s Contribution to Long live the Kaiser”-! Verses and drawings by the American press humorists (1917)

He may have been the most widely read and least-remembered Hoosier humorist of his era. Don Herold was born in Bloomfield and ended up operating an advertising agency in New York City. He worked for Life and Reader’s Digest and wrote a dozen books, all humorous. In one of his Reader’s Digest pieces, titled “If I had my life to live over,” he wrote: “I would be sillier than I have been this trip. I know of very few things that I would take seriously.”

Herold eventually returned to IU and graduated. He worked for a time at the Indianapolis Star, where he produced full-page comics for the Sunday paper. Herold married Katherine Porter Brown, an Indianapolis art teacher, in August 1916, the same year he moved to New York. Herold wrote a syndicated newspaper column. He served as dramatic and movie critic for Life magazine for twelve years and was associated with Reader’s Digest; on the side he wrote books like Our Compassionate Goldfish (1927) and Drunks Are Driving Me to Drink (1953). 

Humorist Don Herald often returned to his hometown of Bloom eld, where the library had a section designated Don Herald Corner. Courtesy of the Bloom eld Public Library.

Images in Herold’s artwork often closely resembled himself. The Herold “character” had a round, bald head with only a vague suggestion of hair, precariously perched glasses and a nose as pointed as his discourse. 

“The most comfortable persons on a hayride are the horses.” – Don Herold

In June 1954, Herold returned to Indiana to receive IU’s Distinguished Service Alumni Medal, as one of eighteen living past presidents of the Indiana University Alumni Association. Learning that Herold was coming to the state, the City of Bloomfield set up Don Herold Day on June 15. Twelve of the twenty-three members of his high school class of 1907 greeted him outside town with a horse, instead of the usual celebrity Cadillac, and placed a sign in the high school saying “Don Herold Slept Here.” 

In introducing Herold, IU president Herman B. Wells gave his favorite Herold quote: “The most comfortable persons on a hayride are the horses.” He could have cited many, still often appearing today in books of quotations: “Funerals are a lost art in the big cities”; “I had, out of my 60 teachers, a scant half dozen who couldn’t have been supplanted by phonographs”; “Intellectuals should never marry; they won’t enjoy it, and besides, they should not reproduce themselves”; “What this country needs is a clearinghouse for coat hangers.”

Herold died on June 1, 1966, in his house at Vero Beach, Florida, where he spent winters, keeping busy at the drawing board even there. The Indiana Alumni magazine noted his passing with an article one and a half pages long, including the note that he hated obituaries and didn’t want his run. The magazine reported that one publication had quoted Herold as wishing this epithet on his tombstone: “I kept telling you I haven’t been feeling well.” 

The Alton Bus Crash

Tragedy in the Rio Grande Valley

Tragedy struck in Alton, Texas, on September 21, 1989 when twenty-one students, on their way to school, died when a delivery truck collided with their school bus, spinning it into an excavation pit filled with water.

A photo of the front page the Monitor newspaper from the day of the Alton bus crash.
The Monitor newspaper’s front page from the day of the accident. From The Monitor, September 21, 1989.

Accident

On the morning of September 21, 1989, a north-bound delivery truck blew through a stop sign, hitting a west-bound school bus on its rear-left side, and pushing it off the road. The bus, filled with children, crashed into an adjacent gravel pit, and became submerged in over 10 feet of water. Even though the open site was a well-known hazard, there were no fences or barriers. In the water, the eighty-one passengers fought to escape from the bus that was quickly filling with dirty water. Some found the rear emergency exit, others were able to open the sliding windows, some helped classmates. Twenty perished that morning, and another child died after the accident from their injuries.

Banner ad for the Alton Bus Crash.

“Everyone was screaming as the bus headed into the caliche pit which we all knew was full of water. As the bus was falling, I looked at the bus driver and saw his face had turned white.” – Survivor Edna Ortiz

A photo of the Alton bus in the water after the crash.
A Progress Times photo of the bus in the water. From the Progress Times, September 27, 1989.

Aftermath

The National Traffic Safety Board collected information on the crash, which would provide the evidence in the liability case. Lawyers descended on the small town, but many of these families were overwhelmed with offers from strangers, after experiencing the worst personal calamity of their lives. The delivery truck driver was indicted with twenty-one counts of involuntary manslaughter, but pleaded not guilty to all charges and was released on $75,000 bond. The criminal case ended in an acquittal due to lack of probable cause. Civil lawsuits flourished around the accident, but the delivery truck’s owner Valley Coca-Cola paid for funerals, medical expenses, and even psychiatric treatment. There was no coverup, nor dodging of corporate responsibility. Blue Bird Company (the bus’s manufacturer) paid out $23 million in settlements to the victims and families, furthering the claim of the coroner that the accident was survivable if the students had only been able to exit the bus.

”Yet for the people of Alton, the scars and the memories remain, from its exploitation by unscrupulous lawyers to the jealousy and greed. It was a tragedy that compounded exponentially.”

Legacy

State legislators introduced a bill requiring guardrails around any open pits near roadways, and passed it into law in 1991. The new law, enforced by the Texas Railroad Commission, required that companies erect barriers around any open pits, or face fines of $10,000. Bus safety has improved too — buses now have roof and side exits, windows are enlarged, and rear exit doors open regardless of the effects of gravity.  And at the memorial site, a cross for each victim stands, allowing the community to keep them in their hearts and minds.

The Alton Bus Crash book cover.

The Crazy Start to the Monon Bell Classic

Anything involving DePauw and Wabash will be competitive—even their history.

They can’t even agree on what to call the game. For DePauw, located in Greencastle, it’s Monon. For Wabash, located in Crawfordsville, it’s The Bell Game. Whatever the name, the rivalry game between the two colleges, which will meet for the 126th time on November 16, holds something special.

The same is true of its history—and even that is competitive. Both schools believe their squad was the first to play a football game. On October 25, 1884, the Wabash Little Giants played Butler University’s football team at Indianapolis Baseball Park, in what the school claims was the first intercollegiate football game played in Indiana. DePauw records show a game of its own in the spring of 1884, with the Tigers also taking on Butler.

An image of a play during the 1939 Monon Bell Classic.
Game action from the 1939 Monon Bell Classic in Crawfordsville. DePauw won the game 7–0.

Regardless of who played the first game, DePauw and Wabash squared off as opponents for the first time in 1890.

Separated by twenty-eight miles, the two schools became instant rivals. DePauw won the first game 34–5, and the two teams played every year for the next six seasons.

Eventually, the Monon Railroad, which in part connected the two Indiana campuses in Greencastle and Crawfordsville, donated a three hundred-pound locomotive bell from one of its steam-engine trains to award to the winner of the annual football game between the two schools.

A group of five female students ring the Monon Bell on the Depauw campus.
A sight to be seen only on DePauw’s campus: female students ringing the Monon Bell.

Before that, though, the rivalry took a few breaks. Sometimes the reasons for a hiatus were far bigger than sports. In 1903, the DePauw team refused to leave the locker room upon hearing that the Wabash lineup included African American player Sam Gordon. Wabash legend says Lew Wallace, a former Civil War general who also wrote Ben Hur, played a role in coaxing the DePauw team to play. Wabash won the game by a 14–0 score, but the teams didn’t play the following year because Wabash used another African American player, William Cantrell.

The Monon Bell Rivalry book cover.

In 1910, the DePauw-Wabash rivalry was interrupted again. The Little Giants played four games to start the season, accumulating a 4–0 record and a 118–0 aggregate advantage. But in the fourth game, freshman Ralph “Sap” Wilson suffered a head injury. Tackling a St. Louis University ball carrier, Wilson took a knee to his skull. Hours after the game, Wilson died as the result of a skull fracture.

The rest of the 1910 season was cancelled, wiping out the game against the Greencastle foes.

The rivalry was renewed in 1911 and has remained an annual tradition in every year that’s followed.

Each of those games has been marked by the kind of passion that Wilson played with. His tombstone, in Crawfordsville’s Oak Hill cemetery, has itself become apart of Indiana football lore. On it, after his name and year of death, are Wilson’s final words: “Did Wabash win?”

The gravestone of Ralph "Sap" Wilson, who would killed by a head injury during the 1910 Monon Bell game.
A head injury in a game against St. Louis University led to the death of Wabash player Ralph “Sap” Wilson in 1910. Before passing away, Wilson’s last words were, “Did Wabash win?”
The Monon Bell Rivalry book cover.

Drinking Craft Beer in Texas’ Weirdest City

Barley, hops, yeast, and water. That’s what’s in beer. It’s a recipe that is as deceptively simple as Country music, which has its own simple recipe of “three chords and the truth.” Of course, both beer and Country music are famously found in Austin, Texas, and both have a multitude of variations in its city limits. Ever since German and Bohemian settlers came to central Texas with their European tastes and brewing traditions in the late 1800s, Texas has had its share of locally-brewed beer. Recently, the capital city has seen tremendous growth in its beer industry, and in 2012 alone, five new breweries debuted. Today, Austin is filled with breweries, brewpubs, and craft beer bars. In fact, local craft beer is dominating the popular culture, with its pun-y names, bearded hipsters, or call-backs to a colorful corner of Texas history, all making the beer-drinking community fun and lively.

An image of the Schneider Flour House & Vault historic plaque.
Schneider’s beer vaults were declared a Texas State Historical Site in 2009. Image sourced from Austin Beer: Capital City History on Tap.

The Grandfather of Austin Brewers

Around 1845, German immigrant Johann “Jean” Schneider, one of Austin’s first commercial brewers arrived in Central Texas. In 1860, Schneider announced the grand opening of his new brewery in the Kirchberg’s Saloon on Congress Avenue. Schneider made traditional German lagers, and followed the German Purity Law, dictating that beer could only be composed of three basic ingredients—water, hops and barley. Later, the Schneider family built a subterranean vault, with high ceilings and low archways, the first of its kind in Austin, to store their product in a colder environment. It was declared a Texas State Historical Site in 2009, and is now used as a private subterranean dining room for the Mexican restaurant La Condesa.

A photo of
As if beer weren’t enough of a draw, Celis Brewery brought Austinites out with the lure of live music. Image sourced from Austin Beer: Capital City History on Tap, courtesy of Ted Davis.

The Renaissance

The less said about Prohibition, the better. In the decades following the doomed national experiment, Austinites enjoyed the rivalry between Lone Star Beer and Pearl Beer, but it wasn’t until the 1990s that the beer scene in Austin really began to take shape as we know it today. In 1990, Belgian immigrant Pierre Celis bought a plot of land outside of town for a brewery. In 1992, Celis Brewery brewed their first batch of witbier, dubbed Celis White. While most Texans had never tasted a Belgian beer before, history and craftsmanship won them over. It didn’t hurt that Celis White was delicious! Soon, Celis’s other beers, Dubbel, Pale Rider, Grand Cru, Raspberry, and Pale Bock, were hits too.

“We had to educate people…People were very unfamiliar with a cloudy wheat beer; they had no idea.”

Christine Celis
A man stirs a brewery cauldron.
Jeff Young earns his keep at Black Star Co-op. Image sourced from Austin Beer: Capital City History on Tap, courtesy of Suzy Schaffer.

The Brewpub Revolution

Even though Celis dominated Austin, Lone Star Beer and a revived nearby Shiner Bock remained popular. In 1993, following years of lobbying, the Texas legislature approved brewpubs, which allowed bars and restaurants to brew and sell their beer on site. The brewpub scene exploded in Austin, with around eighteen brewpubs opened in Texas in the wake of the bill’s passing. In 1995, Texas had thirty-one brewpubs, including the popular Austin brewpubs—Waterloo, Bitter End Brewpub and Copper Tank Brewing Co.

A photo of a group of brewery workers shotgunning beers on Shotgun Friday.
Shotgun Friday, a holy day for craft beer lovers, is celebrated by shotgunning a can of craft beer with fellow beer enthusiasts. Image sourced from Austin Beer: Capital City History on Tap, courtesy of Wes Kitten and the Beer Haul.

Today

Craft brewing has been embraced in Texas’s capital city to such an extent that it’s impossible to imagine Austin, with the merry confederacy of brewers and beer enthusiasts, without it. The craft brew scene fits perfectly into contemporary hip Austin, all the while enhancing local lore.

A banner ad for Austin Beer: Capital City History on Tap.