Carol C Taylor Blog

One of the most important social events in Northeast Texas was held every February 22 during the Roaring 20s and early 1930s. The grand Hotel Washington on Washington Street in Greenville, Texas hosted the George and Martha Washington Dance that was the spot to be and be seen.

Women shopped for weeks looking for that exquisite gown that would stand out among all the others on the dance floor. Hairdos, jewelry, shoes, and wraps were carefully selected to give each lady the aura of elegance.

Young girls had high hopes of becoming a candidate for Lady Washington. A small group of teenaged girls were named about four weeks before the big event. Then the fun began. Lady Washington was chosen by votes, votes that cost a small amount of money, perhaps one dollar per vote. It soon became a family event, with fathers convincing clients, friends, and neighbors to buy votes for their daughters. Mothers and siblings also engaged in selling votes. The winner would finally be announced at the dance. Of course, the money was simply a contribution to a local men’s club like the Lions Club for philanthropic causes.

The evening began with a seven-course dinner in the Mezzanine Floor Dining Room. Only the finest china, silver and crystal were used. Lavish floral arrangements decorated each table and filled nooks and crannies around the room. Ensembles from Dallas often provided dinner music. Dinner tickets generally cost from $2.50 to $5.00. Ironically no wines, champagne or hard liquor were served as this was during Prohibition when Greenville was supposedly “bone dry.”

After the banquet, costumed George and Martha Washington led the procession to the Roof Garden for a late evening of dancing to another fine band.

It was here that the winner of the Lady Washington contest was announced with royal flourish.

Like the Dining Room below on the Mezzanine Floor, the Roof Garden was elaborately decorated. While it was an open garden in summertime, February’s cold winds demanded it be enclosed and heated. Floors were hardwood to make dancing easy. Seating for approximately 400 guests was provided. More food and drinks were available. However, the question becomes, did men and women bring in a flask of liquor to warm up with on such a cold evening? If so, it was a well-kept secret.

Horsecar – Wikipedia

If you lived in Greenville in the 1890s, you might have caught a ride in the new form of public transportation, the trolley. Often called a Horse Car, it probably was really a trolley drawn by a mule, the animal with more stamina and strength than a horse. Officially operated as the City Street Railway Company of Greenville, Texas, it operated briefly from late 1880s until the height of the 1893-1897 economic depression.

In March 1890 May W. G. Perkins and County Surveyor J. H. Morgan approved the route of the new trolley. Beginning at the Cotton Belt Depot at the bottom of East Lee Street, the line went up the hill to the Courthouse Square. There it turned south on Johnson Street, then west on Washington Street, before turning south again on St. John Street. The route allowed mules to avoid congested business traffic on Lee and Stonewall Streets as well as prevent rail tracks in the streets.

The trolley continued south on St. John to Oneal where it turned east to Moulton Street, again avoiding the exclusive housing development along Park Avenue, as the street was then named. At Moulton Street the trolley turned east again to Moulton Park, one of the early public parks in town. Baseball diamonds, a pavilion complete with a stage and a wooded area enticed visitors.

The first owner or at least major investor of City Street Railway Company was Judge M. M. Brooks. On December 18, 1888 Brooks sold his interest in the investment to Will N. Harrison. At the time, the route only passed through downtown and then south on St. John Street to Oneal. It was later expanded to the original plan. The trolley driver collected fares as well as steering the mule along the route.

A decisive economic depression in 1893 caused by overgrowth of the railroad industry led much of the United States to cease new investments and return to a more scale backed economy. The City Street Railway Company of Greenville became one of numerous victims. It folded not long after the economy failed, and long before it returned in 1897.

In 1910 the first electric street railway line served Greenville until 1916. All were part of the national trend to introduce and establish an urban transportation system. Have you noticed that the subject occasionally rears its head, even in the 21st Century?

Parachute riggers at work in 1944. (ConnecticutHistory.org)

Much has been written about the young men who learned to fly during World War II at Majors Field south of Greenville. The aircraft-training center trained twenty-two classes, consisting of 5,604 cadets in the BT-13A Valiant trainer before advancing to the next flight training level. Some one hundred eighty flight officers led the would-be pilots through the Majors Field classes.

While a large number of persons at the field at any time were cadets, instructors, and mechanics, civilians were employed for clerical chores and other assorted jobs. One group of four women who worked at Majors Field is not well known. They rigged parachutes for every trainee and instructor who left the ground in those days.

Persons who successfully used a parachute to bail out of a disabled aircraft became members of the Caterpillar Club. Of all the trainees and trainers here in Greenville three became full-fledged Caterpillar Club members. Each of the three who safely bailed out had a parachute rigged by the same woman, Mrs. Chrystilee Adams. Here’s the piece that ran in the April 5, 1945 issue of the Greenville (Texas) Evening Banner on page 8.

Three new members of Majors Field’s Caterpillar Club who recently plummeted to mother earth during training here owe their well being to the efficient parachute rigging of Mrs. Chrystilee Adams, of the post parachute department.

After almost three years of uneventful ‘chute packing, Mrs. Adams finally hit the jackpot. Flight Officer E. L. Baden made the first jump on March 15 when he quit his disabled plane over the Gulf of Mexico during tow-target practice. He landed without mishap on an Adams-packed parachute.

Some time later on March 22, Lt. Robert K. Tinder, another pilot trainer, was forced to jump from his F-47 near Wade, Oklahoma. Mrs. Adams packed his ‘chute, too.

Last and crowning test of the petite redhead’s rigging skill was the spectacular leap of Lt. Norman W. Olsen two miles southeast of Majors Field, a sight witnessed by many people at the base.

The wife of Sgt. Robert R. Adams, one-time Majors Field soldier and now serving with the Ninth Air Force in England. Mrs. Adams received her training at Majors Field. She is a native of Greenville, and began work here in August 1942.

Majors Field ‘chute department, supervised by Robert Pendleton and under the military direction of Lt. Allan Wilcox, has batted .1000 as far as its three riggers, Misses Bertha Sue Pemberton, Betty Larue, and Mrs. Adams are concerned.

Of the 11 recorded jumps in ‘chutes packed by the department, made by seven lieutenants, one flight officer, two aviation cadets, and a corporal, there have been no fatalities.

Thanks to John Armstrong for sharing this article.

The home Fred Ende built for his bride in 1858. The house was originally two blocks north of the courthouse facing Stonewall Street. Later it was moved to this location in Graham Park before finally restored on the grounds of the Audie Murphy/American Cotton Museum. (author’s photograph)

Last week I shared some of the guests I would invite if I could arrange a Fantasy Dinner with early settlers in Greenville. Today I will complete the resumes of the three remaining guests.

The next two were some of the most respected citizens in town. Fred and Amelia Ende arrived at the Port of New Orleans separately in the 1840s. Fred emigrated to escape conscription in the military. At that time, Germany was a maze of small countries, dukedoms, fiefdoms, city-states, all fighting for fertile, riparian land. Some of the facts are blurry, but it is known that Fred worked as a street sweeper, explored the Mississippi River to New Madrid, and wandered finally into Greenville. He like what he saw, decided to open a mercantile business, and hightailed it back to New Orleans. There he purchased goods for his new store and became reacquainted with the lovely Amelia who agreed to marry him when his store was open and a house was ready.

Some say Fred von Ende, his original German name, was a member of a wealthy German family. However, when he arrived in the United States he discarded the “von” and became Americanized. He hired a carpenter to build his home in 1857-1858. When completed, he returned to New Orleans, married Amelia, took a steamer on the Red River to Jefferson where he bought a buggy and hired a wagon.

His business was a success, both became important citizens, she as a musician and he as a strong supporter of his new hometown. Ende was an early moneylender, supported the campaign to bring railroads here after the Civil War. He was an advocate of desegregation and rights of former slaves. During the Civil War, he gave and sold rations to troops. At that time, the men in town issued US citizenship on him and his wife. However, there are no legal documents to confirm this in the courthouse.

I feel very sorry for the last guest, Rachel Arnold. Her story is typical of 19th century widows. Mrs. Arnold was the wife of Lee Arnold, who was elected sheriff and then Alderman. While living within the city limits of Greenville, Lee Arnold acquired farm tools, work oxen, 50 milch cows and 20 head of hogs. At his death Arnold’s probate showed a house and household goods valued at $2000. He named James Bradley, an esteemed attorney as administrator. In January 1855 Bradley accepted the position of administrator and did nothing, absolutely nothing.

Rachel and the children had no income, no food, no clothing; basically they were destitute. She could not legally manage the estate her late husband left. During the December term of court in 1856, Lee’s brother petitioned for guardianship of the five minor children and Lee’s widow. The guardian finally sold the house in February 1859 for $800. No cemetery records or marriage records or census records exist after Lee’s death for Rachel. I would love to hear her side of the story.

So two attorneys, a Colonel in the Texas Rangers, a couple who were German immigrants, a wealthy woman who cohabited with her father-in-law for over twenty years, and a widow almost turned out in the cold sitting around the dining room table. What a wonderful conversation would have transpired. And if Lindley Johnson had his way, the spirits flowed freely.