By John Mcelligott
Conrad and I met at Alamo in the 8th grade. Conrad later became “Cornbread” to everyone. I remember he was a good athlete, and very out going. In the 10th grade we skipped school at MHS together along with WG and Gene Clark. Everyone started smoking that year except me and a few others. That year was spent at the youth center and the back row of the Texan Drive In just west of town. Crazy nights were had at both. Conrad moved to LHS his 11th and 12th grade years and he still was a major party animal along with WG and a few others at Lee HS. Conrad’s college days are a mystery to me but he did join the US Army from 63-69. Not sure what he did but it most likely included beer drinking and chasing women. My only story about Conrad was a hunting trip out at Candelaria with Harry, OB and several others. I pulled up and told him I was a game warden and needed his ID. He pissed all over himself and produced his Driver License. I looked at it, took of my sunglasses, and said are you Cornbread? He finally realized it was “LJ” as they called me in high school. Everyone laughed and we proceeded to drink more beer and shot some doves that Labor Dy weekend. The picture above is at J Jones’ house, and I arranged to get Cornbread some hearing aids form the VA since he was exposed to artillery frequently and I new the VA well. Tried the same with John Franklin but he insisted he was not deaf. But he was and I am not sure why he could not hear well.
I hope WG, OB, and Andrew can add to Conrad’s story. Conrad died in March 2015.
Sep 2, 2019
Good remembrance John. Dorsey was way fun. I came by to see him till I left for India.
That was 2008. Cornbread had breathing difficulties one time I came by and he was suffering.
Next time I saw him he told me it was cat fur in the carpets and draperies [ which he got rid of].
We all have stories because he was so much fun
loved him dearly
Karen Kimball Jones
Sep 2, 2019
Love seeing you and everyone in these articles!
The first time I met Conrad, the moniker cornbread came later in life, was the summer of 60. It was either Larry McGarry or Charlie Bullion, both deceased, that introduced me to Conrad. I had snuck out my grandmother’s 1959 Cadillac, the biggest Cadillac ever made. We snuck into the Texan Drive where one laid on the back floorboard and the other underneath my legs. The attendant checked the trunk and found it empty allowed me to enter. The suspicious attendant searched us out later and kick us out. As I pulled up to Conrad‘s house for some reason I thought he had a circular driveway and proceeded as such. His dad had been watering all night and the tracks made by the heavy Cadillac remained in his yard for decades