Author: What's in the Water

How I Got to Midland

What's in the Water1 Comment

 By: Dianne Neuman Whittington

I was 4/5 years old (1949) when we moved to Midland from Silver City, New Mexico.  My mother, brother, and I were all born in Silver.  My father was in charge of the silver mine in the town of Vanadium, a mining town of about 20 houses and about 15 minutes from Silver City. He moved there after college graduation with US Smelting, Refining and Mining and married my mother.  Our move to Midland began my father ‘s career in the oil business.  I am pretty sure that my mother cried for the first year that we lived there.  She thought we had moved to the flattest, most desolate place possible.  The heat was unbearable and the dust storms continually filled the house with sand. We had neighbors to the east but the west was a sea of vacant lots filled with tumbleweeds that always blew into our cinderblock fence.

CLICK HERE TO CONTINUE READING

First Memories of Midland

What's in the Water3 Comments

By: Dianne Neuman Whittington

 We lived at 1909 Michigan and it was always hot most of the year.  Where our driveway ended the vacant lots seemed to go on forever.  My mother and father were campers and outdoor people so they cautioned us to not roam in the vacant lots as rattlesnakes had been found there.   They told us if we ever heard a rattle to freeze and not move.  I think I was six and my brother and I went out to play in the neighborhood—probably barefooted.  I heard the rattle as I went out the back gate.  I froze, looked down, and saw the snake coiled in front of me.  My brother got my mother and she killed it with a hoe. I will never know how I was not so traumatized that I never went outside again. 

CLICK HERE TO CONTINUE READING

Growing up in Midland

What's in the WaterLeave a comment

By: Dianne Whittington   

Looking back on my childhood in Midland, the thing that first comes to mind is the freedom to be independent and to experience life as it happened.  I certainly had rules and expectations that I would hopefully follow them.  The rules changed as I grew older and they were always there to help me get older—not always the way I saw them.  The independence part came early—even before we started 1st grade.  It was leaving the house in early morning, roaming the neighborhood until lunch, leaving again and coming home for dinner.  There was no one organizing the games we played.  Imaginations ran wild and the only limits were to try not break the few rules. The 50’s and 60’s in Midland gave us an ideal time to grow up.  There were not the frantic times of today–no TV, no cell phones, and a slower way of life. I must really be old now as I am beginning to hear myself say what my parents used to say to me when I was 30.  I thought they had become senile. 

CLICK HERE TO CONTINUE READING

How We Got to Midland

What's in the Water5 Comments

By: Gary Durossette (class of 63) and Gana Shriver Durossette (class of 66)

Gary : Alamo,MHS,LHS

Sports : LHS golf team Junior & senior years

College : Texas Tech BBA Marketing(John Franklin was roommate)

Military : US Air Force

Career : Oil & Gas business

Gary : I moved to Midland for my 9th grade and attended Alamo Jr. High. My father was employed by Halliburton as a petroleum engineer and his job responsibilities required us to move every year for the first eight years of my school life. This simply means that I had to attend a different school in a different town from the age of six until fifteen. Each town and school seemed larger and more imposing than the last. Friendships were difficult to make because why bother, I would only be there a short time. Then the move to Midland was next in line. Imagine my surprise when we stayed for several years and I learned early that my classmates and pals knew everyone else. I thought that all kids in an oilfield environment moved as I had done and we would all be on equal footing, not so, but also not difficult to fit in. I would seek out another newest kid in class and compare stories of each other’s live before Midland and then, before I knew it, I had my own list of friends, albeit not quite as long a list as those born and raised in west Texas but, none the less, a start. I now to this day call my friends from Midland my best friends and we stay in close touch.

CLICK HERE TO CONTINUE READING

How I got to Midland – early memories

What's in the Water8 Comments

Click below to listen to “Susie Darlin” by Robin Luke

By: Suzi Northcutt Griffith (MHS’63)

 My dad was transferred by Magnolia Petroleum from Kermit to Midland in 1946.Our first home was rented on the south side of town from a couple who became close friends of my parents for life. Bea and Leonard Clark. They had come to Midland during the war from San Antonio because Leonard helped develop the Norden Bombsight which was used on planes at Midland Field during the war.  He could fix or create anything, and for many years he was the only piano tuner in the Permian Basin. He’d go all the way into New Mexico to tune pianos. Eventually they moved to a house on Illinois St. I don’t know when the High School was built, but I do remember playing in the vacant land on the east of their house where years later The Midland Youth Center would be built. Don’t remember much from this time because I was so young, but I did have a tricycle and rode it on the sidewalk. Mother told me they bought Ozarka water for me because the fluoride in the wells would stain the teeth of young children. About three years later we moved into the house my dad built with the help of friends.  This was on land that he bought from a local rancher, Conrad Holzgraf, who was selling lots for development. Conrad’s house fronted on a dirt road that became Golf Course Road and a dirt road that became “A” Street.  The southwest corner of that intersection and beyond in both directions became the golf course for the original Midland Country Club. I can remember quite the commotion from a loudspeaker during tournaments (Wildscatter, I suppose). The Holzgrafs had a windmill and there was another windmill further west by Golf Course Road. If you traveled south toward town on “A” street, you would come to the cemetery. Looking north, there was nothing but grass and mesquite and not much of either between my house and Midland Draw.

CLICK HERE TO CONTINUE READING

Where are the Trees?

What's in the Water5 Comments

by Nora Peterson Klier

WHERE ARE THE TREES? A sheltered look at growing up in Midland as a PK (Pastor’s Kid)

I was entering 3rd grade when my family of 6 moved from Dallas to Midland, Texas.  Where were the trees?  In Dallas the family lived in a beautiful old mansion at 401 North Rosemont.  That structure still stands as an event center.  Trees lined the entire corner of the block ….tall trees.   They turned colors in the fall before shedding their leaves.  When my family lived there the mansion was purchased by the Lutheran Church to serve as both a mission church and a “parsonage”.  The first floor was used as the church and the second was where our family lived.  To my young eyes the 19 century house was beautiful with it’s stained glass windows on the landing of the wide staircase that led up to “our home.” But now we were in west Texas—Midland, Texas.  Midland was home to the tumbleweeds and dust storms the likes of which our family  had never seen.  Once in HS my dad sent me down to Furr’s grocery store for milk or something we needed for Sunday lunch.  I hopped on my bicycle pedaling against the wind of a sand storm, head down and determined.  I rode right into the back of a car parked on the curb near our church.   The entire time I was in Midland I yearned for a beautiful green yard with lots of trees.  I remember, at Christmas, helping mother decorate a little tumbleweed tree , made of graduated sizes of tumbleweeds.  We stacked 3 one on top of another, shaped much like a snowman. The “tree” was first sprayed with canned snow.  We also had a real tree, a Douglas fir, often brittle before we took it down after Epiphany.  By then, brown needles blanketed the floor around it. Our house wasn’t quite ready when we arrived to Midland in 1952. A very kind and talented carpenter and member of the Dallas church built both the Midland church and was still living in our house as he was still putting on the finishing touches to both church and house.. 

CLICK HERE TO CONTINUE READING

1504 Hemlock Midland, Texas

What's in the Water1 Comment

Written by Jan Aiken Ross

I remembered that I had fairly recently seen a photo of my home (under construction at the time of the photo), which brought back a flood of memories.    The original email (below) went to my grandchildren, trying to give them a flavor of my earlier years.

Before going further I would like to add that I have lived away from Midland since my graduation in 1964.   I now am living in North Texas in the Sherman/Denison area.   When discussions start and people want to know where you grew up, I always tell them Midland, Texas.   This always brings positive comments about how wonderful the people are in West Texas and it must have been a great place to grow up.   And I concur completely.   I wouldn’t trade the time and place in my life for anything.    

So with that, maybe the musings below will be a sweet memory for our classmates. 

Click Here to Read More

MY UNLIKELY PATH TO TASTE THE MIDLAND WATER

What's in the Water5 Comments

Written by Drew H. Steele Parham

Since no one has written recently about their journeys to  get to  Midland, I thought I would venture forth in the hopes that others will tell their tales . I also hope others will decide to come to Kingsland for the August ” Meet and Greet” so we can have a few laughs during this horrific Covid Year 2020.

I was born in June 1945 in Wichita, Kansas while my daddy was serving in World War II. My mother, Fayallena Hutchinson Steele, was born in Wichita and had lived there her entire life. All her family lived there so we were surrounded by aunts, uncles , cousins, etc. The Hutchinson clan was well known in Kansas then and even now in parts of Kansas.

My father, Thomas A. Sproul Steele, Jr was from Pittsburg, Pennsylvania. He was  born  there  and his entire family had lived there for several generations. My  grandfather,  Dr. Thoma s A. Sproul Steele, Sr, was a descendant of those  who  had emigrated from Ireland.  My grandmother,  Helen Rosalind  Drew, was also a descendant of Irish emigres .

At my birth, I was given 3 surnames of  my proud family  in Pennsylvania  and Kansas  :  DREW HUTCHINSON STEELE. I always have cherished my name and my family genealogy as did my parents and their families.

Click here to read more

My Memories of Midland

What's in the Water5 Comments

Written by Fred Underwood (MHS Class 51′)

My memories of Midland began in July 1949.  We were living in Mexia, TX.  Dad came home and announced that we would be moving to Midland.  The Pure Oil Co had a long-term contract to sell all its oil at a price that had been overtaken by inflation.  I spent my first two weeks of my junior year at Mexia High School.  In geometry class, we did nothing but memorize the twelve theorems upon which all proofs were based.  This effort became germain my first day in Mrs. Phillipus’ geometry class at Midland High School.

Continue reading →

Part Two- My Memories of Midland (1949 – 1950)

What's in the Water1 Comment

Written by: Fred Underwood

We had moved into an apartment in the old BOQ at Terminal.  I think that Mom took me to school the next day.  The only thing that I remember from that day was meeting Coach Red Rutledge in the Principal’s office and again in my typing class (the most useful course I took in High School).  I had been in the typing class for maybe two months, and during my time trials, I was typing about 35 words per minute.  You should note that for each error, we took five keystrokes off of our score.  At about this time, Coach Rutledge told us that he was changing the scoring rules.  From that date forth, for each error, we had to subtract five words (25 keystrokes).  On the next trial, I did the equivalent of taking 25 words a minute off a blank sheet of paper.  I got a lot better as time went by.

Our physics teacher, Coach Patterson, took us out to a country road.  We had at least one stopwatch.  We got out, and Coach Patterson drove one mile down the road.  He got out of the car and got our attention by waving at us.  When we were all ready, he fired the shotgun.  We started the stopwatch when we saw the smoke come out of the barrel and stopped it when we heard the bang.  We had measured the speed of sound.

By changing schools, David Laverty, Guy Vanderpool, and I had lost one year of football eligibility.  Therefore we practiced and played with the Junior Varsity team during the 1949 season.

On the 8th of October 1949, I became 16 years old and eligible for a Texas Drivers license.  I went to the courthouse the first Saturday after my birthday.  I aced the written exam, and then we started the driving test.  I managed to get through the entire test, and the examiner told me that I had failed for many minor reasons.  The next Saturday, the examiner and I got into the car and began the test.  At the first corner, he said: “Turn Right.”  I did, at the next corner and the next, and the next, he repeated: “Turn Right.”  When we got to our starting point, he said: “Park.”  He said: “you failed the test because you failed to yield the right of way on the first turn.”  I wanted to spend some time in town sop Mom dropped me off, and I had to hitch-hike back to Terminal.  A group of us were in the city park on west Wall Street.  About 2:30 PM, I decided it was time for me to start my trip home to Terminal.  About the third car, I thumbed stopped.  I noticed something peculiar going on as he stopped.  His window had opened, and his left arm was outside hanging down in the sign for stopping.  It was the officer who had examined me that morning.  For the next ten miles, he did everything right by the book.  The following Saturday, I received my license without any comments.

I don’t recall anything else of significance for the rest of the school year.

During the summer, I got a job at the Washateria.  I didn’t know what I was supposed to do. I did what I was told to do, nothing more, nothing less.  After two weeks, I was told don’t bother to come back.  Apparently, it was easier to do what they wanted me to do than to spend all day supervising my every action.  I didn’t know that I had learned a powerful message until many years later.