|NO!!! TURN BACK!!|
Sunday, December 30, 2012
Monday, December 24, 2012
Tuesday, December 18, 2012
|New York City World's Fair|
Thursday, December 13, 2012
Thursday, December 6, 2012
After about an hour of trying to sleep with that saw mill running next to us, everyone was still awake. About that time four of the older boys sneaked into the adult area and picked up George’s cot and quietly carried him off, with George not missing a snore. It sounded like a railroad train going off into the distance as they carried him away. I was so glad for the relief; I did not say a word to the boys and knew they wouldn’t do anything to hurt George. The relief was just too overwhelming for any of us to stop whatever they planned to do with him. I quickly went to sleep and I had to find out from the boys what happened next.
Photo of Possum Kingdom Lake (I am not making this up) found here.
Graphic of campfire found here.
Monday, December 3, 2012
Photo of Camp Constantin found here.
Friday, November 30, 2012
Sinclair logo found here.
Sunday, November 25, 2012
Friday, November 23, 2012
|White Rock Lake|
Friday, March 16, 2012
I have always been interested in Model A Fords. They are amazing vehicles that were built from 1928 until 1931. During that time, 3.25 million Model A Fords were produced. I found out that there was a group of guys starting a Dallas chapter of the National Model A Club. I contacted them and arranged to meet with them. We got a charter but I did not have a Model A. They helped me find one, and in a month or so I bought a 1929 Sport Coupe that was in rough shape. No wheels and a little tree growing up through it. They all helped me pull it up on a trailer and we hauled my trophy home.
I disassembled it down to the frame. I put the frame in the back of our 1955 Chevrolet Station Wagon and took it to the sand blaster. I brought it home and put it on four jack stands and started building my Model A from the frame up. I researched every part before installing it. Many of the parts were either missing or the wrong year for my A. My car was originally assembled in November 1929.
In those days a lot of the wrecking yards had Model A’s sitting somewhere toward the back of the yard. My favorite was the yard in Sunset, Texas. They had about ten old Model A's lined up along the back fence. I would load the family up in our station wagon and head for Sunset early on Saturday morning. I would take my tool box with lots of Liquid wrench and head for the back of the yard. I would spend most of the day lying under one of those old cars taking off some part that I needed for my A. Charlotte and the kids were so good, as they would spend hours waiting for me. Charlotte would crochet and the kids would play games on a quilt spread over the back floor of the station wagon. In the evenings after work, I would spend time out in the garage working on the A. It took me five years to complete the job, but when I finished we had a better than new Model A Ford to drive around in.
Later in the project, I was looking for a left front fender with a wheel well for a spare tire. I heard of one up in Oklahoma. I drove up there one week end and after a search I found it. The A was sitting out in a pasture, but I could see that the rusty left front fender was one with a wheel well. I went up to the farmer’s house and asked if I could take a look at it, if it was for sale. He said ok so I went down in the pasture and sure enough it was rusty but in pretty good shape, definitely restorable.
I went back up to the house and told him I needed a left front fender. I then asked how much. He said he would sell it for $50.00. I said all I wanted was the left front fender. He then said he did not want to sell after all. I turned to leave and he said, “I won't sell you the fender but you can have the whole thing for $50.00.” I came back the next weekend and loaded the A on my trailer and brought it home. I had no room in the garage so I put it in the back yard and started taking it apart. My neighbors understood and no one complained about me having a junk car in my backyard.
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
In 1958, when Tom was about five, he and I joined a YMCA program called Indian Guides. Tom was Little White Buffalo and I was Big White Buffalo. Several of Tom's friends were also in the tribe, which was the Tonkawa Tribe. We had meetings, wore headdresses and played games. We did not do much camping; that came later when Tom was a Cub Scout and even more as a Boy Scout, where camping skills became a large part of the program.
We continued to make our annual trips to the coast. We usually went down to South Padre. We all enjoyed these vacations and did a lot of fishing and crabbing.
The boys were so different. Tom would fish all day and never lose interest. I think he was always expecting a big fish to grab his lure at the next moment. Chip on the other hand loved fishing, but only when they were biting. If he had been fishing for 15 minutes and there was no action at all he was ready to move on to whatever was next.
I remember one instance in particular regarding Tom. We were down at Lake LBJ in the hill country and had an opportunity to fish with a nationally recognized fishing guide by the name of Dave Hawk. Charlotte’s brother, Charles, and I went out one morning with Dave and Tom was already down on the pier when we left. Tom wanted to go so bad but three men in the boat was all the room there was. Anyway, as we left Tom was on the pier with his fishing pole in hand and his bait in the water looking wistfully at us as we pulled away. I thought about him all the time we were out on the water moving from one location to another across the lake.
After four hours of intensive fishing we had only caught about three black bass. Dave was saying, “You should have been here yesterday; we almost filled the boat with fish.” I had heard that before on other unsuccessful fishing trips! Well, as we pulled back in the dock, there was Tom still fishing, still in the same spot. As we were tying up I asked Tom if he had caught anything and he pulled up his stringer and he had about five fish. A bass, two sun fish and two Catfish. He had caught more fish then we three men had, even though we had the famous fishing guide to our advantage.
Tom asked if I would help him clean his five fish when I cleaned my one bass. Of course I said yes and he and I went over to the cleaning station by the pier and I started cleaning all the fish. As I was cleaning his catfish I was giving him a verbal explanation as to exactly how to do it. He was standing between me and the cleaning table and his head was just about level to my belt buckle. As I cleaned his catfish I had to skin it and there was quite a bit of blood on the table directly in front of Tom. His head started slowly getting lower; I thought he was just going to move for a better look but I noticed it got lower and lower. All of a sudden his head disappeared completely and I reached down and caught him. He had passed out colder than a mackerel.
That was when I realized Tom did not like looking at a lot of blood. Even to this day he is not a fan.
Photo of Lake LBJ found here.
Friday, March 9, 2012
In 1956, we built a nice home at 3605 Ainsworth in North Dallas at a cost of $18,500.00. Dallas had a record high of 113 degrees the August day we moved in. We had a big attic fan in the hall but no air conditioning. We busily began putting in a new yard and getting settled in our new home. It was a 3-BR and 2-bath home which was very adequate for the five of us. However, about that time Alice, Charlotte’s sister, and her husband Winn, along with their four children were moving back to Texas. They needed a place to stay; Alice was pregnant with Kim at the time. So the six of them plus the five of us lived together for about four or five weeks. I can remember stepping over bodies everywhere as I made my way to the back door to leave for work at six in the morning.
We joined Highland Park Presbyterian Church. They had a great kindergarten there and it was supposed to be the best in town. I rejoined the Naval Reserve and began to attend weekly drills. By this time I was a Lieutenant Senior Grade, which is the same rank as Captain in the Army or the Air Force. The extra pay helped with the bills and I had accumulated about 12 years credited service. I planned to stay in until I retired with 20 years of service. I also joined the Northwest Dallas Kiwanis Club.
One of my favorite authors when I was growing up was Will James. He wrote western books for young people. I read Scorpion, the Good Bad Horse, Flint Spears, Lone Cowboy and Looksee with Uncle Bill several times. I used to read to the kids in the evening as we put them to bed. I would sit in the hall between the boy’s bedroom and Susie’s bedroom and read from Looksee with Uncle Bill. Chip recently reminded me of this and began telling me the stories that he remembered from the book.
One of the real newsmakers of 1957 was the Dallas Tornado. It formed out by Red Bird Airport, traveled up Singleton Blvd and toward Love Field. We saw it form and went up to the top of the Telephone building to watch it. As it went up Singleton, the sheet iron was ripped from the buildings and filled the air. I saw that it was headed in the direction of our home and began trying to call Charlotte on the telephone. Busy signal. I continued to watch and knew if I could see the Love Field tower when it passes that point that meant it was north of Love. We lived two miles north of Love.
I finally got hold of Charlotte about the time I saw the tower as it passed Love. I told her, “Now don’t get excited but a tornado is headed right for you. Get the kids and get into the hall closet.” Charlotte gathered the three kids up, drug a mattress into the hall closet and hid under there with the three children. Fortunately the tornado split over Bachman Lake and one arm went to the south of our home and the other passed to the north. Prayers answered again!
Photo of Highland Park Presbyterian Church found here.
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
When we first moved to Dallas, we lived for about six months in an apartment. I had been looking for a place for the family every chance I could but I had not found anything. We were having trouble selling the house in Uvalde and Charlotte was tired of waiting for it to sell.
I really started looking and one evening, about dark, I went out to see an apartment that seemed to be fairly priced. It looked good so I gave them an earnest money deposit and headed back to the office because I was working nights as well as during the day. That weekend I headed to Uvalde with a U-haul to get Charlotte and the children.
We moved into the apartment and began unpacking. The first night about 6 pm there was the loudest noise you could imagine. It shattered our ears. Susie was crying and the boys were holding their ears. The building began to shake, all the dishes were rattling and I ran to the door. When I looked out I found the answer. A freight train was rumbling past on tracks about 25 feet from our back door. We were just far enough from the Gaston Avenue crossing that our back door was just where the train started blowing its horn.
Charlotte could not believe I had rented an apartment right on the railroad track.
We did get used to it, however, and we had a lot of fun with guests. We would not tell them and when the dishes started jumping and the pictures on the wall got crooked, the kids would giggle and look at one another, waiting for that blast on the horn. We would go on talking as if nothing unusual was happening. Our guests would look at one another and appear a little apprehensive. I think the kids thought that we had to pay extra to have a real live train in our back yard.
We finally sold the Uvalde house on March 24, 1956, Charlotte’s birthday. To understand how bad the market was our house was the ONLY house to sell in the entire city of Uvalde for that first quarter of 1956! We, of course, lost money on the sale.
Thursday, March 1, 2012
Our move was a lot more complicated than merely transplanting a family and all our household goods from one end of Texas to the other. We also had to move the cattle up from our place near San Antonio. We bought 180 acres southwest of Frisco, just north of Highway 121. I had been eagerly scanning the newspapers for land for sale and one morning I saw an ad in the paper that offered 180 acres up by Frisco for $395 per acre. Well, I had been checking land prices, and I knew that land in that location should be more like $500 per acre.
I asked Mr. Roberts, “This is a nice place, what is wrong with it? Is it next to the new dump or what?”
He told me that he had listed the place a year earlier and had gotten a full price contract on it but the owner had made an end run. He had contacted the buyer directly and told him that they didn’t need an agent. They could work their deal without him. The buyer and seller agreed, but then got into a fight, and the deal fell through. He said only yesterday the owner had called from California and asked if he could still sell the place for the same price. Roberts agreed without discussing any change in the price.
I told him that I would take the place so he said for me to come to his office in McKinney the next day, as he had no contract forms with him. He also had an appointment to show it to some other people early the next morning.
I said, “No, I want to buy it now”. We dug a brown paper bag from under the front seat, and drew up an agreement which we both signed. I gave him an earnest money check and he noted receipt of it on the bag. We took that to Plano Title and they acknowledged receipt of it. The owner of the title company was a friend of mine, David Fair. He prepared a closing document, and we bought the farm at a great price.
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
In January of 1956, I got a call from the Division office in San Antonio to come in for a visit. Everything was going great. The District was running on autopilot. There were no Union Grievances, all offices at the top of the chart as far as service results were concerned. Everyone was pretty happy.
I had been more active with community service at the company’s request. I was on the board of the Chamber of Commerce and the incoming President of the Jaycees. I was heading up the effort to make John Nance Garner’s home a museum. I had just been elected the first vice president of Kiwanis and I was on the executive board planning the centennial anniversary of the founding of Uvalde. I had asked Dale Evans, a native of Uvalde, to come and ride in our grand parade. At First Presbyterian, I was Assistant Superintendent of the Sunday school. I was also chairman of the support of churches committee at Kiwanis, and we were coordinating some joint efforts for helping the poor in Uvalde.
Well, the powers that be had decided that all Traffic men needed to go through engineering training and help get the rest of the exchanges in Texas converted to dial. My time had come, and they wanted me to move to Dallas. I said I did not want to go!
I am giving you more detail than you probably want to hear to explain why I was dead set against leaving Uvalde in February of 1956. I did not have an option, for everyone had to go through this engineering cycle. The Uvalde Leader News did a two-column article on me when we left thanking me for my contributions to the city during our six years there. I did appreciate the recognition and really hated to leave. Uvalde was a wonderful little town of some 8500 friendly, salt-of-the-earth people. I had grown to love the town and our many friends there and leaving was really difficult. We had purchased 5 acres near the airport and had plans drawn for a new house in the country at the edge of town but that was not to be. We were literally ripped up by the roots and sent off to big D to start a new life there.
I reluctantly reported on February 1st to the Headquarters for Texas, which was located at 308 S. Akard Street in Dallas. I was assigned to a senior Engineer and my new title was Senior Staff Engineer.
Photo of Garner Museum found here.
Photo of Dale Evans found here.
Photo of SW Bell Dallas office circa 1956 found here.
Sunday, January 29, 2012
While I was District Superintendent I was proud of a battle I fought in Laredo, Texas. We had a big manual office there with about 130 some odd operators. The operators were backed up by “service assistants” who in turn were backed up by an assistant chief operator. We had a vacancy in the Assistant Chief Operator group and after much thought and consulting with the Chief Operator I decided that Aurora Gonzales was the best candidate by far. There was one problem; she was Mexican American not Anglo. No Mexican-American had ever been promoted into the management group.
I sent Aurora’s name in as the new Assistant Chief and got a quick call from my boss’s office. “You can’t do this, it will disrupt the whole office. You will have a revolt on your hands and the boss will not tolerate that.” Then the boss calls and tells me it won’t work. I refused to back down. We went back and forth for several days and finally they approved my recommendation but said it would be my responsibility if disaster happened and the Mexican-Americans there refused to follow one of their own.
Aurora did great; the people loved her and responded to her leadership. The results of the office improved and labor complaints disappeared. Shortly after I was transferred to Dallas the Chief became ill and had to retire. Who was the new Chief? Aurora!
About twenty years later after I had left the Telephone Company and was on the farm in McKinney and I got a call. It was from a management person in San Antonio and she said Aurora Gonzales the Chief operator of the San Antonio office was retiring and she hoped I would come down to her retirement party. I said when and where, I will be there.
San Antonio was the third largest and most prestigious office in the state and Aurora was the Chief operator there. Even I was amazed. At the retirement dinner there were a lot of speeches. Several of the “big shots” told how they had given Aurora a chance when she was first made management and they could see what a great Assistant Chief Operator she would be. Aurora looked over at me and smiled and sort of shook her head.
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
The west boundary of my District ran down the Rio Grande from north of Del Rio to south of Laredo at Roma and Zapata. It was the best hunting area of all the districts. Whenever any of the Brass from New York or St Louis came to Texas, they had one of two objectives. Either they wanted to go to Mexico or, during the season, they wanted to go hunting. Either way, they needed a guide so these duties fell to me. If it was Mexico, I had to see that they got back to the Texas side in one piece. If hunting, I had to see that they did not kill one another. A friend of mine by the name of Kincade owned the largest ranch in the county. His family had ranched that country since the mid 1800’s. He was good enough to let me take Telephone Company officials out to his place to hunt. As a matter of fact, the North and South Zone line for doves ran right through the middle of his ranch.
I would take a group of men out there and would station them around a lake far enough apart to not shoot one another. Then I would go to the south end of the lake and go behind the dam, where I would sit down with my back against the dam with my trusty old double barrel. This was the same gun I had used in high school. After a little bit, I would hear a shot at the far north end and then bam-bam-bam, right down the lake towards the dam. The birds would come over the dam headed south, and I had a perfect going away shot which is the easiest shot to make. This would go on for three or four hours, and about sundown I would gather the guys up. As I picked them up, there would be shell casings all around them. There is no telling how many boxes of shells they shot. My game bag would be full, so I could give each whatever they needed to fill their limit. We would head over to the ranch, and a Mexican cook would fix supper for them, using the dove they had shot.
One time, a Vice President from New York came out to a meeting in Uvalde and someone made the mistake of asking him about pickles. Turns out he considered himself the world’s greatest expert on pickles. We left that evening for Del Rio and Villa Acuna. (Later Ciudad Acuna). Mrs. Crosby’s was the restaurant everyone went to, and he wanted to have supper there. There were four of us plus the VP in the car and, for an hour and a half all we heard was more and more about pickles. We finally got to Mexico and Mrs. Crosby’s and sat down for dinner. They always put several bowls of uncut Jalapeno peppers on the table. The VP says’” What are those”? I don’t know for sure, it may have been me, but someone said, “Those are Mexican pickles.”
With that, he grabs one and before anyone can say a word he pops it into his mouth and starts chewing. It took about three good chews and he come right up out of his chair, turning it over. He spits his Mexican pickles on the floor and reaches over and drinks my beer. He breaks out in a sweat, his face is bright red and, as he grabs someone’s water he says, “Really, fellows! I am on fire, I am in trouble!” Everyone is laughing and hooting and hollering. The Mexican police come in and I am afraid we are in more trouble that we bargained for. I explain to the policia what happened and he breaks out laughing. I have to say the VP was a good sport, but we did not hear much from him the rest of the evening.
Hunting zone map found here.
Dove hunting photo found here.
Photo of Mrs. Crosby’s found here.
Photo of jalepenos found here.
Monday, January 23, 2012
Along with my position in Uvalde I inherited a personal secretary. She should never have been put into this job, which was way over her head. Dealing with this was adding to my stress and causing problems. I would tell her, “I am going into San Antonio for the week-end. I am going to stop in Hondo and Sabinal to visit with the Chief Operators on the way back on Monday, so I will not be in the office till about noon”. My boss would call at 8 AM on Monday and he would ask for me. “He is not here,” she would say. “Where is he?” She’d reply, “I don’t know.” Naturally the boss was not happy and he would tell me about it when I called him about 11 AM.
After many conversations and extra training I finally had to make a change and re assign her back to the operating room. I hired a new secretary, Ludeen, who was excellent. She quickly organized her job and had it humming smoothly in no time. Once or twice I did fail to tell her when I was going to be gone. Nevertheless, when the boss called he was happy with her explanation of where I was-even though she did not have a clue. She did, however, let me know about it whenever I forgot to tell her.
Ludeen was a jewel. She took about eight hours off my workweek right away. If the boss called about one of the towns in my district, Ludeen would be laying the file on my desk with all the answers before he asked a question. She also answered a lot of the Chief Operators minor questions, without bothering me with them. She organized the office and the other girls who worked for me there.
I woke up each morning at 5:45 when my radio came on with the McCullough Chain Saw advertising jingle. I would get dressed and head for the office which was about seven minutes from our home. I would park in back of my office and go next door to the Elite Café and have coffee with the Ranchers and businessmen that met there for breakfast every morning. By seven AM I was at my desk and planning the day. I would write notes on various correspondence and requests for information and put into Ludeen’s box. Everything went to her first and she decided which of the girls in the office was best suited to complete the assignment. I had put all the office staff under Ludeen’s direction and delegated all decisions to her. She enjoyed her work and did a fantastic job of taking 90% of the detail work off of me.
I learned early on that if you were stressed about your workload you had better learn to delegate. When you are used to working by yourself or doing it all by yourself it is hard to turn loose of control and delegate. It not only relieves your stress level but for the first tine your employees begin to grow and make decisions without asking you for permission before making a move. Sure, they will make mistakes and frequently do something different than what you would have done but it is the only way for them to grow. You will find that you grow some, too.
With the Union quiet, we began to convert offices to dial. I was given two Assistant District men. I put one in charge of the big Laredo conversion, and the other one in charge with the Seguin-New Braunfels conversions.
I did not take much time off away from the job during the first four years we were in Uvalde. We did take an occasional long weekend to go to Port Isabel near South Padre Island.
Advertisement for typewriter found here.
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
When I had first gone to Uvalde I was working pretty hard, because the District was a mess when I got there. I was traveling about 4000 miles a month and working 70-80 hours a week.
Three months before we were sent to Uvalde, the Communication Workers of America and Southwestern Bell had entered into a contract calling for a number of changes in personnel policies. Several of the Chiefs had run their own show for many, many years, and they were not inclined to change. This, of course, caused a lot of union grievances and frequent formal grievances. At the formals you met in an office and every word you uttered was recorded so there was certain amount of stress in representing SW Bell in these meetings.
I practically memorized that contract and became known as one who really knew all the details of the terms. This helped a great deal in my negotiations but several of the older Chief Operators continued to be unbending, which caused me a lot of trouble as well as stress and time. Most of the Chiefs realized that there was no future in continuing to fight the inevitable and conformed, but three of them refused to bend. “I have run this office for thirty years and have done a darn good job so why should I change now?” So unfortunately, I had to take two of them off the job and demote them. This was the hardest thing I ever had to do. Things did start getting better after that.
I had rejoined the U S Naval Reserve and was the Supply officer for a Construction Battalion in San Antonio. Driving to drills every Thursday night and back to Uvalde was a chore. However, it added to our income and I was adding years toward retirement from the Navy Reserve.
I have to admit, I did drive too fast in those days. I was driving 4000 to 5000 miles each month and much of that in the middle of the night getting home to Uvalde. One night I was coming back from a long union meeting in Laredo. I left Laredo about 11 PM and started those 155 miles to Uvalde. I had just left Catarina on my way to Carrizo Springs and I could see down the straight road for about twenty miles. Not a car in either direction or even a light from a distant ranch house. My Ford would rock along about 100 miles an hour but it had a manual choke that I could pull it out a little and get about 103 out of her. Well, I was rocking and rolling along and I topped a little rise. When my lights dropped as I started down the other side, I could not believe what I saw.
The road was literally covered with cattle. They had gotten out through some fence and were all over the road and in both right of way ditches. The ditches were not deep but they were wide from the pavement to the fence line. I remember driving over to the right fence line and across the road down into the left ditch and back up on the road. As I fought my way from one side of the road to the other all I could see was cows in front of me and on both sides of the car. When I emerged on the other side of the cattle I was shaking so bad I had to stop and get out of the car for a few minutes. It was an absolute miracle that I did not hit a single cow, though I did brush against more than one. That was the last time I ever drove that fast.
It was just as well. I had burned out two engines and when my good friend Horace, the Plant Superintendent, put the third engine my car he had them put a truck radiator. He also had them install a special five bladed fan in the car. That worked well-except in the winter I would drive all the way to San Antonio and never could get the engine warmed up enough to run the heater.
Photo of telephone operators found here.
Photos of Carrizo Springs found here.
Monday, January 9, 2012
Things continued to run smoothly, and on September 27, 1955 we were blessed with a little girl, Susan Elizabeth, weighing in at 7lb 13 oz. Charlotte was in San Antonio with her mother when she called me in Uvalde. She said she was at the hospital and I had better hurry if I was going to get there before the baby arrived. I did not even go home to lock up the house. I jumped in my car, and set a new record for covering the 90 miles to San Antonio. Fortunately, I arrived before Susan did. I made it in about an hour which was pretty good for 90 miles. Susan and her mom were fine. We had just purchased a new 1955 Chevrolet Station Wagon. One reason we had bought it was this was the first model year that had in-dash air conditioning. I brought Charlotte and Susan home to Uvalde with me. I had been using it all week in anticipation of Susan’s arrival and had a mattress in the back.
In 1955 I was the incoming President of the Junior Chamber of Commerce and each Christmas we decorated a very large Christmas tree on the square in Uvalde. Chip was very impressed when I put on a pair of telephone climbing hooks and proceeded to climb the tree. It was actually a very large telephone pole that we used for the center of a big Christmas tree. We were putting the limbs and lights on the tree and I think Tom was more interested in the pretty lights than what Dad was doing. Chip, however, was very impressed I guess because he still mentions it from time to time.
In fact, it may have given him ideas. Chip has always loved to bug his mother and tease her. When he was about five she was calling him to supper one evening and could not find him. He had climbed up into the top of a big sycamore tree by the front porch and was trying to hide behind a big limb. He did not make a sound and Charlotte became frantic looking for him. She went to the back of the house, and he climbed down and ran into the house and was waiting for her when she came in.
Our house in Uvalde was a pier and beam house as opposed to a concrete slab. It was built on concrete piers that had beams set on them and then the floor would be attached to the beams. There was usually “crawl space” under such a house. One time we began to notice a distinctly skunk smell in the house. After a day or two it became unbearable so Charlotte told me I had to do something. I opened the trap door in the closet floor and hung down under the house with my flashlight. Sure enough, about 20 feet from the trap door I could see a skunk that had died under there. There was nothing to do but go after it.
I got my old clothes on and dropped down under the house. They had not done a very good job of leveling the lot and the area where the skunk was had only about 12 to 18 inches between the ground and the beam above it. I snaked my way over towards the skunk and about 3 feet from the skunk it was so tight, I had to hold my head sideways to struggle towards the skunk. I reached out for the skunk, and when I did its tail snapped up! Oh me! I just froze. I was looking at that skunk and not moving a muscle and its black beady eyes were looking back at me. I don’t know how long I lay there, afraid to move and get shot in the face with Skunk perfume but it seemed forever. Charlotte was calling, “are you alright?” I could not answer and she did not know what my problem was. After a long time I chanced moving very slowly back to the scuttle hole and climbed out. We waited about an hour checking every once in a while with the flashlight. The skunk never moved again, and we decided it must have been rigor mortis setting in that caused the tail to move. I finally went back under there and dragged the skunk out and disposed of it. It took about two weeks for the house to lose the skunk smell.
Photo of telephone pole found here.
Photo of crawl space found here.