The year this happened was oct. Does any one remember any of this!!
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This is all I know. My mom was only 19 yrs old. My name is Gregory Trotter. I lived in Pyote during the school year, when I was years old. It was just ten months out of my life, but it made a lasting impression on me. The success of their intent remains questionable. In the summertime rattlesnakes sometimes holed up there. I still received the occasional principal-administered spanking, of course, but I was there every day.
I was in 7 th grade. The whole town only had residents that year, I believe, including the Air Force base. The following year after I had returned to California , I learned that after the Air Force base closed, the school only had 84 students, and high schoolers were bused somewhere else, Monahans, I think.
Williams rabbit hunted one weekend; but one or two rabbits were still alive and crawled into some humanly inaccessible recesses in the back of his car and died, stinking his car up for quite some time. Sometimes I went to the movie theater on base. I often wondered what it would be like to climb the ladder and go up there. I am afraid of heights, or I might have tried it.
Many times my friends and I thought about giving them a try. I was small and not particularly fast or otherwise adept at sports. But I scored a touchdown one time. We still lost that game. We lost every game. I loved spending hours hiking the lonesome lands East of town, summer heat or not. Solitude of that kind is priceless. My step-grandparents worried about my getting heat stroke or something. But I learned that I had a very high tolerance for heat augmented by attitude. But a hat was essential.
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I learned that he came to Pyote in a covered wagon with his parents many years before. I think he was around 81 when I was there. I was in charge of feeding and watering all but the six fighters. Once during my sojourn in Pyote, an Air Force jet screamed too near our place, and the best breeding goat panicked and broke his neck.
He had to run over and rescue me. Those are most of the highlights of my memories of Pyote from All told, it was a memorable ten months. At the time, I more or less hated being in that God-forsaken place. But it remains one of the most important years of my life. I just discovered the cemetery pictures. The caption gives the following information:. I think it awakened something inside me that had lain dormant. I think it had always been in me because of how easy it was to adopt that way of thinking and behaving.
And I have consciously valued those qualities ever since.
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But the thing that brought it home was the World Series. I would never in two million years imagine any school in the Los Angeles area gathering en masse in a big room to watch the final game on television. And not only that, but because everyone knew I was from Los Angeles, they all were rooting for the Dodgers over the Yankees! I felt very special that day, and it endeared me to the town and people of Pyote, Texas.
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I felt the spirit of true Texans. Alanis, I would like to commend you on your Ward County web site. It stands out among the best of the many sites I have visited. I really have roots in Ward county. I was born in Barstow in and spent my summers, as a youth, staying with my grandmother, Annie E.
Davis, in Barstow. On the other side my Grandfather was Albert D. Pigman, the first postmaster of Pyote. I am writing for my 95 year old aunt, Lola Lee Beckham, in relation to the picture, from the Pyote cemetery of her mothers grave stone. The death date in picture is not clear due to the lighting, but the legend on the picture gives the death date as "Jan 4, I would be happy to help anyone seeking information about these families, with what I know. I actually grew up in Odessa.
It was snowing and blowing with a significant wind-chill factor at work. About five-miles down the road, I happened upon a figure in the night. It was a derelict old man in skimpy dress. He was huddled beside the road in a pathetically small mass of shivering flesh. I pulled along side of him and flung open the passenger-side door. The waft of heat from the trucks blowing heater made it very easy for him to gratefully accept the offer of a ride.
At first, he couldn't see me because ice had shrouded his eyes. As the ice melted and he was able to see again his expression of gratitude was cut short as he viewed Santa behind the wheel of the old truck. I stopped believing in Santa about fifty-years ago, he exclaimed.
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Later, I gave him my military overcoat and twenty-dollars as I dropped him off in Monahans, Texas. I am Thomas F. By accident, I came across your web site and I would like to share with you a few thoughts I had after reading the section about Working at the Bomber Base. I was interested in Mozelle Gray Tonne telling of her experience at Pyote. It so happened that some of her story touched my life while I was stationed there. In her recounting about the young officer who was killed on the flight line.
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The night the accident happened I was the staff duty officer and I was the first one on the scene. The young officer was a maintenance specialist who was responding to a problem the aircrew was having with the aircraft. It was a very dark night, with limited visibility.
Unfortunately, he walked directly from his staff car towards the lower front entrance hatch but forgot that the engines were running. Mozelle Tonne was telling of her life a s a civilian employee and talked about her two girlfriends A Jackie and Marie. Her comment that Jackie loved to dance had a special interest to me, as I used to date that young lady. Her maiden name was Jackie Melton and her mother was Mrs. Nobie Nance who worked at the Pyote Officers Club. Stranger than that, I have kept in touch with Jackie all these yeas. Yesterday I told her of your publication and she remembers Mozelle very well.
She wanted to know if I had her e-mail address and I said no. Do you have her e-mail address or her phone number? I don't know if you remember the NCO club fire sometime in the time frame. It so happens that Jackie and I were driving past the club that evening when I noticed a small fire in the rear of the main building. I rushed in and told everyone to leave and attempted to put out the fire. There was a pair of locked French doors that separated the dance floor from the main building.
So like a good little boy scout with fire extinguisher in hand, I broke down the door. The minute the glass broke the entire dance hall went up in flames. I was unaware that the door had just been painted and when the fumes hit the fire that was all it took. My so called heroic action did nothing but make the problem so much greater. After I made a small problem into a much larger one, I joined the firemen manning a lose on the top of the roof. These are just a few of my fond memories of years gone past.
I had a wonderful experience at Pyote and have made some lasting friendships. It was an exciting time of my life and I thank the Lord daily for it. Thanks for the wonderful memories. Christmas on a West Texas Ranch. Everyone has their favorite Christmas story, so here is mine. I was born on the Rodgers cattle ranch near Pyote in west Texas. This is the story of the first Christmas that I remember. When I awoke on Christmas morning, I saw a beautiful Christmas tree with a small wind-up train circling the tree. That may not sound unusual. There were very few trees and of course no Christmas type trees within many miles of the ranch.
My mother had constructed this Christmas tree by tying many small pieces of greasewood on a mesquite bush. What west Texas ranchers called greasewood is now usually referred to as creosote. It has a pleasant smell and over 80 years later, when I smell greasewood, I remember a wonderful Christmas and a beautiful Christmas tree. Bill Rodgers. Christmas, Contributed by Barbara Rodgers Christopher Bill is her father. Luan, Your Ward County site is most excellent. While I am 80 now and in good health it does seem like yesterday the Army Air Corps sent me to Pyote, Texas for crew training on a B West Texas for me was "the end of the world.
Probably not many overnight guests, but that's another story. Makes me wish I had gone back sooner. I will never forget Pyote, the "old" Texas. Thanks again. James Edward Craft Rocklin, California crafthom aol. The former coordinator of Ward Co. Since then, two people have identified it as the old Pyote post office.
My grandfather and uncle are buried at the cemetery there. My grandfather worked construction for the railroad as it was built through Pyote. He built houses for the workers. I think one of your captions on the post office picture in the museum is incorrect. I remember when Lenora Price was care taker of the museum and she told us it was our post office because I was so excited to see my old post office box there. I could be wrong, but I think you should check out the info on it. The site is great and I appreciate all the work you and the other lady have done to keep our little part of Texas alive.
Two main runways, each about 8, feet long and feet wide, and a taxiway formed a triangle pattern on the flat, arid land. Construction of the facilities, including five large hangars, shops, warehouses and living quarters, began on 5 September He grew up on several farms in Codington and Hamlin Counties. He often remarked that he lived his Plane exploded mid-air near Downham Market, England. While Joe is at Alconbury receiving Radar training, he learns about the crash of April 11 that kills John One of his aircraft was nicknamed "Sweet 17".
Dates of service: American Air Museum in Britain. Show caption About this image of Revisions Date Contributor Update 23 March Lucy May Changes to aircraft associations Sources Connected aircraft records that have the word 'Pyote' in their biography fields. Connected aircraft records that have the word 'Pyote' in their biography fields.