It's my senior year in high school long ago in 1966. One afternoon my grandmother brings out a shoebox and in that shoebox were greeting cards. There were cards for birthdays, Easter, Christmas, Mother's Day, and new one for graduation. Inside each card was a dollar bill. In a shaky scrawl was written, in each card, "Thinking of you" with an "X" marked and a printed name of Harold. The envelopes were sent to "Baby Girl Twitchell" Woodville, Texas. I remember some of these cards but over the years had lost interest and wondered the heck a dollar would buy "in this day and age." Miss Dolly had continued to keep the cards leaving the later cards with the money in them. She told me that we had a trip planned for that weekend to meet some people she believed I needed to meet. Groans and eye rolls promptly began at this point. Her tone told me I had no choice but go along with her plan. Here's what I learned:
It's 1950, and a very famous murder trial being held in Texas. Due to the notoriety of the trial it was moved from Hardin County to Chambers County. It was the murder trial of two men named Goldman and Levinas who had ruthlessly murdered a young mother of a six month old baby. The young woman, married to a Chief Engineer of a Mobil Oil Tanker had disappeared in August of 1948 and her body was found nine months later buried in the swamp of the Big Thicket.During this time, her mother had cared for the baby as she waited to hear what had happened to her only daughter. The husband was on the open seas delivering oil to various ports of call worldwide. The picture you see is that grandmother, Miss Dolly, with a baby... that's me. She is holding a letter from my father as they wait to find out what had happened to Eloise Twitchell, whose picture you see. I will write of this event later as it was truly sensational for its time. The picture of Miss Dolly and me was on major magazine covers and newspapers while the search went on for my mother's remains.
Fast forward to the murder trial in 1950. My grandmother drove everyday from Woodville to Anahuac, Texas [about 80 miles each way] to be at the trial. She went alone with me in tow. She had no one with her, except a squirmy and cranky toddler. The courtroom was packed every day with spectators and reporters from Houston, Beaumont, and places in between. The trial lasted several weeks with all sorts of lurid and detailed information evolving around murder, bodies, suppositions, coroners, etc. Modern TV has nothing on what went down in this trial. (BTW: they were found guilty. One was executed and one received life) As a two year old, I would get restless and Miss Dolly, emotionally drained, was at her wit's end. The prosecution wanted us there at the trial for the emotional impact. As the days would progress, a very large man dressed in overalls smelling of snuff would pick me up and walk me around the back of the courtroom or take me outside to run. I do have a dim memory of him. He and his wife were at the trial everyday. This was Harold and his wife. From that encounter came the cards, event after event, months and years for 18 years.
It was time to meet Harold and wife. We drove to Kountze, Texas and went to the Sheriff's office. The Sheriff proceeded to lead us into the Big Thicket Preserve turning here and there until we were in a swampy area coming upon a house, on stilts . No electricity. No running water. An outhouse. chickens, pigs, dogs...and on the front porch stood an old man in overalls and his wife, in a wheelchair. The Sheriff said he would wait for us. Miss Dolly had worn her "Sunday best" and had me do the same. She opened the trunk of our car and there were boxes and boxes of food. We went into their home: imagine if you will bare wood walls and floors. You could see the earth below the floors...the outside through the walls. A wood stove for heating and cooking. On one wall were 12 school pictures stuck with straight pins...pictures of me! I have included the first and the last picture. Harold just looked at me and said something like "she sure has grown up fine." We visited; they drank coffee. Miss Dolly gave them the food. The sheriff had told my grandmother that these wonderful people were the poorest of the poor eking a living out of the swamps of the Big Thicket. For them to send a dollar for every card was a fortune. I later learned that she had left a "credit" of $200.00 at the grocery in Kountze giving the Sheriff instructions to tell them about it after we left. They were proud people and did not want a hand out. While I was in college, we found out that Harold and his wife had passed away in the swamps and were not discovered until a month after their passing. They had no family or children to look after them; yet, they never forgot a restless toddler and a distraught mother in crowded courthou
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