Diego Rivera

My mother, Jim, told me once that while she and my dad were in Mexico City on their honeymoon, they visited several museums. She said that in one they saw a politically inspired mural by a famous painter, and that someone had damaged it by throwing paint on it. She said that she thought the artist’s name was Rivera.

Well, when I got off the phone, I immediately Googled Rivera to see if I could find out anything about him. Sure enough, there was a prominent artist from Mexico named Diego Rivera who was quite famous by 1941 when my parents saw his mural, both as an artist and as a political figure. There have been two movies made about his life, Cradle will Rock, made in 1999, and Frida, featuring Rivera’s wife, Frida Kahlo. Coincidentally, I had seen Frida shortly before Jim told me about the mural.

Rivera was born in Mexico, but studied art in Paris and lived there for several years where he became a prominent artist, and a close friend of Amedeo Modigliani, who painted his portrait. In 1920, after the Mexican revolution, he returned to Mexico where he became active in the communist party, painting nationalistic murals, and founding the Revolutionary Union of Technical Workers, Painters and Sculptors. At the time, his work was so inflammatory that he armed himself with a pistol while he painted.

Coincidentally, 1921 was when Wenonah’s family lived in San Antonio. I tell the story in the book, Wenonah’s Story, about how her father tried to go into the business of selling Mexican real estate, and failed, probably because of the political unrest there.

The mural my parents saw has quite a history. Rivera first painted it in Rockefeller Center in New York City in 1933 with the title, “Man at the Crossroads.” The painting, which had been commissioned by the Rockefeller family, became controversial when an image of Vladimir Lenin was discovered inside it. Rivera refused to remove the image so the painting was destroyed, and Rivera returned to Mexico City. There he reproduced the mural my parents saw, renaming it “Man the Controller of the Universe.”

Wikipedia didn’t mention that the second version was defaced, but Jim got the idea it had been recent in 1941. Once again I was just amazed that she remembered anything about it at all.

Jim and Don's Honeymoon

First, a little apology:

I’ve decided to call Wenonah by her first name, Jim, short for her first name James, because that’s what everyone called her while I was growing up. Actually I did too. I called my parents Jim and Don, like they called each other, and they never taught me any different. My mother did prefer to be called Wenonah - she hated having a boy’s name, and in later years she went by Wenonah, except among family and old friends, but it doesn’t seem natural to me. I hope she’ll forgive me. 

Jim and Don's Honeymoon, June, 1941:

I can’t tell you about my parents’ wedding because it’s in the book, but the book stops there, so their honeymoon is fair game.

The book does mention that they started out to Mexico City with only $25, so I guess that’s as good a place to start as any. That fact just blew my mind when my mother casually mentioned it during one of our telephone conversations during her last years. I guess $25 went a lot farther on those days, but still, going to a foreign country, where you can’t speak the language, where they might not be able to fix your car, where you might get sick and need a doctor – there were so many risks. You’d have to know my parents, but I just can’t imagine them doing that.

First of all, my father was the most careful person I ever knew. He was always prepared. He was the first one ready for church every Sunday morning. He got his car maintained regularly. He was never late for a payment or an appointment. Jim said that after they were married he took out so many insurance policies she had to make him stop because she was afraid they wouldn’t have enough money to buy the things they needed. She teased him for checking their bank statements trying to catch the bank in an error. Actually Jim was the same way. When she took me shopping with her she would go to every store in town that sold a particular item before deciding what to buy. She and Don discussed every major purchase for months before they made a decision. We never lived beyond our means. We were the last family in the neighborhood to get a TV set. We fixed appliances instead of buying new ones. We never bought a car before the last one was paid off. That’s why it’s so hard for me to imagine them starting out on a twenty-five hundred mile trip with only $25. But it’s a fact. They ran out of money too, in Mexico City. My dad had to send a telegram to one of the guys he worked with, Charlie Kopp, asking him to wire another $25 for them to get home. My mother saved the telegram.

Another interesting tidbit my mother shared with me was a warning she got from her brother Haskell before they started on their trip. He told her that because of her dark skin the Mexicans would be offended when she didn’t speak Spanish, thinking she was a “high toned” Mexican refusing to speak her own language. She told me she “poo-poo’d” the idea at the time, but later at a restaurant in Mexico City, she and Don couldn’t get their waiter to come to their table. Finally a Jewish lady sitting next to them figured out their predicament, called to the waiter and ordered for them in Spanish. 

The lack of money, and difficulty communicating didn’t keep Jim and Don from having a good time though. They spent the first night together in Fort Worth, Texas, and the next day they drove on to San Antonio. There they took a Gray Line bus tour of the city for $2.00, visiting the Alamo, the Spanish Governor’s mansion, the San Jose Mission and the Japanese Tea Garden in Breckinridge Park. Jim must have enjoyed showing Don the city where she had lived as a little girl. After San Antonio, they drove south to Laredo. There they crossed the border and stayed in the Mexican town of Nuevo Laredo. They bought a tour book there, for 25¢ - Jim kept it in her scrap book. It had maps, pictures, recommended places to stay, and information about each town and point of interest along the way. From there they followed the Pan American Highway through Monterrey, Ciudad Victoria, and Ciudad Valles. The road then went up into the mountains south to Mexico City. They took some pictures along the way, of the mountains, of the palm trees lining the road, and of each other. Jim had several different outfits, and she wore a broad brimmed bonnet. Her purse was woven out of multicolored yarn and had a draw string at the top, like a small sack. I recognized it when I saw the pictures because I saw it all my life. I asked her if she still had it and she said, “Sure, I keep buttons in it.” Don wore a white shirt and a tie with light colored pants and those old fashioned two toned shoes that were black on the toes and heels and white down the sides, with a straw hat.

Jim said the prettiest town they passed was Jacala. It was nestled among the mountains, and all the houses were white washed. There were vines growing on the walls, and poinsettias blooming in the gardens. The last place they stayed before they arrived in Mexico City was a town called Tamazunchale, which they dubbed “Thomas and Charlie” because that’s what it sounded like to them. Jim said the little town was surrounded by a dense tropical forest and there were colorful wild parrots everywhere. The natives were of small stature and the hotel manager told them they were descendants of the Aztecs. Jim said that they were shy, and that she couldn’t get them to talk to her. That night they kept being awakened by a loud noise that sounded like someone trying to start a car. In the morning she and Don asked the manager what had been going on, and he told them that the noise they heard was made by the parrots.

In Mexico City, Jim and Don visited the historic sites, and the museums, but the highlight of their trip was a visit to Xochimilco, a short way from the city, home of the famous floating gardens, the “Venice of Mexico.” They took a boat tour through the gardens, and were enchanted by the beauty of the flowers. Don bought Jim a bouquet, and she enjoyed the fragrance of the flowers until the oarsman warned her not to sniff them too much because there were little insects in the flowers that sometimes transmitted disease. Jim said she spent the rest of the tour blowing her nose. The guide must have gotten a kick out of that.

It was just about that time that they ran out of money, and decided to head back to Oklahoma City where they would be living while Don continued to work at Peppers refinery, and Jim faced the task of writing 300 thank you notes for their wedding gifts.

PS: I’m saving one more story about my parents’ honeymoon for later. I want to give it a separate post because of its historical interest.

Jim and Don, Xochimilco, 1941

Hello Again

Hello, again.

I’ve only posted one blog in the last two years, so no one may notice me starting up again, but I'm going to try anyway.

I’ve finished the book, Wenonah’s Story, that I co-authored with my mother, J. Wenonah Paul Gunning, and it will be released by the Chickasaw Press the first week in October. I hope you will all read it. It’s a lot more polished than my blog, so hopefully it will be worth your while.

My mother was a remarkable woman, born in 1913 into the prominent Paul family just as it was falling on hard times. A sensitive child, Wenonah faced hardship, tragedy, conflict between her parents, and prejudice because of her Indian blood, with determination and humor. The book describes her childhood as an adventurous tomboy, her experiences at Bloomfield, a Chickasaw school for girls, getting a college degree during a time when women were expected to get married out of high school, and creating an exciting life for herself as a working woman, while giving support and encouragement to her mother and to her brothers and sisters.  

Wenonah’s Story is not just the story of my mother’s life, but also a history of the Paul family, from Wenonah’s great grandfather, Smith Paul, who ran away from his home in North Carolina to join the Chickasaw Indians, to her grandfather, Sam Paul, a Chickasaw policeman and senator, to her father William, a delegate to the Sequoya Convention, a successful rancher, and real estate broker, to her brother Homer, who served in the Oklahoma state legislature for 17 years. The book describes the stormy transition of the Indian and Oklahoma Territories into the State of Oklahoma; the prosperity of the 1920’s, and the hardships of living through the Great Depression. It also gives a pretty good picture of what it was like to grow up in a small rural Oklahoma town during the 1920’s.

I haven’t quite decided how to continue this blog, but I guess I’ll just keep telling stories about our family, putting them into the context of the times. If you read the book, the blog will give you more details about the background of the story, and the lives of the characters, and I’ll continue telling more about my dad, who’s just entering the story as the book ends. 

Thanks for reading. It's nice to be back. 

Courting

My mother Wenonah said that she and my father Don didn’t start dating each other exclusively at first, but they would go places together in a group. There were a lot of things to do in Oklahoma City in those days: movies, of course, and dances, picnics, and there was an amusement park out at Spring Lake. Late in the summer the watermelons would get ripe in Rush Springs and watermelon stands would be set up in parks. The farmers would set up a big cooler with ice in the park and you could buy a slice and eat it at one of the tables set up in the park.  

There was a pavilion out at Spring Lake Park, and they had dances there, outside. I don’t even know what’s left of Spring Lake now. When I was little you could swim in the lake, and there was an amusement park. Now swimming in the lake wouldn’t meet the health regulations, and the amusement park is gone too. I think they have a zoo and a golf course there now. Anyway, Wenonah said that nationally famous big bands would come and play there when she and Don were dating: Tommy Dorsey, Benny Goodman, Guy Lombardo, and others. 

Wenonah was a member of two organizations, and they both had parties. One was called the India-Okla Club. All of the prominent Indian leaders in the state were members: The Chickasaw and Choctaw governors and several men like my Uncle Homer, who were members of the state legislature. Wenonah was the program chairman, and she arranged for my cousin Lahoma to dance at one of the meetings. 

The other group that Wenonah joined during that time was the Beta Sigma Phi businesswomen’s sorority. I know they had dances because Wenonah saved her dance book from one of their functions. For each dance she would write down whom she danced with. When she danced with Don she would just write “us.” 

In the winter my parents went ice skating on Shepherd’s Pond, as it was called then. The Shepherd family owned a large piece of land  on the edge of town – now it’s in the middle of town, the pond has been filled in, and a shopping center called Shepherd’s Mall has been built there. 

I’ve been writing a book about my Wenonah’s life, and I don’t want to give the plot away, but she lived through a terrible tragedy when she was 15 that turned her against her father, and the experience affected her attitude towards men, or at least towards relationships with men. She told me that it was a big surprise to her family when she told them she intended to marry Don. 

It wasn’t an easy journey though. They went together for three years before Wenonah said yes. My dad was always patient. 

He got jealous one time when Wenonah danced with another man, and she told him that her father was jealous of her mother and that she wouldn't tolerate it, so he gave in. Another time my dad was drinking and Wenonah thought he had had too much, so she told him that her father had been an alcoholic and that she couldn't tolerate drinking. That's something she told me too. "You can have just as much fun sober as you can drunk," she said. Anyway, my dad stopped drinking altogether. Many years later, after they had both retired, they used to have a glass of wine together at bed time, but I can’t remember ever seeing my father drink hard liquor.  

                      

Notes From Oklahoma

This post comes from Oklahoma, where we are now, visiting. We’re staying in my mother Wenonah’s house in Oklahoma City. It’s so peaceful here by the lake. We brought more furniture and arranged for TV and internet service so we don’t feel so isolated. It’s sad to be here where my mother spent so much time, I also feel closer to her here, and there’s some comfort to that. I can still see her sitting there by the window, listening to the radio and looking out at the birds and squirrels playing in the trees.

 

 

We made a trip to Ada, visited with my daughter and her family there, and also with other family and friends, and we visited the Chickasaw Nation headquarters.

 

It’s hot here, not the dry Colorado heat that we’re used to, but a humid heat that weighs on you like heavy blanket. I’ve been running a couple of times though, and it wasn’t too bad. The air is cool, and there’s more oxygen in the air here. That kind of makes up for the humidity.

 

We spent a quiet 4^th of July watching TV, but one item in the news reminded me of one of Pauls Valley’s claims to fame, the host to the International Championship Watermelon Seed Spitting Championships. I remember visiting Pauls Valley as a boy, and getting instructions from my cousin Phillip on the fine points of watermelon seed spitting.  

 

This year contestants travelled from as far away as Oklahoma City to compete, but the  championship was won by Darren Jennings, a Pauls Valley native, with a winning spit measuring over 34 feet.  

 

Don Meets Wenonah

Don’s last year at OU was hectic. He was working nights at Peppers, commuting to Norman during the days for his accounting classes, and spending what little time that was left to study.  

Don enjoyed the other guys he worked with at the plant. There was Charley Kopp, Tom Pierce, Bill Beebe and Bud Bickford. They did their best to make a dangerous, boring job bearable. They all teased Beebe about breaking glassware in the lab. It seemed that no matter how careful he was he’d drop a flask or pipette or something, and of course everything he broke came out of his pay check at the end of the month. Finally one day he got so disgusted with himself that he threw a monkey wrench on the floor. He didn’t break anything else that day, so the next day, first thing, he dropped the wrench again. Nothing was broken that day either, so it became a ritual. The first thing Beebe did each day was drop that wrench. He never broke another piece of glassware.  

Bud Bickford was from Oklahoma City and he lived with his parents. Bud’s folks were having a hard time, and Bud helped them as much as he could. After he got acquainted with Don, he invited him to share his room. It was a good deal for both of them. Bud made a little rent money for his parents and Don got a cheap room.   

Don and Bud became good friends. Bud had a degree in chemical engineering from OU, and he was the chemist at Peppers’ lab. He was smart and dissatisfied with his job at Peppers though, as was Don after he had worked there for a while. They spent their spare time trying to think of ways to get away from Peppers and make it big. One of their ideas came when they learned that oil had been found on the island of Aruba. They dreamed of buying a little land there and lying out on the beach while the oil flowed in. It’s just as well that they didn’t though. After the start of WWII Aruba was taken over by the Germans, who were also interested in the oil there. 

Bud had gone to high school in Oklahoma City, and he got together regularly with his classmates. Naturally he took Don along with him. One of the girls in Bud’s high school class was Jeannette Moore, whose mother had been my uncle Haskell’s secretary at the state capital. My mother Wenonah had become friends with Jeannette, so she met Don and Bud during one of their visits with Jeannette.

Wenonah had taken an education class at OU, and some of the OU football players were in it. They were rude and arrogant and definitely made a bad impression on her. It wasn’t long before Don found out what she thought of athletes - my mother was never shy about expressing her opinions, so he didn’t tell her that he had played basketball at OU.  

Peppers had a softball team and Don soon became their star player and coach. Wenonah told me once about going to one of his games. She said that it was as though she were watching a different person. Instead of the mild mannered, shy person she knew, he was aggressive, running around shouting instructions to the other players. He seemed to be making most of the scores too.  

I have a team photo of Don with Peppers’ soft ball team. It has always made me laugh. You can see patches of sweat on some of the other players’ tee shirts, but Don’s shirt is totally saturated.  

 

Peppers' Softball Team, League Champs, 1939

Finding a Job

During Don’s senior year at OU he began to think about getting a job. His major up to that point had been office management, and after visiting a few businesses he discovered that no one was interested in hiring a fresh college graduate as a manager, regardless of his degree, so Don changed his major to accounting. He talked with his counselor and discovered that it would take him another year to get the required credits, and it wouldn’t be easy because the courses would all be upper division.  

Meanwhile Don was losing his roommate. His brother Boyd was graduating from law school and getting married to Eleanor Adderhold, the Kappa girl that Don had coached on how to use her elbows playing basketball. Boyd and Eleanor were going to New Orleans on their honeymoon and had invited Don to go along. It would be a nice break, but then Don would have to find a better job. He couldn’t support himself any longer by delivering laundry. There were no athletic scholarships in the ‘30’s.  

I know. It’s pretty funny that Boyd and Eleanor invited Don to go with them on their honeymoon, but that’s just what they did. When I asked Don why, he said, “ Well, it was a nice trip. I guess they just thought I should have a chance to go along too.”

 

Boyd and Eleanor in 1838

 

The next problem was finding a job. Up to that time playing basketball had taken a lot of Don’s time and energy, and he had also relied a lot on Boyd’s resourcefulness to support the two of them, but now Boyd had a wife to support so Don was on his own.  

It was hard for Don to find a job in Norman because of all the college students needing work. He had gone to Coach McDermott during the second semester of his senior year for help. The coach had cosigned a loan for him for $80. $30 for the second semester, and $50 for summer school. McDermott told Don that he would be retiring as basketball coach after the next season to take the job of athletic director, and then he might be able to offer Don a job on the basketball coaching staff, but at the time being there were no jobs open.  

Don’s father was also trying to get him a job, asking his customers if any of them were hiring. Grandfather’s shop was right off the town square, and every man in town got his hair cut there. They all knew Don too, if not from high school, at least from his years as a star at OU. Finally Grandfather found a man who agreed to talk to Don about a job. His name was Peppers.  

Mr. Peppers lived in Enid, but he owned a gasoline refinery in Oklahoma City. He told Grandfather to send Don over to talk with him. After Don talked with Peppers he was excited. He had been open about wanting to become an accountant, but Peppers told him that was no problem, that he would transfer him to his accounting department when he got his degree. 

 

So Don went to work in the plant. Here’s a picture of Don with Mr. Peppers at a softball game. I have a feeling that Peppers may have had the idea in the back of his mind that Don would be a good addition to the company softball team:

 

Don and C. C. Peppers, 1938

 

For the next year Don worked nights at Peppers' refinery in Oklahoma City, and then drove to Norman to go to school during the days. It was a grueling schedule. The work at Peppers was dangerous too. Don had to inspect and maintain the pipes which carried liquid and gaseous petroleum products. There could be an explosion at any time. He also had climb into the big oil tanks which were sometimes filled with deadly fumes.   

Don didn’t tell me about all the dangers of working at Peppers’ plant, but he did tell me about one terrifying experience he had there. He was working the night shift as usual and it was raining. The rain was coming down hard and it was difficult to see, but over the sound of the wind and thunder he could hear the roar of an engine, so he went out to investigate. It was a big oil tanker bringing in a load of oil to be refined.  

Don could tell that the tanker was going to have trouble because there was a power line that crossed the road about half way up the road to the plant. When the weather was good they would have a man climb up on the trucks to lift the wires up high enough to clear the tanks. It was dangerous work at any time but today on the wet slippery surface of the tanker it seemed like suicide, but the plant manager said they had to unload the oil that night, so one on the workers was chosen to climb up on the tank to lift the wires. Luckily it wasn’t Don.  

As Don watched, the man inched his way along the top of the truck, holding the power line up with a tree branch. Suddenly his feet slipped. He fell on the tanker, and as he did he lost his grip on the branch and the power line fell across his chest. There was a flash of light, and then the man slid off the truck to the ground, dead. Don had nightmares about it for years.

 Don at Peppers Refinery, 1938