Dick Robbins' health was of concern. The webbed capillaries in his cheeks were bold red and dark blue; from ten yards away, his cheeks appeared to be purple. Using his canes, he would drag around his lower body through the Mustang Club. He looked out on his world through watery red-rimmed eyes. Always a good partner, he told Sonny that he would not be able to work much longer.
Babs, regretfully, moved back to Dallas. She was missed.
One night at the Surf Club, as Sonny and I were talking, Sadie walked in with a man. She introduced him as Tom: a retired Army Major and her new husband. Major Tom, as we would call him, had jet black hair with a red tint...a cheap dye job. Sonny, always gracious, offered them a drink. Fine they said, but they were hungry. They were well fed. They did not offer to pay.
Sonny bought Jane and I a new Camaro.
I left the bank...or rather the bank left me. I bumped from one job to another. Sonny continued to underwrite my income shortfalls.
Sonny put the house on Dinn Street up for sale.
Adrienne began coming for visits.
The negotiations with the Master Hosts Inn became more contentious. Without Mary to act as a stabilizer, Sonny was not as able to deal with adversarial negotiations. Sonny and Dick conferred. They decided to close the Surf Club and Sandy Shores Restaurant rather to sell out to someone who would become a competitor. They would transfer all the club's members to the Mustang Club. A bright and brief era was over for Corpus' cafe society.
Walter Conring, now totally psychotic, died.
The Mustang Club's profits dipped, but the Derrick Restaurant continued to be very profitable.
On August third, 1970, Hurricane Celia hit Corpus. I had been through several prior hurricanes and tropical storms, so I was pretty casual in my concern. The storm was a beast. We would be without electricity for over two weeks. Jane's parents met her at a National Guard roadblock and they took Eric back to San Angelo. They left us a Coleman stove so we could cook. Ice was at premium; Sonny provided ice for us from the Mustang Club's ice-maker. There were communal meals with the remaining residents of the apartment project we lived in. In spite of no hot water or air-conditioning, we had a pretty good time.
Sonny. George Parma and one of George's brothers purchased a property in Kingsland, a village thirteen miles west of Marble Falls. It was called Green Harbor Lodges. It was set on three acres and had a two hundred foot waterfront facing out on Lake LBJ. Green Harbor had a two story tin utility barn and a two bedroom frame cottage on the north side of the property. Eight cabins, rented by the week to deer hunters and fishermen, sat on the south side. Also on the south side, was a large masonry house which had two large bed rooms and a bunk room which would sleep twelve. A large grassy yard sloped forty yards down to the lake; several very tall trees provided abundant shade. There was a pier running twenty yards out into the lake which connected to a gaily painted fishing house. The fishing house was a two story building with an interior fishing well on the first floor and stairs to a sun deck above. A cement boat-launch ramp ran down the eastern end of the property. The property would remain in the family for two decades.
The house on Dinn Street sold.
Sonny married Adrienne in San Antonio. A small family family party followed at Betty's house.
Dick and Mary Robbins sold their share of the Mustang Club and Derrick Restaurant to Paddy Lann, an independent oil man. Paddy was a portly man with gentle manners. He would look kindly out from behind bifocals which sat on a long, thin nose. He had a very high voice which sounded womanish when he was excited. He had made a great deal of money in the oil business and was looking for ways to put his fortune to work.
Paddy, though a friend of Sonny's for many years, proved to be a meddlesome partner and Sonny began planning another project. That project was "The Shadows."
The Shadows was located on the first floor of a multi-story condo on south Ocean Drive. Eddie Fontaine was flown in to entertain for the grand opening. There was a full house that night...the only full house the club would ever have.
Mr. Stone, still grieving for Mary, died. Major Tom and Sadie appeared displaying a "new" version of Mr. Stone's will which named her as executrix and trustee to Mr. Stone's estate. From that day on neither Sonny nor I would ever speak to Sadie again. We would get news of her from Madlyn, the only person in the family who would speak to her. Louise wandered aimlessly around her house; her mind totally fogged over by the loss of her daughter and the sudden absence of her husband of over sixty years, she would look, birdlike, from room to room. Mr. Stone had left an annuity which was tied to a nursing home for her care. There, alone, incapable of recognizing anyone who might visit her, this simple, sweet woman passed quietly from life.
Jane gave birth to Monty, our younger son.
Sonny called me and told me that recent business reversals would prevent him from giving me any more financial aid. He told me to go see Jack Pagan...immediately. I went to see Jack, who smiling in knowing satisfaction, turned me over to Bob Pagan and Steve Tatar. They made my life hell for the next several years (no doubt with Sonny's knowledge), but they taught me a profession which has supported me for nearly forty years.
Sonny closed down The Shadows. To satisfy his debts, he sold his interest in The Mustang Club and Derrick to Paddy Lann. Sonny announced that he was retiring; he and Adrienne moved into the the frame cottage at the Green Harbor Lodges. He was fifty-five.
One afternoon, after leaving her doctor's office, Paddy Lann's wife went to their townhouse and put a gun to her head, killing herself. No one ever learned why.
Lenard "Pedro" Loyd, Jane's father, died suddenly of a stroke. When young, he was one of the greatest athletes in west Texas and he was a fascinating character. Obsessed with my new career I, shamefully, did not accompany Jane to the funeral.
Working twelve and thirteen hour days put an end to my days as a mediocre musician playing with mediocre bands.
Eric began playing little league baseball.
Jane and I began playing tennis together on Sundays; Eric and Monty would come along and shag balls.
I was promoted to finance manager for the dealership. Eric and Monty would often come with me on Sundays. They would ride their skateboards while I caught up on paperwork.
Jane began taking art lessons from the noted artist, Dick Turner. She also joined with the local Chi Omega alumni chapter.
Bob Pagan left Corpus when he, in partnership with Charlie Thomas, purchased a Ford dealership in Galveston. He and Jack had become estranged and would be for many, many years.
Eric began playing pee-wee football, then basketball, then soccer.
To everyone's amazement, I was becoming a workaholic. I would arrive at the dealership by 7:30 am and often work until 9:pm. Steve would continue teaching me how to run a car dealership...he had an eager student. Sonny would occasionally come to Corpus on business and he would stop by the dealership and say hello...then he and Jack would go out for a drink or lunch.
Several insurance-men that the dealership worked with played tennis. Steve and I would meet them at the Corpus Christi Country Club tennis courts and we would play cut-throat doubles. Sandwiches, bloody marys and screwdrivers were served court-side. Some nights we played until midnight.
Restive in retirement, Sonny took a job cooking at the run-down Packsaddle Club. The Packsaddle was a failed real estate project. The golf course was in disrepair, but the kitchen and club house still functioned and did a brisk business. Sonny also began driving into Austin to attend real estate classes at the University of Texas, totally enjoying the experience. He looked ten years younger.
For several Christmas eves, Jane, the boys and I would drive from Corpus to Betty's house in San Antonio. We would exchange presents (or Santa would come) and have a nice meal. The next morning we would drive to San Angelo to have Christmas with Jane's mom and her sister Judy's family. If the next day was a workday, we would then make the eight or nine hour drive back to Corpus.
Eric and Monty took tennis lessons.
Sonny received a real estate license.
After his fourth year of football, Eric said he wanted to play tennis more seriously. Jane enrolled he and Monty in the tennis program at the H. E. B. Tennis Center. They would go every day after school; during the summer, they would stay there all day long.
Cousin Diane Saliba called me and said that she and another girl were in Corpus, staying at one of the bayfront hotels. Business was slow, so I agreed to meet them for a drink. Diane had grown to be a very pretty young woman. She, also, was in the automobile business, currently working for a GMC and RV dealer. She had a reputation within the family as a hellion. We laughed that when I was in trouble, the family would give a philosophical shrug saying: "Oh well, boys will be boys." However, when Diane made a misstep, the hiss of shame was upon her, along with predictions of her future moral destruction. We spoke of missing the family holiday celebrations of the past. We decided to try and organize a family reunion. We decided that time would be late in the coming spring; the location would be the Green Harbor Lodges. We called it "The Estranged Family Reunion." Sonny gave his okay, saying between the cabins and the big house there was room for fifty people. Invitations were mailed and Diane followed up to make sure that there was a good turn-out.
Sonny, to no one's surprise, came out of retirement. He was named general manager of the Meadowlakes Country Club and vice-president of the adjoining real estate project.
Eric and Monty began playing in local tennis tournaments.
Dolores and Johnny adopted two children, a boy and a girl.
I was now third in command of the dealership, answerable only to Jack and Steve.
Eric and I arrived at Green Harbor early to assist Sonny in preparations. Monty was playing in a tournament, so he and Jane would come when he was finished. Diane also arrived early, driving a motor-home which would sleep eight people. Betty and her family arrived early and brought a ski-boat. People began to roll in on Friday evening. The Durhams arrived as did Dolores with her expanded family. JoAnn, George and Chip Saliba came. The Kinney family landed. Rick Kinney, the oldest, brought his new wife and her children. Several of the kids brought friends...the adults were outnumbered.
Saturday was a blur of kids swarming back and forth to the lake, cooking constantly in the big house kitchen, firing up the barbecue pit, harried mothers dashing back and forth to the lake and an emergency booze run to Llano by Diane and I. Monty arrived; smiling toothily, he displayed a trophy. Jane followed him in, angry at me for not being there for his moment of triumph. But with the festive activity, her anger could not last. Monty scampered down to the lake to join in the junior riot.
The sun went down, but not the energy level of the youngsters. Most stayed in the fishing house until after midnight; there were rumors of tequila shots.
Sunday morning brought a breakfast of scrambled eggs, bacon, grits and biscuits. The kids went back to activities on the lake, but were somewhat subdued in their energy...no doubt from their exertions of the night before.
Sonny served a lunch of cheese enchiladas, pinto beans (soaking from the night before) and guacamole salad.
Then it was over. The families left, unaware that this would be the last festive family get-together. There would be funerals, sure, but at least one member was sure to be absent...and funerals tend not to be festive.
And that is where I suspend this history. The "estranged reunion" was nearly thirty years ago and all of the older generation are gone. So too are many of my generation.
Also gone is a way of life that no longer can exist...
(continued in Aferword)
Walter Conring, now totally psychotic, died.
The Mustang Club's profits dipped, but the Derrick Restaurant continued to be very profitable.
On August third, 1970, Hurricane Celia hit Corpus. I had been through several prior hurricanes and tropical storms, so I was pretty casual in my concern. The storm was a beast. We would be without electricity for over two weeks. Jane's parents met her at a National Guard roadblock and they took Eric back to San Angelo. They left us a Coleman stove so we could cook. Ice was at premium; Sonny provided ice for us from the Mustang Club's ice-maker. There were communal meals with the remaining residents of the apartment project we lived in. In spite of no hot water or air-conditioning, we had a pretty good time.
Sonny. George Parma and one of George's brothers purchased a property in Kingsland, a village thirteen miles west of Marble Falls. It was called Green Harbor Lodges. It was set on three acres and had a two hundred foot waterfront facing out on Lake LBJ. Green Harbor had a two story tin utility barn and a two bedroom frame cottage on the north side of the property. Eight cabins, rented by the week to deer hunters and fishermen, sat on the south side. Also on the south side, was a large masonry house which had two large bed rooms and a bunk room which would sleep twelve. A large grassy yard sloped forty yards down to the lake; several very tall trees provided abundant shade. There was a pier running twenty yards out into the lake which connected to a gaily painted fishing house. The fishing house was a two story building with an interior fishing well on the first floor and stairs to a sun deck above. A cement boat-launch ramp ran down the eastern end of the property. The property would remain in the family for two decades.
The house on Dinn Street sold.
Sonny married Adrienne in San Antonio. A small family family party followed at Betty's house.
Dick and Mary Robbins sold their share of the Mustang Club and Derrick Restaurant to Paddy Lann, an independent oil man. Paddy was a portly man with gentle manners. He would look kindly out from behind bifocals which sat on a long, thin nose. He had a very high voice which sounded womanish when he was excited. He had made a great deal of money in the oil business and was looking for ways to put his fortune to work.
Paddy, though a friend of Sonny's for many years, proved to be a meddlesome partner and Sonny began planning another project. That project was "The Shadows."
The Shadows was located on the first floor of a multi-story condo on south Ocean Drive. Eddie Fontaine was flown in to entertain for the grand opening. There was a full house that night...the only full house the club would ever have.
Mr. Stone, still grieving for Mary, died. Major Tom and Sadie appeared displaying a "new" version of Mr. Stone's will which named her as executrix and trustee to Mr. Stone's estate. From that day on neither Sonny nor I would ever speak to Sadie again. We would get news of her from Madlyn, the only person in the family who would speak to her. Louise wandered aimlessly around her house; her mind totally fogged over by the loss of her daughter and the sudden absence of her husband of over sixty years, she would look, birdlike, from room to room. Mr. Stone had left an annuity which was tied to a nursing home for her care. There, alone, incapable of recognizing anyone who might visit her, this simple, sweet woman passed quietly from life.
Jane gave birth to Monty, our younger son.
Sonny called me and told me that recent business reversals would prevent him from giving me any more financial aid. He told me to go see Jack Pagan...immediately. I went to see Jack, who smiling in knowing satisfaction, turned me over to Bob Pagan and Steve Tatar. They made my life hell for the next several years (no doubt with Sonny's knowledge), but they taught me a profession which has supported me for nearly forty years.
Sonny closed down The Shadows. To satisfy his debts, he sold his interest in The Mustang Club and Derrick to Paddy Lann. Sonny announced that he was retiring; he and Adrienne moved into the the frame cottage at the Green Harbor Lodges. He was fifty-five.
One afternoon, after leaving her doctor's office, Paddy Lann's wife went to their townhouse and put a gun to her head, killing herself. No one ever learned why.
Lenard "Pedro" Loyd, Jane's father, died suddenly of a stroke. When young, he was one of the greatest athletes in west Texas and he was a fascinating character. Obsessed with my new career I, shamefully, did not accompany Jane to the funeral.
Working twelve and thirteen hour days put an end to my days as a mediocre musician playing with mediocre bands.
Eric began playing little league baseball.
Jane and I began playing tennis together on Sundays; Eric and Monty would come along and shag balls.
I was promoted to finance manager for the dealership. Eric and Monty would often come with me on Sundays. They would ride their skateboards while I caught up on paperwork.
Jane began taking art lessons from the noted artist, Dick Turner. She also joined with the local Chi Omega alumni chapter.
Bob Pagan left Corpus when he, in partnership with Charlie Thomas, purchased a Ford dealership in Galveston. He and Jack had become estranged and would be for many, many years.
Eric began playing pee-wee football, then basketball, then soccer.
To everyone's amazement, I was becoming a workaholic. I would arrive at the dealership by 7:30 am and often work until 9:pm. Steve would continue teaching me how to run a car dealership...he had an eager student. Sonny would occasionally come to Corpus on business and he would stop by the dealership and say hello...then he and Jack would go out for a drink or lunch.
Several insurance-men that the dealership worked with played tennis. Steve and I would meet them at the Corpus Christi Country Club tennis courts and we would play cut-throat doubles. Sandwiches, bloody marys and screwdrivers were served court-side. Some nights we played until midnight.
Restive in retirement, Sonny took a job cooking at the run-down Packsaddle Club. The Packsaddle was a failed real estate project. The golf course was in disrepair, but the kitchen and club house still functioned and did a brisk business. Sonny also began driving into Austin to attend real estate classes at the University of Texas, totally enjoying the experience. He looked ten years younger.
For several Christmas eves, Jane, the boys and I would drive from Corpus to Betty's house in San Antonio. We would exchange presents (or Santa would come) and have a nice meal. The next morning we would drive to San Angelo to have Christmas with Jane's mom and her sister Judy's family. If the next day was a workday, we would then make the eight or nine hour drive back to Corpus.
Eric and Monty took tennis lessons.
Sonny received a real estate license.
After his fourth year of football, Eric said he wanted to play tennis more seriously. Jane enrolled he and Monty in the tennis program at the H. E. B. Tennis Center. They would go every day after school; during the summer, they would stay there all day long.
Cousin Diane Saliba called me and said that she and another girl were in Corpus, staying at one of the bayfront hotels. Business was slow, so I agreed to meet them for a drink. Diane had grown to be a very pretty young woman. She, also, was in the automobile business, currently working for a GMC and RV dealer. She had a reputation within the family as a hellion. We laughed that when I was in trouble, the family would give a philosophical shrug saying: "Oh well, boys will be boys." However, when Diane made a misstep, the hiss of shame was upon her, along with predictions of her future moral destruction. We spoke of missing the family holiday celebrations of the past. We decided to try and organize a family reunion. We decided that time would be late in the coming spring; the location would be the Green Harbor Lodges. We called it "The Estranged Family Reunion." Sonny gave his okay, saying between the cabins and the big house there was room for fifty people. Invitations were mailed and Diane followed up to make sure that there was a good turn-out.
Sonny, to no one's surprise, came out of retirement. He was named general manager of the Meadowlakes Country Club and vice-president of the adjoining real estate project.
Eric and Monty began playing in local tennis tournaments.
Dolores and Johnny adopted two children, a boy and a girl.
I was now third in command of the dealership, answerable only to Jack and Steve.
Eric and I arrived at Green Harbor early to assist Sonny in preparations. Monty was playing in a tournament, so he and Jane would come when he was finished. Diane also arrived early, driving a motor-home which would sleep eight people. Betty and her family arrived early and brought a ski-boat. People began to roll in on Friday evening. The Durhams arrived as did Dolores with her expanded family. JoAnn, George and Chip Saliba came. The Kinney family landed. Rick Kinney, the oldest, brought his new wife and her children. Several of the kids brought friends...the adults were outnumbered.
Saturday was a blur of kids swarming back and forth to the lake, cooking constantly in the big house kitchen, firing up the barbecue pit, harried mothers dashing back and forth to the lake and an emergency booze run to Llano by Diane and I. Monty arrived; smiling toothily, he displayed a trophy. Jane followed him in, angry at me for not being there for his moment of triumph. But with the festive activity, her anger could not last. Monty scampered down to the lake to join in the junior riot.
The sun went down, but not the energy level of the youngsters. Most stayed in the fishing house until after midnight; there were rumors of tequila shots.
Sunday morning brought a breakfast of scrambled eggs, bacon, grits and biscuits. The kids went back to activities on the lake, but were somewhat subdued in their energy...no doubt from their exertions of the night before.
Sonny served a lunch of cheese enchiladas, pinto beans (soaking from the night before) and guacamole salad.
Then it was over. The families left, unaware that this would be the last festive family get-together. There would be funerals, sure, but at least one member was sure to be absent...and funerals tend not to be festive.
And that is where I suspend this history. The "estranged reunion" was nearly thirty years ago and all of the older generation are gone. So too are many of my generation.
Also gone is a way of life that no longer can exist...
(continued in Aferword)
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