Anything Exciting Happen in Anahuac Today?
By Hal Haralson
[Hal Haralson practices law in Austin and contributes frequently to Christian Ethics Today.]
My "international law practice" has taken this country lawyer to a lot of out of the way places.
Once upon a time I had a divorce case scheduled for trial in Anahuac, Texas.
A splendid story comes out of this case. Anahuac is in the swamps south of Beaumont.
You can go to Anahuac but you cannot go through Anahuac.
The other lawyer and I met in the courthouse that morning and worked out a settlement agreement in a short time.
The judge asked us to prepare an order and we went to the lawyer`s office and dictated the terms to his secretary.
We were in an old house across the street from the courthouse in surroundings that were something less than ostentatious. I could tell that his was not a "booming" law practice.
"Anything exciting ever happen in Anahuac?" I asked, half seriously.
He replied, "Yes, as a matter of fact, something exciting did happen about two weeks ago."
"My secretary buzzed me and said that a Mr. Abraham Schwartz was calling from New York City."
"I knew no one by the name of Schwartz and I had never had call from New York City. My curiosity was aroused. I picked up the phone, saying, `This is Gene Wilson, may I help you?`"
"Mr. Wilson, my name is Abraham Schwartz. I`m an attorney in New York City. Do you represent the Chambers County Water District?"
"Yes," I replied, "I`m their attorney. I`ve represented them for several years."
"Good, you`re the man I`m looking for. My client is working on plans for a deep water port off the shore near Anahuac. We are having a meeting at 10:00 a.m. tomorrow in New York City and we need you to be present."
"You can`t be serious," I replied, somewhat irritated by his demanding tone. "I have to be in court here tomorrow and I have clients who have appointments…"
"Mr. Schwarz sounded a little put out as he said, "You don`t seem to understand. I said we have to have you here for a meeting in the morning. How much would we have to pay you, Mr. Wilson?"
"I decided to put an end to this nonsense and replied, `Mr. Schwartz, you would have to pay me $5,000.00 per day to get me to your New York meeting.`"
"That`s a fair sum, Mr. Wilson. If you will stick your head out the door, I think you will hear our jet circling Anahuac. My assistant will be at the door with cash in hand. You`ll need clothes for about 5 days."
"I went to the door," he continued, "and sure enough, I heard the roar of a low flying jet. Since Anahuac isn`t on a scheduled airline route, I figured Schwartz was for real.
"The man at the door of the plane handed me 25 $1,000 bills and took my luggage. He took his seat and the small jet lifted off the runway and headed for New York City.
"The next 5 days were spent listening to Schwartz talk about a super port. They talked in terms of billions of dollars. I regretted that I had not told them $10,000 a day. I don`t think it would have made any difference.
"I was rarely called on and had little to say. What they wanted was me, so they could say someone from the Chambers County Water District was present at the meetings.
"The hotel was elegant. There seemed no end to the variety of superb cuisine.
"After 2 days, I became bored and longed for the quiet, calm routine of Anahuac.
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The Saga of Old Red
By Hal Haralson
[Hal Haralson practices law in Austin and contributes frequently to Christian Ethics Today.]
It`s hard for me to let go. Old age causes me to mellow and cherish the experiences shared across the years.
In 1970 my father died. I was thirty-five years old and a second-year student in law school at the University of Texas.
I inherited his old Pontiac which was stolen from our house and wrapped around a tree in Austin. After months of fierce negotiations, I settled with the insurance company for $600.00.
With this and another $600.00, I purchased a 1967 Ford Pickup. It was bright red, six cylinders and no air conditioner.
Now, twenty-nine years later, "Old Red" is beat up and scarred with faded paint and one black fender.
Old Red is like one of the family. Jill, Brad, and David learned to drive in her. Operating the clutch and manual gearshift taught coordination that would come in handy in many ways in the future.
The gearshift was originally on the steering column. Now it`s on the floor.
It happened about twenty years ago on the deer lease at Junction. I hit a big rock and the pickup wouldn`t come out of low gear.
I drove 20 miles into Junction at 5 mph and the guy at the filling station showed me how to raise the hood and manipulate the elbows of the gearshift and put it in the gear I wanted.
I placed the elbows so I was in high gear (there are only three forward gears) and drove the 100 miles into Austin.
This continued for nearly a year. If I wanted to change gears, I lifted the hood, manipulated the elbows, and put it in reverse, or another forward gear.
I found this had an advantage. When people called and wanted to borrow my pickup, I told them they were welcome to use it…then explained the method of shifting gears.
"I think I`ll look somewhere else," was the usual reply.
I suppose I would still be lifting the hood and manipulating gears but for the man who issues inspection stickers. We didn`t pass. That`s how the gear shift got to be on the floor board.
Old Red`s horn is a small black button on the dash. The one on the steering wheel doesn`t work.
One cold winter night, about 3:00 a.m., Old Red`s horn began to honk. I couldn`t get it to stop, so I got a hammer and beat on it until it quit.
The inspection guy at the filling station came back later that year, "You are going to have to have a new horn. That one won`t work. It looks like someone`s been beating on it."
I rather sheepishly told him the story and he installed a new horn.
The front bumper is bent forward about 15 degrees on the passenger side. David was learning to drive and got a tree between the bumper and the fender.
After much maneuvering, he got Old Red separated from the tree but not without significant alteration of the bumper.
The head light on the driver`s side has no chrome cover.
Brad, David and I were sleeping in our tent on our deer lease at Johnson City. We had covered the sacks of deer corn in the back of Old Red and were sound asleep in our bed rolls.
Our slumber was interrupted by the shrill whinny of a horse. The rancher`s horses had discovered the corn.
They kept fighting each other over the corn and making all kinds of noise.
Brad says, "I heard the zipper of the tent. Then I heard Old Red start and there were horses whinnies, the sound of glass breaking and hoofs hitting metal."
"Pops zipped the tent flap back up and got into his bedroll and went back to sleep."
The next morning we saw what had happened. One of the horses had kicked out Old Red`s head light while fleeing the charging pickup.
The same year I got Old Red, I had traded a used deep freezer for a used john boat.
The boys and I fished Onion Creek, near Wimberley, many times during those law school years. We would load the john boat into the bed of Old Red and we were off.
Judy and I made many trips to Laity Lodge this way. I caught my share of bass (two five-pounders) in the Frio River under the great hall.
I parked Old Red down by the river so I wouldn`t embarrass the participants at the conferences.
One of Brad`s buddies from Laity Lodge youth camp told him he was returning to Austin from camp and came up on an old man driving an old pickup with a john boat in the bed of the pickup.
Charlie Duke said, "I pulled up along side the pickup and this old man was reading a book while driving down the highway. Then I recognized him. It was your father."
I could buy a new pickup but it wouldn`t be the same. There is something about the pride of survival.
Old Red has paid her dues. I figure in pickup years, we are about the same age-mid sixties.
I think we both have some good years left in us. You don`t discard something just because it`s old.
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The Private Was a Preacher
By Hal Haralson
[Hal Haralson practices law in Austin and contributes frequently to Christian Ethics Today.]
The first thing Judy does when we get home from work is turn on the answering machine.
She is a psychotherapist. The calls are usually her clients. My law practice doesn`t generate many calls at home, so I`m seldom the subject of the request.
Today was different…very different. The voice on the machine said, "If you are the Hal Haralson who lived in Las Cruces, New Mexico forty years ago, please call this number."
I called the next day and the lady who answered the phone identified herself as the secretary for Westside Baptist Church in Las Cruces.
"We are planning our 40th anniversary celebration. The church records indicate that you were our first pastor. Can you come speak for us?"
I told her I would talk to my wife and call the next day. (That`s how you stay married for forty-four years.)
I called the next day and told her we would be there.
Talk about past history…40 years ago.
Following graduation from Hardin-Simmons University in 1957, I volunteered for the draft. We had been married six months and Judy followed me to Ft. Riley, Kansas, Ft. Leonard Wood, Missouri and then to "advanced individual training."
The wisdom of the U.S. Army placed me in Ft. Gordon, Georgia where I went to MP school. I learned how to shoot a 45-caliber pistol and direct traffic. I can still make it flow with the best of them.
Our permanent station was White Sands Proving Ground, New Mexico. We lived in Las Cruces because there was no base housing.
We hadn`t been there long when there came a phone call one Saturday night.
"My name is J.W. Ray. I`m a member of Westside Baptist Mission. We are sponsored by First Baptist Church. There are twelve members. We meet in a Oldfellow Hall. Could you come visit us in the morning?"
I assured him we could. This was exciting. I had been preaching for about five years and we hoped to be involved in a mission.
When J.W. Ray introduced me the next morning it was obvious he meant more than "visit." He intended for me to preach!
All of us who have preached have two or three "sugar sticks" we can deliver standing on our heads. So preach I did.
They called us as pastor and wife at a salary of $25.00 per month. This was later doubled before I was discharged.
There was only one problem with this arrangement. My military police duties called for three day shifts. I wasn`t off on Sunday but 1/3 of the time.
I went to the Colonel (base commander) and explained the situation and asked to be assigned to an 8-5 job. He was not sympathetic at all and said emphatically that he would not make an exception on my account.
I did some research. (Probably my first legal research…and my last.)
Army regulations said if an enlisted man`s duty assignment interfered with his worship, he must be reassigned if there is an opening.
I found an opening. An MP was making security badges and was about to be discharged. It was an 8-5 job.
I typed a memo to the Base Commander that cited the regulation. I attached the letter from the associational missionary that authenticated my claim to being an ordained minister.
Also attached were letters to two Congressmen and a United States Senator. (I didn`t have to mail these.)
The Colonel read this as I stood at attention. He was furious. The transfer was made.
What we needed was a revival! I called my mentor, Leonard Hartley, and he agreed to come.
I took the information about the coming revival to the base newspaper. I was in my MP gear and the man at the paper asked what I was doing bringing this story about a revival. I told him I was the pastor of the church.
He asked some questions and took notes. Then he asked if he could take my picture in the pulpit of the base chapel…with a 45-caliber pistol on my hip.
Two weeks later the story came out in daily papers in El Paso, Albuquerque, and Alamagordo. "White Sands GI Pastors Church." That was the boost we needed. The revival was a success and we were off and running.
When Judy and I left Last Cruces on June 11, 1959 with my DD214 (discharge papers) in hand, Westside Baptist Mission had become Westside Baptist Church. We had baptized 75 people and bu8ilt a building that would handle 200 in Sunday School. It was full. All of this in 18 months.
We called a full-time seminary graduate as pastor. He stayed 17 years.
When I met the lady who called, I asked her how she found us. "Through the Internet."
After being introduced as the first pastor, I spoke to the congregation. I told them that some of them would be very disappointed, and some would be elated.
I wasn`t going to preach a sermon. I have not been a preacher in 35 years. I`ve practiced law for the past 27 years.
It was a memorable occasion for us. There wasn`t many things I helped begin 40 years ago that still exist.
This is one Military Policeman who is thankful he was given more to do than direct traffic.
The Night Cometh
By Hal Haralson
[Hal Haralson practices law in Austin and contributes frequently to Christian Ethics Today.]
[Hal Haralson practices law and religion in Austin and is a regular contributor of Christian Ethics Today.]
Lanny Henninger could have passed for John Wayne`s brother.
He was over six feet tall. Lean and rumpled in appearance. This was topped off with a thick head of wavy brown hair.
Lanny was a student at Abilene Christian College in 1955. I was attending Hardin-Simmons University with a minor in agriculture at ACC.
We were both studying for the ministry.
Our paths didn`t cross until forty years later when I was a member of the Downtown Rotary Club of Austin.
Lanny was President of the club. He was a very effective communicator and had a gift of making people feel at ease around him. He was pastor for 26 years of the University Church of Christ on the campus of The University of Texas. His health was excellent.
Lanny was a writer…a good one. He kept a journal. The following appeared in his journal October 5, 1997.
For reasons I dare not divulge, I find myself thinking of time`s passage. And of the milestone`s with which we mark it. Like birthdays and anniversaries.
Baseball`s regular season ended last Sunday. The Dodger`s Brett Butler closed out a 17-year career at age 40. He remarked "I`m surprised at how fast it went." So say we all. One of Neil Diamond`s old songs has it: "Done too soon." And in somber measure the New Testament intones: "You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes" (James 4:14)
So what to do? Two things, it seems to me. At least two. One: Use up each day. Fill it to overflowing with good. Deliberately enjoy. And two: Begin now. Mend a fractured friendship. Mail an overdue letter. Correct a misunderstanding. Repair a broken heart. Lay aside a grievance. Act on a noble impulse. As we all know, "The night cometh."
Lanny Henninger died of a heart attack the next day, October 6, 1997 while driving on the expressway in Austin.
Gotta go. I have a couple of fences I need to mend.
Fill your day with good.
