MEMORIES OF WHITEHOUSE SCHOOL DAYS - Smith County, TX Contributed by Dr. Alma Moore Freeland Submitted by East Texas Genealogical Society P. O. Box 6967, Tyler, TX 75711 Copyright. All rights reserved. http://usgwarchives.net/copyright.htm ***************************************************************** Memories of School Days in Tyler and Some Smith County Schools 1898-1951 By Alma Moore Freeland (1904-1991) A copy of this book is in the Tyler Public Library. Permission has been given by Jerry Moore, nephew, to publish articles from this book in the Smith County TXGenWeb Archives. MEMORIES OF WHITEHOUSE SCHOOL DAYS One bright September day in 1909 a tall, dark haired young man holding a one year old baby boy in his arms and leading a chubby, little five year old girl, stepped off the I&GN train in Whitehouse, a small community midway between Troup and Tyler, Texas. He was followed by his young wife holding her three year old daughter. The conductor appeared behind her, loaded down with' suitcases and bundles of baby clothes and food. The family crossed the road and went in the cottage which was to be their home for the next two years--and the birthplace of the fourth and last member of the John R. and Lola Hill Moore family. Professor Moore had come to be the superintendent of the semi-rural community school. According to current educational standards he was especially well qualified for his new post. He had a B.A. degree from North Texas State Teachers College in Denton. This elevated him above many of his contemporaries who were still meeting minimum requirements with the so-called state teaching certificates based on written examinations. In the second place, Professor Moore had completed several years of successful teaching in the Troup and Starrville schools. He had excellent recommendations from trustees in those communities, which no doubt impressed the Whitehouse school trustees when they chose him for the new superintendent. However, they were likely very impressed by the fact that his wife, Lola Hill Moore, was the great niece of their most famous pioneer citizens, James Calhoun and Rebecca Hill, whose dozens of descendants still lived in and around Whitehouse. That meant she was related to most of the families in Whitehouse. The chances are some cousins were School Board members who helped elect the new superintendent Of Whitehouse School! I can't recall hearing my parents address many people as Mr. or Mrs. So and So. It was usually, Counsin Mary Alice-, Counsin Tom, etc. I do recall hearing my father comment on the supericr type of students enrolled in his classes. Of course he would expect the descendants of James Calhoun and Rebecca Hill to have inherited and acquired taste for the better things of life. Then there were many other cultured families in the community. The sons and daughters of the Professionals ministers, physicians, lawyers, many merchants, farmers and other patrons, increased the need as well as the possibility for a high class school system. The textbook of those days more or less nature and scope of the curriculum. The old McGuffey readers had in most cases been discarded for a less moralistic-Puritanical type of content; yet the emphasis continued to be placed on the phonics approach in reading and spelling, constant drill on the arithmetic tables and geography. The superintendent's budding interest in "practical arithmetic" led him to introduce new concepts with concrete objects. This procedure was not needed much in a rural-type school where pint, quart, and gallon containers were everyday objects; later they came in quite handy when instructing city school children. There were few, if any, so-called classics or library books. The Bible was found in most homes; the hymnals provided a sort of poetry. In the homes of some professionals who had enjoyed advanced educational opportunities, there might be found also a copy of Pilgrim's Progress, Grimm's Fairy Tales and even a play by Shakespeare. The new superintendent was an active member of the Reagan Literary Society in' NTSTC. Even a beautiful marble bust of Shakespeare sat on a parlor table for years. It was a gift from the Society to the Moore's new baby who was named for the renowned Texan, John H. Reagan. Whether or not John R. Moore shared his literary interests with the Whitehouse students remains an unanswered question. Those who would know are here no more. The chances are he provided some kind of dramatic club; just as he played the organ and violin in later school systems. In those days the curriculum and the specific course of study, as was stated above, followed the textbooks. Professor Moore ventured beyond this and prepared an outline course of study. Even so the textbooks had to be used. They were followed page by page, day by day. All materials were bought by the parents. They were expensive and had to be used for years in a family, passed down from child to child. Each user was urged to cover the book with cloth, brown paper, or newspaper material. Despite such care the last one to use the book often found a broken spine dog-eared pages, not to mention underlined words, phrase and sentences, spotted, grimy and sometimes missing pages. Much of the social life of the community took place a the schoolhouse. The church activities were much les "liberal" than is the case today. I recall a "Box Supper" held in the schoolhouse; I must have made quite a fuss but at last I was permitted to participate. Mamma decorated box with red paper and filled it with many good things to eat for her six year old daughter. When the big night came I had sore eyes and should have been kept at home if for no other reason than sanitation. I wept when my box was bought by the elderly "community clown." Finally, my behavior could not be ignored; I was carried home. I was grown and, a teacher in Starrville before I could muster up courage to participate in a "Box Supper" again. However, since I was not old enough to attend regular school, my memories center mainly around my family and people in the community. By far the most important event during those two years was the birth of the new baby. I had turned six on June 2 of the year and not old enough to be much help to Mamma. With three children all under seven years of age her life was not an easy one. Of course her parents and younger sisters were an hand for the "birthin" as Prissy of Gone With the Wind termed such an event. I was often tempted to ask my mother if she knew I was awake and very much aware of the event taking place that night. Few children were born in hospitals in those days so most people of my generation were a part of the great miracle of birth. Too, since older children were involved in the arrival of a new member of the family they were also involved in taking care of their needs. No doubt this contributed to the development of strong family ties, to the awareness of the interrelationship between different generations living under the same roof, and to the practical application of these attitudes and skills in future marriages and parenthood planning. It was not long before the new baby realized he was fourth in the "pecking order." He began to do something about it. When Mamma put him in his cradle she appointed me or my sister to rock him to sleep. Soon it was apparent that Mae was his choice; he became quiet and went to sleep. But when I slipped under the cradle to relieve Mae he sensed the difference in the tempo; he crawled close to the edge of the bed and if he saw my big shoes the howling began and Mae had to resume her duties again. An event of considerable impact related to Travis' desire to recapture the status he enjoyed before the baby's arrival. He felt rejected when he saw a new baby in his cradle. The fact that there were two sisters didn't bother him too much; his role as the first and only grandson in Mamma's family provided the attention he needed. The presence of another boy was a definite threat; now he had to share his parents' time and attention; even his sisters Played with him less and less! It was some time before his parents realized their first-born son's attempt to reinstate himself in his previous role was no accident. It happened this way: Mamma was getting her brood ready to go somewhere. Mae and the baby had been bathed and dressed; she was under the cradle as usual. Mamma had appointed me to dress Travis and I was in the process of getting him into his beautiful little red furry coat when the struggle began. Before anyone knew what was happening Travis fell backwards into the washtub (no bathtubs in those days). When Mamma pulled him out he was a bright red mass of streaming hair, clothes, and kicking feet -- venting his anger in screams of humiliation. Suddenly all was quiet -Baby Travis was holding his breath. With him in her arms Mamma ran across the street to the depot for help. The quick-witted agent grabbed the child by his feet and held him head down and shook him until his feeble cries could be heard. A slightly pale and apparently subdued little boy got the attention he had missed for weeks. Solicitous neighbors brought delicious food for supper; both sisters showered attention on him; Papa came from school after an urgent call; Grandpa Hill was there in no time at all riding high in the saddle. Incidentally, Grandma didn't come; no doubt she had been anticipating the situation for some time. Unfortunately, it was not a single performance; it was repeated many times by a smart little boy who had discovered a sure way to get attention! One of the happiest moments in our Whitehouse days was waiting for the mailman or carrier as he was called. He was our Uncle Jack Moore, Papa's younger brother, who with his family would play an important part in my life when Mae and I lived with them while we were students at Stephen F. Austin State Teachers College in Nacogdoches. In those Whitehouse days when the weather was suitable Mamma would take us out to the road and wait for Uncle Jack, riding in his nifty little gig pulled by a most spirited horse. On one occasion we waited most expectantly; he was to bring some recent photographs of Mamma. He waited while she opened the package; he was no doubt as surprised as were we when Mamma began to cry; she had posed in a big plaid shirtwaist and the effect was most disappointing. (A copy is shown in this story. ) Mamma tried during the years to dispose of them; but I think they all survived, for which I am most grateful. Our proximity to the depot brought much pleasure to my sister, Mae. Grandpa Moore rode the train on his frequent trips to Tyler, where he had business with Judge Fitzgerald and other notables concerning his guardianship of many orphans. Mae would sit on the front steps waiting to hear the train's whistle as it passed the big water tank; that gave her time to be on hand when Grandpa handed her a big bag of peppermint candy through the window. Why I turned up my nose at the procedure and especially the candy, I shall never know. Today I adore peppermint candy and use it in tea, candied apples, and keep it in dishes on the coffee table. Maybe it was because I knew Mae was one of his favorite grandchildren and I felt a bit of jealousy. I do recall feeling comforted when I remembered that I was a favorite of my Hill grandparents. I have often wondered how my twenty four year old frail mother with four energetic, demanding children could have found any happiness or time to visit. Maybe it was because she found support from her many cousins and friends in that small town. I remember visits to see Cousin Mary Alice Morris, the Senters, the Messers, the Willinghams and the Rushings. The Rushings were the grandparents of our recently deceased friend, Mattie Alice Scroggin Baker. Dr. Willingham was our family physician; his son Esten rode back to Tyler with us many times when he attended high school in Tyler. He in turn became Papa's physician and friend until my father's death in 1971. During my prolonged bout with pneumonia and "slow" fever, Dr. Willingham urged Mamma to take my temperature less frequently. I agreed with him, decided to help and threw the thermometer on the floor. Perhaps I knew we were in no position to replace it. When Grandpa Hill decided Mamma needed help with us children he sent daughter Stella to Whitehouse to attend school under Papa's excellent teaching and to be nurse-companion to Mamma. Thus began a beautiful relationship that lasted for many years. She was such a pretty, jolly, competent person; we called her "Aunt Tiry," a name I had given her when she played the organ, sang and imitated an itinerant preacher named Brother Tiry. Papa soon recognized how competent and resourceful she was, and he urged her to take the State Teachers Examinations and try for a Teaching Certificate. He once told me he recognized his young sister-inlaw's potential for working with children when he observed how well she handled us four children. She followed his advice, passed all subjects with flying colors -- except the arithmetic test. The passing grade was 70; she made 68. As far as I know she did not try again. Of course no one knows for sure, but all things considered, I think the world lost a great teacher. I have often wondered what would have been her life had some perceptive examiner studied the total picture and made the decision to grant her the teaching credentials. That thought troubled me many times and led me to grade and regrade my own students' papers. I wish I could believe I made the right decisions in all cases, but I know I didn't. I'm sure there are ex-students of mine who have questioned the fairness and understanding of my decisions. But romance came to Aunt Tiry; she married a fellow student, Oscar Andrew Shahan, son of one of Whitehouse's most prominent families. They lived there for many years and are both buried nearby. For many ears our visits to Whitehouse were the highlights of our life. The purchase of a new Model-T Ford made it easy to run down -- even after supper. How we loved to spend the night or better still the weekend! There would be peanuts to parch and shell; ribbon cane syrup to convert into ropes of gleaming, golden taffy candy; there were big spreading oak trees to shelter Mae and me while we made dozens of valentines for our friends; there were bits of cloth to use in making doll clothes; there were long walks through the woods to gather walnuts, pecans and hickory nuts. Then when we left for home Uncle Oscar would pack the car with boxes of blackeyed peas, tomatoes, squash, okra and other fresh vegetables and fruits. Never have I known such unselfishness; Uncle Oscar urged Aunt Tiry to come to our aid so many times -- when Papa had smallpox she came to nurse him -- she had already had the disease; she came to nurse Mamma during her last weeks. My students at Starrville never knew that the lovely watch I wore on a ribbon around my neck was a loan from my Aunt Tiry. So the former student from the Whitehouse High School didn't pass the teaching credential tests and become a teacher herself, but she influenced in a remarkable way the lives of many, including my mother and three teachers -my father, my sister and me.