A Small Boy and the Big City

I will never forget my first visit to old “Cow Town” which is what Fort Worth has been called ever since hector was a pup. We drove over on old U.S. 80 from Abilene in dad’s nice new ’51 Studebaker. As we crossed that city limits sign the radio dial was set on WFAA 570am and Glen Miller’s “Chattanooga Choo-Choo” was playing…

Mama was up front with dad, I remember the “IKE” button she still proudly wore on her cotton dress. Dad was in his customary kaki pants, white long-sleeve shirt buttoned all the way; all starched and ironed real crisp. Dad never went anywhere without wearing his best Stetson hat. The year was 1952 and Gen. Eisenhower, you know the one who took real good care of my brothers over in Europe during the war, had became president that fall...

Fran was in the back seat with me, and in our young lifetimes we had never seen building twenty stories high. We came in on Camp Bowie, and rubber-necked everything in sight. We were headed to Greenville for dad’s new job, and that meant we would have to go plumb through both Fort Worth and Dallas....

The highway followed Lancaster Street, and back in those days Dallas was 22 miles away. We drove through little towns like Arlington and Grand Prairie… all now just part of one large “Metro-Plex.” Little was I to know, that someday I would live here, for that special day I was just a little country bumpkin; riding all bug-eyed as those magical buildings went by…


~ © 2003/2010 David L. Griffith ~
For My Special Lady

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