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October 14, 2014

Preston Elms: Your Country Estate Awaits — 1935

Preston Elms home designed by Charles Dilbeck, 1935

by Paula Bosse

This beautiful home, designed by the wonderful architect Charles Stevens Dilbeck, was featured in an ad touting an exclusive new “country estate” development called Preston Elms, located at Preston Road and Walnut Hill Lane. From the text of the ad:

The home pictured above will be erected immediately in a new tract set aside for a Demonstration Home. It will have three bedrooms, large dining room and living room. Terrace porch on south and east will be 32 feet long and can be reached from dining room, living room or hall. Two baths — most modern type! Extraordinary hardware! …

The backyard will be walled in assuring privacy to servants and parked automobiles. …

All the details of the house and location have been studied and planned for months. …

The Better Homes of America are gradually drifting away from the urban abode of restricted activity to the freedom, comfort, seclusion and the individuality of the COUNTRY ESTATE.

A later ad would include this grabber of a line: “In the heart of Preston Road District, All City Conveniences, Minus City Taxes.”

Tracts ranging from one-half to two acres would start at $1,700. The house pictured above would cost $12,500. (I would kill for that house, but I fear it has long since been torn down as being too teensy for the neighborhood.)

“Preston Elms” (along with Preston Downs, Preston Hollow, Preston Highlands, Preston Heights, Inwood Road Addition, Sunnybrook, and El Parado) were the subdivisions in the so-called “Preston Road District,” an area of some 1,200 acres north of Northwest Highway. When this area was being developed (by savvy speculator Ira P. DeLoache), it was not within the Dallas city limits. In 1939, after a failed attempt at some sort of merging with University Park, the residents voted to incorporate, and the somewhat sparsely-populated area became the “city” of Preston Hollow. With a mayor and everything.

But back to that house. God, I love that house. As I said, I bet that sucker was elbowed out long ago. If it’s still there, I’d love to know.

A photo of the man responsible for developing most of the Preston Road District, Ira P. DeLoache, namesake of one of the area’s streets.

***

Sources & Notes

The Dilbeck drawing at the top is from a half-page real estate ad, here.

Photo of Ira P. DeLoache from the Fall, 2002 issue of Legacies.

Examples of Dilbeck’s beautiful houses (several of which are in Preston Hollow) can be seen here.

Background on Preston Hollow and its road to incorporation can be read about in the Dallas Morning News article “Preston Road Incorporation Plan Climaxes Weeds to Orchids Development,” (DMN, Sept. 24, 1939).

For an aerial view of what would become Preston Hollow, check out a mostly empty 1930 vista (from SMU’s Edwin J. Foscue Library), here. Development, here we come!

7 Comments

October 12, 2014

“Gumdrops Love Mr. Peppermint” — 1968

mr-peppermint_1968

by Paula Bosse

When the news is unsettling, remember your “happy place.”

***

1968 TV Guide ad, from eBay.

2 Comments

October 5, 2014

The Dallas Police Department & Their Fleet of Harleys — 1951

1951 ad

by Paula Bosse

Group photo day!

Like so many cities all over the country — whether large or small — the motorcycle division of the Dallas Police Department is equipped with Harley-Davidsons exclusively. Effective traffic regulation is assured through the use of 35 solo Harley-Davidsons and 29 Servi-Cars. Traffic experts recognize that no other method matches motorcycles for efficiently handling so many phases of traffic control work and accident prevention.

***

Sources & Notes

1951 Harley-Davidson ad from… somewhere — probably eBay.

Back in 1910, the DPD was perfectly happy with Indian motorcycles, as can be seen in a previous post, “Dallas Motor Cycle Cops — 1910.”

2 Comments

October 1, 2014

When the Spanish Influenza Hit Dallas — 1918

American Red Cross at Love Field, spraying soldiers’ throats, Nov. 6, 1918

by Paula Bosse

The Spanish Influenza pandemic of 1918-1919 caused as many as 50 million deaths worldwide — about 600,000 of which were in the United States (11 times greater than the number of American casualties during World War I). Locally, the influenza first hit the soldiers at Camp Bowie in Fort Worth in September, 1918. The flu spread quickly, and on Sept. 27, it was reported that there were 81 cases in the camp. Well aware of the devastation the flu had wrought in other U.S. cities, most notably at military camps, Fort Worth was, understandably, taking the situation seriously. Dallas leaders, on the other hand, were all-but pooh-poohing the need for concern. On Sept. 29, The Dallas Morning News had a report titled “Influenza Scare is Rapidly Subsiding” — the upshot was that, yeah, 44 reported cases of “bad colds” had been reported in the city, but there’s nothing to worry about, people.

In the opinion of the military and civil doctors, the Spanish Influenza scare is unwarranted by local conditions. The few cases of grip, it is claimed, are to be expected as the result of the recent rainy weather.

Just two days later, though, officials were jolted out of their complacency when the (reported) cases jumped to 74 (click for larger image):

DMN, Oct. 2, 1918 (click for larger image)

The months of October and November were just a blur: the city was plunged into an official epidemic. There was no known cure for the flu, so a somewhat ill-prepared health department preached prevention. People were encouraged to make sure their mouths were covered when they coughed or sneezed, and they were directed to not spit in the street, on streetcars (!), in movie theaters (!!), or, well, anywhere. (Handkerchief sales must have soared and spittoon sales must have plummeted.)

At one point or another, places where people gathered in large numbers — such as schools, churches, and theaters — were closed. Trains and streetcars were required to have a seat for every passenger (no standing, no crowding) (…no spitting). The number of mourners at funerals (of which there were many) was limited. And there was a major push for citizens to clean, clean, clean their surroundings in an attempt to make the city as sanitary as possible. Instructions appeared often in the newspapers.

DMN, Oct. 12, 1918

It was estimated that there were 9,000 cases of Spanish Influenza in Dallas in the first six weeks. By the middle of December, when the worst of the outbreak was over, it was reported that there had been over 400 deaths attributed to the Spanish Influenza and pneumonia in just two and a half months.

Fort Worth Star-Telegram, Dec. 11, 1918

As high as these numbers were, Dallas fared much, much better than many other parts of the United States.

Ad, DMN, Oct. 18, 1918

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Sources & Notes

Photo at top was taken on November 6, 1918 and shows American Red Cross Workers spraying throats of military personnel based at Love Field in hopes of preventing the spread of the influenza. The photo is from the Otis Historical Archives, National Museum of Health and Medicine; I found it on the NMHM site, here. (Click photo for larger image.)

Ad for Pepto-Mangan (“The Red Blood Builder”) was one of a flood of medicines and tonics claiming to be effective in the fight against Spanish Influenza (none were).

For a detailed and remarkably well-researched, comprehensive history of the Spanish Influenza in Dallas, see the article prepared by the University of Michigan Center for the History of Medicine, here. It’s pretty amazing.

To read about the history of pandemics (including several good links regarding the Spanish flu), see the Flu.Gov site, here.

And, NO, Ebola is not transmitted like the flu. But it’s still good practice to cover your mouth when you cough or sneeze,wash your hands frequently, and never EVER spit in the street, because that’s just disgusting. ((This post was originally written in 2014 while Dallas was the center of the Ebola universe.))

More on the Spanish Influenza pandemic can be found in the Flashback Dallas post “Influenza Pandemic Arrives in Dallas — 1918.”

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September 30, 2014

“We Like to LIVE in Dallas!” — Chrysler Ad, 1939

by Paula Bosse

Madison Avenue knows a thing or two about who we Dallasites are, what we want, and — more importantly — what we need.

“We Like to LIVE in DALLAS!”

“Yes, we like to *live* in Dallas … and that means we want a car that’s *alive* like that stunning new Chrysler!

“How that Chrysler loves to GO … and how thrilling it is to make it go! Without half trying, you’re first away at the traffic lights and flashing down the street!

“You’re even more conscious of Chrysler’s extra power out in the country, because it seems to have enormous reserves in store for any emergency. When you want to pass another car, you simply zip past. That’s the safe way. When you’re in a tight place, tap the throttle and you leap ahead to safety!

“It’s astonishingly smooth and quiet. Frank says that’s because of Floating Power and Superfinished Parts; an engineering combination you get only from Chrysler. I don’t understand these engineering terms, but I do know the wonderful qualities of this engine.

“We have to drive long distances in Texas, but I can drive all day without getting tired … the Chrysler handles so lightly and rides so comfortably. Shifting gears, braking and parking require so little effort.

“We’re both proud of the tapered styling of our beautiful Chrysler … and of its handsome, roomy interior. But we’re still more proud of its ability to GO — GO — GO! We like to *live* in Dallas … and life, to us, means action!”

But wait … there’s more! The inset (the ad-within-the-ad):

THE GIRL … wears a striking sports costume from Neiman-Marcus Company, Dallas. The sweater, striped in the colors of the necklace, is worn with a green crepe skirt.

THE CAR … is a smart Chrysler Royal Sedan.

And now you know. (Unless you’re a woman, in which case you will need Frank to explain all of this to you. Ask him to speak slowly and use small words.)

“Be Happy, Buy Chrysler!”

***

Click ad for readable text and to get a closer look at that necklace and oddly hausfrau-ish turban.

September 25, 2014

W. W. Orr: Buggies, Phaetons, Carriages — “Everything on Wheels!”

W.W. Orr’s carriage business on Main St., 1878 (click for larger image)

by Paula Bosse

I came across the image above in the 1878 Dallas city directory, and my eye was immediately drawn to the novel open-air display of buggies on the second floor of the building. I’ve never seen this before — the frontier version of the auto showroom!

I hope this is a depiction of the actual shop owned by W. W. Orr at 724-726 Main Street (corner of Main and Martin — see map below) and not some sort of early augmented clip art. Orr ran a successful business selling buggies, phætons, and carriages, and he probably did have an imposing shop.

William Wallace Orr was born in Ohio, and after the Civil War he made his way to Texas, where he served for a short time as an East Texas postmaster before coming to Dallas where he and his wife, Amanda, operated a livery stable.

Dallas Herald, April 19, 1873

I’m not sure whether “epizootic” is used here as some sort of 19th-century tongue-in-cheek hard-sell advertising term (“His prices are INSANE!“) … or whether it means the horses have some sort of disease. I tend to think it’s the former.

The carriage business, which had started by 1878, is notable (to me, anyway) because it was housed in a building with a basement — I wasn’t aware that basements really existed in Dallas at the time. Orr rented out the basement beneath his “carriage repository” as a beer cellar. If TV westerns are anything to go on, drunken brawls in most drinking establishments of the time were to be expected. What might not be expected is an account of a bar fight to be reported like this:

orr_cellar_dal-her_060278 Dallas Herald, June 2, 1878

Regardless of what disreputable activities were going on in the cellar, it seems that Orr’s business of manufacturing and selling “everything on wheels” was a booming one.

orr_dal-her_060380 Dallas Herald, June 3, 1880

He had stylish conveyances, cheap prices, and good goods:

orr_dal-herald_081283 Dallas Herald, Aug. 12, 1883

After the death of his wife in 1886 (she died of consumption at the early age of 42), Orr passed the business to his son. In poor health, he left Dallas for Mississippi, where he met a woman who nursed him back to health and whom he later married. After a few years of an apparently happy second marriage, W. W. Orr died in 1894. Cash savings, investments, and real estate holdings back in Dallas had left him a wealthy man, and, as might be expected, his family in Dallas was dismayed to learn that he had left his estate to his infant daughter in Mississippi. His three grown children from his first marriage were not happy, and they contested the will. (The case is covered exhaustively here. I think the baby daughter emerged victorious, but I’m not absolutely sure.)

It’s interesting that Orr and his first wife are buried side by side in Greenwood Cemetery. Amanda Melvine McQueen Orr has a large, ornate monument and headstone; W. W. has his name — and nothing else — carved into an unadorned marker. It would have been nice to have had a little a buggy in the corner. …Something.

The location of Orr’s buggy and carriage house was at the corner of Main and Martin, shown above in a map from around 1900. (Click for larger image.)

And, below, is the full ad, with that incredible artwork! (Click it!)

1878

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Sources & Notes

Illustrated ad from the 1878 Dallas city directory.

All other ads from The Dallas Herald, as noted.

Map is a detail from a map of Dallas, circa 1900, from the Portal to Texas History, here.

Amanda Orr’s headstone and memorial statuary can be seen in several photos here; W. W.’s sad unadorned slab can be seen here.

Phætons? They sound dangerous!

5 Comments

September 21, 2014

“Go Away! Can’t You See I’m Listening to WFAA?” — 1947

wfaa-ad_dmn_090147

by Paula Bosse

Priorities.

September 14, 2014

South Ervay & Jackson — 1946

“Have you had your lemonade today?”

by Paula Bosse

Above, the intersection of South Ervay (at left, with cars headed north) and Jackson Street (at right, with pedestrians walking east), about 1946. All those little shops…. And look at that cool Sun Drop Lemonade ad painted on the Jackson Street side of the building! Below, that same corner today (2014).

…Yep.

UPDATE: When I posted this photo originally, I thought it showed the southwest corner of S. Ervay and Commerce, but reader Brian Pranger corrected me on Twitter. He is absolutely correct when he suggested that the view is actually the northeast corner of S. Ervay and Jackson (I have corrected the errors above). Just to verify, I found an aerial photo of the intersection from 1935 that shows the building in question. Here is a detail with my clunky labeling (click for larger image):

Thank you, Brian! (And I ALWAYS welcome corrections!)

***

Sources & Notes

Top photo from Jim Wheat’s Dallas County, Texas Archives. Wheat estimates the photo was taken around 1946, with the following businesses identified: Modern Finance Co., 204 S. Ervay; South Ervay Barber Shop, 208 S. Ervay; Apex Hotel (probably pretty dodgy, but who wouldn’t want to stay at the “Apex Hotel”!), 208 1/2 S. Ervay; Perfect Hand Laundry & Dry Cleaning, 210 S. Ervay.

“Today” photo from Google Street View.

The last image is a detail from a 1935 aerial view of the “Mid-Town Business District,” taken by Lloyd M. Long; it is part of the Edwin J. Foscue Map Library, Central University Libraries, Southern Methodist University. SMU’s labeled version of this map can be seen here (the building in question is adjacent to the Allen Building, which on SMU’s map is #38, at the top right — use the zoom function to see all sorts of things!).

3 Comments

September 4, 2014

Linz Bros. Glasses Ad — 1936

ad-linz-glasses_dmn_030836

by Paula Bosse

“Have your glasses made to order.”

Opticians should consider bringing back the surprisingly accurate elf-and-tape-measure method.

August 25, 2014

Happy 75th Anniversary, Stonewall!

Stonewall Jackson Elementary School, 1938 rendering (click for larger image)

by Paula Bosse

Classes begin today for students in DISD schools, one of which is Stonewall Jackson Elementary School, located at Mockingbird and Matilda. Stonewall turns 75 years old this year (2014), and I’m proud to say it’s where I spent many years as a happy student. When I learned recently that the school had originally been built as a single-story building (instead of the two stories we know today), I was pretty surprised, and this little unknown nugget prompted me to look into the early years of my alma mater.

In the 1920s and ’30s, Dallas was expanding very quickly northward from Vickery Place, the residential neighborhood around Belmont and Greenville. As the area we now know as Lower Greenville and the M Streets was developed, the two elementary schools (Vickery Place School, then at Miller and McMillan, and Robert E. Lee, at Matilda and Vanderbilt) were soon filled to capacity. Building a new school to serve burgeoning “Northeast Dallas” was an immediate necessity. So in 1938, the city purchased a 9-acre chunk of land along Mockingbird, one block east of Greenville Avenue and right alongside the Denison interurban tracks that ran on Matilda (when I was growing up a couple of blocks away, I used to see remains of those tracks but didn’t know what they had been used for — I wrote about those tracks here and here). The land had been part of the vast Caruth land holdings.

The building was designed by architect C. H. Griesenbeck. It had eleven classrooms, a cafeteria, and an auditorium with a seating capacity of 400. Although originally built as a one-story building, Griesenbeck was mindful that expansion would be necessary in the future, and his design took into account that a second story would be added in the years to come. Construction began in late 1938 and was scheduled to be completed for the opening of the 1939-40 school year.

The name of the new school was decided upon a few months later:

“Stonewall Jackson’s name was chosen for the new school, Dr. Norman R. Crozier, superintendent, said because of the high ideals of Thomas Jonathan Jackson, one of the unique and romantic figures of the War Between the States, and as a companion to its nearest school, Robert E. Lee.” (Dallas Morning News, Feb. 1, 1939)

But if you’re going to sink a hundred thousand dollars into a school, you’ve got to have houses for families to live in to make sure your future student pool doesn’t run dry — and at that time very few houses had been built that far north. Cut to W. W. Caruth, Jr., son of the Caruth family patriarch who basically owned everything north of Mockingbird (Caruth owned a huge expanse of land once estimated at being over 30,000 acres). Not long after selling the land at Mockingbird and Greenville to Dr Pepper, Caruth fils began to develop the land around the then-under-construction school — he called the new neighborhood “Stonewall Terrace.”

The property went fast.

stonewall-terrace_dmn_092339 September, 1939

As the neighborhood was taking shape and the construction of the school building was nearing completion, the school’s official boundaries were announced:

“Boundaries of the Stonewall Jackson School will be from the alley south of Morningside on the east side of Greenville Avenue and from the alley south of Mercedes on the west side of Greenville to the M-K-T Railroad on the north.” (DMN, Sept. 3, 1939)

Despite some problems with labor shortages, the school managed to open on time, on Sept. 13, 1939, the start of the new school year.

The school and the neighborhood grew quickly, and the number of students soon doubled. In 1950 the school board approved preliminary plans for an addition to the school. This addition (which would cost $369,000 and be handled by the architectural firm of Tatum & Quade) would include a first-floor wing with four classrooms, a gymnasium, and a lunchroom, and a second story containing eight classrooms, a library, and a music room. (The cost of construction would probably have been quite a bit more had the original architect not had the foresight to design the building with the expectation that a second story would be added in the future.)

The construction was substantial enough that it had to be done during the 1951-52 school year. Because the old lunchroom was being dismantled while the new wing was being built, students were required to bring their lunches the entire year. All they could get at school was milk. No fish sticks, no Salisbury steak, no chess pie. Just milk. Sorry, kids.

The new addition was completed in time for the beginning of the 1952 school year. And that’s the version of the building that stands today, looking pretty much unchanged.

stonewall_front

It was a cool building then, and it’s a cool building now. It’s sad to see how much of the playing fields keep disappearing as ugly portable buildings take over, but the new garden is a great new addition — I wish they’d had that when I was there.

I really loved that school. When I was a student there, grades went from 1st to 7th, and I loved all seven years I spent there. Thanks for the great childhood memories, Stonewall. And Happy 75th Anniversary!

stonewall-now Photo: DISD

***

Sources & Notes

Top image is architect C. H. Griesenbeck’s architectural rendering of Stonewall Jackson Elementary School, originally a one-story building.

Here are a few articles to check out in the Dallas Morning News archives:

“$11,250 Offer Made for New School Site” (DMN, Oct. 26, 1938)
“Contracts for $104,150 Let on Northeast Dallas School” (DMN, Dec. 22, 1938)
“New Northeast Dallas School Named Jackson; Board Pays Tribute to Famous General” (DMN, Feb. 1, 1939)

And, yes, it probably sounds weird to outsiders, but students actually do call the school “Stonewall” — just like we call Woodrow Wilson High School (the high school Stonewall feeds into) “Woodrow.” It’s like a secret handshake.

Below, an undated photo from DISD’s Pinterest board (if you squint, you can see the Piggly Wiggly at the southwest corner of Mockingbird and Matilda).

UPDATE: After years of controversy, Stonewall Jackson Elementary School will be rechristened “Mockingbird Elementary” in 2018. Whatever its name, it’s still a great school!

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