Downtown | Flashback : Dallas

July 23, 2023

Jury Duty at the Old Municipal Building, Not for the Faint-Hearted

Sad and gloomy, yearning for restoration (2007)

by Paula Bosse

Several years ago, I maintained a long-running personal blog (back in the days when everyone had a blog — now everyone has a podcast). A recent comment on my Patreon page reminded me of an old blog post I wrote in 2010, several years before I began Flashback Dallas. I thought I would share it here (slightly rewritten). It’s a different sort of thing than I normally write on *this* blog — it’s pretty long and only tangentially connected with Dallas history — but it made me laugh to reread this 13 years later. (I have to add that since I wrote this back in 2010, the Municipal Building has been lovingly, *dazzlingly* restored by the University of North Texas and is no longer the hellhole I describe below! I haven’t seen the restored interior in person yet, but photos show some unbelievably amazing work! Thank you, UNT!)

October 27, 2010

I’m one of those people who receives a lot of jury summonses. I swear one year I got at least 3. Maybe 4. Do they keep sending them to me because I always report for jury duty like a responsible citizen is supposed to do? Is this good behavior working against me? So when I got a jury summons last month — a mere 4 months after my most recent jury duty on Cinco de Mayo — several unladylike words spilled out of me as I stood at the mailbox. I scanned the list of acceptable exemptions — there was a little empty checkbox next to the statement “I have been convicted of a felony.” Instant exemption! My first thought was, “Hmm. I’ve got six weeks….” It was tempting.

But I was still felony-free by the time I had to report yesterday (Oct. 26, 2010), so I somehow got myself up at the crack of dawn after only 4 or 5 hours of sleep and pointed my car in the direction of downtown. Most of my jury duty has been at the criminal courts building, which is easy to get to, and the chairs in the central jury room are plush and fairly comfy. This time, though — for the first time — I was summoned to a municipal court, where I guess they try people for non-death-penalty offenses like traffic tickets and zoning violations. If this day had any upside, it was that it would be my first visit to the beautiful Municipal Building. I couldn’t wait to see what that building — arguably the grandest building in Dallas — looked like inside.

But first I had to get there. I had to travel what felt like the entire length of downtown before I was able to turn left on Main and loop back to Harwood. I was sleep-deprived, caffeine-deprived, and just generally cranky, knowing that this whole thing was unnecessary, as I would no doubt be let go by noon, after having sat around for hours doing nothing but thinking unladylike things and wondering the whole time how this inefficient system keeps going.

Convenient parking? Ha! Fend for yourselves, suckers. At least Frank Crowley has a parking garage. Somehow, I found an unattended, cash-only lot along Commerce for the surprisingly affordable price of $2.00. My luck continued when I found that I actually had two one-dollar bills, which I stuffed through the narrow slot.

Despite my lengthy detour, I had arrived a little early and enjoyed a leisurely walk down Commerce. As I passed the building’s parking garage entrance/exit, I wondered if that was where Lee Harvey Oswald was shot. (It was.) I took my time, taking in the lovely, stately Municipal Building, which opened to rapturous acclaim in 1914 — it’s one of those cool old buildings that Dallas loves to tear down. I was really looking forward to stepping inside that grand palace, imagining an interior of marble, brass, etched glass, and ornate, highly polished, hand-carved wooden banisters.

I headed up the elegant, wide steps, walked in, and… oh… my… god. It was awful. AWFUL! But before I was treated to the full force of its awfulness, I was first greeted with the de rigueur metal detector. Which I set off. I stepped back and the officer asked me to raise each pant leg so he could see the tops of my shoes. I must have looked confused because he said, “We just want to make sure you’re not wearing an ankle holster.” Without thinking, I stupidly replied, “Pfft — I WISH,” and I instantly regretted it. But he laughed, and I continued on my way.

The Beaux-Arts-style Municipal Building, designed by architect C. D. Hill, is beautiful and stately. …On the outside. Here’s what it looked like almost 100 years ago:

Inside? Dear god. Depressingly institutional. Last “updated” circa the ’70s/’80s? Cramped and claustrophobic, bad paint, fluorescent lights, drop ceiling tiles, and absolutely no signage. I had to ask three people how to get to the central jury room! It’s a shame I found it, because I am going to have nightmares about that horrible place for a long time. There were about a hundred of us sitting on folding chairs in a room with dingy cream-colored walls trimmed with flat-turquoise paint. It reeked of the thousands of cigarettes which had no doubt been smoked over the past century by thousands of long-dead civil servants. The smell of stale smoke was embedded in every nook and cranny of that room. I think I would have preferred to serve my civic duty by picking up Miller Lite cartons from the side of the highway.

The worst thing about the room? The blaring TV. I don’t know why this has become acceptable, but it’s everywhere: in every waiting room there’s always a TV now — always on, stuck on a program you would never choose to watch. My fellow captive good citizens and I were subjected to a chirpy morning show (“Sweaters: to tuck or not?”) and lurid Hollywood gossip. I wondered if I could leave the room to get a breath of fresh air — it would be sheer relief to stand out in the hallway with the slumlords and the red-light-runners waiting their turn to go before the judge and take on City Hall. But I didn’t see anyone else doing that, so I sat, defeated, involuntarily learning about the finer points of sweater-tucking.

After an hour and a half or so, the marshal — who had a shaved head and wore taps on his shoes — announced that we were allowed a half-hour break. I hot-footed it out of there and left the building (I had to ask how to get out). I walked around the building admiring it, then walked across the street to a new park that’s sprung up since I was last downtown — a whole block of a park, lined with trees and terraced walkways — in downtown Dallas — with grass and everything! It’s cool. Here’s a photo I took of the municipal building from across the park (Main Street Garden):

Oct. 26, 2010 / photo: Paula Bosse

I saw several young hipsters walking their dogs. I bounced across a small playground, built on some sort of weird, springy, spongey surface. I thought how unusual and how nice this whole “open space” thing was. My half hour was up too soon. As I walked back, a possibly homeless man joined me and chatted with giddy enthusiasm about the Rangers being in the World Series, insisting to me that they were Going. To. Win. I laughed and said I believed him. It was such a beautiful day. How sad that I was heading back to the dark dungeon of the central jury room. I waited to cross the street with a couple of women I recognized as fellow potential jurors. They decided to blithely cross against a red light. There were six police cars parked in front of us, but not one cop to bust these scofflaws! I crossed on green, because I’d used up my luck finding a convenient parking spot, and as sure as the Rangers are Going To Win the World Series, I knew I would be instantly cited for pedestrian incivility the second I stepped off the curb to a flashing red light.

Back inside, I set off the metal detector a second time and showed my holster-free ankles to a different officer and followed the trail of breadcrumbs I’d left earlier. In the jury room — where women outnumbered men 4-1, and the median age was 60 — the two women who’d crossed on red were talking about the Laura Bush autobiography one of them was reading. Two other women were talking in excruciating detail about deaths of beloved pets. The guy next to me was nodding off, somehow oblivious to Wendy Williams chattering excitedly about Charlie Sheen and a hooker. A guy behind me had a laptop which kept making clanging sounds and which he’d plugged into an extension cord that snaked its way into the bowels of a mystery room behind an intimidating door marked “Private.”

There was no coffee in the building. (“There is NO coffee in the building,” the marshal had informed us earlier. “If you want a cup of coffee, you’re going to have to exit the building.”) HAD there been coffee, it would have been thin and stale and cold, and the powdered artificial creamer would not have dissolved, no matter how much you stabbed at the globules with a plastic stir stick. Like in the movie “Joe Versus the Volcano.” I kept thinking of that movie, because that godforsaken central jury room I was trapped in could have been the inspiration for the scene in that movie which my brother and I often reference:

*
I was so miserable. I contemplated committing some sort of petty property crime to relieve the tedium but reconsidered when I realized I’d only find myself back in the same building when my trial date came up. I was going to have to tough it out like an adult.

A middle-aged woman who looked like she was probably a hardcore, high-powered North Dallas realtor sat a couple of rows in front of me and seemed to be able to read only a sentence or two from her book (Famous Soviet Spies) before she grew bored and slipped her “We the People” bookmark back in and closed it, only to stare off into space, gathering the energy to raise the book again and read from it for 20 or 30 more aggressively-anti-Communist seconds.

The youngest person in the room sighed frequently and played a game on her phone.

An older Black man in a gimme cap and an older white man who had probably left his gimme cap in his truck talked together absolutely without pause for the entire time we were there. I couldn’t hear what they were talking about, but I have a feeling they’ll be spending Thanksgiving together this year.

Throughout my ordeal, I had longed to hear the snappy taps on the shoes of the marshal. He would be our savior — the one who could let us go. Finally, he returned. He called maybe 10 people and sent the rest of us on our way. It was 11:00 AM. I had been there only two and a half hours. It felt like a lifetime.

I got in my car, stopped for a burrito, headed home, and fell asleep on the couch. Civic duty done. I only hope I’m never called back to that depressing, confusing building. Pray you’re never called for jury duty there.

***

Sources & Notes

Blog post by Paula Bosse, originally published on Oct. 27, 2010 (revised July 2023).

Photo of the sad, dark Municipal Building at top is from Google Street View, Aug. 2007; photo from 2013 by Paula Bosse.

The City of Dallas and all of us who live here, should fall to our knees to thank the University of North Texas Law School and the team of incredible people who restored and renovated the former Municipal Building. Thankfully, all of my sarcastic descriptions above are no longer accurate. I mean, look at this photo of what a hallway looks like now:

That photo is one of several showing the restoration in the article “Bringing Historic Dallas Back to Life” by Preston Pressley, on LinkedIn, here (possibly behind a subscription wall).

See more photos — as well as the film “Restore” by Mark Birnbaum — on the Phoenix I Restoration and Construction site, here.

Look at this photo of the revitalized building today — more beautiful than I’ve ever seen it. Every inch of its exterior has been cleaned, spruced up, and restored. I kind of wish I could be called to jury duty there now!

UNT Dallas College of Law

How it all began: my Flashback Dallas post “The Elegant Municipal Building — 1914.”

Lastly, if you would like to support me on Patreon, pop on over. I post daily.

8 Comments

July 17, 2023

Gritty Dallas — 1969

Honest Joe’s: sign overload in Deep Ellum

by Paula Bosse

Here are a few things I found when I clicked on something I normally wouldn’t have, but I’m glad I did. These are screenshots from a 20-minute film made in 1969 by SMU’s Perkins School of Theology. (I certainly hope SMU has the original somewhere — or at least a crisper copy — because the quality of this 54-year-old film is, as you can see in these screenshots, pretty low-resolution.) The title of this offering on YouTube is the supremely un-sexy “Perkins School of Theology (SMU) Orientation and Recruiting Film — 1969.” Which is all well and good, but, let’s face it, how many of us would click on that? I wouldn’t! But it was the thumbnail that drew me in — a shot of the Colony Club, the famous burlesque club on Commerce Street. What did that have to do with theology school? I clicked and started fast-forwarding until I found the Colony Club — and it paid off, because I found a bunch of cool shots of places that, for the most part, don’t exist anymore.

The image above shows one of dozens of pawn shops in Deep Ellum, Honest Joe’s Pawn Shop, owned by Joe Goldstein. (Various Goldstein family members ran a dizzying number of pawn shops in Deep Ellum. I mean a LOT.) In 1969, Honest Joe’s and its adjacent office and warehouse spread from 2516 Elm to 2526 Elm — most of these buildings still stand (see them today, here), but others were torn down to make way for the highway-palooza. (Two more photos of Honest Joe’s are at the end of this post.)

The two shots below were in the same block — keep panning right from the P B Cleaners (2700 S. Ervay, at Grand Avenue — now Al Lipscomb Way), and you’ll see Choice’s Hotel and Bill’s Lounge next door. What’s there now? Nothing.

This is Friendship Hall (Dallas Inner City Parish), at 1823 Second Avenue. It was one of many businesses and homes condemned by the city and torn down to expand Fair Park and build new parking lots. See where this used to be, here.

St. Martin’s Spiritual Church of Christ, 2828 Carpenter. This is such an unusual-looking building. It’s gone, but there’s a new church in its place, here.

Iglesia Metodista, 1800 Park Avenue (at Beaumont), not too far from Old City Park. Wow, this area (a couple of blocks’ worth, anyway) has been developed way beyond what I would have guessed. The church once stood, I think, in this grassy area.

Soul City, 4714 Greenville Avenue, near University Blvd. (you might know it from its recent incarnation as a Vespa dealership). This wasn’t in a “gritty” neighborhood, but it was close to the filmmakers’ home, the SMU campus, and, surely, there were reprobates cavorting inside who could have benefited from a good Methodist sermon. From what I gather, this was a cool place for cool people to see cool bands. The building still stands, here. I don’t think it’s occupied at the moment.

Speaking of reprobates, their Big D mecca for many years was Commerce and Akard, home to all sorts of places you probably wouldn’t book for a Mother’s Day brunch. Clogging up this area at various times were strip joints and dive bars, including the Colony Club, the Theatre Lounge, and the Carousel Club. The Colony Club was at 1322½ Commerce. That whole block (and the one just beyond it — across Akard — home to the Baker Hotel) went bye-bye a long time ago.

And, like Soul City, the legendary Cellar was cool, but I’ll bet there were more illicit substances in this downtown “coffeehouse” than in the Greenville Ave. club. “Swings all night.” It stood at 2125 Commerce (at what is now Cesar Chavez). This building appears to be gone.

More shots of Honest Joe’s Pawn Shop, which took up a good chunk of the 2500 block of Elm. See what this view looks like today, here (I warn you: do not rotate 180 degrees). I assume the tall white building bit the dust for highway construction. I would have loved to have wandered around that place and chatted with Joe. I bet that guy saw some stuff. Deep Ellum has lost most of its grittiness. It used to be so cool. Thank you, seminary students from 1969, for preserving this for future generations, ’cause in a few years, the place won’t be recognizable.

***

Sources & Notes

All images are screenshots from the film “Perkins School of Theology (SMU) Orientation And Recruiting Film – 1969” — see it on YouTube here. It’s odd. It is from the keeps-on-giving G. William Jones Film and Video Archive, Hamon Arts Library, Southern Methodist University.

If you like this kind of thing, perhaps you will consider supporting me on Patreon. I post something there every day. More info is here.

16 Comments

July 15, 2023

Walking on the Wild Side at Commerce & Akard (Crowdsourcing)

by Paula Bosse

Occasionally on the Flashback Dallas Facebook page I ask questions, hoping to crowdsource answers — and people on that page know a lot of obscure stuff! I attempted to post the question(s) below on F*cebook, but I apparently crossed some sort of line. I think I used too many “forbidden” words. When I tried to post, the screen froze and ultimately ate my (lengthy) question. *Poof*! So I shall bypass F*cebook and just post it here.

I am looking for anyone who might have first-hand knowledge about the illicit side of downtown Dallas nightlife in the early 1960s. I am particularly interested in the seedier activities which might have been going on in the Baker Hotel. Namely, gambling and prostitution. Please contact me if you worked at the Baker (or the Adolphus) between, say, 1960 and 1964.

I know these activities were going on all around Dallas, but was it common to find illegal card games and prostitution going on inside the swanky hotels? If so, managers – and cops – must have known. Would they have turned a blind eye? Would they have been aware and on the take? Would they have just accepted it as part of the hotel business? I mean, Dallas was/is a huge convention city – this sort of thing must have been everywhere!

Would dancers who performed at the Colony Club have stayed at the Baker or Adolphus? They seem kind of ritzy for people in that line of work. Would management have cared if strippers stayed in their hotels? Would there have been a higher tolerance for more discreet “call girls” than your average run-of-the-mill prostitute? (I don’t mean to suggest that dancers were prostitutes, but, since I’m typing this, was it known that prostitution connected with the Colony Club or Carousel Club was going on?)

There is an amusing Dallas Morning News article titled “Officer Says Syndicated Crime Doubtful in Dallas” (DMN, Oct. 8, 1963) in which a vice cop proudly proclaims organized crime just doesn’t really exist in Big D. That seems highly unlikely, but I’m not even talking about big-time crime – more like high-stakes poker games with local high-rollers and pimping done by small-time operators. How common would it have been for this sort of thing to be going on in Dallas’ two most upscale hotels?

If you worked at the Baker Hotel in the early ’60s — or if you were employed by the Dallas Police Department at that time – or if you, yourself, were a participant in the seedier side of Dallas nightlife and spent significant time hanging around Commerce & Akard doing naughty things! – please comment below or send me an email at FlashbackDallas214@gmail.com.

This has nothing to do with the assassination, even though it’s the same time-period and there is undoubtedly a lot of overlap. But, seriously: NOTHING TO DO WITH YOU-KNOW-WHAT.

Thanks!

–Paula

***

Sources & Notes

Poster of “Naughty Dallas” (directed by cult Dallas director Larry Buchanan) found somewhere on the internet.

5 Comments

June 5, 2023

Schulte Cigars, Elm & Akard — ca. 1923

Life at Elm & Akard…

by Paula Bosse

A. Schulte Cigars — at 1416 Elm — held down the southwest corner of Elm and Akard streets (Elm is in the foreground, with the streetcar tracks). The winsomely named Zesmer’s Bootery was at 1412 Elm. Around the corner on Akard was an orange-drink stand. Above the building was a surprising array of billboards. (There is a lot of advertising in this photo.) Here’s another view of the same block, looking west:

Every time I see those curlicue lamp posts, they seem to be in photos of Elm Street.

1400 block of Elm, 1923 city directory

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Sources & Notes

Top photo by Frank Rogers; found on eBay.

Color postcard from the Flashback Dallas post “Views of Elm Street, With Cameo Appearances by the Fox Theater — 1920s-1960s.”

A previous Schulte location was at 201 S. Ervay, which you can see in the amazing photo in the post “‘There Are Eight Million Stories in the Naked City…’ — ca. 1920.”

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April 24, 2023

Courthouse in the Mist/Smoke/Murk — 1901

The ethereal Old Red Courthouse…

by Paula Bosse

I love this photo of the Old Red Courthouse from 1901. (I guess in 1901 it would have been the New Red Courthouse….) The dreamy quality is probably due less to a romantic mists of Avalon effect (which, incidentally, I’ve seen from the Glastonbury tor, and it’s beautiful!) and maybe due more to just a lot of soot and smoke. …Or something altogether more prosaic, like a damaged photograph or plate. Here’s the courthouse a little closer:

In the image at the top of the page, you can see some of the words for the “Keating Implement & Machine Co.” painted on the white building, seen just above the “Daniel & Goodwin” building on the right side of the photograph. The photo below shows the view from the courthouse, taken about 1900. In the bottom left corner, you can see the Keating building. The reverse view isn’t soft and mysterious (or even all that interesting), but I like that Old Red gets in a tiny Hitchcock-like cameo in the center foreground.

***

Sources & Notes

Top photo — titled “[Dallas Courthouse]” — is from the George A. McAfee Photographs collection, DeGolyer Library, SMU Libraries; more information on this photo can be found here.

The view from the courthouse — titled “Looking northeast from Courthouse circa 1900” — is from the Collection of Dallas Morning News negatives and copy photographs, DeGolyer Library, SMU Libraries; more information on this photo can be found here.

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1 Comment

March 29, 2023

Southland Center Observation Deck — 1967

550 feet above street level…

by Paula Bosse

I never experienced the observation deck atop the Southland Life Insurance Building (or any of the observation decks sprinkled throughout downtown — other than Reunion Tower, I guess), but I see a lot of people mention it in fond childhood memories. Here it is in an ad from the 1967 Highland Park High School yearbook.

GREAT SCOT… SEE IT FROM THE TOP!

Get a bird’s-eye view of your school from the Observation Deck, high on top of Southland Center. It’s a beautiful view, 550 feet above street level. A completely enclosed Observation Lounge assures visitors of all-weather comfort.

Come every day, 10:00 a.m. to 8:00 p.m. Adults, 25¢ — children (6-12) 10¢. Proceeds go to charity.

Southland Life Insurance Co.
Home Office • Southland Center • Dallas

The observation deck and “lounge” was opened to the public on the 41st floor of the Southland Life Building on Oct. 31, 1956 (the top floor — the 42nd — had a private heliport). I can’t find when it finally closed, but it was open until at least the 1980s.

A search around the internet turned up an interesting bit of footage of the observation deck in 1962 — from a cameo appearance in the TV show “Route 66” (there were a couple of episodes shot in Dallas — I haven’t seen this entire episode, but the clip below has a few cool locations). The pertinent footage begins at the 4:43 mark and lasts for about 2 minutes (if, like me, any hint of fictional animal danger is a problem, you might want to stop around the 5:00 mark). (A couple of cast connections to our fair city: David Wayne, the actor featured in this episode, would later return to Big D as Digger Barnes in “Dallas,” and Dallas actress K Callan — seen in a scene at Love Field at 4:10 — was both a student and a teacher at Our Lady of Good Counsel in Oak Cliff.) From this clip, it looks like there might have been several of the telescopes around the perimeter of the building. (I’d love to see this in color — to see those shimmering blue glass tiles up close.) (This full episode — one of three filmed in Dallas — can be watched on YouTube, here. You’ll see Love Field, the Marriott Motor Hotel, the Southland observation deck, the SMU campus, the Trade Mart, a Wyatt’s cafeteria and grocery store (6126 Luther Lane, in Preston Center), Sheriff Bill Decker’s actual office, and a drive-in movie theater.)

Is there an observation deck there these days?

***

Sources & Notes

Top photo/ad is from the 1966 Highland Park High School yearbook.

Check out these related Southland Center posts:

25 Comments

February 24, 2023

The Mercantile Bank Building — 1951

Squire Haskins Collection, UTA Special Collections

by Paula Bosse

Photo of one of my favorite downtown buildings, the Mercantile, taken by ace photographer Squire Haskins in December 1951. See a very large image of this at the UTA website, here. Zoom in and take a look around. Check out all the landmarks. You’ll probably find Waldo while you’re at it.

***

Sources & Notes

“Downtown Dallas — Mercantile Building” by Squire Haskins, taken on Dec. 11, 1951; from the Squire Haskins Photography, Inc. Collection, University of Texas at Arlington Libraries, Special Collections — more information can be found here. (I have slightly cropped the image.)

7 Comments

January 12, 2023

Businessmen’s Lunchtime Mobilization Drills — 1917

Drilling behind the depot, March 1917

by Paula Bosse

In March 1917, just days before the United States entered World War I, it was announced that there would be lunchtime military training drills in downtown Dallas for any man who wished to participate. This was part of the “Preparedness Movement” which was sweeping the country, in which citizens readied themselves for war. The idea for these drills came from Oswin K. King, a Dallas sportswriter, and they were organized and conducted by Capt. M. G. Holliday, with help from other officers of the Texas National Guard. The drills were held “in the rear of the old Santa Fe station, Murphy and Commerce streets. There is a vacant block there and the central location makes it ideal for the purpose” (“Military Drills for Business Men Planned,” Dallas Morning News, March 25, 1917). (See this location on a 1905 Sanborn map, here.)

Seems like a good time to insert a photo of the Gulf, Colorado, and Santa Fe depot (when it was still in operation), behind which all this drilling activity was taking place:

ca. 1899, via Portal to Texas History

Military-style drills involving local civilians hadn’t really been done like this before, and news of this swept the country’s newspapers. It was a BIG story. Dallas became the city everyone copied. Cities all over the United States began their own drilling exercises, and Capt. Holliday was kept busy traveling around Texas to advise towns on how to establish such civilian units for themselves. There was a lot of marching in formation going on in April 1917.

Two weeks in, drill-mania had taken over Dallas. It was estimated that 600 men were showing up daily for the downtown noon drills, and that many more — perhaps as many as 2,000 — had joined smaller groups and clubs which were drilling on their own all over town. There was a large contingent in Oak Cliff, lots of students in high schools and at SMU, policemen, letter carriers, businessmen, etc. There was even a suggestion that women should form their own groups. Any way you looked at it, the endeavor was a success (or at least fervently supported). Capt Holliday said that, should the need arise, a large body of troops could be immediately organized in Dallas — perhaps two regiments’ worth.

This training lasted about a month, which seems like sufficient time for bank clerks and grocerymen and automobile mechanics and upholsterers to get the hang of doing whatever this was. By the spring of 1917, Dallas was prepared.

The April 1, 1917 Dallas Morning News article accompanying the photo above is transcribed here:

DALLAS BUSINESS MEN MOBILIZE FOR MILITARY TRAINING

First City in United States to Start New Drills in Rudiments of Soldier Knowledge

From Few Dozen the First Day to 600 or More Saturday, Shows Rapid Increase of Interest in the Noon Drills. Captain in U.S. Cavalry and Number of Non-Commissioned Officers Instructing Men and Rudiments of Knowledge of Soldier Life

Dallas enjoys the distinction of being the first city in the United States to inaugurate the new mobilization of business men for the purpose of learning the rudiments of military training. There were those who said it could not be done, but the movement has gotten under full swing and the attendance is increasing daily.

Oswin K. King, of the Evening Journal, originated the idea, and becoming enthused of the possibilities, Mr. King suggested the matter to Captain M. G. Holliday of the 12th United States Calvary. Captain Holliday at once took up the plan as suggested by Mr. King and agreed to supervise the work.

For several days now, hundreds of Dallas business men have been in line on the spacious vacant property to the south of the Commerce Street station of the Santa Fe Railroad. The site is convenient to hundreds of business offices and not over five minutes’ walk from the skyscraper district.

That interest is increasing in the movement is evidenced by the number of business men who are enrolling. From a few dozen on Wednesday, last, to 400 on Thursday, and probably 200 more Friday and Saturday, shows that Dallas men are anxious to learn the rudiments of military training.

The idea is to teach the rudiments of close-order formation, including everything in what is known as the “Soldier’s School Without Arms.”

The instruction will continue indefinitely. Captain Holliday is assisted by several non-commissioned officers and civilian military experts.

DMN, Mar. 25, 1917 (click for larger image)

DMN, Apr. 13, 1917

***

Sources & Notes

Top photo from The Dallas Morning News, April 1, 1917, sent to me by Julia Barton (thanks, JB!).

Photo of the Santa Fe depot is from a Dallas Fire Department publication from 1899, provided by the Dallas Firefighters’ Museum to the Portal to Texas History — more information is here.

More Flashback Dallas posts on the WWI era can be found here.

2 Comments

December 23, 2022

Triple Underpass — ca. 1936

The Gateway to Dallas, or the the Gateway to Oak Cliff?

by Paula Bosse

Above, a fantastic photo showing the new Triple Underpass, about 1936, with the view toward Oak Cliff. (Compare this with a similar view, from the 1950s, here.)

Below, a little earlier, with the view to the east, back toward town.

The triple underpass was built by the Austin Bridge & Road Company between 1934 and 1936, finishing up just in time to welcome the onslaught of visitors to the Texas Centennial Exposition. I encourage you to visit the company’s public Facebook post here, which includes these and other great photos of this Dallas landmark (including a “then and now” comparison and a history of their involvement in the project). Below is an excerpt from that post:

Once called the “Gateway to Dallas,” the triple underpass near Dealey Plaza was built by Austin Bridge Company and Austin Road Company starting in 1934. The underpass, a joint project with the Texas Highway Department and City of Dallas, created access to the western edge of downtown Dallas under the Union Terminal tracks. Contending with up to 80 trains a day complicated the job, requiring close cooperation with the railway companies. The triple underpass was hailed as a modern marvel, built of concrete with square balusters in a handsome art-deco style. It was unveiled with great excitement in 1936, during Texas Centennial celebrations.

***

Sources & Notes

Top image is a U.S. Bureau of Public Roads photo showing the new underpass, looking to the west.

Both photos and the excerpt are from a post on the Austin Bridge & Road Facebook page, which you can find here.

6 Comments

December 7, 2022

1400 Block of Main Street, ca. 1946

The Century Club, the Adolphus Bar, and the Manhattan Cafe await…

by Paula Bosse

A few years ago, I went in to the Dallas Historical Society a few times a week to volunteer. I ended up basically cataloging an entire collection of photos taken by a man named James H. Bell — and I really enjoyed it. Bell wasn’t a professional photographer, he was just a guy who liked to take a lot of photographs. The photos were all taken, as I recall, in 1946 and 1947, when he was apparently visiting Dallas — which I gather was his hometown — on a trip from his new home in California. He took a lot of pictures of places around Dallas that no one really bothered to document: businesses, street life, houses. He was also something of a pinball and jukebox aficionado, because a large number of his photos had coin-operated machines in them. Like a LOT. He also liked buses. And he seemed to always have his camera with him.

The photo above (which, sadly, I’ve had to crop because of image issues) shows the south side of the 1400 block of Main Street. I’ve never seen a photo from this period of the Main Street entrance to the Adolphus Hotel. That cool 1936 deco sign for the Century Room is great (even though it looks a little out of place next to the overly ornate early-20th-century arch next to it). (See the full wonky image — apologies for the low resolution — all my fault — here.)

I can tell you exactly why Bell took this photo: he saw a coin-operated machine being unloaded from a truck (or loaded into a truck). There were others photos in this collection taken in similar circumstances. I don’t know whether he was following jukebox and pinball trucks around town (a very definite possibility…), or whether he just happened upon these coin-op machine deliveries, camera at the ready. Whatever the case, he got a nice action-photo of a jukebox delivery in the wild, while, at the same time, he secured for posterity a nice historical image of everyday life on Main Street. And, we have the added bonus of seeing the long-gone sign for the swanky Century Room nightclub.

This was the Dallas Historical Society description I wrote for the full photo:

Downtown Dallas, 1400 block of Main Street. South side of Main, with Akard intersecting at left. Partial view of the Southwestern Life Building (southeast corner of Main and Akard, with Travis cigar stand at street level); Andrews Building (southwest corner of Main and Akard); C C Liquor Store (1412-B Main); Elko Camera Store (1410 Main); Ragir’s (1412 Main); Adolphus Hotel, rear entrance (with Century Room nightclub sign); Adolphus Bar (1406 Main); the Marquee restaurant (1404 1/2 Main); Paul R. Brown’s Restaurant. Also: a sign for Manhattan Cafe or Cafe Manhattan, pedestrians, 1940s vehicles, workman securing a pinball or other coin-operated machine into back of pickup truck.

And here’s what it looked like at night:

1936

***

Sources & Notes

This photo was taken by James H. Bell in about 1946, and it is from the James H. Bell Collection at the Dallas Historical Society. The Accession Number is 2017.48, and the Object ID is V.2017.48.531.

Ad for Outdoor Electric Advertising is from Southwest Business magazine, Sept. 1936, Periodicals Collection, Dallas Public Library.

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Category: Downtown

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