Flashback : Dallas

January 31, 2016

Yehudi Menuhin and Antal Dorati: A Collaborative Friendship

“Best friends” Menuhin and Dorati in Dallas, Jan. 1947

by Paula Bosse

When Antal Dorati was appointed conductor of the Dallas Symphony Orchestra in 1945, Dallas suddenly began to see a lot of violinist Yehudi Menuhin.

In a 1954 article about Yehudi Menuhin’s close ties to Dallas, John Rosenfield — the influential arts editor of The Dallas Morning News — wrote that when Menuhin was in town for a performance for the Civic Music Association in 1945, he was “casually asked” (probably by Rosenfield himself) what he thought of Antal Dorati as a possible conductor for the then-long-dormant Dallas Symphony Orchestra.

“He’s my best friend … he’s wonderful … he’s great,” said Yehudi, who was promptly carried around town to talk to businessmen again interested in re-forming the orchestra. (DMN, Sept. 5, 1954)

A short while later, Dorati was hired as musical director of the “new” Dallas Symphony Orchestra, and, as a result, best friend Yehudi was in and out of town frequently during Dorati’s four seasons in Dallas. Not only did he perform frequently as a soloist with the DSO, but it was not unheard of for Yehudi to sometimes drop by and sit in with the orchestra during rehearsals. Menuhin often stayed with Dorati when touring the central United States or based himself at the Melrose Hotel, which he used as a sort of mid-continent pied-à-terre.

One of the great passions the two men shared was a love for the music of Hungarian composer Bela Bartok. Dorati, born in Budapest, studied piano under Bartok and was a champion of his work throughout his career. Menuhin had performed Bartok’s Violin Concerto to great acclaim, and near the end of Bartok’s life, after the two men had met and bonded, Menuhin commissioned him to compose a sonata for violin.

Dorati and Menuhin often collaborated on performances featuring Bartok’s works, and when it was known that Dorati was all-but-signed to be the new DSO conductor, there was much speculation that Bartok himself might come to Dallas, but Bartok’s death in September, 1945 put an end to those hopes.

The first RCA Victor Red Seal recordings of Dorati’s Dallas Symphony Orchestra took place in January, 1946. One of the recordings featured Menuhin performing Bartok’s Concerto for Violin and Orchestra.

Denison Press, Jan. 4, 1946

Below, the first movement of the recording.

*
The second movement is here; the third movement is here.

The recording was well-received.

Time magazine, June 16, 1947

RCA Victor ad, 1947

Of perhaps greater note, was the fact that Yehudi Menuhin conducted for the very first time in Dallas — the first orchestra he ever waved a baton at was the Dallas Symphony Orchestra, in 1946. No doubt because of their great friendship, Dorati coached the 30-year-old Menuhin on the finer points of conducting when the violin virtuoso expressed interest in learning what things were like on the other side of the podium. Menuhin first conducted the DSO on April 6 1946, for an invited audience.

Santa Cruz (CA) Sentinel, Apr. 7, 1946

He was ready to go “public” on January 16, 1947, conducting the DSO for one of its regularly scheduled national broadcasts originating from WFAA.

Jan. 11, 1947

The text from the ad:

Yehudi Menuhin, one of the great violinists of modern concert history, makes his public debut as a symphony orchestra conductor, January 16. Antal Dorati, Conductor of the Dallas Symphony Orchestra, lends his baton to his protégé, Menuhin, for the entire one hour program.

Protégé!

Even though Menuhin insisted at the time that this brief foray into the world of conducting was fleeting and not a signal of any sort of career change, Yehudi Menuhin did go on later to direct many of the world’s great orchestras.

The friendship between Dorati and Menuhin lasted (from what I can tell) until Dorati’s death in 1988 (the decade-younger Menuhin died in 1999). They were personal friends and like-minded professional equals.

Between Menuhin and Antal Dorati, the Dallas Symphony Orchestra conductor, exists a friendship and a mutuality of musical aspiration that has resulted in outstanding musical collaborations. (John Rosenfield, DMN, Jan. 15, 1947)

Below, the only film I’ve been able to find of the two men together, filmed in 1947 during the time when Dorati was engaged in Dallas (although this was not DSO-related and was filmed in Los Angeles). The piece being performed is Brahms’ Hungarian Dance No. 4; Dorati accompanies Menuhin on piano (you finally see him near the end!).

Dorati, Menuhin, 1947 (fuzzy screenshot)

dorati_menuhin Younger… (via Tutti Magazine)

dorati_menuhin_photo Older…

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Sources & Notes

Top photo of Menuhin and Dorati in preparation for Menuhin’s public debut as a conductor is from Texas Week magazine (Jan. 25, 1947), here.

The YouTube video of Brahms’ Hungarian Dance No. 4 was filmed at the Charlie Chaplin studios in Hollywood in the fall of 1947 (according to consumer reviews here).

Links-a-lot:

Yehudi Menuhin Wikipedia entry is here. His obituary is here.
Antal Dorati Wikipedia entry is here.
Bela Bartok Wikipedia entry is here.

More on Dorati can be found in my post “Antal Dorati, The Conductor Who Revived The Dallas Symphony Orchestra — 1945-1949,” here.

Click pictures and clippings for larger images.

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January 30, 2016

Antal Dorati, The Conductor Who Revived the Dallas Symphony Orchestra — 1945-1949

Antal Dorati, 1946 — on top of the world

by Paula Bosse

The news this week that the Dallas Symphony Orchestra’s musical director, Jaap van Zweden, was leaving town to pursue a glitzier gig was seen as an inevitable move to many of his disappointed fans. The DSO has been something of a springboard for conductors working their way up the conductor career ladder. Another celebrated conductor who spent a few years in Big D before rising to the heights of international acclaim was Hungarian-born Antal Dorati (1906-1988).

Dallas had classical music concerts in the 19th century, but the roots of what we now know as the Dallas Symphony Orchestra reach back to about 1900, under the direction of Hans Kreissig, who had settled in Dallas in 1887.

Dallas Morning News, Jan. 13, 1897

For various reasons (lack of community interest, lack of financial support, etc.), some of these early seasons were truncated or suspended — there was a gap of several years after Kreissig’s tenure, for instance, and there were no performances during most of 1936 and 1937 because of activities surrounding the Texas Centennial and renovations to the Music Hall (the DSO performed at the Music Hall in Fair Park). The most noteworthy suspension of performances was during World War II when the symphony was “temporarily dissolved”: not only was the financial state of the organization not good at this time, but the war itself had depleted the ranks of the performers — the DSO shut down completely in 1942 because conductor Jacques Singer and several of his musicians had enlisted or were drafted. John Rosenfield, the arts editor of The Dallas Morning News and an ardent classical music lover, wrote often during this time how the loss of the DSO was a crushing cultural blow to the city.

When the war ended, Dallas’ music-lovers (and musicians) clamored for the return of the DSO. A search began for a conductor who was not only a superior musical director but who would also be able to build an orchestra from scratch; they found that man in 39-year-old Antal Dorati, a former student of Zoltan Kodaly and Bela Bartok who had made a name for himself as a musical director for ballet companies such as the Ballet Russe de Monte Carlo and the Ballet Theater — his DSO appointment was announced in the fall of 1945.

Somehow, in only two months, Dorati managed to put an orchestra together, prepare the season’s schedule, rehearse the musicians, and present the first performance of the “reborn” Dallas Symphony Orchestra on December 9, 1945.

DMN, Dec. 5, 1945

The response to that first concert was rapturous:

The crowd was somewhat stunned by the excellence of the ensemble that will bear Dallas’ name. To many, grown realistic or cynical in the years’ cultural struggles, the new orchestra was an unbelievably precious gift. Nothing so fine was expected by even the optimists. And it belonged to them with the promise that it would stay for all the time they could foresee. (John Rosenfield review, “Capacity Audience Thrills To Reborn Dallas Symphony, DMN, Dec. 10, 1945)

During the intermission of this debut performance, Dorati was interviewed on the radio and had nice things to say about Dallas:

I fell in love with Dallas not last September when I was engaged but as far back as 1937. When I visited here year after year with the Ballet Theater. I said to myself that if I ever withdrew from the ballet and became a resident conductor for an American symphony, I would like it to be the Dallas Symphony Orchestra.” (DMN, Dec. 10, 1945)

One little thing the Maestro was unable to accomplish, though, was to find a place for his family to live. The severe lack of postwar housing affected even the wealthy cultural elite!

Dec. 13, 1945

And, with that, the DSO was back. It toured. A LOT. And made recordings. And appeared on national radio broadcasts. With Dorati at the helm, the Dallas Symphony Orchestra was making a name for itself and garnering a very positive national reputation.

A typical article about the young, photogenic Dorati went something like the one below, in which Dorati was described as “the wonderboy of Southwest symphonic circles.”

Texas Week, Aug. 17, 1946

After a fairly short but incredibly productive time in Dallas, Antal Dorati accepted the position of conductor of the Minneapolis Symphony Orchestra in January 1949. His successor, Walter Hendl (a startlingly “honest” obituary of the controversial Hendl appeared in the London Telegraph here), was appointed a few short weeks later, and Dorati’s final concert was April 3, 1949.

April 3, 1949

John Rosenfield’s melancholy review/farewell appeared the next day in The Dallas Morning News, and one imagines it tooks weeks for his tears to dry.

The spectacularly successful musical director and conductor, whose 4-season regime ended with an emotion-laden farewell concert, modestly disclaimed the founder’s role in Dallas Symphony history. The 1945-49 period was one of high-intentioned and nobly-adventurous endeavor….” (John Rosenfield, DMN, April 4, 1949)

And with that, the Maestro headed to Minneapolis, having built the post-war Dallas Symphony Orchestra into a nationally respected organization.

Waco News Tribune, Dec. 6, 1946

Waco News Tribune, Dec. 13, 1946

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Sources & Notes

Top photo and article from the Aug. 17, 1946 issue of Texas Week, the short-lived magazine that was sort of a Texas version of Life, via the Portal to Texas History, here. Text may have been written by Paul Crume.

Linksapalooza:

The Dallas Symphony Orchestra Wikipedia entry is here; the official DSO site is here; the Handbook of Texas entry is here.
The Antal Dorati Wikipedia entry is here; his official site is here.

Listen to pianist William Kapell perform Prokofiev’s Piano Concerto No. 3 in C major, Op. 26 with the Dallas Symphony Orchestra under the direction of Antal Dorati (recorded at the Fair Park Auditorium the same week he made his “Adios, Dallas!” announcement in Jan., 1949), here.

More on Dorati and his close friend Yehudi Menuhin in my post “Yehudi Menuhin and Antal Dorati: A Collaborative Friendship,” here.

And, yes, the correct spelling should be “Antal Doráti.”

5 Comments

January 28, 2016

A-Bomb in Akard Street! — 1950

See Pegaus up there in the cloud of smoke and debris? (click for larger image)

by Paula Bosse

The image above, from 1950, is a depiction of what downtown Dallas might look like if an atomic bomb were dropped at the corner of Main and Akard (which is weirdly specific).

In 1950 Russia detonated a nuclear bomb during atomic tests and President Truman announced that the United States would increase and intensify research and production of thermonuclear weapons. It was a scary time for the world. The atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki were still fresh in everyone’s minds, and news of the even more frightening hydrogen bomb was everywhere in 1950.

The drawing above is by Dallas artist Frank McGrath. It isn’t terribly realistic — Big D probably wouldn’t survive a nuclear blast — but it’s nice that Frank spared Pegasus from annihilation.

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Sources & Notes

There were bomb shelters all over the Dallas area. There was a (surprisingly) large shelter on the grounds of Fair Park. Watch a video tour here. And read the Flashback Dallas post “‘Dallas Is a Major Target Area!’ Know Where Your Nearest Fallout Shelter Is.”

Read about the tenor of the times in the article “Hydrogen Bomb — 1950,” here.

The title of this post is a direct reference to a great song by one of my favorite bands, The Jam. Listen to “A-Bomb in Wardour Street,” here. This time it’s nuclear apocalypse in London, but change the accent and, sure, it could be Dallas. (I knew I’d work The Jam in here one day!)

1 Comment

January 27, 2016

Collision on the Streetcar Viaduct — 1929

The new streetcar viaduct, 1946

by Paula Bosse

For many, many years there was a special trestle that spanned the Trinity River which was for the exclusive use of streetcars and Interurbans. There were also trestles and viaducts for the exclusive use of trains and automobiles. Below is a photo showing the viaductal activity in 1935, with the streetcar trestle — sometimes called the “Street Car Viaduct” or the “Trinity River Viaduct” marked in yellow and the Old Red Courthouse and Dealey Plaza (then under construction) marked in orange.

The viaduct immediately above it was the Houston Street viaduct, for automobiles.

For many, a streetcar ride across the viaduct seems to have been a little on the harrowing side. There were no guardrails to prevent a car from going over the side, and even when the original wooden trestle had been bolstered with stronger materials, it was still described by commuters as being rickety. I like this quote of a man remembering a typical ride in the 1950s:

I always enjoyed the slight tingle of fear I experienced on the trestle over the river, as one could not see the trestle itself from the car window. One had the feeling of being suspended with no support when looking out the window.

And these two memories:

The streetcar trestle ran parallel to the Houston St. Viaduct where the current newer bridge is to downtown. No railings and just depended on gravity to hold the cars on the rails. The cars would buck and sway as they crossed the river bottoms as the motormen made up time on their schedules. Seemed like they were really going fast to me at the time, but probably not in today’s terms.

The [newer streetcars] used to scare me to death rocketing across the Trinity River high in the air with no sidewalls except just over the river itself! You were able to look straight down from high above ground… those newer cars had softer springs and the faster they went, the more they rocked side to side over the less than flat tracks!

Here’s a photo when it was in its original rickety state, back in 1895 (this is a detail of a larger photo, taken on the Oak Cliff side of the river, with the trestle — and the not-yet-old Old Red Courthouse — visible in the background).

Here it is in 1914 at river-bottom level, with a happy little trolley chugging along with the Oak Cliff/Houston Street viaduct looming over and in front of it. (This is a detail of a larger photo in the George W. Cook Collection, DeGolyer Library, SMU — here).

And here’s a sturdier version of the viaduct, in 1946.

But now to the collision on the viaduct, which happened on the morning of November 23, 1929. Back then — at that iteration of the viaduct — the trestle had only a single track. While one streetcar or Interurban car crossed the bridge toward Oak Cliff, a car wanting to cross over from Oak Cliff had to wait until the westbound car had made its mile-long trip. That must have made for a lot of impatient riders. Even though the so-called “block signal” system worked well for the most part, there were the occasional accidents, including the one involving three cars on Nov. 23, 1929. Below, a front-page report of the collision(s) from The Waxahachie Daily Light (click for larger image).

Waxahachie Daily Light, Nov. 23, 1929

The Waxahachie paper even had a local angle (although it’s unclear just how this man “nearly lost all of the clothes he was wearing”).

Waxahachie Daily Light, Nov. 23, 1929

Since it happened during the morning rush hour, just about every other newspaper in Texas scooped The Dallas Morning News, which wasn’t able to run its story until the next day (and its report was surprisingly dull).

The UP wire story that ran in the Joplin, Missouri paper was far more exciting.

Joplin Globe, Nov. 24, 1929

Thankfully none of the streetcars fell off the trestle, but I’m sure that possibility was probably the daily fear/resigned expectation of generations of nervous travelers.

The most interesting thing in the DMN article is the last paragraph:

Plans in the making for the new street car crossing of the Trinity River call for a double track over the channel, eliminating the necessity of waiting on block signals.

In February 1931, that new double-track streetcar viaduct opened for business, and I’m sure there was a citywide sigh of relief.

One last little amusing tidbit about this viaduct: it was not unheard of for those having indulged in excessive amounts of alcohol to try to drive their automobiles (either on purpose or by accident) over this already-kind-of-scary trestle intended for electric-powered railway use only.

Mexia Weekly Herald, Jan. 13, 1933

Beaver Valley (Pennsylvania) Times, Dec. 8, 1952

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Sources & Notes

Top photo titled “T. E. clouds, sky, city, from east levee close to wooden trestle 320 just passed, at rear, car 320 on Trinity River Bridge, Dallas, Tex.,” taken on Feb. 16, 1946 by Robert W. Richardson, is from the Western History/Genealogy Dept., Denver Public Library.

Photo showing the viaducts across the Trinity is titled “Central Levee District,” taken on May 20, 1935 by Lloyd M. Long, from the Edwin J. Foscue Map Library, Southern Methodist University; the labeled photo is here, the unlabeled photo is here.

Don’t know what “block signaling” is? Wikipedia to the recue.

Lastly, just because I like it, a magnified detail from the top 1946 photo, showing a streetcar at the downtown end of the viaduct.

January 24, 2016

Parasols on the SMU Campus — 1917

SMU, sparsely populated

by Paula Bosse

I love this photo showing a man and two women with parasols walking up an unpaved Bishop Blvd. toward Dallas Hall. The women’s dormitory, Atkins Hall, is on the right. …And that’s it.

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Sources & Notes

Photo titled “Dallas Hall and women’s dormitory in 1917” is from the DeGolyer Library, Central University Libraries, Southern Methodist University; more information is here. (I have straightened the image, and corrected the color somewhat.)

2 Comments

January 23, 2016

Tomorrow’s Weather at Live Oak & Elm — 1955-ish

The weather, brought to you by Coke…

by Paula Bosse

This photo (which is a little blurry, but the blurriness gives it a kind of dreamy softness) shows the one-time five-point intersection of Ervay, Live Oak (seen above at the left), and Elm (on the right, looking east). On the corner of this busy and confusing intersection, a large sign provided a public service by showing tomorrow’s weather forecast (…whilst subtly encouraging onlookers to hie themselves to the closest Coca-Cola-dispensary). During the day, the sign looked mildly interesting, but at NIGHT…! At night, this sign transformed downtown’s entertainment district into our very own mini Times Square. Here’s what it looked like at night (it’s a giant image — click it!).

1953, Squire Haskins, UTA

And here it is from another angle, about 1948:

And, hold on to yourself: from 1939, in color! (Screenshot of a 1939 film, shot in Dallas, in color. Watch the sign’s flashing, dancing neon in action on YouTube here.)

1939

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Sources & Notes

I found the top photo on eBay a few months ago. The amateur photo was stamped “Feb. 1956” when the photo was developed, but looking at the clothes people are wearing, one would assume it was taken earlier — probably the previous year.

The first nighttime photo is by Squire Haskins, taken in January, 1953. See my original post — “Ervay, Live Oak, and Elm: Just Another Wednesday Night — 1953” — here. This post includes a map showing Live Oak when it used to intersect with Elm and Ervay.

The second nighttime photo is ca. 1948, probably from the Dallas Public Library. See the notes in this post.

All pictures larger when clicked.

6 Comments

January 21, 2016

The Washington Theater — Dallas’ First Movie Palace

The Washington, 1615 Elm

by Paula Bosse

The outrageously ornate Washington Theater was built in 1912 by W. D. Nevills (1872-1945), a man who had been running cheap little store-front nickelodeons in Dallas for several years. Three of his most popular were The Nickelodeon, The Candy, and The Palace (not to be confused with any later theaters in Dallas called the “Palace”).

Standard Blue Book of Texas, 1912-1914

His Nickelodeon on Main Street can be seen in the lower center of this detail from a larger 1909 parade photo.

Nevills must have raked in a lot of nickels, because when his Washington Theater opened at 1615 Elm Street, it was the most spectacular motion picture “photoplay house” in Dallas. Nevills spared no expense for the theater’s furnishings and facade.

Dallas Morning News, Nov. 17, 1912 (click to read)

What might seem a little gaudy now, was probably still gaudy back then, but it was a fresh, NEW gaudy! And 600 Dallasites could all watch a movie at the same time. 600! Unheard of!

The Washington opened on Thanksgiving Day, 1912. Complete with “Human Pipe Organ.”

DMN, Nov. 27, 1912

The Washington was the king of the roost for only a short while, though — until young whippersnappers like the Queen began to steal its thunder. 600 seats? Pfft! It was a thousand or nothing now. The theater began to lose its luster and look more old and hulking than young and exciting, and after riding out its very long lease, the Washington Theater closed on July 1, 1927.

This little classified showed up a couple of weeks later, and it must have been a melancholy Nevills who had to write it up.

washington-theater_dmn_071327 DMN, July 13, 1927

The theater continued to be used for a while — mostly for evangelical meetings or events. I’m not sure exactly when the building was demolished, but a report of the building’s being sold and plans for its razing appeared in The Dallas Morning News in October, 1927.

Let’s look at a couple of details from that top photo. The Washington was built without a marquee, but the outside of the building was studded with an eyeball-popping TWO THOUSAND LIGHTS! Imagine what that must have looked like — in 1912! Here’s an extreme close-up of the theater’s facade — look at all those bulbs!

And, below (was one of these men W. D. Nevills?):

Another shot, this one showing how one worked without a typical illuminated marquee — you just string a banner up (the needle is hitting a solid “8.5” on the visual clutter scale here):

1914 via CorbisImages

Here it is, ablaze at night:

In an ad from 1914:

theater_washington_bldg-code_1914

Photo from October 1916:

And in “color” from a picture postcard:

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Sources & Notes

Top photo from Cinema Treasures; to read a history of the Washington Theater from Cinema Treasures (and to see another photo), see here. (Photo’s original source appears to be the Dallas Historical Society.)

The photo of the theater with the Mary Pickford banner is ©Schenectady Museum; Hall of Electrical History Foundation/CORBIS; more info is here. (The movie “Behind the Scenes” was released in 1914.)

Photo of the theater at night is from Dallas Rediscovered by William L. McDonald — source: Dallas Historical Society archives.

The ad is from the 1914 Dallas Building Code.

Photo with the marquee showing “The Common Law” is from Oct. 1916, but the photo didn’t appear in the trade magazine Theatre Exhibitors Herald and Motography until June 1919.

The color postcard is from eBay.

Read about the closing of the Washington in an article available in the Dallas Morning News archives: “Washington Theater, Earliest Dallas ‘Movie Palace,’ Shows Last Close-Up After 15 Years” (DMN, July 4, 1927).

The Washington Theater must have been W. D. Nevills greatest achievement. It’s interesting to note that “Operator Washington Theater” appears on his death certificate. Nevills died in 1945, eighteen years after the theater closed.

nevills_death-certificate_010545_det

For other Flashback Dallas posts on this era of movie theaters, see the following:

“Three of Dallas’ Earliest ‘Photoplay Houses’ — 1906-1913,” here
“Movie Houses Serving Black Dallas — 1919-1922,” here

21 Comments

January 21, 2016

A Bird’s-Eye View Over the Washington Theater

As the crow flies…

by Paula Bosse

This wonderful photo shows an aerial view looking northeasterly over the top of the Washington Theater, Dallas’ first ornate movie palace. It was located between N. Akard and N. Ervay, at 1615 Elm Street — now the site of Thanksgiving Tower. I think the street at the top right edge of the photo is Live Oak, which used to come all the way through to Elm. I love this photo.

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Sources & Notes

Photo from Lost Dallas by Mark Doty (Charleston: Arcadia Publishing, 2012).

Bird’s-eye view today-ish (with 1615 Elm marked):

Bing Maps

The Washington Theater was in business at 1615 Elm from 1912 to 1927. More on the Washington in the Flashback Dallas post “The Washington Theater — Dallas’ First Movie Palace,” here.

3 Comments

January 20, 2016

The Texas Theatre and Its Venetian-Inspired Decor

A little bit of Venice in the O.C. (note organ at edge of stage)

by Paula Bosse

The Texas Theatre in Oak Cliff — which opened in April, 1931 — was the first movie theater in Dallas built expressly to show movies with sound. It was also the largest “suburban” theater in the Dallas area — only downtown’s first-run Majestic and Palace theaters were larger. Below are photos of the theater’s “Venetian-style” interior, from the trade journal Motion Picture Herald.

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Sources & Notes

Photos from Motion Picture Herald, July 2, 1932. For the full article, see the very large scan of page 1 here, and page 2 here.

The Texas Theatre is still alive — its website’s history page is here.

My previous post, “The Texas Theatre — 1932” (which shows the theater’s exterior at the time this article was published), is here.

7 Comments

January 19, 2016

Dallas: “Amusement Capital of the Southwest” — 1946

Something for everybody! (click for larger image)

by Paula Bosse

Post-war Dallas had it all, man: our unparalleled night life included swanky hotel nightclubs where the beautiful people sipped champagne and danced to the music of tuxedoed big bands, “quieter but none-the-less entertaining taverns on the outskirts of the city” where the less beautiful people drank beer and danced to the non-stop music coming from jukeboxes, “unusual” restaurants (“where there is no music to dull the solid enjoyment of well-seasoned viands served with sparkling wines of appropriate vintage”), theatrical presentations, movies, movies, movies, and outdoor sports and recreation, including baseball at Rebel Stadium. Something for everybody!

(click for larger image)

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Photo collage and text from “So This Is Dallas,” edited by Mrs. E. F. Anderson (Dallas: The Welcome Wagon, ca. 1946); photographs by Parker-Griffith.

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