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Randy "Snuffy" Elmore

Randy "Snuffy" Elmore, another gifted musician. World Champion Fiddle Player, has toured and recorded with Mel Tillis, Red Steagall, Reba McEntire, Don Edwards and many more. In demand for studio work all over the United States. Never too busy to help a friend, this picture was taken at a benefit for my son in law, Larry McWhorter.

Jean Prescott. A lady who was born to sing. Recording artist, musician, she also works in a Christian Ministry with my daughter Andrea. Shown here performing at the benefit for Larry McWhorter, my son in law.

Jean Prescott

Style Read

Style Read, Artist. Famous for his art work and large murals. Just about any place you look in the Historic Stockyards, you can see examples of his work. Great sense of humor. One of my favorite works is the one that covers an outside wall of the Maverick on North Main and Exchange Avenue in Fort Worth. You can also enjoy his work inside the famous Cattlemens Steak House on North Main or Riata Restaurant downtown Fort Worth.

Freddy Powers and Bill McDavid AKA "Rogers & Hammerhead"

A pair to draw to, Freddy Powers and Bill McDavid AKA "Rogers & Hammerhead."

Freddy, on the left is also known as "The Chordmaster" for his skills as a rhythm guitarist. He is a poet, song writer, entertainer and a good old boy who made it from Oklahoma where he was born to Seminole, Texas just as fast as he could.

Bill McDavid, automobile dealer, songwriter and publisher. My brother in law. He and Freddy formed a publishing company called Rogers and Hammerhead. When anyone asks, "Who is Hammerhead?" they point at each other, thus the theme for this photo. I took this picture on the set of "THE ROGERS AND HAMMERHEAD SHOW," taped in Austin and featuring Texas songwriters.

M. F. "Bud" Greaves

One of my all time favorites, M. F. Greaves, my father-in-law. Known as Bud to all his friends, I first met him in 1980. Nonie and I had been married for almost two years before he made it to Texas for our first encounter. This picture was taken on the flight line at Harlingen, Texas, home of the Confederate Air Force at the time. The aircraft in the photo is one of the few remaining B-24 Liberators manufactured by Consolidated Vultee during World War II. I persuaded Bud to give her a lucky pat. Bud died March 29, 2002, at his retirement home in Florida. I sure miss our poker games. He was a real man's man.

Shortie The Wonder Dog

My favorites would not be complete without a story about Shortie The Wonder Dog. She was an only child, the daughter of my Dad's registered Fox Terrier. Her father was an itinerant Dachshund who abandoned her at birth. My daughter Liz fell in love with her when she was just a puppy, didn't have her eyes open. When we visited Dad, Liz spent all the time playing with the pup my Dad had named Shortie. Christmas, 1982, Shortie was one year old. When my Dad came over to open presents, he brought Shortie and gave her to Liz. It was a match made in heaven. My Dad swore that Shortie had never stayed in the house, one of the conditions I laid down before Liz could accept her. It was a very cold night and we went outside to tell Dad good-bye. When we came back in, Shortie was perched on the couch. Now, if this dog never stayed in the house, how did she know to climb up on the couch? Methinks my Dad stretched things a bit. We also discovered she was house broken. She never once soiled a carpet until the week I had to put her down. She had cancer and lost control of her body functions. For twenty years she ruled our household. She never barked at strangers when they came to the door but would raise a ruckus if a friend happened by. She was a ham. When I brought out the camera, I think she knew she was supposed to pose. Her favorite trick was lying down in front of a person on her back, begging to have her belly scratched. When I worked at my word processor and later the computer, she took up a position across my feet under the desk. Sometimes, I think I can still feel her. Much more to be said about Shortie but that will come later.

Skip Skipworth

Here is a picture of Skip Skipworth and the present his lovely bride gave him for Christmas 2002. I met Skip through my old fifth grade buddy John Perry and discovered we had a lot in common. We had both worked for Lockheed. He was responsible for Quality Control on such famous aircraft at the P-38 as well as many other Lockheed products. He has become my friend and mentor through the Internet. Although we have never met face to face, I feel as though I have known him all my life. He is a published author and his book Runaway Cowboy, illustrated by A. W. Erwin is a true adventure. He sets the stage for this tale with this paragraph. "I left Kress (Texas) for the Big Adventure mid-afternoon of a hot sultry day. I was wearing an old wide-brimmed hat, so floppy I had to safety pin the front to the crown to keep it from flapping in my face, my best shoes (lace oxfords) and best shirt and pants. My other pants and shirt with changes of socks and underwear were packed in my trumpet case with my trumpet."

"Old Blood and Guts" as he was known. Not a very popular general after he slapped a soldier in a hospital in Italy, accusing him of malingering. General Eisenhower made him apologize to the entire force under his command. General Patton's big trouble was his mouth. He made no bones about his feelings for the Russians and even one of our allies, General Montgomery of the British Army. I admire him because he got things done. Might have used a little more tact, but there wasn't much time for tact and other social graces when battles needed to be won. George C. Scott, became Patton in the movie of that name.

General George Patton

Steve "Cowboy" Murrin on Diesel

This section would not be complete if I didn't include my good friend Steve (Cowboy) Murrin. Steve has done more to change the image of North Fort Worth and the Historic Stockyards than any other person I know. He is still considered the Mayor of this part of Fort Worth. The horse in the picture is Diesel who passed away a couple of years ago. Diesel has been photographed almost as many times as Steve. A big Belgian, he was a favorite of kids and pretty girls.

It was an often quoted rumor that the First Methodist Church I attended was a stopping off place for preachers who were about to be promoted or retired. The man this story is about was one of those slated for retirement.

I didn't serve on the pastoral relations committee at this church, I was the Boy Scout Leader and had a seat on the Board. When the Board President reported on our new preacher I really didn't pay that much attention.

He preached his first sermon in the summer to a small audience. I was there with my family and the six of us took up one pew. As he started to preach, I sat up and started to take notice. He was old, over sixty-five maybe seventy, but what a voice. He preached about his early life, how he became a preacher and introduced the lady he had married more than fifty years before. He had what I have always called "palsy." His hands shook uncontrollably as he turned pages in a well worn Bible.

That was my first experience with a man I was to know as Dr. Reynolds. A week or so later, on a Saturday afternoon I was mowing with my John Deere riding mower. I had a beverage holder on the tractor which held a cold can of beer. Too late to hide it when I saw Dr. Reynolds coming up the driveway. He got out, we shook hands, me with the beer in my left hand. I invited him inside out of the heat and offered him a soda, water or iced tea. He said, "If you don't mind, I would like one of those beers." I almost went in to shock! I pulled a beer and frosted mug from the fridge and sat it down before him. He poured the beer with a flourish that told me this was not his first rodeo.

He asked if I was shocked that he asked for a beer in lieu of soft drinks. I told him I was for a moment but at the same time was glad to meet an honest preacher. I never saw him drink more than one and he visited in my home many times. We had a Sunday School Class that met in different houses each week. It was strictly social and we played forty-two. Dr. Reynolds would take one look at his hand, lay them face down, bid and usually make it without ever looking at his hand again. He shot a mean game of pool also, even with the palsy.

I started quizzing him one day about his games and he told me he had a church one time in west Texas. The town was experiencing an oil boom, attendance at church was low. He started hanging out at the local domino parlor and when the pastoral relations committee called him on the carpet for hanging out with domino and pool players he told them, "The people who attend church on a regular basis don't need me. And if you will notice, we have had a number of so called domino bums join the church lately. They also tithe very generously." He said when money was mentioned, the committee called the meeting to a halt.

Dr. Reynolds was only with us two years but they were two of the best years of my life. I had some personal problems, or at least I thought I did. Over one beer, we solved every one.

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