219 Chapters
  Title Author Publisher Format Buy Remix
Medium 9780253346988

5. Special Service

Abraham Aamidor Indiana University Press ePub

Word of Alabama’s clash with the Texas A&M Aggies in the upcoming Cotton Bowl dominated the front sports page of the Nevada State Journal on Dec. 2, 1941. But it was an item running down the left side that garnered more attention from a core group of basketball enthusiasts in Reno that day. The brief story hailed a clinic at the University of Nevada gymnasium the night before conducted by Chuck Taylor, America’s “ambassador of basketball” and veteran of the best early professional cage teams. A photo showed Chuck in tight-fitting shorts and leather knee pads, plus his own brand of black Converse Chuck Taylor All Star shoes. Forty years old at the time, the 6-foot-1 ex-forward had a deeply receding hairline and was starting to carry a paunch, but he could still rouse interest in the 400 fans who showed up at the Nevada gymnasium, and he could still do free throws from behind his back and dozens of trick passes no youthful defenders could ever seem to stop.1

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Medium 9780253010285

13 Highway 61 Revisited

Mike Roos Quarry Books ePub

Game day arrived, and an unusually agitated Roy Allen stood in the doorway to Pete Gill’s office. “Pete, now you’ve really lost your mind! Hitchhiking home from Spurgeon? It’s nuts!”

Pete was studiously shuffling through a stack of index cards. He glanced up expressionless, then resumed the shuffling. “Did you see the looks on the boys’ faces, Roy? I think I got ’em stirred up.”

“I’m not worried about that. We will win the game,” Roy said. “As bad as we looked the other night, Spurgeon is likely to be several degrees worse. And if we play better, which is a real possibility, then it’s you and me I’m worried about, Pete.”

Pete did not look up. “Take it easy, Roy.”

“Listen, Pete, Spurgeon is thirty miles away. And there’s no direct route between here and there. You have to take a bunch of different roads. Hitchhiking so late at night is—well, it’s no simple matter.”

“I’m going to start Stan Klem,” Pete said, lifting out one of the cards. “Don’t you think he looked the best of what we got?”

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Medium 9780253002952

11 “Te Amo, Te Amo, Te Amo”: Lorenzo Antonio and Sparx Performing Nuevo México Music Peter J. García

ARTURO J ALDAMA Indiana University Press ePub

PETER J. GARCÍA

It’s a hot summer afternoon and I am driving with my mother and my tío or her oldest brother heading west on Interstate 40 entering Albuquerque’s city limits following an intense extended family reunion held over the Fourth of July weekend held in my maternal ancestral village of el Torreon near Manzano, Abó, Chilili, Tajique, Estancia, and Mountainair in Torrance County. These picturesque New Mexican village communities remain hidden byways and represent some of the last bastions of the former Spanish pastoral rancheritos and former Mexican land grants from throughout the Río Abajo. Older Nuevomexicano residents remain rooted here and to the former ways of life that have survived now for centuries in a place twice colonized but which remains home to a unique raza heritage and a rooted, what Alicia Gaspar de Alba calls “alter-Native” Chicana/o culture with a unique New Mexican style in culinary and visual arts, architecture, music, language, and expressive culture. Throughout the entire Río Abajo, Mexicano settlements continue the older way of rural living with milpas, and similar to northern New Mexico and southern Colorado, further picturesque chains of village hamlets situated throughout the Sandía, Sangre de Cristo, Jemez, and Manzano mountain communities are located north, northeast, and directly east of Albuquerque. Many of my maternal family members and close relatives now live in Alburquerque but return often to the maternal village and my grandparents’ terreno for various family gatherings, solemn occasions, and fiestas.

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Medium 9781574413205

Contributor's Vitas

Edited by Kenneth L. Untiedt University of North Texas Press PDF

7978-vitas.pdf

10/6/11

8:18 AM

Page 345

CONTRIBUTORS’ VITAS

Francis Edward Abernethy is Professor Emeritus of English at

Stephen F. Austin State University and Editor Emeritus of the

Texas Folklore Society.

Len Ainsworth indulges his interest in things “Texas” via involvement in the National Ranching Heritage Center, the National Cowboy Symposium and Celebration, and by dealing in collectible books through his Adobe Book Collection (www.adobebookcollection

.com). He is a member of a local Westerners corral, TSHA, TFS, and is a frequent contributor to the RHA quarterly Ranch Record. He is

Emeritus Professor and Vice-Provost of Texas Tech University.

Randy Cameron is a native Texan and a retired journalism instructor. He is now a fly fishing guide in Colorado, where he lives on the Rio Grande River in the San Juan Mountains with his wife Mary and son Will.

Mary Margaret Dougherty Campbell, a sixth-generation Texan, holds a B.A. and an M.A. in English from Texas Tech University, and also an M.S. in Educational Administration from Texas A & M University, Corpus Christi. She has presented papers at the South Central

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Medium 9780253010285

4 Baptisms

Mike Roos Quarry Books ePub

It was 1939, and Petey Gill and his father stood before a Dayton judge in juvenile court. All the other gang members had already been sentenced to an Ohio reformatory, a youth prison upstate.

“Mr. Gill,” the judge said to Petey’s father. “I must admit I find your son’s case rather shocking.” Petey’s eyes wandered over the details of the courtroom—the judge’s black robe, his high wooden desk, his shiny wooden gavel, the grain of the wood panels behind him, the dual flags of Ohio and the United States, the bailiff’s pearl-handle gun and leather holster. Before their arrival, he had thought he would be afraid, but instead he found himself only fascinated. It was all just like a movie he’d seen, except now he was the star of the show, and he liked that feeling.

“Your son is only ten years old, Mr. Gill.”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

“At such a tender age, to be a member of one of the worst street gangs in our city. How could you let that happen?”

“I wish I knew, Your Honor.”

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Medium 9780253014993

7. Keeping It Real: Sports Video Game Advertising and the Fan-Consumer

Thomas P Oates Indiana University Press ePub

Cory Hillman and Michael L. Butterworth

IN THE UNITED STATES, FEW, IF ANY, CULTURAL ACTIVITIES, products, or experiences are immune to the often unrestrained hands of commercialism, marketing, and advertising in the ambitious and overzealous pursuit of audiences and consumers. Sports are especially subject to these conditions, evidenced by the following examples: advertisers spent approximately $10.9 billion on national sports broadcasts between the final quarter of 2010 through September 2011; NBC paid the International Olympic Committee $2.2 billion to broadcast the 2010 and 2012 Winter and Summer Olympics; CBS and Turner Broadcasting agreed to pay nearly $11 billion to the NCAA for the rights to the annual men’s college basketball tournament. Divisional realignment in college football has also been stimulated by the desire to create “megaconferences” in the chase for lucrative television packages with major networks, and the NCAA’s decision to determine its national champion of college football’s Football Bowl Subdivision with a four-team playoff beginning in 2014 came with estimates that the tournament could be worth as much as $6 billion.1 Meanwhile, fans spent $3.2 billion on Major League Baseball (MLB) team merchandise in 2011, marking an 8.1 percent increase from the previous season, and the typical NFL fan spends approximately $60 on apparel, snacks, and other merchandise during the week of the Super Bowl.2

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Medium 9781574413205

Part I

Edited by Kenneth L. Untiedt University of North Texas Press PDF
Medium 9780253010285

14 The Buy In

Mike Roos Quarry Books ePub

Everyone was aware that Ireland’s second opponent, the Holland Dutchmen, would be a far sterner test for the Spuds and Pete Gill than Spurgeon had been. In fact, they were likely to be one of the most difficult opponents on the entire schedule. Holland had several returning starters, led by big men Butch Fenneman and Bill Buse, and many experts in the area favored them not only to replace Ireland atop the Patoka Valley Conference but to be a genuine small-school threat to capture the Huntingburg Sectional title. Thus, Pete Gill began ruminating on strategy against them almost as soon as he returned home from Spurgeon.

It helped that his support among students and townsfolk was now growing, even if only incrementally, in the wake of the victory over Spurgeon. The hitchhiking stunt had not only motivated his team but had also won him a few new fans, who found him at least to be more entertaining than his predecessor. Whether he was truly a better basketball coach would remain an open question.

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Medium 9781574413205

Deer Leaves

Edited by Kenneth L. Untiedt University of North Texas Press PDF

7978-ch02.pdf

10/6/11

8:15 AM

Page 99

DEER LEAVES by Bob Dunn

I’m not sure of the first time I went to the deer lease; probably it was in 1970, when I turned nine years old. It seemed that it was just always there. Early on, I called it “deer leaves” because that’s what I thought the grown-ups were saying.

I remember waking up one morning after Dad’s return from the hunt to find a deer hanging from a tree in the front yard of our home in Garland. Back then, the neighborhood butcher shop would process the kill for us, but later medical concerns over crosscontamination of retail meat market equipment led to a law prohibiting the practice. After that, we did our own butchering, and we always had backstraps to chicken-fry and plenty of meat to barbecue, though we never mastered sausage making.

Besides being a great place to hunt, the lease was an easy, twohour drive from home. Dad worked nights, so we could leave after school on Friday and still have some daylight left when we got there. In those days, I thought more about landmarks along the highway than of time and distance. Shortly after leaving Garland we would pass Big Town, where we’d sometimes see Santa arrive by helicopter for a pre-Christmas visit. Then we’d drive into downtown Dallas, which would disappear as the roadway dipped into the “canyon” and the only tunnel I knew existed.

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Medium 9780253010285

1 Gloomsday

Mike Roos Quarry Books ePub

On the morning of Saturday, June 16, 1962, the sun rose over southern Indiana like an orange Rawlings basketball, but by midday it had morphed into an angry yellow seed hanging hot and sour over the tiny hamlet of Ireland, where the mood was decidedly glum. Coach Jerome “Dimp” Stenftenagel, beloved by nearly everyone in and around the village of some four hundred souls, had tendered his resignation at the end of the school year, following six consecutive winning seasons. In the last three, he had amassed a total of 59 wins against only six losses and had gone undefeated in the Patoka Valley Conference. These were easily the three winningest seasons in Ireland High School history, which stretched back to 1915.

Unfortunately, like every Ireland coach who had come before him, Dimp had never won a Sectional, had never gotten past the first round of the storied free-for-all Indiana state tournament. And like all but one Ireland coach before him, he had never beaten Jasper, the Spuds’ big and reviled neighbor to the east. And now nearly everyone in Ireland recognized that 1962 had been Dimp’s best chance—their best chance—maybe for a long time, because that tall and talented starting front line of Dave Baer, Ronnie Vonderheide, and Bill Small had graduated and was gone, and the replacements—most at least a head shorter than Baer, Vonderheide, and Small—were not promising. The golden era was finished.

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Medium 9781574413205

Roping a Deer

Edited by Kenneth L. Untiedt University of North Texas Press PDF

7978-ch05.pdf

10/6/11

8:17 AM

Page 315

ROPING A DEER

(Names have been removed to protect the stupid)

[Editor’s note: The following has been passed along by email, from many people. If an original contributor can be located, please let me know so proper credit can be awarded. –Untiedt]

Actual letter from someone who farms and writes well:

I had this idea that I was going to rope a deer, put it in a stall, feed it up on corn for a couple of weeks, then kill it and eat it. The first step in this adventure was getting a deer. I figured that, since they congregate at my cattle feeder and do not seem to have much fear of me when we are there (a bold one will sometimes come right up and sniff at the bags of feed while I am in the back of the truck not four feet away), it should not be difficult to rope one, get up to it and toss a bag over its head (to calm it down), then hog tie it and transport it home.

I filled the cattle feeder, then hid down at the end with my rope. The cattle, having seen the roping thing before, stayed well back. They were not having any of it. After about twenty minutes, my deer showed up—three of them. I picked out a likely looking one, stepped out from the end of the feeder, and threw my rope.

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Medium 9781574413205

Skills of the Rivermen: Ways and Means of Market Fishermen

Edited by Kenneth L. Untiedt University of North Texas Press PDF

7978-ch03.pdf

10/6/11

8:16 AM

Page 167

SKILLS OF THE RIVERMEN: WAYS AND

MEANS OF MARKET FISHERMEN by Wildwood Dean Price

Traveling down the path from our past is the only way into the future. With that in mind, let us look back down the path from whence we came.

If you are a native American—not an immigrant—and were born west of the Rockies, you more than likely descended from

“River People.” The purchase of the Louisiana Territory from

France began a great migration into the American West. The Red

River and other rivers, such as the Missouri, the Mississippi, and the Arkansas, provided the highways into the interior, and settlers took up residence along their banks.

The people that settled along the rivers made a living farming and ranching in the fertile bottomlands. With the taming of the

Wild Frontier came other occupations: clearing timber, punching cattle, market hunting, and commercial fishing to name a few.

Throughout our history, ways of making a living have changed with the needs of a growing nation. Every so often there comes along an occupation that seems to be the panacea: offering a getrich-quick scheme, high adventure, or a glorified way of life. The market fishing that had its start during the Depression offered none of those things; it lasted only a few short years, was more adaptable to the lazy rather than the hard-working, and, like the occupations before it, gave only temporary riches. The one thing market fishing did offer was dependable work in the face of starvation.

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Medium 9780253008589

Indiana AT Minnesota, 2-26-12 (69-50)

The Herald-Times Indiana University Press ePub

Indiana Hoosiers forward Will Sheehey (10) rips down the rebound as Minnesota Golden Gophers guard Austin Hollins (20) defends during the Indiana Minnesota basketball game at Williams Arena in Minneapolis, Minn., Sunday, Feb. 26, 2012. Indiana won 69-50.

By Dustin Dopirak

Tom Crean had prepared himself for exactly this sort of occasion.

The Indiana coach has long been one to let his team play through tough stretches instead of calling a timeout. That’s burned him on several occasions this year in Big Ten road games—most notably during the loss at Nebraska—when teams were able to extend runs with the home crowd behind them, and he vowed not to let that happen again.

But when Minnesota opened Sunday’s game with back-to-back 3-pointers, Crean went with his gut and his base philosophy and let his team play.

“One of my notes to myself in big letters is, ‘Do not let them get on a run, go timeout early,’” Crean said. “But I didn’t want to do that to my team at 6-0, because they were so ready to play. There was no doubt about it.”

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Medium 9781574416527

Chapter 5 - The War Years (1940–1946)

Mitchel P. Roth University of North Texas Press ePub

The War Years (1940–1946)

“He'll be riding in a lot more rodeos—his sentence is 307 years.”

—Rodeo Announcer, 1941

PEARL Harbor was still more than a year away when 100,000 fans attended the four Sunday October TPRs in 1940. In the lead-up to that year's shows several warm-up rodeos were hosted at the Eastham Unit, where an estimated 2,000 inmates and outside visitors took in the informal performances by 135 convict cowboys.1 More than 75 percent of the prison system's 6,500 inmates would later be treated to at least one of the four upcoming shows in Huntsville, brought in from scattered prison farms in “big red cattle trucks sandwiched between armed cars.” This didn't include the convict cowboys and others who were under the impression they could handle a wild bull or horse with a “belly full of bedsprings.” Whether they won or not, each rider was guaranteed three dollars per day in so-called “day money” as they competed for even more prize lucre while proudly garbed in traditional cowboy regalia—ten-gallon hats, cowboy boots, chaps, and whatever personal flourishes they wished to add.

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Medium 9781574413205

Jess's First Coon Hunt

Edited by Kenneth L. Untiedt University of North Texas Press PDF

7978-ch02.pdf

10/6/11

8:15 AM

Page 155

JESS’S FIRST COON HUNT by Lee Haile

When I was in high school in Hondo, Texas, I hunted for varmints all winter long. Furs were bringing good prices, and I could make some good spending money from selling them. Even though I was after anything with fur that I could sell, we always just called it

“coon hunting.” There were three ways that we hunted back then.

First, and my favorite, was walking the creeks at night with my dogs and letting them tree the varmints. My dogs were not noisy hounds, but rather quiet Border Collies that would only bark if they had something treed, and even then, they did not bark a lot. I trained them to be quiet so as not to scare off the rest of the critters along the creek. Also, I didn’t always have permission to hunt on all the places along the creeks where I walked. Back then, nobody really cared about me hunting for coons along the creeks.

That changed a few years later when fur prices got really high. I did this type of hunting by myself, and when I was most serious about the hunt.

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