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Posts Tagged ‘Judge Hunt’

Jeana’s day in divorce court

September 10th, 2017 Comments off

[I found this in a steno book from around 1951. The photo is from the 1940’s  ~ Sperry Hunt]

Judge Hunt and Jeana 40sRestaurant

My husband is a judge. I was waiting to have lunch with him. He was trying a divorce case. He denied the divorce, and added, looking straight at me, “Young man you have had nothing worse happen to you than any of the rest of us.” The whole court room howled.

[Click below to open the image.]

Jeana’s Day in Court

Eugenia Hunt’s advice on having a happy marriage

September 10th, 2017 Comments off

[From Eugenia’s steno pad dated November 2, 1952. The photo is from the 1940s ~ Sperry Hunt]

Judge Hunt and Jeana 40sRestaurant

Marriage is a  remarkable institution. It’s full of more fun and trouble that you can imagine. But if you make up your mind to have more fun, you’ll have less trouble.

Make it your business to keep him happy and you know what[?] He’ll make you happy. Worry him good and plenty and you’ll reap your reward.

That’s my best advice.

 

[Click below for scan.]

Jeana Advice on Marriage

 

 

The Judge, Children and the Elbow Story

August 25th, 2017 2 comments
Lalu and her father at St. Anne's in Houston (c. 1940)

Lalu and her father at St. Anne’s in Houston (c. 1940)

Happy Birthday to my father Judge Hunt who was born on August 25, 1903.

Our father adored children.  Every kid who remembers him has a story. (If you do, please leave one as a comment.)  My dad would often engage one sitting at a nearby table. You can’t do this any more, but many times he handed a stick of gum to a passing tyke. His love of children and playing cards would sometimes lead him to engage older ones in a round of poker or gin rummy.

One of his favorite pastimes was leading a kid on with a card trick, a joke or a story.  My favorite was his tale about kissing his elbow. I watched him do this with dozens of two or three-year-olds. Here’s how it went:

Dad would sidle up to the child who was in the middle of say… eating pancakes.

“When I was a little girl,” he would say. “I put honey on my pancakes.”

The kid would freeze mid-bite, squint up at him and state the obvious with utter conviction. “You weren’t a girl,” she would say.

Dad would nod and continue. “When I was a little girl, I would pour so much honey on my pancakes there wouldn’t be any left for anybody else.”

The kid would roll her eyes, heave a heavy sigh and say, “You were a boy, not a girl.”

Dad would nod again and march on with his pancake story.

Exasperated, the victim would invariably pose the obvious question, “If you were a girl, how come you’re a  boy now?”

“I kissed my elbow and turned into a boy,” he would say as though everyone knew this is how gender was redetermined. He would then complete his pancake elaboration and turn away.

Onlookers following the ruse would then observe the child scowl as if deeply in thought.  After a moment’s contemplation she would seize her elbow and try to draw it to her lips, then stop and shake her head.

As to whether she chose not to kiss her elbow because she couldn’t or shouldn’t was left to question.

 

 

 

Happy Father’s Day

June 18th, 2017 Comments off
Wilmer Eugenia Sperry Brady and Young Roy 1960 or so

Wilmer, Eugenia and Sperry with young Brady, and Roy circa 1960.

Wilmer Brady Hunt, my dad, was an avid sportsman, as was his father Wilmer Sperry Hunt. Dad told me that in 1910 or so, Grandpa shot as many ducks as he could carry home, somewhere in what is now the Montrose section of Houston. In the early 1900’s Grandpa bought – or accepted as a legal fee – 2200 acres of dense forest near Danciger, Texas. Dad and Grandpa hunted there in the ’20s. My brother Grainger and Dad hunted there in the ’50s mostly. Dad and I were there in the ’60s after Grainger went off to university.

My most vivid memories of hunting with him were on days when we’d arise at 3:45 AM and drive through a dark, ocean of fog so thick you could see nothing beyond the hood of our car. Had we encountered a stalled vehicle or a cow, we would have died instantly, as would have anyone behind us. I was absolutely terrified. Dad whistled “Sweet Georgia Brown.” I must have been clutching the seat, for he occasionally patted my leg reassuringly.

The drive was about ninety minutes. We arrived in the dark. I opened the padlock on the gate by the light of the car. It was cold by Texas standards. Forty-five degrees or so, which seemed frigid to me then. We drove down a shell road that crunched beneath our tires to a narrow clearing in the forest. We were met by a group of men and women gathered in the flickering shadows around a campfire. These people were from the coastal area around Freeport and had a hunting lease with us.  An older man named Red seemed to be the leader.  His wife, I believe, was named Betty. Wonderful hosts, they fed us coffee, biscuits and pan-fried squirrel and venison – all delicious.

Dad and I never shot anything there. We were there to hunt deer only. We did shoot, clean and eat many a dove, duck and quail shot elsewhere though. At the time I thought we hunted because my dad was eager to do so. Years later, after my father passed, my mother told me he rarely wanted to go. When he was in his forties, he certainly did. But at sixty, not so much. Mom said she sometimes had to urge him to go. I know now, he took me so I could know what he had experienced with his father, who probably didn’t want to go in later life either – as I would not now.

My son Christopher Austin Sperry Hunt, and I didn’t hunt. I never really had a real passion for it. We did get our black belts together and saw hundreds of movies, shoulder-to-shoulder laughing in the dark. Now he has movie nights at home on Mondays with his two girls. He takes them to karate and dance classes, and for hikes to the woods, mountains and beaches. Someday he’ll feel too tired to go but will anyway because he loves them, and he’s their dad. And so the world turns.

Happy Fathers Day, everyone!
See a Companion Story

Hughston-Ince Wedding in Dallas

June 17th, 2017 Comments off

Click below for the announcement of the wedding of Tom Findley Hughston and cousin Betsy Ince in Dallas.

Dallas Morning News, 1959-06-28 section 6, page 1 Wedding

Here is a picture of the bride with her cousin Judge Wilmer Brady Hunt of Houston, who gave her in marriage on June 26, 1959.

Mrs. Betsy Ince Hughston and Judge Wilmer Hunt

Mrs. Betsy Ince Hughston and Judge Wilmer Hunt

 

“You don’t even know where the library is.”

February 16th, 2017 1 comment
Sperry and the judge at C.W. Post College Library 1967

Sperry and the judge at C.W. Post College Library 1967

My parents visited Robin in Manhattan, and me at college in my freshman year at C.W. Post on Long Island. It was springtime and their anniversary (4/29). In high school I used to tell Dad I needed to go to the library on weeknights, which was not always true, of course. He would say, “You don’t even know where the library is.” He and I reenacted this into a little skit for Mom and the camera that day at college.

 

“When you are my age you will understand.”

January 26th, 2017 Comments off

Evinrude Motor

Good stories have clear characterization, character being defines as desire, drive, ability, compassion and perspective all of which change over a lifetime.  Here’s a simple example of those changes from my own family history. I’ve been thinking about this lately as I ponder my upcoming knee replacement.

Philo Howard, my mother’s brother, was  a frank, funny, energetic man. At sixteen, he ran away to Canada from his home in Houston. There, he lied about his age and joined the Canadian Royal Air Force to fight in WWII, which the US had not yet entered. His whereabouts were determined by my dad’s mother who read an article in the Houston paper listing Texas volunteers. Uncle Philo was returned to the bosom of his family forthwith. Several years later he enlisted in  the American Air Corps and flew P-51s over Europe.

My family had a party in Houston in 2003 to celebrate what would have been my late father’s 100th birthday. My uncle, who recently had his pacemaker replaced, couldn’t make the party. He emailed me this tribute to be read at the celebration. My dad, Judge Wilmer Hunt, was nearly twenty-years his senior. To his great sorrow he was denied military service due to his age,  very flat feet and a knee injured by my mother. (That’s another story.) The setting of Philo’s account is the rich farmland of eastern Texas in the 50’s. By prison, my uncle was referring to a pea farm, as they were called back then. They were minimum security prisons where inmates grew food for the prison system.

Wilmer was my favorite, because he liked to fish and many times took me along. One time he took me to Kemah and we got in a small skiff and towed [it] out to the middle of the bay for four hours. I was always a little hyper, and I almost jumped out of the boat after about an hour. Wilmer seeing this, started telling me stories. As I remember, this calmed me down a bit and I caught some fish.

Being a Judge he had access to a prison and one near Brazoria had a great fishing pond. He and I went there about three times. It seemed I always ended up having  to carry a small Outboard motor from the parking lot to the lake each time. I asked him why, and he said “when you are my age you will understand.”

Wilmer Hunt attorney for the King Ranch – 1936

November 25th, 2016 Comments off

JudgeSmiling1950s

The following was scanned from a newspaper. The unedited result is what the computer determined the article said.

October 20, 1939
Lubbock Morning Avalanche from Lubbock, Texas · Page 22

HOUSTON, Oct. 18 — A suit to cancel a 20-year lease held by the Humble Oil and Refining company on 1,250,000 acres of the famous King ranch In Southwest Texas went on trial before Federal Judge T. M. Kennerly in Houston today. The plaintiffs are Edwin K. Atwood and Miss Alice Atwood of Chicago, grandchildren of the late Captain Richard King, founder of the ranch. The defendants are Alice O. K. Kleberg, et al, Including the Humble Oil & Refining company. Filed Five Yean Ajo The suit originally was filed some five years ago, court attaches said, at Corpus Christ!. The case Is being heard in Houston for the convenience of parties concerned. Taking of written evidence over a period of several months for use in. the case was completed about a month ago before Wilmer Hunt of Houston, appointed by federal court as master in chancery. Attorneys for the plaintiff argued today that the Humble company’s lease should be cancelled by reason of a mineral trust executed In 1919 by Mrs. Henrietta King, Captain King’s widow, in favor of Robert Kleberg. Claim Leave Void The plaintiffs contended this mineral trust severed minerals from the estate, and therefore a lease made September 26, 1933 to the Humble company by trustees of the King estate under Mrs. King’s will was void. The plaintiffs contended the trustees under the will had no minerals to transfer, by reason of the trust. Trustees under the will, according to records in the course, were Robert Kleberg, sr., Robert Kleberg, jr., Richard King, Caesar Kleberg, Richard Miflin Kleberg, Richard King, Jr., John D. Finnegan. The plaintiffs also contended the lease should have borne their signatures. Was For Specific Tim* On the other hand, attorneys for the plaintiff argued before Judge Kennerly that the mineral trust was for a specific time and purpose, and that in some later land transfers, Mrs. King did not except minerals from the land, while in others she reserved certain minerals. Defense attorneys said this showed It was Mrs. King’s feelings In the matter that the lands should go with the minerals and that the minerals should go with the land; that they were not separate. The defense said the Humble company had loaned the King estate $3,500,000, and the company felt It should have some protection.

 

Source: https://www.newspapers.com/newspage/13630886/

See also Jeana’s photograph from a dear hunt at the King Ranch:

http://allyall.org/?p=473

The Judge’s Birthday 08/25/1903

August 25th, 2015 Comments off

The Judge

This photo was taken at Gittings in Houston around 1966. When Dad grew his beard, his sister Lennie called him “The Hippie Judge.” People sang Flip Wilson’s song “Here comes the judge” when he walked into a room. He enjoyed that very much, as I recall. Dad was one of those rare people who could pivot between dignity and hilarity in the blink of an eye.  He and I played pool at Le Cue, where we once watched Minnesota Fats give an exhibition. This was soon after “The Hustler” movie. He always beat me in the end. He said I couldn’t beat. Honestly, I didn’t want to.  He won with such a flourish.  He was a Cyrano when he beat people at cards. He had a regular Monday night poker game with other lawyers and judges. He’d always ask me, “What’s the name of the game?” I’d say, “gin,” and he’d fan his cards out on the table. It was a wonderful ritual.

As an aside, when I looked up Le Que, it seems that cue balls weren’t the only things that changed hands there:

 

https://books.google.com/books?id=8Zr2MS2QkcMC&pg=PA203&lpg=PA203&dq=Houston+Le+Cue+pool&source=bl&ots=-Ysm8ge8qD&sig=Y4BKyUVMdLxy3vEYMEjD1R0YwZM&hl=en&sa=X&ved=0CEMQ6AEwBmoVChMIz5WtkePExwIVEJuICh14sQtv#v=onepage&q=Houston%20Le%20Cue%20pool&f=false

 

Categories: Hunt Family Tags: , ,

A post from Lalu about Dad

August 29th, 2014 Comments off
I also remember the hunting, fishing,and card playing. I once was invited home [from Stanford] for spring break because of a pair of 8’s.
There was no joke too old to tell again.