Rest your feet and set a spell.
[From Eugenia’s steno pad dated November 2, 1952. The photo is from the 1940s ~ Sperry Hunt]
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.]
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.
“S. Sherman Brady Killed in Wild Dash of His Machine,” The Houston Post, 3 Nov 1910, p. 1, col. 3; digital images, The Portal to Texas History
Houston Post October 11, 1910 Article of Sydney Sherman Brady
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
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.
From Malcolm McCorquodale III:
I went to Glendale cemetery today. Glendale cemetery is the oldest cemetery in Houston and is located right on the bayou in what used to be called Harrisburg. (Harrisburg was annexed by Houston in the 1920’s. I remember the Judge [Wilmer Brady Hunt] saying that he was born in “Harrisburg” and that not making much sense to me.) This historic cemetery is not usually open, but since today was Memorial Day, it was open despite the threat of inclement weather. There were a few people there and one appeared to be the cemetery archivist. She had record books with documents relating to the cemetery. (I requested a copy of some of the records that appeared to be interesting.)
I found a historical marker on the edge of the cemetery that reads:
SITE OF THE HOME OF
GENERAL SIDNEY SHERMAN
1805 – – 1873
COMMANDER OF THE LEFT WING OF THE
ARMY AT THE BATTLE OF SAN JACINTO
MEMBER OF THE TEXAS CONGRESS,
1842-1843 — BUILDER OF THE FIRST
TEXAS RAILROAD — THIS HOUSE WAS
BURNED IN 1853
Erected by the State of Texas
1936
Just to the North and West, across Brays Bayou, you will find Sherman Street. If you follow Sherman Street to the West a ways, you will see where it intersects with Sidney Street.
The following link opens a biography of our ancestor John Day Andrews who, along with his family, were among the founders of Houston. Many thanks to our cousin Dr. Gary Helm Darden and The Texas State Historical Society.
My mother, Eugenia Flewellen Howard Hunt, spoke of nearly everything mentioned in the article, especially the relationship between the Andrews and Sam Houston. She said that when she was a child her mother would often take her to Glenwood Cemetery after Sunday services at Christ Church (circa 1920) to clean the headstones of many of the people mentioned in the article.
Sperry Hunt
April 4, 2017
Thanks to Gary Helm Darden for these photographs. He wrote:
