Category: McCorquodale Family

Remembrances of September 11

I wrote this on September 10, 2021 in Houston, Texas.

On the morning of September 11, I was driving to work listening to the radio.  The announcer said that there were reports of an airplane crashing into the World Trade Center in New York City.  I thought someone in a piper cub type airplane had practiced in Microsoft Flight Simulator and decided to try it in real life – then ran into trouble.  Maybe caught by an updraft and crashed into someone’s office.  I had an irreverent thought. John Cleese, of Monty Python fame, walks past his secretary and into his office. There is a small plane, possibly from the WWI era, three quarters of the way into his office, papers are all over the place, the walls are black with soot. The pilot looks up and says, in an English accent “Dreadfully sorry about the office old chap.” Cleese backs out of his office and exclaims to his secretary “There’s an areo-plane in my aw-fice!”. The secretary replies “Yes sir, that came for you about an hour ago.” and she returns to her typing.

I worked in a building on Houston’s beltway about 10 or so miles from downtown and arrived at work about 8:30 to find out that this wasn’t a minor event involving a little piper cub, but a full-sized disaster – a commercial passenger airplane had hit the Trade Center.  Of course, there was no work getting done – everyone was looking at news sites on the web and constantly refreshing their browser.  I went upstairs to get a Coke in the break room.  Several people were gathered around a TV and we saw a replay of the footage of the second airplane hitting the South Tower.  About 10:30 or so, we were told that building management was closing the building and that everyone needed to go home.

On the news I heard that the nearest hospital to the Trade Center was St. Vincent’s.  There was something oddly familiar about that name.  After a while, I remembered that my Aunt Ellen, (my father’s sister), worked at St. Vincent’s.  St. Vincent’s was a major trauma/critical care center and the primary admitting hospital for Trade Center victims.  After Ellen moved back to Houston, she told me that on September 11 they went into full disaster mode – extra cots, ready to triage badly hurt people, surgeons on stand-by, etc.  However, most of the people that came in were not that serious; just treat and release.  Ellen said that what was hard was all the people coming to the hospital looking for their family and loved ones and not finding them.

Monument to the memory of the 90th Division liberation of the village of Pretot on July 3, 1944 and honoring Alfred Ryland Howard and his observer who died July 4 just south of Pretot, France.

Howard Descendants –
Attached are the newspaper articles about the “informal” dedication of the monument to the memory of the 90th Division liberation of the village of Pretot on July 3, 1944 and honoring my father and his observer who died July 4 just south of Pretot.
Interesting that the regional paper pays so much attention to the historical details of the battle for Mont Castre and the liberation of Pretot. Basically the articles describe the dedication and those who made the creation and erection of the monument possible, including Christian Levaufre and the mayor of the township, Thierry Renaud, and my thoughtful children.
Louisa, Isabel and Anson came up with the idea, Louisa contacted Christian via email regarding some modest memorial near the crash site, Christian picked up the ball and ran with it, and Lo, a granite and bronze monument in the village, flanked by the US and French flags.
Regards, Cousin Ryland

The Camping Trip, by Malcolm McCorquodale III

In the late ‘60s the McCorquodale family was living in New York City having moved there from Houston in January of 1966. One weekend Dad and I went on a camping trip in the Bear Mountains. I must have been about eight years old, nine at most. My mother, Robin, stayed home with my two younger brothers.
We had a lightweight tent, special dehydrated camping food, a special lightweight stove made specially for hikers and two canteens. Since we couldn’t carry enough water, Dad had maps showing where on the trail we could find streams for refilling canteens. Imagine drinking water that didn’t come for the faucet! Dad said that this was ok, as long as we dissolved a little water purification pill in our canteens after refilling them with water from the stream.
Before we started the hike in earnest, we stopped at a little store to get some last-minute supplies and information. I remember that we couldn’t find exactly where the trail started, but with the aid of a compass and a map we started through the forest and shortly found a trail marker. A trail marker was a symbol attached to what seemed like a random tree along the trail.
We hiked and hiked and almost ran out of water before we found a brook where we filled out canteens.
Later that day we made camp near a brook with drinkable water. To cook dinner, Dad had a small cylindrical propane burner that was about 6” long and a couple of inches in diameter. The burner was placed inside a circular container that was maybe 12” inches in diameter designed to shelter the flame from the wind. A “cooking pot” was placed on top of this and a few minutes later the re-hydrated contents of the dinner packs were ready to eat. After diner we had to clean our plates. We went to the brook, rinsed our plates and then used some brook sand as an abrasive to make sure that our plates were really clean.
The next morning, using the same stove, Dad re-hydrated some scrambled eggs and that he took a couple of pictures with me posing, sitting-up, partially in my sleeping bag eating the scrambled eggs that we made. I think I may have a picture of this somewhere.

My Day in Court on March 23, 2016

I went down to Jury Duty on Wednesday, March 23, 2016 in response to my Jury Summons. 

A group of about 40 prospective Jurors were called – we lined up to go to court, went through the tunnels and up to the 11th floor of the District Court building.  Just outside of the courtroom, we lined up in lines of eight. 

The sign next to the courtroom door said 133rd District Court.  I thought, the 133rd – wasn’t that Judge Hunt’s (my grandfather’s), court, or was my memory playing tricks on me?  We walked in, and sure enough, Judge Hunt’s picture was there on the wall just to the left of current judge, Jaclanel McFarland.

I talked to the Judge afterwards and told her that the big picture behind her was my grandfather.  She said that Judge Hunt was the first judge in that 133rd court and that at the time it was known as the “catholic” court. Judge McFarland said she wished that she had known a grandson of Judge Hunt was there in the jury and would have brought that to everyone’s attention.

Malcolm Scott McCorquodale’s Letters to His Daughter Ellen

From an email Malcolm Scott McCorquodale III wrote to Sperry Hunt: “I found the attached documents at my aunt Ellen McCorquodale Martin’s condo. Her father, Malcolm Scott McCorquodale, Sr., wrote these letters to Ellen shortly before he passed away from a heart attack during a hunting trip in West Texas a few weeks later on December 15, 1958.  Reading the letters and knowing the future caused me to have bittersweet feelings. 

Amid this tragedy, there arose joy as my mother Robin Howard Hunt, the daughter of Eugenia and Judge Wilmer Hunt, who had been engaged to my father, Malcolm McCorquodale, Jr, were married on December 27.”

Envelope of Letter 1958-11-18 from Malcolm to his daughter Ellen
Letter 1958-11-19 from Malcolm to his daughter Ellen
Letter 1958-12-11 from Malcolm to his daughter Ellen

Glendale Cemetery in what was Harrisburg, Texas

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.)

Bridge Brady's Landing

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.

General Sherman Tombstone

History of John Day Andrews and Houston History

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.

John Day Andrews (1795-1882)

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

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

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.

 

Lennie Sherman

Lennie Sherman

This was a print from a painting. According to Eugenia Hunt this is the woman who made or helped to create the battle flag at San Jacinto. She was the wife of [later] General Sydney Sherman. Sherman was second in command at the battle. It is who is credited in Bartletts Quotations as the author of the phrase “Remember the Alamo.” She was the grandmother of Lucy Brady, who married Wilmer Sperry Hunt.