- Site of W. B. Victory, Sr. farm, about a mile south of Bailey, on FM816. Exact location not known.
Sometime during the summer of 1957, my mother and first stepfather left me (see photo, left) for a week at the farm of my stepfather's elderly parents, Mr. and Mrs. William B. Victory, Sr., along with my stepfather's son, also named Steve (see photo, right), by his first marriage, apparently so that they (my mother and stepfather) could take a vacation. I was then eight years old and "Steve V.," as I called him, was seven. An older boy (about fifteen, I think), "Cousin Charlie" (see photo, below right), was also there. He was the son of my stepfather's brother.
I have some vivid, although scattered memories of that visit. First of all, it was very hot, and though the Victorys apparently had electricity, they didn't have any air conditioning. They did have a refrigerator, however, in which Grandma Victory (her actual name was Eliza; see photo, below left) kept a glass jar of a cinnamon and sugar mixture for me and Steve V. to dip into, with our fingers, to have a taste of what she called our "snuff." Meanwhile, she dipped the real thing--snuff, that is.
Although Grandpa and Grandma Victory had electricity, they didn't have indoor plumbing. Beside the back porch there was a hand pump which you could use to pump water up from their well, which they used to fill a bucket or pail that they kept on a table or something by the by the back door. Nearby, hanging on the wall, was a metal dipper, which anyone could use to dip into the bucket for a cool, refreshing drink of cold well water. Not very sanitary though!
With no indoor plumbing, you had to use an outhouse to answer "the call of nature." I remember it as a small, wooden shed that was the most disgusting building I've ever seen. It was hot, crawling with spiders, flies, and wasps, and through the open seat or seats (I can't remember if it was a one or a two-holer), you could see maggots crawling in the sludge below. Yuck!
I was stung by a wasp for the first time on the Victory farm. Fortunately, I didn't have any sort of reaction apart from a big red welt on the back of my neck or shoulder that hurt a lot.
Another vivid memory is of the day that either Grandpa or Grandma Victory, or possibly Cousin Charlie, chopped off the head of a chicken that Grandma Victory cooked for dinner that evening. Have you heard someone say about a busy person that they were "running around like a chicken with its head cut off?" Well, that's what chickens do and it freaked me out to see a headless chicken, blood spurting from the stump where it's head used to be, erractically running around the farmyard until it finally keeled over. That night, when they passed around the platter of fried chicken, I refused to take any. I wasn't about to eat anything that did something like that! It's a wonder that experience didn't turn me into a vegetarian!
One day, Steve V. and I walked with Grandma Victory up the road to the little community of Bailey, Texas. It must have been August because as we walked along the two-lane blacktop road, that still curves to the left as it did then, we saw people--both black and white, I think--picking cotton in the fields, and it was hot! So hot, in fact, that I couldn't drink the bottle of soda pop that Grandma Victory bought each one at either a gas station or grocery store fast enough, I was so thirsty!
Although it was certainly an interesting experience, I never wanted to return to the farm, and thankfully I never did! But I'll never forget that one time. It was truly memorable.
- Whiterock Cemetery, County Road 4250, south of Bonham, graves of W. B. Victory, Sr. and wife (step-grandparents) Didn't visit on this trip due to lack of time.
