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Abercrombie, Clotiele B. Abercrombie, Loyd D. Sr. Abercrombie, Virgie Blalock
Armstrong, John
Bain, Pamela
Bento, Lola
Box, Dorothy Womack
Campbell, Lu
Holbert, Pearl Shaw
Challis, James E. "Ike"
Cole, Beaver
Coleman, Howard
Cronkite, Walter
Degnan, Julie E.
Duch, Greg
Erikson, Charles Henry
Ezell, Alta Reigh
Farrell, Hal
Gregory, Doug
Grenley, Martha Rogers
Grigg, Horace
Grigg, William N.
Hannon, Bill
Harris, Howard
Johnson, Joe and Bobby
Kronjaeger, Jim
Lester, George
Lester, George - Playmates
Lummus, Darlene
Lummus, Don
Martinez, Nelma Cummins
Mayhew, Bessie
McAllister, Mark
Meissner, J. Raymond
Moody, Mildred
Motley, Pete
Nelson, Ron
Plant, Sally
Platton, Mike
Read, Osceola Jefferson
Robertson, William Judson
Robinson, Jimmie Jordan
Mack Thornton Rogers
Ryan, Terri Jo
Seacrist, Debra
Shaw, Marjorie
Stanley, Glenda G.
Taylor, Bob
Taylor, Jim
Thompson, Bill
Vail, Mary Lechtenberg
Vento, Eduardo
Vinson, Allen Earl
Vinson, Melvin
Williams, William B. |
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Beaver Cole from an email |
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I was born in Henderson, Texas in 1943. From
birth to my freshman year in Jr. High School at
London, I lived in the Humble Production Camp in
New London. I moved to Longview, Texas at the
end of my first semester in the 11th Grade.
I have returned to London numerous times and
attended many of the school reunions in
remembrance of the explosion. I find it sad that
so many of today's local London residents do not
honor and support the reunions. Just as we are
encouraged to honor the dead who have fought and
died in wars serving in the armed services, we
too should honor in remembrance the death of
those lost in tragedies.
It is also sad to see the school being named and
called West Rusk. This is highly disrespectful
to the remembrance and future of the London
Public Schools.
Today the federal and state government awards
billions of dollars in grants to cities and
private enterprises across America for tourism.
It is also a shame that New London, Texas has
not been a recipient of a multi-million or
billion dollar grant for tourism. New London may
never be a Silver Dollar City, but it could be
the historical boom town of the petroleum
industry as well as Silver Dollar city depicts
the life of the Ozarks. Has anyone ever heard of
oilfield boom towns, rednecks, cowboy's, timber
and logging, agriculture? How many oilfield
service companies and oil and gas companies do
you think would be willing to build theaters to
display and promote their history and services?
Who knows maybe a few campuses could be erected
for oil and gas technology.
For starters someone in London's city government
needs to check out:
http://www.rpts.tamu.edu/tce/developing_tourism/
developing_tourism_in_your_community.htm
You might find that to be a good place to start
at.
You may not send New London to Hollywood,
Disney, nor any number of billion dollar
promoters, but you might send them to New
London. Thousands of jobs have been created at
Silver Dollar City by someone's dream. Doesn't
anyone have a dream for New London?
Respectfully,
Beaver Cole
Kilgore,Texas |
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Howard Coleman (Photo Left) |
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From his granddaughter, Debra K. Seacrist, who
wrote: "I found your website and am sending you
my Granddad's
story. He was part of the volunteer rescue team.
He is 95 years old and every year goes for the
anniversary ceremony in New London. I grew up
hearing this story and it has been a part of our
family history. To this day, he still has
nightmares about what happened. The words are
his own, I changed nothing." |
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THE EXPLOSION THAT SHOOK THE NATION
By Howard Coleman
The New London School Explosion |
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It was a beautiful spring day in East Texas on
March 18, 1937, at 3:20 P.M., when this terrible
blast that shook the heart of East Texas, and
the Nation.
The people of the community were proud of their
beautiful new school building and campus. Money
was no object, at that time, they built the
best. The school was the pride of New London
patrons, and the envy of the surrounding area.
The oil Boom had settled down, people were
working and life was good. Men and their
families were enjoying good jobs for a change,
many of us had struggled through the great
depression.
Before I try to explain my part in this tragedy,
I would like to present a picture of how most of
the working men felt about living in the New
London, -Old London, Texas area. There were
thousands living and working in the surrounding
area. Playing together/working together and
praying together. My wife and I lived just east
of the school, I was employed by an Independent
Oil Company. Carolyn, the oldest daughter was
five, and attended the Kindergarten on the
campus. It was a wooden building west of the
main school building. She was picked up at noon
every day, and was safely at home when the
explosion occurred. My wife and I were so
thankful. I was off duty that afternoon, we were
getting the youngsters ready to go to a movie in
Overton. When the blast sounded, the house
shook, I knew at once that something terrible
had happened. Since I worked in the Oil field,
and there was a rig running, almost in a
straight line between where I lived and the
school, my first thought was that a steam boiler
had blown up. At that time the drilling rigs
were all powered by steam. I ran outside and
could see dust and debris in the air. I got the
family in the car and went looking for the
trouble. When we arrived at the drilling rig, all
was well there. The rig crew had heard the
explosion and shut the rig down and were
preparing to search for the trouble.
I drove the short distance to Old London, I
began to meet people coming from the west, I
stopped a motorist and ask if he knew where the
explosion was. He told me that he heard it was
the school building. We arrived at the school
about twenty-five or thirty minutes after the
blast. I parked the car near the high wire fence
surrounding the school property. It was about
forty yards from the school building. I could
not believe what I was seeing. That beautiful
two story school building was completely
shattered, only a few walls standing, and they
were at a crazy angle. I went over the fence and
approached what had been the school building.
What I saw that day is still impressed in my
mind. All I could see was mangled steel and
concrete with small bodies everywhere. I suppose
I was in shock, I thought I could not stand to
go in there. Then I thought about my wife and
children, I turned and ran back to my car, where
they were waiting. I told my wife that I could
not go in there. I took my wife and small
children home, A neighbor came to stay with
them.
When I arrived back at the school building,
there were hundreds of cars parked nearby, and
workmen were trying to do what they could. After
circling the building, to build up my courage, I
joined them. I saw tough oil field men crying,
but still tearing away at that rubble with their
bare hands. Many of these men were my friends,
many were working in a dazed condition hunting
their own children. Some would ask. "Have you
seen my little Johnny or my little Susie?" You
could only answer in the negative. Many of the
bodies could only be identified by the clothing
they wore.
I have to admit, I was no hero, I could not make
myself handle those broken bodies. I had to
leave that part to braver than myself. I could
handle the broken concrete and steel, I had to
be content to help move the derbris.
As I remember it now, before dark that evening,
the Oil Companies began sending every available
piece of machinery at their disposal, to help
move the heavy wreckage of the building. This
was a great help. the oil field was practically
shut down. All personal was sent to the school
to work clearing away the debris. There was very
little talking, as I remember, many hands were
bleeding from handling the rough concrete. The
Salvation Army came later handing out cotton
gloves, they helped, but soon were worn through.
To these people I shall always be grateful for
their thoughtfulness.
My Superintendent came got me to go with him. He
took me to one of our oilfield trucks equipped
with a heavy steel wench line. It was being used
to tie on to the heavy pieces of wreckage, and
pull it out of the way in order to reach more
bodies. The young man operating the wench was so
shook up, he was endangering other workmen near
by. I operated the truck for several hours, then
was relieved by another workman.
I joined a work crew going into the basement
Manual Training room. It was equipped with all
kinds of wood working machinery. When we cleared
away the wreckage covering the floor, we found
the bodies of several young men - all dead, they
were Junior or Senior students. I never knew. As
I remember, they were all laying on the floor,
side by side. We heard a call for "Help".
When we worked our way to him, he was conscious
and could talk to us. He was trapped under a
huge cement slab, from his waist down. There was
no way we could lift that heavy slab off him. He
kept telling us to hurry his body was getting
cold. Thanks to one of my co-workers called
"Pop", remembered he had two heavy duty
hydraulic jacks on his truck. When he returned
with the jacks, several men came with him and
helped set the jacks under the slab of cement to
try raise it off our young friend. As we started
jacking, the cement started crumbling, but we
kept trying. Would you believe, two firemen whom
Pop had spoken to, came with two more jacks.
With this help, we were finally able to raise
the concrete slab enough to get our young man
out from under it. He was rushed to the
hospital. One happy note, he fully recovered.
The next morning, the picture had changed very
little, some of us backed away, trying to
stretch our weary bones, and drink some cool
water and coffee, some one brought around giving
to the working men.
My Company Superintendent came to me and
assigned me a family, instructing me to remain
with that family until all of this was cleared
up. He gave me a one hundred dollar bill to help
with expenses, and said there was more if
needed. These funds came from the company owner.
I won't call any names, but we will always have
have a soft spot in my heart for this fine old
gentleman. Not only for his generosity, but for
the fact, he gave me employment for over forty
years.
I was assigned a fellow worker, who had lost a
seventeen year old son. To say the least, this
family was completely devastated, like all the
other parents that lost children in this
terrible blast that shook the nation. Then came
the heart breaking task of trying to help this
distraught Mother and Father locate their son
for burial. Bodies were taken to Overton,
Henderson, and every little town there was a
place for them like gymnasiums, funeral homes
and churches. On the third day, we located their
son. We had overlooked him several times, and
failed to recognize him. I suppose a Mother's
instinct will lead her to her child. She
remembered what color shirt he had worn to
school that fatal morning. You might say," How
could this happen?" Who knows, I say "Some one
watches over all of us."
My friends originally came from Arkansas, and
wanted their son to be hurried there. The
problem was to find transportation to Arkansas.
Every hearse or vehicle possible was being used
to carry bodies to the cemetery. before I gave
up, some one told me Mr. Alford of Alford Motors
in Henderson, Texas, was furnishing every
vehicle he had to those who needed them. Because
I knew Mr. Alford, I rushed to Henderson. When I
walked in, I met him in the lobby, and told him
my sad story, and my need of a vehicle to
transport a body to Arkansas for burial. He just
looked at me and said the only thing he had left
was a little Ford flat bed truck, and that I
could have the truck. He had it serviced and
filled with gasoline. He even assigned one of
his salesman to go to Junction City, Arkansas,
with me as I was to drive the family car. It
took us three days to make the trip, and bring
the family back home. I will always be grateful
to those who gave assistance, when it was so
badly needed. Mr. Alford furnished every vehicle
at his disposal to others in need. He refused
any compensation for this service. That's an
American, to help, when people are really in
need.
I do not write this article for any glory for
myself, but to let people know that after more
than fifty years, and my eightieth year, I still
grieve for those people who lost loved ones, at
the same time I feel grateful toward so many who
gave of themselves, and demonstrated a great
love and generosity to their fellow men and
women who had suffered through this tragedy.
The paper stated two hundred ninety four lives
were lost that day. Today as I visit the
beautiful Monument erected in memory of those
whose life was snuffed out that day in March,
with all of the names inscribed in gray granite,
these names nudge my memory, and my heart still
feels sadness, and brings back many memories, of
that terrible day, so many lives were lost. The
Memorial is erected in the middle of the streets
directly in front of the beautiful new school
building, and Charlie McConico's old drug store,
on the other side of the street. Charlie's place
was where the working men could go to dring
coffee or a coke, and chat a few minutes in
better times.
As I look out over that modern school building,
my heart skips a beat, and across my mind
flashes the horrible vision of yesteryear, in
all of its reality.
An after thought, in writing this article, I do
not try to paint a complete picture of all the
anguish, suffering and horrible deeds that
happened during those dreadful days. I am not
qualified to do that, it would take many pages,
and a greater mind than mine to cover the
picture as a whole. I only tried to give you a
one on one experience, of what actually happened
to me personally. Those first few days were
hundreds of men doing the same things that I was
doing, maybe more. It covered many days even
weeks and involved so many individual families,
touched by this, one of the greatest tragedies
that hit East Texas area. There are not many of
my group left, after all these years. Every now
and then I run into someone who was there, of
course we reminisce about our experiences. Maybe
I didn't even know him, but there is always a
feeling of comradship, because of the fact we
were there. |
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