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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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I was a four year old boy from Overton, staying
temporarily with my grandparents, George W. and
Mazzie A. Lang somewhere around Selman City.
Grandpa "took care of several oil wells" out
there and pursued his hobby of making miniature
oil wells in his shop behind the house. For the
record, grandpa's miniatures ran off of their
own steam engines (which grandpa made) and
actually pumped oil from a resevoir in the base.
Once a year he would take them to Kilgore for
the show there and earn a little extra money by
showing them.
So, anyhow, back to the story. On that terrible
day in March 1937, I had been out in the shop
with grandpa but he sent me into the house to
ask grandma for something (I don't remember
what.) No sooner had I entered the house than we
heard/felt what seemed to be a very thunderous
noise, then the little shotgun house that they
lived in started to quivver and quake. I
remember that there were two large framed
pictures on the wall just above their bed and
both of them fell to the floor. I was scared out
of my wits because I didn't know what was
happening. It was something that I had never
experienced before and it just didn't make any
sense to me. Grandma assured me that it was
probably an oilfield boiler that had exploded
and everything would soon be okay. Grandma was
busy baking a cake for supper and she was very
agitated that all the shaking would cause her
cake to fall.
A very short time later, my uncle Lloyd Conrad,
who was a lease man on a lease somewhere between
Arp and Selman City, came by to pick up grandpa,
who was a diabetic with other complications, to
take him to New London for a doctor's
appointment. I wanted to tag along but my uncle
said I had to stay and help grandma. I learned
later that he had heard about the explosion on
the radio and didn't think I should see the
carnage. As I recall, we didn't see grandpa or
Uncle Lloyd until about noon the next day.
We never talked about the nlse again until one
day in 1947 I found a scrapbook in my grandma's
bedroom which contained pictures and newspaper
articles about the disaster. Then we talked.
I've asked everybody in the family if they know
anything about that scrapbook but to this day
nobody has 'fessed up. Grandma died in 1949 and
most of her "treasures" were just thrown away
like so much trash. So sad!
I wish I could remember more, but this is about
it. Feel free to ask me anything and I'll glean
my old grey matter.
I love your Site... Keep up the good work. We
need all the historical facts and memories we
can muster. Time is flying by and soon we won't
have anyone left with first hand information.
Regards, Hal |
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Doug Gregory from an email |
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I am a high school English teacher in the small
rural Alberta town of Stettler. Stettler is a
lot like New London; much of its livelihood has
come from oil and gas. As well, Stettler has
another tie to New London.
My mother, Margaret Evelyn Nelson survived the
blast that destroyed the school and took the
life of her step-mother Mrs. J. Nelson. And it
was her older brother Don, who was supervising
his step-mother's class at the time of the
explosion.
As a child, growing up in Fort Sill, Oklahoma, I
heard a variety of stories about the explosion,
and can still remember my mother's tears, when,
sometime in the early sixties, a former student
made the headlines by confessing to setting the
explosion. If I recall, the man was declared
mentally unbalanced and the confession was
disregarded. Still, the pain and sorrow of that
March afternoon was evident in my mother's
tears.
I also remember visiting the school sometime in
the late sixties. My mother showed me around the
school and even introduced to me to a former
teacher still on staff. Leaving the school, we
stopped and viewed the cenotaph, the names of
the dead, not unlike the Vietnam Memorial in
Washington D.C., etched in stone as a solid
reminder of a day when many lives were broken.
Today, the story of the New London School
Explosion lives on in my classroom. Depending on
the make up of a class, I will bring out an
article and photos and give it to my students to
read. The article, describes in detail, the
explosion and its aftermath. It mentions Don
Nelson and his efforts to help find trapped
victims. It also describes his finding his
brother Don and sister Evelyn soon after. In
discussion, I lead the students in various
directions, but usually set a couple of traps,
by asking "What kind of idiot would go back into
the rubble to try and save people?" This, of
course elicits many responses that usually
rebuke me for being cold and heartless. Someone,
eventually, mentions the discovery of his
brother and sister. The first trap has been
sprung. Then, I will ask, "Okay, I'll go with
all that, but really, this is sixty years after
the fact, and somewhere far away, what's the big
deal today?" (Trap two has just been set). Now
they begin discussing how tragedy effects lives,
not just immediate lives, but into the future.
The families of those people are still around.
(There goes trap two). This is when I mention
that the Nelson family mentioned in the article
is family. In fact, my mother and uncles.
Needless to say, it always works and is a great
way to get students interested in looking beyond
their front doors and understanding how the past
affects the presence. As one student once said,
"It's like in Schindler's List. Each life saved
became many lives saved in the future. If your
mother had not been saved, you wouldn't be here
now, Mrs. Gregory wouldn't be down the hall, and
your daughters would not be here and any
children they might have, won't be born."
Sadly, though, my mother has not shared in this
experience. She died in the autumn of 1991, and
all her brothers, (except for one who lives in
Longview), and her one sister, have also passed.
Yet, as long as I and my family live, their
story will live on. |
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Martha Rogers Grenley from an email |
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Dear Sir,
I have just read your Web Site as it was just
added to The Shelby County H1storical Society
Web Site to which I subscribe. When I turned on
the site this morning I was surprised to see
they had added your site. So I have been reading
all of it and now sit here with tears in my
eyes. I was not involved in the the tragedy but
was close to a lot of people who were.
At the time I was 13 years old in the 7th grade
in Center, Texas, Shelby County. I can't
remember exactly how I found out about the
tragedy but was sick at heart to hear it. My
half sister, Mary Rogers, was a music teacher in
Overton, Texas. We went to Overton and New
London the next day to see her and the wrecked
school. I found a stray piece of paper that was
someone's homework that I picked up and kept for
years. She also played for one of the
churches--I think it was the Methodist--and
therefore was called on to play for funerals.
She played for several funerals everyday for
days and days and was completely exhausted
before she was through, It was a very sad ordeal
for her to go through.
In the fall of 1941 I left to go to college at
Texas State College For Women (now Texas Womens
University) in Denton, Texas. My roommate, Ruth
Utsey--later Mrs. Jack Berry--was from New
London. She did not live in New London at the
time of the tragedy. However there were quite a
few girls there that had lived there and had
relatives killed. My memory fails me and I can't
remember all the names. One was Corrine Miller
and another was Mildred Walker. They were all a
very close group of girls.
My name was Martha Rogers before I was married.
If anyone sees this and remembers me I would
appreciate hearing from them. It was so
interesting and also very sad to read of that
horrible tragedy.
Martha Rogers Grenley
168 Elkins Circle
Folsom, Ca. 95630
916-985-7925
"Martha Grenley" mgr23@sbcglobal.net |
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