IMAGES OF LOVE, HATE, AND GREED:
WHICH ONE WILL LEAD?

BY

Glenn Allen Nolen

	

COPYRIGHT © 2000 BY GLENN ALLEN NOLEN

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 

	DEDICATION

To the vastness of space:
We are not alone, the human race.
Life does persist.
It is, completely, impossible to resist.

Earth is home.
Consider it a dome:
We share.
Don't you dare

Try to conceive 
That other species of life can't grieve.
Let's play a game
Making all life the same.

We should give all life a parallel degree of respect. 
Love may be abundant as life.
Does the rest of our universe have strife? 
Ponder that and reflect!

I would be wiling to bet
That when things look wet.
Life has one common theme:
It envisions a dream.

We all experience storms,
But isn’t everything thankful to be born.   
We don't all have the same norms.
Doesn’t all life mourn?

i

	CONTENTS

My World                                       1
The Wilted Daisy                               
	Act I - The Grave                         3
	Act II - The Save                         5          
Escapade of the Christmas Bows                12 
River of Snow                                 18 
Texas Honey and Mr. Money                     20
Pecan Sheller's Revolution of 1938             
	Introduction                             22 
	History of the Pecan Shelling Industry   25
	Disturbance of 1938                      36
	Rise of Home Shelling                    43
	Martyrs                                  45
	Dependence on Public Assistance          52
	Housing, Health and Education            54
	Conclusion                               56
Dona Ana's Yellow Bandanna                    58  
Love Handles                                  64 
The Letter                                    65
From this Window                              67
A Place in my Heart                           69
One with a Gun
	Act I - His Mum                          70 
   	Act II - His Gun                         76             
	Act III - His Fate                       82
	Act IV - Last Words                      87
Images of Love                                90   

ii

My World

You hold my world in your hand.
Before we met, it was taller.
My world has become a grain of sand,
And it keeps getting smaller.

My hope is that it will one-day land
And start a fire
Making a wedding band
Become your hearts desire.

Honestly, I don't know how to cope.
I'm like a bar of soap
Swinging at the end of my rope. 
I'm that much of a dope.

Hopelessly, tethered and bound
Waiting to be found
And unwound,
You turned my world around.

My world doesn't orbit the sun.
It's your glow,
You’re the one
That attracts me so.
 
You make my world fun.
And you’re such a wonderful girl.
Without you, my world doesn't even run.
Please! Give my world a twirl.

All I ask
Is to bask
Sitting in the glow of your light.
Please, give me one night.

Give me a chance
Showing you my dance.
Love amazes.
I’m singing your praises.

1

My love is pure.
Every now and then,
I'm almost sure
You’ll remember when.

You held in your hand my total reason for existence.
Cradle it with care,
Before you travel any distance.
My world isn't big enough to share. 

My world is yours.
I'll show you all the brochures.
We will have plenty of time.
They are all in rhyme.

When our world's meet.
It will be my greatest feat
And my biggest treat,
That's when my world will be complete. 

2

The Wilted Daisy
Act I - The Grave
Next to her grave,
He placed another daisy. 
They made her enthusiasm rave.
Especially, when the sky turned dreary and hazy.

He rolled down his sleeve
Putting the wilted daisy away.
Before turning to leave,
He knelt to pray.
 
"People become lazy.
Everyday, I promise to walk through town.
Some may consider me crazy,
But I'll always come down."

She was laid to rest
Below a robins nest,
It was at his bequest. 
God challenged him to a test.

He walked that route
For the rest of his life
Wearing an old-fashioned suit.
After all, she was still his wife. 

Until, he was struck 
Dead from a lightning bolt,
His family ran right out of luck. 
It was frightening jolt.

Everyone around
Paid their respect.
Standing, people found
Time to reflect.

Wondering about
Their own doubt,
Some chose to pout.
Others couldn't stay due to their gout.

3	 

A robin erupted in song
Pausing the minister.
It was a tribute that should have gone on forever long.   
In death, something is sinister.

The children renamed
Their mercantile store,
But it only remained
Staying in the family a month or more.

What a short time! 
It was destined to be a goner.
The store failed to make much more than a dime
Losing their honor.

His children pined.
No one else was able or willing to help them endure 
The daily grind,
Customers complained about stock that they couldn't find.
Profits fell behind.

Thus, the store closed.
All that happened a century or more ago,
I wonder how long the family dozed?
Are they still in Ohio?

What the future would bring, 
In those days, no one knew.
People could only hope to hear birds sing
And follow them as they flew. 

Amazingly, people up and moved
Daring to take a trip in rickety old wagons.
Their ride was behooved
Being pulled by unshod creatures dissimilar to dragons.

Still they left.
The bereft
Were also deft
Passing through a cleft. 

4

The Wilted Daisy
Act II - The Save

I don't like modern day travel,
And I can’t stand the interstate.
Give me a road filled with dust and gravel,
And I'm proud to be late.
 
It just isn't my cup of tea.
I prefer traversing the back roads.
Where there is a lot more to see.
I don't keep a schedule or follow time codes.

The country scene
Is often in need of repair.
People leave as soon as they are old enough to wean.
Our heartland is in a state of despair.

No one goes with me
On these trips to look more closely at a tree,
In fact, my only company
Is usually a bee.

With no boss,
I take my time
Studying every variety of moss
And writing rhyme,

I wait for the sun 
Believing in its everlasting shine.
We are one
Pulling on the same line.

Before I venture out
Traversing my daily grind.
I sometimes pout
Over what has been done to the human mind.
 
We have gotten lost.
City life has tossed

5	

Man a terrible cost.
Look at how many are continually sauced.

What a shame!
People have always gotten drunk.
Now we have so many people to blame.
What caused so many people to dive into piles of junk?

Old growth pine
Kept generations out of the tank.
They were akin to a rare wine
And should have been put in the bank.

Occasionally, I stop for bait
Or fish with a fly.
It's my way to compensate
In order not to cry,

Then I wait
And pray we choose a date
To overturn fate 
And abolish all hate.

Next comes lunch.
I usually stop at a run down neighborly joint
Relaxing with the local bunch,
On point,

Of farmers, ranch hands, and old men.
Who just sit?
And talk up a sin.
Thank God not one of them knows how to knit. 

In a nut shell,
That’s my operating mode.
I look at every town’s bell,
And I'm never hurriedly rode.

I do stop to tell
And now and then sell,
Uncommonly well.
It's not all hell.

6

I like to crow,
And I'm never in a hurry to go.
People I don't know
Even say so.

Americans are interesting. 
I've met people named Ariel to Sorrier.
There is more to life then investing. 
I hear everyone's story.
	
One day while resting
In a comfortable abode
Talking and jesting
Eating pie a la mode.

A man walked in exclaiming his business demise.
Imagine my surprise.
He had this strange look in his eyes.
At that exact moment, I got wise.

I purchased the Wilted Daisy
Sight unseen.
My thoughts were not crazy.
He even threw in a truckload of some form of bean.

He was hot under the collar.
And he was about to explode.
I gave him my last dollar.
His vehicle, we towed.  

We wrote a contract,
More or less,
It was on a napkin, in fact.
Legally binding? I guess!

A handshake passed the deed.
I was the proud owner of a gas, lodging, and feed.
Was it ever in need?
She was my first seed.

It was over sixty years old.
That wasn't a bother.

7

I was told,
It belonged to his grandfather. 

He had to run to New York City.
He was lost in the head
Trying to catch his children and old biddy.
Before, they fled.

For many years,
The business raked in the gold.
Selling beers 
Where none had ever been sold,

As time past,
Prosperity did not last.
The dye was cast.
After the town voted that no one could sell. Blast!
 
The town went dry,
And the business bled.
With no bacon to fry,
The business went dead.

It couldn't compete.
Businesses fail,
But the industry at the county seat
Filled their pail.

Customers left,
Most would never return.
Call it a theft,
It was not a slow burn.

All one can do is wail
When hard times prevail.
You can try to sail,
But the check is never in the mail.

In small town America,
Places flop.
Amazingly simple: Da!
People aren't around to bop.

8

It was my new adventure.
I did not dread.
The Wilted Daisy had no debenture
And only one bed,

The place did have tradition.
And it had no debt.
It was my mission.
I refused to fret.

I used a broom 
And swept out every room
Throwing out all the doom
And gloom.

I remodeled.
Until, the Wilted Daisy 
Felt coddled.
Don't call me lazy!

It looked in pristine condition
And wore like a used pair of jeans.
Nuclear fission
Couldn’t remove those genes.

The exterior matched our stovetop range.
We painted it yellowish at the crown.
There was no reason to change
That Wilted Daisy brown.

Later, I discovered that new.
The building had been painted blue.
My choice of color or hue
Was to honor the original two.

It had a Wilted Daisy kind of frown,
And it was all mine.
There was no other building like it in town.
To be complete, it needed a neon sign.
 
Neighbors complained it was too bright.
They threatened to sue.

9

It's supposed to flash at night.
Boo-Hoo!

Over that,
We almost had a fight.
Someone had a bat
Infringing upon my right.

I never sought 
Their thought
Before I bought.
Luckily, we never fought.
 
A local cop
Arrived to dine. 
He put a stop 
To the consumption of wine,

I sat
Enjoying life
Getting fat
Entertaining the local Barney Fife.

The Wilted Daisy has been open twelve months.
Their memory survives.
I haven't regretted buying it once.
I hope the Wilted Daisy thrives.

A photograph still hangs on the wall.
The original owner was tall.
He hung it all
Hoping that their story would never fall.  

He opened the Wilted Daisy to honor a legacy of love.
And he brought with him a section of the mercantile store
Placing the photograph above 
Part of its floor,

Long, as I'm able.
That kind of devotion must not die.
A daisy will adorn every table.
If anyone asks why,

10

I'll tell them the history, 
And how people amaze me.
Love is no mystery.
It can always faze me.

You see,
That kind of love lives free.
If given the chance, 
We can all do a love dance.

11

Escapade of the Christmas Bows

A Christmas snow
Completely covered the mistletoe
Sprinkling it with a white blanket of dust.
It blew across the land with a resolute but quiet gust.

Faces of children, young and old,
Peered through the window.
It was a sight to behold.
Everything seemed to glow.

Their mouths agape, Christmas bows fell from the sky
Stacking in drifts ten feet high:
Red, blue, black, green, purple, yellow and gold;
This is the story that was told.

The Escapade of the Christmas Bows,
Call it a raid.
A cavalcade,
Everyone was watching on his or her toes.

Long ago, 
Gifts had no
Obligating factor to have a flashiness or pizzazz.
No razzmatazz!

Wrapped in ordinary papers,
Everything came plain.
People got the vapors.
Some went insane.

No one could delight
Reveling in the sight.
Every gift looked and sounded the same.
People forgot their name.

There was no jazz
That today everyone has. 
It's like water without rain,
Or rails without a train.

12

How can that be?
People need the eye to see.
Someone said: "Why not me?"
And they started wrapping free.

People began wrapping gifts in green.
Before long, everyone having seen
Coverings in bean,
Our eyes can be mean.

Someone else dyed
Some string
And tied
Knotting a thing.

Others made a fancy knot
Completing the first bow.
That's how we got
The things starting to snow,

Maybe a person decided to sew
Letting every bow
Stretch and grow.
Now they flow.

Perhaps, bows could row
From the get go,
How wonderful! Gee!
Could that be?

How could they have been taught?
They were certainly sought.
We seem to have forgot,
But we have all bought.

However, they began.
Bows were content letting the thing fan.
For generations, we would bring
Gifts that swing,

They supplied 
And multiplied

13

Decorating packages worldwide.
They kept in stride.

Everyone could see,
How beautiful a bow can be.
People didn’t know until
They gazed that day at the windowsill

That buying bows by the lot
And buying them by the dozen,
Made people stop and say: "What 
Is the reason for placing it on a gift to a cousin."

The bows had sensed a need for people to repent.
They were frustrated and bent.
They were also downright hacked.
That's when they decided to act.

The bows devised a caper
Planning on putting the meaning of the ribbon back.
Deciding how to gradually taper
Their use took a little knack.

They spent a fair amount of labor
Determining their role.
Notwithstanding an intrusive neighbor, 
A plan was put in the bowl.
 
Waiting for a frost
Needing a rupture in the distribution pipeline pole.
Failure would exact a tremendous cost.
And it would create a terrible toll.
 
Rattling their saber gave exclamation 
To a song!
Sounds like dedication,
How could that be wrong?

Hoping their plan wouldn't be for not.
The bows sought
Some advice,
And they rolled the dice.

14

Not once did they pause
Traveling on their pilgrimage to Santa Claus.
Picking up his sack,
Santa's advice was whack.

He told the bows not to respond.
Not one bow voted to put the cork back in the pond.
Most of the bows managed to sneak
Slithering away within a week.

Every bow complete
Had to meet 
In a place people couldn't peek
And no one would think to seek.

They made a pact not to adorn 
Wrapping paper on one single box.
The bows would soon feel scorn,
But they were sly as a fox.

They didn't want to be known as a vulture
Hoping to remain in our culture.
They were unabashedly willing to take a knock,
And they took it on the old block.
 
Long as there was no stock
To shelve,
The bows would save their flock
And make people delve

Succumbing to their realm.
People had to make a decision.
Some had a vision.
Others people faced odds that would overwhelm.

Creativity is pure.
Some might say: "Sure!
An untidy bow is not right."
That was the reason for their fight.

The bows left every store.
It was the only way to restore

15

Beckoning their allure. 
It was a cure.

Every bow that year 
Was hand made.
People came from far and near
Learning about the trade.

That was the gift the bows gave.
It was their day to save.
Some bows were tore.
Others bows were a bore. 

Mostly, the bows added more.
On Christmas morning,
The bows came out of hiding without warning.
They scrambled out an unforeseen door.

The bows gladly behaved
Waiting until Christmas day.
Adults stood and waved. 
Children did play.

Bows by the millions floated on by
Being blown by the wind,
It did send
Bounding billions soaring high.

To every corner of the globe,
Bows showered people still in their robe.
"Merry Christmas," they would say.
It was a wonderful way

For the world to unwind,
And no one seemed to mind.
Why even a bow
Can still grow?

Everyone, now, knows
That bows 
Can roam
Leaving their home.

16

They have a mind of their own.
Next time you give a gift.
Remember your bow might be miffed
If it’s not hand sewn.

If life does not fulfill
Our desire or will.
Where, then, would we be?
Certainly, back to gift giving without me;

It does not matter how it's thrown.
Bows can be placed on a bone,
A phone, or a throne;
Please! Make it your own.

	

17

River of Snow

In response to your letter:
No! Things aren't better.
I'm still sobbing and grieving 
Over your leaving.

All you left was the kitchen sink
Full of ice
And a six pack of beer
Wasn't that nice?

How could you think 
My tears
Wouldn’t flow?
I cried the first river of snow.

Emotionally, I'm not dead.
As your letter said,
My emotions stayed frozen. 
It was something I had chosen.

For that, I am sad.
You’re the best thing I ever had.
When I go out, now, it's so cold.  
I wish your warm hand were still there to hold.

It's not to late.
We could tempt fate
And try again.
Next time, we might win.

Just watch for that warning sign.
Occasionally, the ice is to thin.
And if I've been
Acting like a swine,

Remind me before a blizzard can erupt.
I'll bring you warm soup in a cup,
Dry your clothes
Making them smell like rainbows.

18

Please! Don't give up.
We can cuddle like a newborn pup.
Don't live in sin
Bedding down with any other men.

I need your love.
I need it more than all the stars above.
Come dry my river of snow.
Before it gets to thick to row.

19

Texas Honey and Mr. Money

My Texas honey has taste that is wonderfully funny.
She is worth some money.
Her disposition is downright sunny.
I love my Texas honey.

She reminds me of a playboy bunny.
She's not a fluke or a flub.
Could she have earned the money?
In a playboy club!

You won't find her in any pub,
And she will not be at some swinger’s hub.
She's at home getting a foot rub
And relaxing in the tub,

I love my Texas honey.
I love her more than any amount of money.
When she's around my nose is never runny.
At times, to keep me in line,
She’s as tough as a marine sergeant gunny. 

I don't mind.
She's definitely one of a kind
And a million dollar find.
I keep her wined and dined.

Call me lucky!
I'm as happy as a rubber ducky
Is in a room 
Filled with children, water, and a balloon. 
   
She can light 
Up the night,
If you haven’t seen her, 
She can make grown men purr.

She's a wonderful sight,
And she doesn't nag.
We never fight,
And there is no relationship sag.

20

Call her a Texas pearl.
My Texas honey
Is a hell of a girl?
Friends call me Mr. Money.

Most days, we don't have a dollar to our name.
It's really a shame
We don't have more to spend.
My job isn't on what we depend.
	
Love will bring her fame,
And love is what I send.
No! She doesn't have love to lend.
She doesn't play that game.

Don't bother introducing yourselves men.
She wouldn't let our love bend.
Mr. Money’s love for his Texas honey will never end.
No matter what condition or situation I'm in.

21

Pecan Sheller’s Revolution
Of 1938
	
Introduction

In late October 1938,
The San Antonio pecan shelling industry had a date:
The Fair Labor Standards (wage - hour) Act;
The San Antonio pecan hand shelling industry made a pact.

A shutdown occurred.
For over 8,000 Mexican American men, 
Women, and children, 
Unemployment was the word.

Those workers averaged five cents an hour
And literally had no power.
Industry leaders were disturbed.
They were perturbed.

They wouldn’t accept an increase in minimum wage. 
It would be going to twenty-five cents.
It made no sense.
Underpaid Mexican-American labor was then displaced.
The industry was disgraced.

Southern Pecan Shelling Company formed in 1926.
It dominated the hand shelling industry. 
The domination included San Antonio and the south.
They were the industry’s mouth.
Their workers were left in a fix.

With no way to earn a living;
Thousands of men, women, and children threw down 
Their pecan picks.
The industry considered them to be hicks.
Workers were set free.
How good could that be?

Southern Pecan, the only true vender 
In town,

22

Did nothing but hinder 
Their fantasy of relinquishing a frown,

San Antonio had been a dominant player 
In the pecan shelling industry for fifty years;
Yet, young workers were getting grayer;
And their eyes filled with tears.

They had no way of earning a living.
There wasn't a lot of food for giving. 
Their families were starving.
No one even had a minute carving.

The federal government stepped in sending aid.
It wasn't enough.
Times sure got rough.
Workers went unpaid.

To be a five cent 
An hour slave,
After you have given and gave.
No worker would get rich at that mint.

They were merely cast aside
Exposing hide.
Not knowing if there would be another day.
They went silently not violently away.

Most of the workers lived in town and rented.
Workers rented year round.
Some anger got vented.
It was a muffled sound.

Violence wasn't in their interest.
They were mainly centrist.
With no money saved,
They did what they were told and behaved.

Contractors left them to their own recourse
Hindering their plight
Ignoring their constitutional right
Pursuing the advancement of a monetary source.

23

One might think they caved.
You would be wrong.
It may have been trite, but they waved 
And started singing a union song.

Becoming vocal,
The San Antonian's may have been local;
But they were not all yokels.
Their determination was quite focal.

Before I go any farther
And eulogize a martyr.
Perhaps, I should start the first inning
And trace the pecan shelling industry from its beginning.

24

History of the Pecan Shelling Industry

"The first commercial shipment of [a] shelled pecan(s)
Was made by G. A. Duerler, Sr. in 1882." 1
He could appropriately be called the first Don.
The concept was new.
 
"Duerler, a Swiss baker and confectioner," 
He bartered with local Native Americans for the nuts. 2
He got them off their butts.
Native Americans still lived in no more than huts,
But those pecan picks sure caused a lot of cuts. 

Most, however, failed to acquire
The western civilization work ethic of you or me,
What did they know about hire and fire?
It didn’t allow one’s spirit to live free.

Duerler got on their case.
That's the history of the human race
To culturally discriminate and debase,
War paint should have been applied to every 
Native American’s face,
 
Was it exploitation
Condemning a Native American nation?
Or was it a way to survive?
Duerler, certainly, did thrive.

What's your vibe? 
Did Duerler consider the needs of the tribe?
Should we have imposed our culture?
Are we akin to a vulture?

He then hired Mexican-American workers to crack,
Pick, clean, and pack.

1. Federal Works Agency, Work Projects Administration,
Division of Research, Pecan Sheller’s of San Antonio,
(Washington, D. C.: Government Printing Office, 1939), 7.
2. Ibid.

25

They worked exclusively with pecans.
They were merely pawns

Working long hours into the night time sands.
That began a long journey filled with ruts.
You couldn't be a klutz.
Workers needed steady hands.
	
A workers back
Felt like it was on a rack.
They got tired from the monotony.
It wasn't botany.

Fifty barrels had been the first goal.
Off to the East Coast, 
They did roll.
And Duerler made his first toast.

Selling so fast,
The nuts did not last.
Consumers liked them.
It wasn't merely a whim.

Am I going out on a limb?
Like a basketball rolling on the rim,
Had they ever even seen a gym?
Do we give the credit to him?

Was it a fad
The United States of America had.
When it was only a lad.
Supply and demand isn't all bad.

You decide!
Has the taste for pecans risen or died?
People still put them in pies
Hoping the price will not rise.

By 1889, workers cracked them with precision.
Automation worked like a dream.

26

They had become a team, 
But was it a conscious decision.

In 1914, power driven crackers
Forced the need to hire more packers.
In the 1920s, mechanization peaked.
Into the industry, the great depression sneaked.

People were forced to compete.
Hand labor was virtually free.
Machines laid obsolete.
Extensively, back to the time of the Cree. 

Until 1925,
“The Duerler and Funsten companies" 
Dominated the industry with ease. 3
At least, workers managed to stay alive.
 
Julius Seligmann and the Southern Pecan
Shelling Company then arrived.
He juked and jived.
The industry took a dive.
He destroyed the hive.

He wasn't Irish, 
And he didn't work with fish.
Seligmann had a wish.
He wanted to be nouveau riche.

A $50,000 investment,
Which was lent
From his fathers' estate,
Gave workers a definite death date.

Putting the industry into a tailspin,
Southern Pecan grossed "$700,000 in 1930
To over $3,000,000 in 1936." 4

3. Ibid, 8.
4. Ibid.

27

At that rate, 
Seligmann could retire with a grin.
He didn't soldier at Fort Dix.

Julius would be too rich.
He wouldn’t have to do that hitch.
Today, he may have been called nerdy.
Seligmann single handedly turned the industry dirty.

Could that have been how he got his kicks?
Competitors suffered and took their licks,
But he did not read by oil lamp wicks.
He was adept at business tricks.

How many statues can one put on a lawn?
Did he have to have so many gates?  
Didn't he even consider the workers fate?
All or nothing for Southern Pecan!

How much did he hate?
Handling 25% to 33% of the nation’s seedling crop.
Southern Pecan forced mechanization to stop.
The rest of the industry had no time to wait.

"Until then the usual practice ... [was] to use 
Shelling machines which graded, [and] cracked." 5
The new policy was to abuse.
It's substantiated by fact.

Machines had "conveyed the pecans to tables or belts.
They were [then] hand picked to remove the shells," 6
But Seligmann needed more money for his pelts.
That's the conclusion history tells.

Until then profits were amiss,
Workers would now never obtain bliss.
The automation dream
Did scream.

5. Monthly Labor Review, 48, March 1939, 549-51.
6. Ibid.                     

28 

The company "replaced the mechanized process.” 7
Southern Pecan would go exclusively with handwork.
Would Seligmann confess?
He certainly acted like a jerk.

They were a profitable team.
Southern Pecan introduced a contract system
Replacing the mechanical hum.
It was a brilliant scheme.

Seligmann stripped out every cable
Forcing workers to hand label
Paying them a crumb.
How numb! 

Can that be wisdom?
I prefer being dumb.
Seligmann you’re a bum.
For you, eternity should never come.

Work was thin.
Illiterate workers can't read a fable
Or earn enough to buy coats of pure sable.
Thus, contractors roped them in.

Hand workers were used on a large scale.
Workers did not wail.
They refused to fail
And hurriedly filled a pail.

By 1934,
San Antonio had a core
Of 400 shelling plants.
Workers could barely afford pants.

They called them that.
I can't!

The buildings heavily slant
And offered no more protection than a hat.

7. Ibid.                      

29

Those shacks
Were not sturdy. 
They were as flimsy as paper sacks.
Seligmann, I hope you never hit a birdie.

Building codes were lax
And sanitary facilities were not on track. 
There was no one to fax.
Why complain about a crack?

One person could knock them down without even a bat.
The rat!
I hope he sat
Getting fat.

Up to 20,000 men, women, and children were employed;
That occurred each season.
Profits were unevenly deployed.
Seligmann was the reason.

That is a historical fact.
Children weren't playing with toys.
They were cracking and picking pecans, girls and boys.
Seligmann, you had no tact.

The pursuit of profit,
Workers couldn't stop it.
Working conditions were bad.
Life was sad.

Southern Pecan did avoid
Entertaining “the direct responsibility of an employer.” 8
Workers weren't knowledgeable enough to be annoyed,
They did not have the expertise of Seligmann’s lawyer.

A substandard working condition
Was Seligmann's tradition.
He cozied up to the till.
Taxpayers foot the bill.

8. Ibid

30

Let him have had guilt.
Historically, he was not alone in his tilt.
Nothing changed,
Was he deranged?

Seligmann enjoyed
Skirting the law.
He wasn’t annoyed
By the money he saw.

Workers united,
They tried to fight it.
Deployment of union personnel
Wasn’t a hard sell.

Yet, workers could not hit the ball.
They didn’t even get half a swing, at all.
The city of San Antonio arranged to amend 
Their health codes and tend

To the access of running water,
No issue was hotter.
That did little to lighten their load.
Workers had a hard road.

They toiled
And boiled,
Was Seligman royal?
Put him in aluminum foil.

They felt trapped.
All their energy sapped.
Yet, workers remained loyal.
They were people of the soil.

Winter came and the cold wind blew.
It blew all the way through,

31

And it didn’t stop for every hole in the wall.
It wasn't a mall.

Workers didn't even have quilts
Protecting their legs.
Seligmann stood on stilts
Making workers beg.
 
After San Antonio amended its situation, 
"Small establishments closed down." 9
They were all part of Seligmann's manipulation.
The industry didn't leave town.

It stayed 
And played 
With low pay,
There was no place for workers to stray.
 
Seligmann, you were a clown.
You preyed on workers, because their skin was brown. 
The industry was coiled to explode.
Hope you enjoyed your pie a la mode!

Many workers prayed for a better way.
Only the sun
Decided to run
And lay.

Things looked grave.
Food and shelter, they did crave. 
Most workers needed some form of aid.
Seligmann could afford jade.

Keeping a family under a roof
Proved to be aloof.
"Profits ... were maintained
At the expense of the" Sheller's, on whom it rained. 10

9. Pecan Sheller’s, 10.
10. Ibid, 13.

32

In December 1934,
Average income for workers per week was a $1.29.
Those who complained were heaved out the door.
The lucky ones had a fishing line.

Low pay was ingrained.
Seligmann lavishly dined
And workers pined.
He should have been brained

And heavily fined.
How did Seligmann sleep
Lining his pockets that deep?
Who could have thought he was kind?

What a nasty feller!
He sure wasn't stellar.
I bet that he would have hated Old Yeller.
He should have been locked in the cellar.

Workers did not even have tents
Protecting them from the elements.
Did he repent?
I doubt if he even went.

Perhaps, someone plucky
Shoved Mr. Lucky
Tossing him into a bin.
Hopefully, It was labeled to hell for your sin. 

Magdaleno Rodriguez produced 
"The first important attempt to organize." 11
He got workers to rise
Forming the "Pecan Shelling Workers Union of San Antonio." 12
It failed to go.

11. Ibid, 16.
12. Ibid.

33

He was the one laying stone
Attempting to produce a foundation,
But the timing was not right for a loan.
It was his creation.

In 1937, 
"The remnants of this union reappeared.” 13
The Texas Pecan Shelling Workers Union was not feared
Being led by Albert Gonsen toward heaven.

Finally, a course;
But was Seligmann the funding source?
He took the credit.
Did Albert let it?

Albert Gonsen 
Didn’t live in Wisconsin.
Other workers for the cause
Never hit pause.

When push came to shove,
Gonsen flew like a dove
Streaming into Seligmann’s pocket.
Just like a rocket.

There wasn't a Sarah
And certainly no Farrah
Coming into sight.
Latinos ruled the night.

It was an attempt to enforce a workers right.
Martyrdom was their plight,
But the martyrs 
Were somehow smarter?  

13. Ibid.

34

Late that year,
United Cannery, Agricultural, Packing and Allied 
Workers of America (UCAPAWA)
Issued a temporary charter.
There wasn't any time available to cheer.
Life had gotten harder.

Catastrophe was near.
The pursuit of happiness is for all to hear.
It is especially for the ones we hold dear.
Thankfully, workers weren't afraid of fear.

35

Disturbance of 1938

Southern Pecans' contractors
Were one of the most prevalent factors
Causing the disturbance of 1938.
A reasonable person would call it fate.

"On January 31,…
The Southern Pecan Shelling Co's contractors announced" 14
That wages would be bounced.
Seligmann, you should have been cursed.
  
Workers clamored
That was outrageous.
They were already getting hammered.
Opposition was contagious.	
 
"A spontaneous walkout" ensued. 15
Workers were in a rage
And bolted from their ram shackled cage.
Gonsen came unglued.

He held back support for the march.
Workers lips became parch.
Was he enamored by Seligmann's starch
Or caught flat-footed without an arch?

Late to get on the bandwagon
Isn’t something worth braggin'.  
Gonsen made an alignment with Seligmann's fort.
Union members didn't know he was that sort.

The mood was hate.
For to long, workers had been treated like bait. 
Anyone with a brain could tell,
What would happen next in Pecan Sheller's hell?

14. Ibid, 17.
15. Ibid.

36

Police were out in force.
Could the event have been staged?
No one can be sure, of course, 
It could have been strategically gauged.

Demonstrators were gassed
And put in the slammer.
It all happened so fast.
Seligmann's mother: Damn her!

Lack of respect
Helped create an environment in which to be decked.
It was a violent start.
The establishment had no heart.

Lacking were the laws.
There was no protection.
Demonstrators gave no good cause.
The police should have taken time for reflection. 

Luckily, San Antonio Chief of Police,
Owen Kilday didn't have access to an atomic blast,
Or all the strikers would have been tied to a mast
Losing their life's lease.

Kilday had Mayor C. J. Quinn's support.
The mayor was elated.
He publicly stated:
UCAPAWA; Take us to court!

He must have been dense
Boxing workers in a fence.
A national officer of UCAPAWA entered the fray.
"He and his assistants were given police bodyguards"
And promptly driven away. 16

Union officials were barred
Disallowing anyone with a union card

Near the strike scene;
Seligmann, you were so mean. 

16. Ibid.                      

37 

Strikers screamed
Bloody murder,
But they had no foundational girder
Building a platform on which tomorrow beamed.

I don't believe they had as yet dreamed.
It wasn’t possible it seemed.
A day would come when they could stand.
All they could offer was a hard working hand.

San Antonio had been placed on riot alert.
Conversation was curt.
No one in a skirt
Was in a mood to flirt.

Some wanted to leave.
They had their chance.
Those remaining decided to dance
And grieve.

The situation got obscene.
It wasn't keen.
"On February 7, the police routed 300 pickets." 17
And no the purpose wasn't to issue tickets.

Strikers were tossed,
And they were not sauced.  
Charged with disturbing the peace.
They were rounded up like geese.

Over 1,000 Sheller's ended up in jail.
Unlawful assembly:
The strike will fail.
The mayor said simply.

17. Ibid

38

One week later,
Estimates suggest that 6000 workers were walking the line.
Had Darth Vader
Given them a sign?

Living in the mouth of a gator, 
They wouldn't even be able to feed their families a tater.
I would have given them every dime
Had I been alive at the time.

"Treatment of the strikers by the police
Attracted so much attention." 18
Newspapermen couldn't help but mention
Their plight,
And how they were peacefully polite.

An investigation was to follow.
It rang hollow
And was greased 
By men wearing pants that were creased.

Police Chief Kilday testified:
"I did not interfere with the strike." 19
Obviously, he lied.
He stuffed his finger in the dike.

He said:
"I interfered with a revolution." 20
Thus strikers bled.
Was intimidation his only solution?

The streets of San Antonio ran red.
Nobody counted the dead. 
The union filed for an injunction.
Striker protection was part of their function.

18. Ibid, 18.
19. Ibid.
20. Ibid. 

39

A judge refused their refrain
Leaving the police at bay.
He never issued a stay.
His hands would permanently and forever have a stain.

They violently played.
Justice was delayed. 
Only Governor James V. Allred
Could put the situation to bed.

He halted the violence
Negotiating a silence.
Requesting that they not be tardy,
He persuaded each party.

Allred called for a meeting. 
It was to be with limited seating.
Even though they hated to negotiate. 
It was the Sheller's fate. 

"On March 8,
The strikers agreed to return to work" 21  
In a forthright state
Without even a perk,

Low wages would still irk them
Remaining in their future.
Wages were still dim,
But it was better than getting a suture.

The arbitration board
Refused to lift the sword
Setting "the new [wage] rate." 22
The pecan shelling industry had a mate.

21. Ibid.
22. Ibid. 

40

It was "... to be 5 1/2 and 6 1/2 cents after June 1." 23
Honestly, the union argued they won.
On that basis,
They could save their faces.

"Closed shop contracts" 24
Were signed.
The union had opened some cracks,
And some contacts were redefined.
	
Only after November 1,
Had the unions work really begun.
Unionization is never done,
And it isn't a lot of fun.

"The unions first contracts with the operators
Expired after the industry had closed down." 25
That was no cause to frown.
"Within a little over a month," 26
Seligmann began to punt.

The industry signed on the bottom line thirteen times.
Supposedly, ending the most flagrant crimes. 
Grievance representatives were then placed in each shop.
No one was forced to work and drop.

Workers might soon earn enough for a bottle of pop
Or heaven forbid go out and shop.
Everything wasn't fine;
But at least, now they had the beginnings of a vine.

Workers had a net.
It was a specific date, 
And it was set.
Everyone could relate.

23. Ibid.
24. Ibid.
25. Ibid.
26. Ibid. 

41

On October twenty-fifth, 
Their contracts became a myth.
The industry never intended to hold up its end of the bargain.
It was all jargon.

According to a New York Times report,
Their words were full of contort.
The industry shut down on October twenty-fourth, 
But they didn’t shut down in the north.

"The union made clear
That it supported the Fair Labor 
Standards Act unconditionally." 27
The union did veer,
Albeit provisionally.

There wasn't a lot of tact
Approaching oncoming traffic.
Thereby, in fact,
Creating havoc.

Workers sighed.
The industry vied
Sitting under their umbrellas.
Those inconsiderate fellahs!
 
Sipping drinks with lime,
They had plenty of time.
Why didn't they care?
Were they rare?

27. Ibid, 19.

42

Rise of Home Shelling

An investigation by the Wage and Hour Division saw
No need for an exemption.
On January 19, 1939, the union got redemption.
"The Wage and Hour Division denied
The [industry a 90 day reprieve] request." 28
The union received the information with zest.

Finally, forward progress.
No one believed the industry would die.
It was all disinformation: Why?
Profit margins impress,

The industry had a huge paw.
It began selling pecans in the raw.
People who refused to buy
Were not given a piece of the pie.

Contractors still spied,
And they fervently lied.
They never even tried 
Waiting a day to hide. 
 
"One employer" told, 29 
How he sold
Rotting Pecans to workers in the morning.
He never had any hesitation or warning.

They rented a seat
In a building without heat,
And then he bought back the pecan meat.
That's how to stay elite.

Definitely, It was an act of derision.
Contractors made a conscious decision.

28. Ibid, 22.
29. Ibid. 

43

Seligmann continued to buy imported wine
Never receiving a fine.

"Home shelling [,] ... [It] was being done [,]
Monitoring was nil,] on an increasingly large scale.” 30
Preferably, contractors didn't force work with a gun.
That might have made it curtail.

It was not for fun.
Those contractors should have been hauled off to jail.
You can't eat the sun
Or digest a nail.
  
The union had to wait for the “reorganization of the industry."
To the average worker, it was all wait and see. 31
Their attention was on keeping their families alive.
Usually, there was nowhere to drive.

Seligmann and the other locusts
Didn’t give a damn if people died.
They were extraordinarily focused
On an uninterrupted ride,

To them 10,000 was just as good as five.
They didn't give a damn about the hive. 
Pecans continued to collide
Clashing with workers, fury flied.  

It was a tumultuous
And extremely arduous
Extended campaign
Being conducted in the rain.

30. Ibid, 21.
31. Ibid, 22.

44

Martyrs

The stories of the workers follow.
After reading,
It shouldn't be difficult to swallow.
I've left out most of the bleeding.

"Late in 1936, ... [Juan Flores]
Began working in [a] pecan plant(s)." 32
He couldn't feed his chorus.
However much he raved and rant.

On a salary of $2.50 To $2.75 per week:
Salvation Army and federal aid, therefore, he did seek.
And Anastacio Medina
Did not earn enough to live in Pasadena.

Even his wife and daughter
Were sent off to shelling plant slaughter.
Shelling from October to July,
They had no other hope on which to rely.

Drastically, reducing "expenditures for food." 33
Certainly, altered their mood.
In my opinion, Seligmann was crude,
And he was one lewd dude.

Medina and his family lived in an "abandoned chicken coop,
Which a friend let them have rent-free." 34
There was no money for soup
Or anything like a drink of iced tea.

That's not hype.
It never occurred to them to steal.
Picture the homeless living in a pipe.
Tragically, They were without so much as a meal.

32. Ibid, 24.
33. Ibid, 25.
34. Ibid, 26.

45

Life got ripe.
There were no catalogs to wipe.
The union kitchen 
Kept them from bitchin'.

And the church relief depot
Allowed their kids to grow.
Pecan Sheller's gathered together to survive.
It was all live.

Using late twentieth century slang,
They were the San Antonio pecan shelling gang.
Seligmann, how long were your fangs?
Couldn't you sense those hunger pangs?

Not allowing their spirits to go
Any more low
Became a quest.
The Mexican-American community answered with its best.

To complain
Or exclaim
Did not win the game.
It only vocalized the pain.

Seligmann, you were a toad.
You should have been squashed crossing the road.
Where was your honor code?
Starvation is no way to goad.

Others tried
Leaving their "pecan-shelling job." 35
It was a long ride,
And there was always a mob.

"Manuel Juarez, a widower, with six
Children living at home." 36

35. Ibid, 28.
36. Ibid. 

46

His family did not have enough flour to mix.
Children can't eat water bubbles or foam. 

Manuel packed 
His kids into a "1926 Model T Ford" 37 
Loading it within ten cubic feet of a cord.
It was racked.

Money was tight.
Yelling all aboard,
They started their fight;
But it wasn't with the Lord.

Juarez and his family traveled to Corpus Christi
Looking for work in the field.
The weather was humid and misty,
But cotton that year had no yield.

Workers were downtrodden.
They were frightfully forgotten.
He heard of work in another part of the state
And hoped not to arrive late.

"They left for Lemesa.
[It is] in West Texas.” 38
Behind the wheel, his oldest, Theresa;
They were not riding around in a Lexus.

It was an eight-day drive. 
Luckily, they made it alive.
All six of his children thrive.
It could easily have only been five.

With very little food,
Theresa could only try and lighten the mood.
She sang a song
For all those who sorrowed and suffered long,

37. Ibid.
38. Ibid.

47

A can of cerveza
Kept the younger ones a sleep.
Past many a mesa,
They never made a peep.

It was either that or concrete.
Once they even got to meet
A swan
Accompanying her was a fawn.

While they rested at a pond,
His children immediately made a bond.
Life has no magic wand.
Occasionally, children have to be conned. 

Their trip wasn't arranged by a travel bureau.
There's not much to eat at the canyon of Palo Duro.
His money was down to zero.
Call him a hero.

They had to eat.
It took a lot of will.
Manuel decided to kill
In order to have meat,

He beat
That deer.
It seemed like a year
Telling his children to take a seat

Resting on the other side of the car.
It wasn't very far,
But he needed them out of the way
Staggering his prey.

Nutritionally speaking, protein
Can get obscene.
Death is never a dream.
When your headlights are on high beam.

48

They earned $18 working two months straight.
I'm surprised there wasn't a line to wait
In order to hate,
Open the holy gate.

After day number sixty,
"Manuel borrowed money for gasoline." 39
A man named Bixby
Sure wasn't mean.

He allowed them to go 
Back to San Antonio,
It was less than a pleasant journey,
More like a ride on a gurney.

Those country roads were hard.
They were as difficult to survive as legendary Abilene.
Each pothole jarred
His Model T from adulthood back to a teen.

In Big Spring, 
His car hit a thing.
By San Angelo,
They didn't have enough for a cup of Joe.

Going through Brady
Was a bit shady.
At Mason,
Someone actually allowed them to use a water basin.

They made it all the way past Boerne,
And their automobile had no horn. 
His Model T ended up lame,
“About 15 miles” from his destination, 40
Going back from which they came.

39. Ibid.
40. Ibid.

49

Traveling with six kids was a trial.
The second re-creation took a long while.
Juarez didn't have enough dough
Calling for a tow.

"He [then] sold the car for $5 cash
And a $5 grocery order" of corned beef hash. 41
This was no party or a bash.
They needed a place to crash.

Manuel "rented a two-room shack for his family of seven." 42
They were not living in heaven.
"Before he could get back to work at shelling pecans,
However, the plants were closed." 43
Seligmann should have been hosed. 

Amazingly, Seligmann was never caught
Relaxing out n his lawn.
And no one ever thought
Of robbing to pawn,
 
Maybe someone should have gotten off a grenade
Heaving it or lobbing it,
I would have done it without sobbing. Shit! 
There goes my lemonade.

Pedro Gomez supported a family of ten.
He wanted a better life.
Opportunity for advancement was thin,
And he did not want to wield a knife.

He thought of his wife,
But for San Antonio laborers, living was all strife.
"The net result of ... [a] low wage standard"
Meant the pulling of the lanyard. 

41. Ibid.
42. Ibid.
43. Ibid.
44. Ibid, 35.

50

Seligmann, did you have fun?
You should have been flogged,
And you should have been left in the sun. 
You should have been dogged.

No worker acted in haste.
At least, they had taste.
Most workers were straight laced.
Seligmann was solid waste.

Through union unity,
They forged a community.
They acted as one.
Sometimes it's nice to have a gun.

51

Dependence on Public Assistance

Southern Pecans contract system and low wage scale
Forced pecan Sheller's, and the entire
San Antonio Mexican-American community, to sail
“Into dependence upon public relief and assistance 
[Continuing] in large numbers.” 45
Unencumbered, Seligmann peacefully slumbers.

Seligmann received absolute immunity
And lived without impunity.
He was never in fear.
What a dear!

As the most prominent pecan buyer,
Seligmann never experienced severe storms or hail.
As the town crier,
He always got mail.

On the other hand, even before 1938,
Pecan Sheller's received antagonizing resentment 
Coming from “many non-Mexicans in San Antonio." 46
Didn't those people know?
He set the wage rate.

Seligmann made money by pushing workers on the dole.
He never tied anyone to a pole,
But he left them clamoring to get out of one large hole.
They were covered in coal.

The pecan-shelling band
Never got independence.
To most, it was their sentence
Being of the land.

Father Carmelo Tranchese tried to help.
He offered absolution and very little kelp.

45. Ibid, 37.
46. Ibid.

52

He was there for the needy.
Seligmann, you were seedy.

It isn't funny
To be out when it's sunny.
An associated charity 
Asked for parity.

It was denied.
Seligmann, you should have fried.
Bexar County Supervisor of Social Work, Clare Green
Did manage to screen 

Applicants for cash relief,
Mayor Quinn
Refused to give in.
He had no moral belief.

He said: "We would have no legal right to spend." 47
He must have been all wind!
Quinn never felt the Pecan Sheller’s grief.
What a thief!

Wright Riley,
Of the Texas Employment Commission,
Was not known as Mr. Smiley.
Workers confessed
That he made them more depressed.
 
Taking his office into intermission,
Riley knew that was an admission.
Requirements of citizenship disqualified many,
There was no double dip and little money: If any.

Hardly, anyone extended a hand or a wrist.
Not even public assist.
Why bother to insist?
People have a natural tendency to resist.

47. Ibid, 41.

53

Housing, Health, and Education

"The pecan shelling industry in San Antonio is
Concentrated for the most part in the West Side of the city.” 48
Over 65,000 people were not giddy
About living in a slumlord’s space.
Less than four miles wide,
There was not room enough for one more face.

I cannot say that it was his,
But that was Seligmann's pace.
He was a San Antonio whiz,
And he was a San Antonio disgrace. 

Most paid half of what they earned
Sweeping a dirt floor.
That slum should have been burned,
But where else would the people have found a door?

"High death and disease rates" awaited the people. 49
No wonder they flocked to every steeple.
"Malnutrition, poor housing, [and] lack of sanitation" 50
Was unequal habitation.
 
"Inadequate medical care," 51
Left them no hope or fruition.
The people of San Antonio didn't dare
Reduce the cost of tuition.

Illiteracy and poverty are a team.
That's not overrated.
And it's not complicated.
Without a bean there's no energy to dream.

48. Ibid, 43.
49. Ibid, 45.
50. Ibid, 46.
51. Ibid.

54

Seligmann, you were one mean
Profit hungry machine. 
You should have been knocked out cold.
That statement would have been bold.

55

	Conclusion

"Thousands of pecan workers" were stranded
And displaced, 52
They were disbanded
And not embraced.

Their lives got colder,
Hardships got bolder.
Families were torn apart.
San Antonio had no heart.

Many young girls turned to prostitution.
It was an illegal substitution.
Could they let their parents starve?
From that experience people carve

Their own identity,
It wasn't serenity.
"Abject poverty brings in its train"
A showering of rain. 53

Forward thinking legislation 
And unionization
Brought workers some amenities.
Families could stop the shame of their rent a tease.

Fomenting revolution
Was their only solution.
It was a viable way to give
People the will to live.

Julius Seligmann, you’re branded.
To be candid,
I would not know where to start.
It may be improper to leave a stinging tart,

52. Ibid, 55.
53. Ibid, 60

56

But you were one selfish arrogant clod.
Why did God allow you to make such a wad?
At least by now, you’re a piece of sod.
Hopefully, people trample all over your bod.

Realistically, you should not be judged.
People today have a different standard of morals.
On the other hand, history cannot be forgotten.
Go rest on your laurels.
Another generation will determine if you’re rotten. 

57

Dona Ana's Yellow Bandanna

	"This is the story of a yellow bandanna:
	 A handsome young soldier and a girl named Rosanna.
	 
	 Away out west, in the wilds of New Mexico
	 There lived a girl and a soldier who loved her so,
	 And every night neath the full crimson moon above
	 This brave young soldier would send her his love.

	 He gave Rosanna
	 His yellow bandanna
	 To wear 
	 In her hair, 
	 Till he's with her once more,

	 He gave Rosanna 
	 His yellow bandanna
	 Mounted his pony and rode off to war.

	 His orders came, and he had to ride west again.
	 Seems that apaches were causing unrest again.
 	 He kissed Rosanna goodbye, as he rode away
	 Promising this time, he'd come back to stay.

	 And he gave Rosanna
	 His yellow bandanna
	 To wear 
	 In her hair, 
	 Till he's with her once more,

	 He gave Rosanna
	 His yellow bandanna
	 Mounted his pony and rode off to war.

	 The war was over, and he came back home and found.
	 That the apaches had burned the whole village down,
	 And neath the tree where he last kissed Rosanna
	 Draped on a cross was his yellow bandanna.

58

	 He gave Rosanna
	 His yellow bandanna
	 To wear 
	 In her hair, 
	 Till he's with her once more,

	 He gave Rosanna
	 His yellow bandanna
	 Mounted his pony and rode off to war." 1

Years ago, I heard that story immortalized in song.
Not to tell the ending would be wrong.
The man who sung
Was Faron Young.
 
The ballad 
Of Rosanna
And the yellow bandanna
Stuck to my palate.

His words stayed in my heart.
They became part 
Of my soul
Wrapping around it like the maypole;

As he sang,
His words rang
Drawling in a gentle southern twang.
Dang!

Please forgive me if I cry.
I found out his words did not lie.
The story was true.
Visit the town of Dona Ana,
And have it recounted for you.

The rest of the story
Gets a little more gory.

1. Faron Young, Yellow Bandanna, (Gorgonis, Karliski, Kolber), Mercury Records, Screen Gems,

59

"This brave young soldier would" pay an even greater toll.2
You see he had a goal.

Rosanna had given birth,
And she fought to keep their daughter from the apaches worst. 
Her struggle made me thirst.
I can only imagine what she was worth.

It wasn't widely known as it occurred,
And it was told to me word for word 
By an old Mescalero Apache named after a bird.
Thankfully, he had heard. 

It was her birthday, the first,
When Hannah was taken.
That news left the soldier thinking he was cursed. 
He was badly shaken.

He took the yellow bandanna
From the cross
Vowing to find Hannah.
And yelled to the boss.

“Hosanna!
This is for you Rosanna!
I place this around my neck,
And I’ll die trying to find Hannah. By heck!

No matter the consequences or the cost.
Without either of you, I am lost.”  
Then he was away.
It was the end of a tragic day.

	"He gave Rosanna
	 His yellow bandanna
	 To wear 
	 In her hair, 
	 Till he's with her once more,

2. Ibid.

60

	 He gave Rosanna
	 His yellow bandanna" 3
And rode off in search of his daughter Hannah.

Epitomizing the lore,
His horse wore
A yellow harness,
It wouldn't ever tarnish.

He remembered Rosanna’s pleasant last peck.
It made him an unbearable wreck.
He searched to no avail.
One month, two months, three months passed:
As he followed the apache trail,

He pursued the apache.
Till his skin was blistered and patchy.
By a creek, 
He got a peak

Of his dark haired Hannah
And cried into that yellow bandanna,

	"He gave Rosanna
	 His yellow bandanna
	 To wear 
	 In her hair, 
	 Till he's with her once more,

	 He gave Rosanna
	 His yellow bandanna
	 Mounted his pony and rode off to war." 4

He was amazing:
Guns blazing.

3. Ibid.
4. Ibid.

61

He ran a 
Streaming straight line into that encampment.
His path was directly toward Hannah.
The man was rampant.

Killing every one alive.
Only Hannah did survive.
The apaches had gotten a surprise.
It wasn't their day to rise.

It was entrapment number five. 
Love could not be denied.
Hannah, he lovingly eyed.
Part of Rosanna can thrive.

That did not end his duty. 
It was his mission to avenge such beauty.
"The handsome young soldier" tied that yellow bandanna 5
Around the neck of Hannah

Riding back to that tree.
He could finally see
His family together all three,
But it didn't set him free.

	And he gave Rosanna
	[Hannah's]
	Yellow bandanna
	To wear
	In her hair,
	Till he's with her once more,

	 He gave Rosanna
	 [Hannah's]
	 Yellow bandanna" 6

And offered his soul for the life:
“Give me back my wife!”
Knowing he would never be whole.
To see her again was his goal.

5. Ibid.
6. Ibid.                     

62  

	"And he gave Rosanna
	 [Hannah's]
	 Yellow bandanna
	 To wear
	 In her hair,
	 Till he's with her once more,

	 He gave Rosanna
	 [Hannah's]
	 Yellow bandanna
	 Mounted his pony and rode off to war." 7

When "the handsome young soldier" died. 8
Hannah was there at his side.
He lies next to Rosanna
Resting in the town of Dona Ana.

Look closely and you may see their family plot:
It marks the spot
“Neath the tree where he last kissed Rosanna
Draped on a cross ... [is] his yellow bandanna.

	 He gave Rosanna
	 [Hannah's]
	 Yellow bandanna
	 To wear 
	 In her hair,
	 Till he's with her once more,

	 He gave Rosanna
	 [Hannah's]
	 Yellow bandanna
	 Mounted his pony and rode off to war." 9

7. Ibid.
8. Ibid.
9. Ibid.

63

Love Handles

Love handles this,
Love handles that,
Love handles a kiss.
Love handles aren't about fat.

Love handles everything from boredom to tears
Making a living 
Out of giving.
It gives freedom to emotional fears.

Love handles hate,
Love handles fate,
Love handles helped create
Our world to date,

Love handles exist.
Some people try to resist.
Eventually, they will succumb.
Love handles everyone: Not just some.

64

	The Letter

In a deserted mining town in Colorado,
A tourist found a letter.
It was to a woman from her beau.
It began: "If I could see you and my daughter, 
Life would be much better.

I'm stuck here trying to earn some money,
And you’re so far away.
God! How I love you honey.
Let me make another day.

She is all I think of every afternoon.
My hope is to see her soon.
Is she soft as a tiger cub’s fur?
How loud is her purr?

Is she beautiful as a dove?
Will she know my love?
If I could fly
I would be halfway there never again saying goodbye.

Why, in God's name, to we roam?
Why am I so far away from home?
I dream of holding your hand,
God forsakes this land.

My pay may get us that farm.
Maybe, I can stay away from harm.
Hopefully, it hasn't been sold.
This work is making me old.

That's all for now.
I've got to go.
Always remember how,
I love you two so."

The tourist,
A retired jurist,
Kept the note
Placing it in his wallet to tote.

65

Eventually, he showed it to me
And said: "We should find his daughter.
We can try and see
Whether she lived in a climate that was hotter."

I didn't know what could be done.
We kept it out of the sun.
Maybe, we could find a loved one.
It took a lot of time and effort: A ton.

Five years past,
Our search was vast.
We can do nothing more.
I give it to you, therefore,

And give it this space
Hoping his love outlasts the human race.
Perhaps, in your heart too is a place.
He presents a good case.

Did he ever see his daughter wear lace?
Did he ever look upon her face?
I haven't a clue.
He disappeared into the wild blue.

Please, give his letter a ponder.
His name was Hank Saunders.
Where did he wander?
Did he disappear to that place up yonder?

66

From this Window

From this window,
I have seen the stars beam
And glow.
They were once merely a dream.

From this window,
I look through,
There is an ocean below;
But it isn't blue.

Is it filled with devotion?
Can we traverse its motion?
In all this space
Has life made a case?

From this window,
One can tell,
The stars aren't aligned in a row.
They look more like beacons or a lighthouse bell

Those somehow say.
Come this way!
Who is it speakin'?
Is it our deacon?

We think of our world as our own,
But the stars call and moan.
They shone,
Seemingly to remind us, we are not alone.

This century will undoubtedly bring
Forth a wondrous and worthwhile thing;
Space travel:
Let it unravel.

And as we begin to understand,
Let life join our band.
Our first stop will be mars.
As we row to the stars.

67

Our destiny may not be that far
Following a rainbow.
From this window,
We can make a new kind of car.

Does anyone know how to sing?
Bring some Bing.
I'll take Elvis.
He could definitely shake that pelvis.

He was the king.
What would you bring?
It will be a long journey into the night.
Please keep a Weekend at Bernie’s out of my sight.

68

A Place in my Heart

There's a place in my heart for singing.
There's a place in my heart for love,
But when it comes to love songs.
There's only room enough for one.

You are my love song,
And you are my life.
I can't begin to live it without you as my wife.
You are the words and the music.

The reason I live.
If I couldn't sing my love song,
I'd hum it till I did.
For no one but God, himself, would I allow

To keep me from loving you,
But only then for a little while,
Till I could find another way,
I’ll always show my love somehow.

69

One with a Gun:
The F. B. I. 'S Most Wanted
Act I - His Mum

In a hospital of the future, 
Somewhere in western Australia,
Perhaps Perth,
A teenager gives birth.
Beside her bed sits an azalea.

She is a sight to be seen:
A beauty queen,
Her skin is like cream,
And her eyes naturally beam.

The baby is born healthy.
Her family is wealthy,
But she can't stay.
And she goes on her way.
 
The teen
Got off that table.
Soon as she was able
Putting on her favorite pair of jeans.

Taking her bundle of joy:
He was her boy.
They fled.
She never came close to a hospital bed.

Vanishing into the night,
She muddled: "It's not right.
My babies’ father will never see his seed."
The only explanation given: "He smokes weed."
   
The man was driven.
He did not want to succeed. 
Apparently, it was a given.
Reason indeed.

70

Condemning her babies father,
She called him "a louse,"
Saying: "We are just as wealthy as that two timing mouse.
I wouldn't bother

Asking him for beans."
Hospital staffers huddled,
They were a bit befuddled.
"That nerd gets mean."
 
It was the last word
They heard.
She disappeared.
Her family feared

She wasn’t thinking straight.
She got to the plane carrying freight 
Allowing for her bundle of joy.
No one even knew his name. Perhaps, it was Roy.
 
She reared that child on her own.
Earning a meager living,
She worked at a Florida tourist attraction giving
Beachcombers’ tone, 

She also gave strangers
Fleeting glimpses of danger.
They got that for the price of a bone.
She never called Australia on the phone.

All day long,
When the weather was mild.
She would sing a song
Carrying her child.

She carried him on her back. 
He loved being in that pack. 
They ate lunch from a sack.
She called him Jack.

They ate a lot of hot dogs without the bun.
She called them leaner wieners in the sun.

71

Most importantly, they had fun,
But they were always on the run.

The boy grew older.
Women got bolder.
Commenting on how manly he had become.
He was Plum!

He attracted a lot of attention.
The opposite sex was one thing his mum failed to mention.
Occasionally, some pretty fair lasses
That didn't wear glasses

Made rather routine passes,
But he was smarter than molasses.
And stuck with his classes.
In science, he learned all his gasses.

As a teenager he won.
Brown University offered him an academic scholarship,
But his sail was about to rip.
He would no longer be the favorite son.

He couldn’t ask his mum to come,
He worked three part-time jobs.
He weaves, and he bobs.
That kid wasn't dumb.

By this time, he had a honey.
And he made a little money
Fighting in the ring.
He wanted to be her king.
 
However, boxing
Where opponents were socking
Him in places they didn't belong.
To her it was wrong.

One night, she used her feminine wile 
Enticing him by wearing a thong.
She knocked him out with a smile.
Thus the bell rang. Bong!

72

He quit 
That profession that hit
And started working in a construction pit.
He lost his wit.

Was she right 
Making him stop the fight?
He thought it bite, 
But he no longer had his might.

One day, he heard a loud crack.
An accident with a two by four broke his back.
Lying in the rack,
He couldn't even hold a paper sack.

His mum
Brought him magazines and gum.
Eventually, he got better.
He would never again play a double header.

And he never would use a diving board.
At least, his feet were floored.
When the bad news dropped.
His girl had skipped and hopped.

Things would never be as they had been.
He couldn't find work
And literally turned into a jerk
Drinking a lot of gin.

Delving into vice,
He picked up the dice.
Stealing his mums money,
The thanks parents sometimes get aren’t funny.

Perhaps, she should have put it in the bank.
He started using crank.
Gambling was a substitution.
It was an unreasonable body and mind pollution, 

But it was a way to gain.
He sensed no pain.

73

Gambling brought him no fortune or fame.
The drug abuse only brought shame.

Doing the drug
Made him unthinkable to hug.
He slept outside on a filthy rug
Guzzling a jug.
 
He had lost 
Sight of the cost,
His mum was in a dreadful fright searching for help.
What else does one do when you hear a puppy whelp?

He stayed stinking drunk
And remained in a funk
Sinking into an awful blight.
Violence was her next sight.

It was his silent sin of delight.
He loved to fight.
A sentence of thirty days in the tank
Made him more rank.

He didn't learn 
A valuable lesson;
In fact, he began to burn.
He relinquished his blessin‘.

She still gave her love,
But she did it wearing a glove. 
Her only hope was that grief
Would make him turn a new leaf.

He spiraled down into a flame
And didn't know who to blame.
When you’re lame,
Life is not a game.

Eventually, he pulled his act together
And started college.
Meeting a girl named Heather
Gave him a little more knowledge.

74

Success was in reach.
Maybe, he could teach.
He overcame being a leach
And was on his way to marrying that Georgia peach.

He never graduated.
His mind never became saturated.
His mum died and went to the great beyond.
It broke their bond.

Her death
And his name being her last breath
Was more than he could handle.
He went to church lighting a candle.

He could not cope.
He lost all hope
Lurching into a soulless pit.
He was in the deepest part of it.

Where once lived a soul.
There was now only a deep hole.
He had no goal
And banged his head against a pole.

All humanity ceased,
He became a beast.
He did wish for a magic wand
Seeking to bring back that maternal bond.

75

Act II - The Gun

He had no love.
He was too old for adoption.
Going back to the glove
Was not an option.

He did not do well
Grieving over his mum.
He went back to drinking rum.
He felt like hell.

He almost joined the dearly departed.
Apparently, the gate was guarded.
For some reason,
It wasn't his season.

He would be twenty in a day,
But he could not think of a way
To show how he felt.
He, therefore, let his heart melt.

Dropping out of school,
He played pool.
As a rule,
He was a ghoul.

That's when he robbed his first bank.
The money made him feel better.
He met a brunette and bed her.
She was tall and slang.

After a few more jobs, he bought her a mink.
Whenever, she started a stink.
He would cuss
And throw a fuss

Telling her point blank: "I rob for the thrill.
Don't worry about the money.
Honey bunny!
Timing is a skill."	       

76

His robbery note always read: "The Australian Mauler
Wants every dollar.
Don't you dare run.
I have a gun."
	
After eleven months of tellers
Living their worst fears.
A misguided sellers
Family cried a lot of tears.

He got in the way
Crossing paths on a dreary wintry day. 
It happened in Boston.
His life, it cost him.

The Australian Mauler was elusive.
He was also abusive.
The F. B. I. took a vote
And demonstrated its rote.

They put him in
Their top ten,
Are they the one’s who always got their men?
Who would win?

His squeeze
Had gotten the courage to leave.
To him women were like cheese.
They were always available to tease.

He dated
And hated,
But never mated.
And really never maturated.

Traveling from city to city,
Occasionally, he looked fairly gritty.
He showed no pity
Increasing the kitty.

Continuing to steal,
He didn't feel.

77

	
Emotions were not real.
He was a heel.

One morning in Seattle,
There was a gun battle
Running down the street.
To him, it was neat.
 
His feet
Were no longer fleet.
He had every contingency planned
Ending up on dry land.

Free as a bird.
It was absurd.
For awhile,
The F. B. I. closed every mile
 
And from him no one heard
Another single word,
On vacation at a tropical beach,
He stayed out of reach.

The American media 
Covered the disappearance of the Australian beast.
He studied the news coverage like an encyclopedia.
He had a feast.

They called him the master of contort.
Hearing that report,
You should have seen his smile.
It was as wide and as long as the Nile.

He did not believe
And could not conceive
There would ever be a trial. 
He had some guile.

He knew his field  
And how to wield

78

False identities
Paying cash for all amenities.
	
Planning was meticulous and never rash.
Every night, he had a bash
Throwing darts
And breaking hearts,

He showed many faces
Going in and out of places
Leaving the F. B. I. no traces.
He didn’t touch bases.
 
It was an art.
The Australian Mauler was smart,
But nothing lasts through infinity.
There is something said for divinity.

The odds were stacked. 
Jack, however, was jacked.
The night before ending his vacation,
He saw this wonderful creation.

She looked beautiful wet.
The pool is where they met.
Her name was Beverly. 
He immediately acted cleverly

Taking her to his room.
That fleeting
Moment of cheating
Led to her doom.

The next morning 
Sleeping after a long night’s poke.
She never awoke.
Let drugs be a warning.

I’m talking to all you young folks.
It rattles your spokes.
When she didn't speak.
He was gone and it didn't take a week.

79

Wham! 
Bam!
Zoom!
You’re locked in a tomb!

Don't accept a ride
Traveling with a stranger.
There is danger.
You can be fried.

A few thousand dollars a pop
No longer made him hop.
The Australian Mauler decided to plan a huge caper
Wanting it to make every paper.    

Until now, he worked alone.
He got on the phone.
Junior Crandall
Would handle

All the whistles and bells.
Look out! Something smells.
He proposed an alliance.
Crandall would manage every appliance,

And he would use his gun.
Violence was just more fun.  
Apparently, this would be his last score
Netting approximately a million four. 

If all went well,
He could buy, sell,
Or trade
Almost anything ever made.

His three-year 
Robbery and murder career
Could come to an end.
Was it time to mend?

He bought a nightclub in Dallas
Called the palace

80

From a realtor named Alice.
Could he use it as ballast
			
Stabilizing his life?
Crandall died barely old enough to have a wife.
The deed to be done
Was an escape planned for one. 

The Australian Mauler
Seemed to be taller.
He went from six feet to six two
Wearing a 10 1/2 boot instead of a shoe.

He called everyone friend.
That was a ploy.
He thought it was coy
Being a bag of wind.

He ran his bar
And purchased a new car.
All of twenty-three,
How could that be?

He was still alive.
Would he manage twenty-five?
How difficult it was!
He always had a buzz.

Can love return?
It does yearn.
Would it make an appearance?
Did he have enough clearance?

81

Act III = His Fate

A woman left work going home.
Her commute wasn't quite as far as Nome;
But first,
She decided to quench a thirst.

Her stomach said ice cream.
She was in a dreadful mood.
She was about to scream.
What she needed was food!

That woman closed her car door
Walking from the parking lot to the store
And caught her dress.
It rendered her a mess.

Getting back in the car,
She didn't plan on going very far.
When something made her keep driving.
Her life was diving.
 
Her dress really shouldn’t be shown,
There was no reason to sit by a phone.
So she drove
Making it to a local cove.

Twice around the lake
Cleared her head.
For heavens sake
Was there anything to do before bed?
 
Noticing a remarkable little star,
It directed her toward this quaint 
Pleasing oddity of a bar.
The proprietor definitely was not a saint.

Sitting down,
No conventions were in town.
The place was empty, except for a guy at the bar

82

Called Detroit.
He was listening to Hoyt.

Axton, It was!
She ordered a drink
Saying: "Give me something with a buzz."
Preparing it the handsome Australian began to think.

Wow! Why don't I send her a wink?
As he started to blink,
She softly said:
"Things look dead.

You couldn’t find pallbearers with feeling. 
You only have one mourner.”
Jack replied: "Everyone’s tires are peeling
Rounding the corner.”

Their eyes met, 
And he couldn't talk.
Trying to take a step, he couldn't walk.
His mind was in a fret.
 
It seemed for a moment that time
Stopped at precisely quarter till nine.
She was the rarest of wine.
All he heard in his head was rhyme. 

His skin got goose bumpy,
And his knees buckled.
For an instant, the saliva in his mouth got lumpy.
She noticed his distress and flatteringly chuckled.

That woman was so beautiful that the blind
Would stop and gaze.
You know the kind.
You feel you’re trapped in a maze.

When you would give anything for a brief chance 
To hold her during a dance,
Or witness the wind
Gently as a flag that waves send

83

That tore dress from her skin.
It happens to men.
He would have given anything for the pleasure.
She was a treasure.

God! He was amazed
He was truly dazed.
His mind was in a quandary.
It wasn't over laundry.

He took a moment to compose.
All he could hear was this voice.
It kept saying propose.
Propose to this woman before she hoists 

Raising that drinking glass.
Do it fast!
She's a wonderful lass.
It may be your last

Proceeding for change and opportunity.
You can become part of the community. 
You have no choice.
Her name is Joyce.

He instinctively blurted out:
"Marry me," without even a moment of doubt.
She answered: "When!" 
He said: "How about at ten!"
	 
His grin
Must have been 
Looking as wide as a cow.
She laughed and said: "How!"

His reply: "Tonight!
We can get to the airport and take a flight,
And be married by tomorrow's first light.
I realize it doesn't sound very bright.

Meeting you makes it feel right,
And who's to say that this isn't love at first sight."		

84

She stood up as if to leave.
You could see her chest heave.
 
"Be your wife?
That man must promise to protect, honor, and serve. 
Will you give me your life?”
His reply: "Before I lose my nerve.
I'll never throw you a curve, 

And I hope never to make you cry
Or tell you a lie. 
I will never say goodbye."
She said: "Oh my!

You’re my guy.
What time do we fly?"
It was a remarkable decision
Arranged by celestial precision.
 
For an Aussie,
He never got bossy.
They lived a good life:
Simple and without strife;

Not long ago,
They were building a nursery.
He was an F. B. I. foe.
Yet, they celebrated a twentieth anniversary.

On that day,
He decided it was time to pay.
And he gave himself up
Telling his wife over her morning cup.

She was confused and hurt.
He never treated her like dirt.
Let me leave you with this thought.
Love comes when it’s never sought.

Consider love an accident that never stops.
Happiness must land where it drops.

85

For twenty years of marriage,
He helped her into every carriage.

He was a model citizen
Of a town in Texas named Denison
Commuting weekly to his palace.
It was in the West End of Dallas.

He told Joyce everything remembered.
She felt timbered,
And said: "You are telling me your mean?
Every side of you, I've seen.

You have been the sweetest,
As a husband and father you’re the neatest,
You’re my dearest thing.”
They hear a doorbell ring

And the F. B. I. sing.
The air is taken out from under her wing.
Her face has a frown.
The day he is led away to be strapped down,

He lays on the execution gurney. 
Death row was a long journey.
It was a twelve-year ordeal.
He exhausted every appeal.

When asked if he had a last word. 
The Australian Mauler could be heard,
But you had to listen closely.
His words sounded ghostly.

You may hear that knife.
It was the one that actually took his life.
When his mum departed.
He was broken hearted.

86

Act IV - Last Words

"Teen or adult, 
Alone or in a cult:
Stay away from drugs, alcohol, and even beer.
It can only bring a tear.

Find love!
Get a hug!
Anywhere, from above:
It can even be from a lug.

Make sure your heartstrings are snug.
Give a stranger a tug.
The absence of love can impair.
It's something we all should wear.

Let love envelope
Tugging at your heart.
Let every man, woman, and child develop;
We need a new start.

Give love a divine environment of precision.
We can all make a different decision.
We are hurled through space:
I doubt if love is a product of the human race.

Without the benefit of love,
Our touch is with a glove.
People cannot feel
The layers we do not peel. 

Love is not rare.
We just have to unwrap, open, and tear.
Throughout our universe and perhaps more,
Mankind may discover that the ability to love
Is at the core.

It may not be evenly distributed,
But man contributed

87

To the feel of an incredible overwhelming emotional bond.
Of which, we are all fond,

We give love in a nature that is random.
It should be done in tandem.	
Try giving love without consideration or foresight.
Love has might.

A natural or supernatural phenomenon that is all seeing;
It can be beyond our vision of light,
But we all have the height.
Each of us can give love to another human being.

It is our responsibility.
Consider the possibility,
We can infect other life, species or people.
Love should be our steeple.

Our present capability of knowledge,
In a world filled with college,
Should be shared.
Everyone should be dared.

Ask someone to share love in every form of expression. 
Our language of confession:
Music, poetry, and art;
Give your heart!

Stay smart!
Make an everlasting pledge to care.
Pull someone else's cart
And play fair.

Allow love to caress
Possessing your spirit, mind, and body.
Fight for a way to suppress
Being gaudy.

Allow emotion 
To surround
Extending your sound
Wading into a vast ocean.							

88

The aroma we trace,
Let it linger around your face.
Stretch out your hand.
Don't stick your head in the sand.

Share love without reservation.
Don’t give it a second’s hesitation.
Wholeheartedly, share without expectation.
Don't be an affectation.

Don't be judgmental:
Love is not a rental.
Be real.
Let love seal.

As people, we should strive to achieve.
We can obtain a high level of acceptance
Entertaining tolerance.  
In love, we should believe.

Promote harmony between friends, family, and strangers.
Was love born in a manger?
I was full of danger
And wanted by the Texas Rangers.

Will there be anything to grieve
When we leave?
Life, health, and happiness are my final concern.
Let love burn!

There is no greater gift.
We can all live in loves realm.
Mend every rift 
And take the helm.

I apologize
For my wrongful enterprise,
But others will follow.
Without love people are hollow."

89

Images of Love

Imagine a world of me, 
And I'll imagine a world of you.
We'll sit, and we'll talk and never be blue
Imagining worlds of two.

Imagine a place in time,
Make it really stand out in your mind.
When you see me, and I see you.
We'll know that our love is true.

Imagine two people, who care,
But they can't even bare
Thinking of a life beyond the reach of their stare.
That's a pair.

Imagine a sky of blue,
The sun shining through
Giving rise to life, 
It makes everything nice.

Love may indeed be rare,
But we have the ability to share.
If love is not abundantly rife,
We must give it life.

Add some spice
To your ice,
Instead of lime
Mix in some rhyme.

Imagine a day complete,
When we accomplish ever feat
And begin to shine.
How imaginably fine?

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