An Austin story B.C. (Before Children), sometime between 1975-1985.
A series of stories for each letter of the alphabet. The 70s were a long time ago. 26 stories might be a stretch for my brain, but I have made it to D – as has the prompt photo for this week.

As there is a band in the prompt photo, I’ll begin with a song written and performed by Joe Ely and band.

                    Down on the drag, down on the drag
                   Where some lowdown son-of-a-bum
                   Done stole my sleepin’ bag
                   Left me standin at a news stand
                   Readin’ want ads in The Rag
                   My baby’s back up in Lubbock
                   And I’m down on the drag

                  Well the sooner I get to Houston
                  The sooner I’ll catch me a boat
                  I’m gonna cross that Gulf of Mexico
                  I’m takin’ anything that will float
                  I been

                 Down on the drag, down on the drag
                 Where some lowdown son-of-a-bum
                 Even stole my sleepin’ bag
                 Left me standin at the news stand
                 Readin’ want ads in The Rag
                 My baby’s back up in Lubbock
                 And I’m down on the drag

                Well the sooner I leave this town behind
                The sooner i’ll get control
                Of all my crazy dreams and my hard-losin’ schemes
                My heart, body, mind and soul
                I been

               Down on the drag, down on the drag
               Where some lowdown son-of-a-bum
               Even stole my sleepin’ bag
               Left me standin at the news stand
               Readin’ want ads in The Rag
               My baby’s back up in Lubbock
               And I’m down on the drag

               If you don’t believe my story
               I ain’t gonna tell you no more
               And if you ever expect to see me anymore
               I’ll be sleepin down in some doorway

Guadalupe Street (mispronounced locally as gwad-a-loop) runs along the west side of the University of Texas campus. On the side opposite of campus are restaurants, the University Co-op Bookstore, and an assortment of businesses that cater primarily to the student population.

This newspaper photo shows a very crowded Guadalupe St. when UT students returned for the spring semester in January 1978. The inside of the UT Co-op Bookstore was probably just as crowded.

The Austin American Statesman 1978 Jan 18

The sidewalk along the Drag was not always that packed with people. The photos below better reflect my memories. The song references The Rag, an underground newspaper founded in 1966. Until today, I didn’t realize that The Rag still exists – as a blog. Some of the artful covers are on Flickr.

Byron Mason selling copies of the Rag.
Photo by Alan Pogue Accessed from Facebook

This photo especially evokes the feel of the Drag in the late 70s. Buskers. Street food. Flower sellers. Someone sitting on the sidewalk selling something – often puppies in a cardboard box.  Sometimes a couple just sitting there, backs against a wall and, not-so-uncommonly, a woman going topless. This woman is selling a kit to test marijuana for an herbicide.

Austin American-Statesman 1978 Apr 04

The food cart in the photo above looks like an egg roll cart that was the available street food at that time – before the proliferation of food trucks we have now. I had a few egg rolls during grad school, but my husband never trusted that his gut would be happy, so he did not. The photo below is Saigon Eggrolls. The photo above may be the competing egg roll stand.

Saigon Eggrolls. Accessed from Facebook

It was fun to stop into the stores along the street. One of my favorites was The Cadeau. It was filled with a wonderful mix of clothes and gifts and home items that no one else was selling.

Cadeau sign. Accessed from Facebook.

Sometimes there was a loud street preacher. Sometimes Hare Krishna. Always an interesting mix of people who mostly shared the space congenially. Frats and freaks and more. And, as the song implies, some who slept in doorways and alleys.

My husband and I often did some people watching and shopping on Saturday afternoons. Some of our favorite stops were on side streets adjoining Guadalupe. I think I’ll save them for another post.

One of the frequent buskers on the Drag was not a musician, but a mime. We enjoyed watching him perform and my husband took this photo of him. I am embarrassed to say that I don’t remember giving money to anyone performing on the street. Although we we didn’t have a lot of extra cash at the time. But still.

Does the mime in the photo look familiar to you?

Does the name Turk Pipkin ring a bell?

Mr. Pipkin went from street mime/juggler/clown/magician to actor/writer/philanthropist.

Harry Anderson at Eeyore’s Birthday Party ~1978

Turk Pipkin wrote this about himself in an article for Texas Monthly magazine.
I went to Austin to go to the University of Texas but ended up performing on the drag and at beer-soaked clubs like Castle Creek and The Armadillo world headquarters. At The Armadillo, I met my best friend, Harry Anderson, the actor and magician. Harry was the one who got me out to Los Angeles.

He also wrote this piece about his friendship with Harry Anderson and their early careers for The Austin Chronicle in 1999.

Somehow we completely missed Harry Anderson …

Turk Pipkin still lives in Austin. He has written a number of books, acted in numerous films and television shows (I never watched The Sopranos, but he had a recurring role), among other accomplishments. A recent enterprise is The Nobelity Project. The project began when he interviewed nine Nobel Peace Prize winners and turned the interviews into a documentary in 2006. That experience became something much larger than a documentary film. From the Nobelity Project website:

The Nobelity Project focuses on educational and environmental progress in East Africa, Latin America and at home in Central Texas.

​Our vision is simple: every child has the right to a quality education.

Our mission is direct: we bridge gaps in education so each child has a ladder to success in school and in life.

Our commitment to you is clear: your support is used in the best possible way to build a brighter future for 15,000 children every year.

Although much of the work of The Nobelity Project has been in Africa, there have been a number of projects in the United States, including helping to bring back the trees lost in the fires at Bastrop State Park in Texas in 2012.

I enjoyed this short video made in 2015 to celebrate ten years of The Nobelity Project.

Not bad for a street mime.

This is my contribution to Sepia Saturday. Please drag yourself over to Sepia Saturday and enjoy what others have prepared.

Sepia Saturday provides bloggers with an opportunity to share their history through the medium of photographs. Historical photographs of any age or kind become the launchpad for explorations of family history, local history and social history in fact or fiction, poetry or prose, words or further images. If you want to play along, sign up to the link, try to visit as many of the other participants as possible, and have fun.

An Austin story B.C. (Before Children), sometime between 1975-1985.
A series of stories for each letter of the alphabet. The 70s were a long time ago. 26 stories might be a stretch for my brain. I have made it to C.

Another story set in our first apartment in Austin – River Hills Apartments.

On the other side of a common wall lived a man, a woman, and a small boy. An assortment of other men, women, and children came and went, but these three were the permanent residents. Their car was an old yellow taxi cab they had personalized. Where the company logos used to be now there were black skull and crossbones: symbols of death, poison, and pirates. The woman worked as a flower seller.

There were lots of street corner flower sellers in Austin in the 70s, There were two competing companies, each with about one hundred employees who worked Thursday – Sunday. The vendors were dropped off at their designated location with a bucket of flowers. Some of them wore costumes to distinguish themselves and build a clientele. If you were driving down the street, you might see a flower seller ahead and have time to stop to make a purchase. And whether walking or driving, you knew what flower seller to expect on a particular corner. The vendors took home a third of what they collected in sales for the day. So $3.00 carnations yielded $1.00 to take home. I was the happy recipient of an occasional flower purchase.

My favorite flower seller was a guy who dressed in top hat and tails and could spin a carnation on his palm. He was a class act. My neighbor dressed as a clown and drove off in her pirate taxi cab when she went to work. I guess I didn’t often drive by my neighbor’s corner. I only remember seeing her once or twice somewhere in South Austin.

It didn’t appear that the man of the house had a job and the melee that ensued when the woman returned home early one day led us to believe that if there was any business going on, it was of the “funny business” variety involving one of the rotating house guests. There was a lot of yelling and stomping up and down the stairs on the other side of our common wall and some outside as well. It wasn’t long after that they moved out. My heart hurt for the little boy, who was just a toddler.

In addition to the Armadillo World Headquarters and bats, street corner flower vendors contributed to the vibe of 1970s Austin and our city slogan: Keep Austin Weird. I don’t know what happened to the people who lived next door to us, but there were some notable flower vendors. And here is where I digress from a personal story to the news bits I had fun reading and bringing “old Austin” to mind …

The most well-known flower seller is Crazy Carl Hickerson. I searched the local newspaper for articles about him and there are many! He became a “perennial” candidate for political offices – mostly Austin City Council; but also governor, mayor, and sheriff. He never won an election and never seemed to want to.

The first mention I found of him was in 1977 (since I was looking beginning with 1975, when we moved to Austin). I think he may first have run in 1971.

Austin American Statesman 1977 Jan 19

He insisted that his name be listed on the ballot as “Crazy” Carl Hickerson. Atheist Madalyn Murray O’Hair was also running for a place on city council that year. One of Hickerson’s quotable sound bites that year was, “I don’t have mental illness, but I am a carrier.” After losing in 1977, he was first to file for the 1979 election, then set a flower-twirling record.

Austin American Statesman, Austin, TX 1977 June 19

I could devote a lot of space to Crazy Carl Hickerson, but I’ll try not to. He continued to run for office into the 90s; sold flowers, drove a taxi, sold sandwiches, modeled for art students, and worked at Oat Willie’s – among other things.

Austin American Statesman 1978 April 16

He was arrested for disrupting the boat races on Town Lake by disabling the starting lights during a protest.

Austin American Statesman 1978 Sep 07

His political platforms usually contained some weird ideas, but many came to be mainstream. (STNP – South Texas Nuclear Project)

Austin American Statesman 1979 Apr 01

He sometimes sold flowers nearly naked and other times in more modest attire. That’s Carl on the left.

Austin American Statesman 1980 Nov 13

And sometimes entertained with his trombone.

Later in life, Crazy Carl twirled flowers outside the street side window of Esther’s Follies.

Austin American Statesman 2016 May 30

Max Nofziger sold flowers and played guitar at the corner of Oltorf and Congress. He followed Crazy Carl into politics, although he really did want to be elected.

Austin American Statesman Apr 01

He ran a couple of unsuccessful campaigns, but got enough votes in the 1983 mayoral election to cause a run off, which gave him the power of his endorsement. He “cleaned up” his look for this race, which he figured added to his vote tally.

Austin American Statesman 1983 Mar 20

Max Nofziger served three terms on city council. He ran primarily on environmental issues.  When he retired from that position, Crazy Carl ran for his place.

Austin American Statesman 1996 Jan 04

Sometimes people confused Max Nofziger with Crazy Carl. Nofziger pokes fun at it in this musical performance during a city council meeting as he left office.

Max Nofziger has maintained political influence, especially concerning environmental and transportation issues as a consultant and he has continued to pursue a musical career.

Austin American Statesman 2012 Jun 26

Carl Hickerson is featured in a couple of documentaries. I have only watched the first few minutes of the most recent one, but in those few minutes heard Eddie Wilson (Armadillo World Headquarters), Max Nofziger, and Shannon Sedwick (Esther’s Follies). And there is some skin in those first few minutes too. Edit: I posted the video before watching the whole thing – hopefully you won’t find it offensive – just weird.

This is my response to the Sepia Saturday prompt this week, focussing on the letter C rather than horses or racing. However, I do have a photo of horses at a busy intersection in Austin that I took from the car on Feb. 21. Austin still has its weird moments.

Please race on over to Sepia Saturday to view the other responses to this week’s prompt photo.

An Austin story B.C. (Before Children), sometime between 1975-1985.
A series of stories for each letter of the alphabet. The 70s were a long time ago. 26 stories might be a stretch for this old brain. We’ll see.

Our first home in Austin was at the River Hills Apartments on Royal Crest Drive. It was a cute little studio apartment: living room and kitchen downstairs; bedroom, bathroom, and walk-in closet upstairs. A sliding-glass door opened onto a tiny fenced patio. It was fully furnished in fabulous 70s décor – shag carpet included. Our apartment wasn’t the popular avocado green or harvest gold; it was the popular-but-not-quite-as-popular orange color. Did that orange have a descriptor? I don’t recall, but you can see it in this photo.

Me. Christmas 1977.

I don’t remember any furniture on our tiny patio, but we did try to grow a few plants. One summer we noticed “droppings” out there. Did we have rats? Were tiny bunnies squeezing through the fence? Then … no more droppings. The following summer, droppings again.

One day around dusk, we were out on our little patio and we saw them – dozens of bats flying out of surrounding apartments – and ours! The siding on the upper level of our apartment was warped, offering entry and a home to the little migratory mammals.

https://www.flickr.com/photos/youngandwithit/3574230107/

We promptly called the management, expecting a remedy. Nope. Bats come out at dusk when the maintenance people have gone home for the day. No one was available to nail the door shut when the bat family went out for dinner.

Martin began to research the problem the old-fashioned way: a land line phone during business hours and the library. Protected species; no poison; repel with moth balls….yadayadayada. No help to be found.

One day around sunset, Martin went upstairs. He yelled. I ran up to see what was going on. A bat was flying around the bedroom. We ran back downstairs.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZjkJm_vMKEY&t=23s

Okay. So it was only one bat. But it was one bat too many.

We called the apartment office. They were on it! A kid with a tennis racket showed up at our door. We directed him up the stairs and he was off to the match. A powerful forearm stroke in the backcourt closet for the win.

Now we were spooked living in our lovely apartment. It was hard to fall asleep at night.

Since the management wasn’t going to do anything, we decided we had had enough and should find another place to live. But before we could find somewhere to go, another bat made it inside. This time it was night and we didn’t fool around. We called 911. A firefighter came to our rescue. A firefighter is exactly the person you want when you have a bat in the living room – thick protective jacket, helmet, thick leather gloves. Totally batproof! After the firefighter carried the bat out and left (with our sincere and profuse thanks), we left too – finding comfort at a hotel downtown. But not before hearing another bat (bats?) banging around in the air conditioning vent. We closed all the vent covers, packed a bag, and were out of there.

Next morning, we were fortunate to find an apartment manager who took pity on us and rented us an apartment that had just freed up. (Apparently water beds were not allowed in third floor apartments.) We couldn’t pack fast enough. On one of my trips downstairs to load up the car, I noticed a dark stain on those orange living room drapes. A stain? No!! A bat! Asleep – on the drapes!

We drove back by our old apartment several months later and again, months after that. It was vacant. We don’t know how long it remained vacant. Of people, I mean.

In 1980, the Congress Avenue Bridge was renovated and the new design unwittingly led to the proliferation of bats in Austin. It provided the perfect roosting place for the Mexican free-tailed bats that migrate to central Texas each spring. People weren’t happy about the growing number of bats in our city.

Then Merlin Tuttle moved to Austin in 1986 and relocated his fledgling conservation organization, Bat Conservation International. He worked to change the status of bats from scary rabid vampires to welcome guests.

Now bats are part of the culture and landscape of Austin. The 1.5 million Mexican free-tailed bats that roost under the Ann W. Richards Congress Avenue Bridge comprise the largest urban bat colony in the world. It is a popular tourist attraction.

You can watch as the bats take flight while standing on the bridge or from a spot on land below  …

https://www.flickr.com/photos/mirsasha/164321573/

or from the water.

https://www.flickr.com/photos/mrlaugh/5965675777/

Austin even has a statue to celebrate our seasonal guests.

AUSTIN LOVES THEIR BATS https://flic.kr/p/EyEfU

I was asking my husband to help jog my memory for a few details as I was writing this. He said he prefers not to remember traumatic events. When we hear that little clicking sound bats make when we are out at night, we still get a little spooked. Can you blame us if we haven’t been to the bridge to watch thousands of bats emerge?

https://www.flickr.com/photos/psharpley/361287475/

This is my contribution to Sepia Saturday this week, where the prompt photo depicts a grand and sedate living room. At dusk perhaps??

Living Room With Grand Piano, Edvard Grieg Collection, Bergen Public Library on Flickr Commons

Please visit my fellow Sepians at Sepia Saturday.