GALVESTON MIRACLE

 

In October 1947 we returned to Galveston after our six month visit with family in Sheffield, Alabama. We settled in the Coronado Courts, on the Seawall Boulevard at 27th Street. From our location we looked across 27^th to the expanse of Menard Park, a well used recreational beachfront facility. Our apartment was in the second building from the Boulevard along 27^th Street.

Pop was unemployed. We were broke. Rent was due. Groceries were going fast. Mom came to me, almost in tears.

"Mitchell, I know we have been giving you an allowance of twenty-five cents a week – but we have a problem. We’re going to have to stop the allowance for a while, just until Pop gets a job.”

I guess if I were a Union man I’d have demanded that they continue to give me the quarter every Saturday. But I understood. I even went to my secret hiding place and pulled out my sock full of savings. I humbly, proudly gave nine dollars in change to Mom.

“It will be just a loan,” she whispered. I knew better.

                                                      Coronado Courts                     Buccaneer Hotel

                                                            1947                                          1950

AT DAYLIGHT THAT NOVEMBER MORNING POP GOT ME UP TO WALK WITH HIM. WE WALKED SILENTLY, NORTHEAST ALONG THE SIDEWALK ATOP THE SEAWALL. WE PASSED THE PLEASURE PIER AT 25^TH AND APPROACHED MURDOCK’S . THE DURABLE BATH-HOUSE AND TOURIST SHOP STOOD OUT OVER THE WATER, DIRECTLY ACROSS FROM THE STATELY BUCCANEER HOTEL.  THAT GRAND LADY STOOD AS A STALWART SENTINEL GUARDING THE ENTRANCE, FROM THE BEACHFRONT, TO 23^RD STREET.

WE PASSED THE BALINESE ROOM, SILENTLY WAITING FOR THE EVENINGS CELEBRANTS.

WE CAME TO A POINT OPPOSITE THE GALVEZ HOTEL. POP SPOKE FOR THE FIRST TIME.

“LET’S GO BACK.”

WE TURNED, TO WALK HOME. NEARING 27^TH STREET, WE STEPPED OFF THE CURB TO CROSS THE BOULEVARD.

POP LOOKED DOWN AND SAW A DOLLAR BILL LYING IN THE GUTTER. THINKING TO LET ME HAVE IT, HE POINTED IT OUT TO ME. BUT BEFORE I COULD PICK IT UP, HE LOOKED ALONG THE GUTTER TO THE SOUTHWEST AND EXCLAIMED "GOOD GOD, BOY, LOOK!". SCATTERED OVER FIFTEEN FEET OR SO WAS A CHAOTIC MASS OF PAPER CURRENCY. WE BEGAN TO EAGERLY GRAB HANDFULS OF BILLS.

A MAN STOOD ON THE SIDEWALK ABOUT THIRTY FEET AWAY, AND SEEMED TO BE WATCHING US.

POP NOTICED HIM, AND SAID “DON’T LET HIM SEE WHAT YOU’RE DOING!”.

THE BYSTANDER STOOD WATCHING, SAYING NOTHING AND MAKING NO MOVE TO INTERFERE.

HE WAS ABOUT FIFTY YEARS OLD, SIX FEET TALL, AND ABOUT 240 POUNDS. HE WAS CLEAN SHAVEN, HATLESS, AND WORE A DARK BUSINESS SUIT.

I DIDN’T PAY MUCH ATTENTION TO HIM, AS HE STOOD MOTIONLESS, HANDS IN HIS POCKETS.

WE GATHERED ALL THE BILLS IN SIGHT, AND SCAMPERED ACROSS THE STREET.

WE COUNTED THE MONEY WHEN WE WERE SAFELY BACK IN OUR APARTMENT. A TOTAL OF SEVENTY-FOUR DOLLARS. POP COMMENTED “STRANGE, THAT IT WASN’T AN EVEN SEVENTY-FIVE.”

I RETURNED ACROSS THE BOULEVARD, TO THE SCENE. THE WATCHER WAS GONE.

I FOUND ANOTHER DOLLAR BILL IN A DRAINAGE UNDER THE SIDEWALK.

AN EVEN SEVENTY-FIVE.

WE PAID RENT AND BOUGHT GROCERIES. A STRANGE AND HAPPY OCCURRENCE.

IN FREQUENT REFLECTION I HAVE OFTEN WONDERED ABOUT THE BYSTANDER — DID HE PUT THE MONEY THERE? WHY? WHY DIDN’T HE INTERFERE?

WAS HE A GENEROUS, ECCENTRIC MAN — OR PERHAPS AN ANGEL?

MY STUBBORN NON-RELIGIOSITY OCCASIONALLY YIELDS TO AN UNUSUAL EVENT WHICH CHALLENGES ME — SUCH AS THIS ONE.