Part One: Big Sandy Creek

Anyone that has ever ridden a bicycle knows that you never forget how, regardless of how long it's been since you have been on one. I got my first bicycle at Christmas when I was ten years old. It was a plain Jane, no frills, second hand bike. It had no front fender or chain guard, but it was mine!

Now in the summer of 1947 when I was 14, I had put many miles on that bike.

Let me paint you a picture. I was 14 years old, and during the summer all I wore was a pair of cut off blue jeans, no shirt and no shoes. I had a crew cut and a few freckles. I was deeply tanned. I was riding my bicycle on a county back rode in the piney woods of east Texas. Add a car inner tube around my waist and a thirty pound black diamond watermelon on my lap. I was holding the watermelon with one hand and the handle bars of my bike with the other. Now have you got the picture? Then let me tell you about Big Sandy Creek.

During the summer of 1947, me and three of my buddies rode our bikes everywhere we went. These buddies were James (Tiny) Rozell, Earnest (Sonny) Parnell, and Wayne (Sweet Pea) Winn. I am Loren (Lawnmower) Moore. On this day we were on our way to Big Sandy Creek to go swimming.

Each of us had a car tire inner tube around his waist when we left home that morning. We all lived in an oil company camp three miles east of Gladewater. Big Sandy Creek was six miles west of Gladewater. So we had started out that morning in good spirits and full of the desire for adventure.

We were riding the back roads, and as we got within a mile of the creek, we were riding along the back side of a big field of watermelons. The temptation was too great to resist, and we stopped and picked two black diamond watermelons to take to the creek with us.

I was carrying one of the melons and Tiny was carrying the other one. When we got to the creek, we rode up-stream on a cow path. After we had gone half a mile, we stopped and put our melons in the water to cool while we were playing in the creek.

The creek was twelve feet wide and was fast running. The water was cool and clear. We each got on our inner tube and the current swept us along. We were hooting and hollering and having a good time. As Sweet Pea floated by Tiny, Tiny stuck out his foot and pushed down on the back side of Sweet Pea's tube. This turned Sweet Pea over backward and spilled him in the water. Sweet Pea had to swim down stream fast to catch his inner tube. When he caught his tube he hung onto a tree limb until the rest of us caught up to him.

When we got down to the little bridge at the road, we climbed out of the water and walked back up the cow path to where we had left our bikes and watermelons. There, we fished our watermelons out of the creek. Sonny had a pocket knife and he cut a ring around the middle of each melon. The blade was too short to cut the melons in half, but it did cut through the rind. All we had to do then was to bump the melons on the ground and they split into two pieces each.

Each boy grabbed a half and dug in with his hands and started eating. After our swim and walk back up stream we were all hungry. We ate watermelon with juice running down our arms and dripping off our elbows. Juice was dripping off our chins and running down our bellies. The cool water of the creek had cooled the melons so they were very refreshing.

When we had all eaten all we wanted, we jumped into the creek to wash off the melon juice. We had a big water fight and finally crawled out onto the bank. We laid there in the grass for a while swapping yarns and just being lazy. Then it was time to start home.

When we approached the big watermelon patch, the farmer and two of his hands were picking the melons and putting them in a big pile. He was getting them ready to take to market. As we slowly pedaled past, he stopped picking melons and stood there watching us until we were completely out of sight. Sweet Pea wondered if he knew we had swiped two of his melons. None of us knew, but he sure did watch us as we rode by. He probably knew that every red blooded American boy loved watermelon enough to take one if the opportunity presented itself.

When we got back to the camp, we had a war counsel. Were we going to let that hard stare the farmer gave us keep us for enjoying one more watermelon before they were trucked off to market? Well that's a whole 'nother story for a different time.

Copyright © 2001 Loren Moore
All rights reserved

Part Two: War Counsel

The next day when Loren went to their little cave that was their club house, there were already three bicycles there. He knocked on the wooden door they had put on the opening of the cave when they dug it. A voice from the inside called out, "What's the password?" Loren gave it and the door was opened allowing him to crawl into the little cave on his hands and knees.

They had dug this little cave into the clay bank of a small branch that ran through the twenty acres where the oil company had its camp for its employees. It was ten feet in diameter and only four feet high. They had an old kerosene lamp that gave them light when the door was closed. The lamp sat on a wooden apple box in the middle of the room. There was a small hole in the roof over the lamp to let out the fumes.

"Well, are we going to let that old farmer scare us away from his melon patch or what?" I ask.

"Going swimming in Big Sandy Creek without a watermelon to eat afterwards just wouldn't be the same," Sweetpea answered.

Tiny said, "We're going swimming again tomorrow, and I say we're going to get two more melons."

"Yeah," said Sonny.

"Okay," I said, "it's swimming and watermelon time at ten tomorrow." With that, our war counsel was over.

We met at the cave the next morning. We each had our inner tube around our waist, and we were off for the creek. As we got close to the farmer's watermelon patch we started looking for the farmer, but he was nowhere in sight.

There was, however, a sign next to the road that said, "One of these melons has rat poison in it."

We all stopped and looked at the sign.

"Do you think he would really do that?" I asked.

"No," said Tiny.

"I don't know, he looked pretty mad the other day when we rode by going home," Sonny observed.

"I don't think I want to chance it," Sweetpea said.

So we went on to the creek without any melons. When we got there, no one seemed in the mood for a swim, so we just sat on the bank and chunked rocks into the water. After a while we all got on our bikes and started home. As we came to the melon field, we stopped again and looked at the sign. Without a word we rode on home.

The next day when I went to the cave, no one was there. So I unlocked the door and went inside and lit the lamp. About that time there was a knock on the door. I said, "What's the password?" After getting the right word, I opened the door and let Tiny and Sonny in. I looked around for Sweetpea, he wasn't here yet. The three of us sat there in silence, each with his own thoughts.

In a little while we heard Sweetpea hollering for us to come out and see what he had. When we went out, there was Sweetpea, and he had a sign on a pole. The sign said, "Now there are two of them." Sweetpea said he was going to ride over to the farmer's field and plant this sign next to the farmer's sign that said, "One of these watermelons has rat poison in it."

We got our inner tubes and rode up the road to Big Sandy Creek. As we got close to the melon patch, we looked for the farmer. The way looked clear so we planted the sign that Sweetpea had painted next to the farmers sign. Then we went on to the creek and did some swimming.

When we started home, we saw the farmer sitting under the big tree where he had piled his melons. Of course the melons were long gone and he was just sitting there. As we got close, he got to his feet and walked out into the road. He asked, "Boys, can I talk to you a minute?"

We were scared to death but we stopped.

He said, "Boys, I made a mistake when I put up that sign about rat poison. It was just a bluff anyway. I would never do that. Now I know you boys are the ones that put up that second sign, and I need to know if yours was a bluff. You see, I would never want to hurt anyone, and if there is rat poison in one of the melons, I will destroy all of them."

The four of us looked at each other, and finally Sweetpea told him it was a bluff. We hadn't poisoned any melons.

The old man stood there for a minute and said, "I see you boys riding by on your bicycles with the inner tubes around your waist, and I know you are on your way to the creek for a swim. You know, I used to go there and swim in Big Sandy. That was many years ago, and I used to swipe a melon out of my father's patch to take with me."

"Boys," he asked, "would you let me go swimming with you the next time you go, and I'll bring the watermelons?"

But that's a whole 'nother story for a different time.

Copyright © 2002 Loren Moore
All rights reserved

Born in a oil company camp near Gladewater, Texas, in 1932, Loren Moore married his high school sweetheart, Johnnie Pritchett, in the year he graduated. From there, he moved to Arlington, Texas, where he worked as an assembler at the General Motors plant and stayed until he retired as manager of the paint shop.

Loren writes: "I'm 70 years old and have been married to my wife Johnnie for 51 years. My hobbies have always been hunting and fishing. I'm an uneducated redneck from the piney woods of East Texas. Now that I'm in my old age and do most of my hunting and fishing in my memory, I decided to write about some of my experiences. These stories are about 90% true and 10% fiction. My wife, Johnnie, says they are 10% true and 90% fiction. Maybe they are somewhere in between."

Mr. Moore has recently assembled some of his stories into soft-bound books published by TwinOaks Publishing (pictured here). To purchase one of his books, you can write him at this address.

Image: "Two Boys Fishing" (Ivan and Malvin Albright), Adam Emory Albright (1862 - 1957), 1908, Private Collection

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