Author Archives: Marvin David Webster
For 35 years Martin Hurkens was a baker by trade. Martin had no trade outside of tending an oven and creating food delights in a commercial kitchen. In 2009 he lost his job . . . and found his moment in time.
In the late 1960’s when David Schaub was living there, Pampa had a population which consisted of primarily whites with barely a thousand or so blacks. As it had always been up to that time, virtually all of the blacks lived in an area called the Flats.
As was then typical in most of the South and Texas, it was located “across the tracks”. Segregated schools had only been abolished a couple of years before and the Flats had lost its binding feature—the schools. But one of the most famous places to many people who knew Pampa was the Peppermint Lounge, a black nightclub located in the Flats.
Editors Note: The last four weeks have been an incredible experience for me. I am sure some of you have notice my unusual absence. I apologize for my unexplained disappearance. The explanation
will soon be forth coming. I have been on a journey of over 17,000 miles physically. Spiritually I traveled to heaven and back. A part of me refused to return. I have many things to write about so
the pages left empty during my absence will not remain empty.
Shortly before I left I received this story from David Schaub, a fellow classmate from …
For every dream that took me high there’s been a dream that passed me by . . . I know that’s so true. – Harry Chapin
It was the second day of May 1970. We were parked at Caldwell’s and Phillip was in the back seat spreading his smile and charisma through the car where LaWanda Frost, and I (and maybe Susan
Smith . . . I can’t remember) were all talking about LaWanda and me getting married the next night. Phillip was my best man. All of us were members of the PHS …
After I told Phillip what had happened we were both fairly certain our trip to Mexico factored in somehow, but where? Everything appeared to be going so smooth.
On the day of the procedeing I put on my blue uniform and polished my shoes. Phillip walked with me to the end of the Dormitory hall and we stood at the door and talked for a few minutes. I
turned and started walking to the location where the Captain’s Mast was being held . . . a full court gymnasium which struck me as …
Perhaps it was because he was in such great physical condition, but Philip began recovering quickly and within a couple of days he is watching television at the dormitory while I am off to wax and
buff floors. He razzes me about that in a “Phillip Long” kind of way that even makes me laugh. I am just glad he is getting up and around.
The one thing that isn’t recovering is his spirit about the Navy.
I sleep with one ear listening for Phillip to come through the door at any time. Saturday morning comes and not a word. With every passing hour I am more and more concerned.
There is not a word the entire day on Saturday and other than going for meals I had not left the room. I went to bed Saturday night nearly out of my mind between worry for Phillip and fear of the
court martial coming if his body is found in Mexico somewhere. I just keep asking myself how I allowed myself …