My father’s father, Robert Augustus Horlock, born 1-3-1849 of English parents in Mobile, Alabama, out of oblivion to me as a lanky twelve year old boy dressed in the uniform of the Confederate Army, as a Captain’s Boy. Like my younger brother at twelve years, one of his stockings is falling down. He’s standing on the top deck with binoculars, his hair uncut and hanging down, looking for the enemy with ships all around in the blockade of the Civil War in 1861.
I am amazed at the maturity of a twelve year old, the courage, the daring, the adventuresome spirit. The next step finds him moved from Mobile to Galveston. Next he finds an English girl, Ella Lyon. He marries her and settles down in Navasota. He likes the people, the vast cotton fields, lots of space, lots of possibilities. He seems determined to help Navasota become an important little town.
His first son, Robert W. or Bobby, is born. Bobby later becomes his business partner. His first daughter Emma becomes a musician and organist of the church and the wife of one of the doctors of Navasota, Dr. Eugene Harris who brought me into the world. The death of Ella does not stop him. A year later 1877 he marries Agnes Mason White who gives birth to ten children (one dies), and she keeps up with him and helps him in his adventures and later lives ten years longer than he.
In 1872 R. A. Horlock first helps his brother-in-law, Henry Schumacher build a cotton seed oil mill, then helps operate it. In 1885 , not to stand still, R. A. Horlock sees the need for telephones; he enters a five way partnership in a local telephone company. Three years later Navasota people need ice, electric power, so in 1886 R. A. Horlock buys into Ice and Electric Power House, Cotton Gin and Grist Mill. Every one or two years he is having more children. With a thriving ice company, the next thought and need covers cold drinks so he becomes a Magnolia Beer Distributor, and Orange Crush and Coke distributor.
“R. A. Horlock & Sons” began when R. A. Horlock became manager of the cotton seed oil mill in 1901. His older son, R. W. Horlock (Bobby) had been working since 1894 for him, so it stands to reason the one son was with him, but my father, Arthur, his second son was only 18, and his third son, Edwin was only eight years old; so R. A. Horlock did not include his two younger sons, only his first son, Bobby.
My father, Arthur Gregg Horlock, was born in 1883. I n 1887 Gladys was born; in 1889, Iscah; in 1892, Edwin; the third son was born. Arthur came to Houston to work in an insurance company. Arthur, a handsome young man, had no college education. In those days not many young men got a college education. Not until William Marsh Rice gave Rice Institute, did many boys and girls of Houston get a college education.Nevertheless, Arthur met Lillie Rose Fisher, a beautiful girl. They had a grand wedding with ten bridesmaids at Christ Church on Texas Avenue in Houston. Lillie must have had lots of friends. She had only graduated from Old Central High, but no college either. The reason I say lots of friends because I have many cut glass wedding presents she and Arthur received. They went to Navasota to live in the big house with R. A. Horlock and Agnes and Gladys and possibly other children. I don’t know how long they stayed there, but later they moved into a cottage nearby where I was born in 1909 and three years later Fisher was born.
I remember the day I was four years old. It was my first day to dress myself. I felt very proud and big that I could button my tan rompers all by myself. My friends awaited my arrival outside to go to kindergarten. I remember the day, the beautiful weather, walking along the sandy path, the sound of horrible dogs barking at us as we passed a long a tall fence, knocking on the back door of the kindergarten house. We entered the kitchen, smelling of spice; the smiling black cook handed us gingerbread men cookies.
I remember my brother, Fisher, and I playing out in front of our home with little black people. We called them pickaninnies, but you wouldn’t say that now in 1996. There were lots of black people, all our friends and one to watch each of us while my mother was in the house.
We lived in a sparse neighborhood; Lucinda, a nice black woman lived nearby in her house in a big yard. My mother would leave me with Lucinda if she had to take my brother somewhere. I remember how big it was there, and how good it smelled when she fried catfish and gave me some for lunch.
I don’t remember knowing Grandpa and the big house when I was four. I liked Navasota, but when I was five years old we moved to Houston to live with my Grandma and Grandpa Fisher. I don’t know why but later I began to put two and two together, and realized that my father was the second son, and Uncle Bobby, the first was into all businesses with Grandpa Horlock so maybe there wasn’t room for the second son. I didn’t remember Grandpa Horlock then. Not until I was twelve years old did I remember my Grandpa Horlock. Grandma and Grandpa Horlock came to Houston and took us out to the Bender Hotel for supper. I don’t remember how they looked, but by the pictures we have, they were a handsome couple, even for old people. Grandma Horlock bought her clothes at Everitt Buelow. I was fascinated by the Bender Hotel. I’d never been out to a restaurant before. The sight of all those tables in white tablecloths and all those waiters in black and the delicious smells around the room and all the bright lights, but most of all when we sat down and had soup and little round oyster crackers, I was beside myself. It was as if we were playing dolls. The next time we passed by the Bender Hotel, I sat on the curb and cried because my mother and father wouldn’t take me inside.
This is in contrast to the modern age, when everyone goes out to restaurants almost altogether. I’ve heard that some people never cook; their refrigerators are completely empty.
The next time I remember Grandpa Horlock was when he came to pick me up where we lived on McKinney with my Grandpa and Grandma Fisher. I was about twelve. But I remember my mother packing my things and ironing my hair ribbons. Navasota is only 75 miles from Houston. We took the nine o’clock train from the Southern Pacific station. It must have been a milk train stopping at every station because it was midnight when we reached Navasota. The only man at the dark station was a lone man with his cab waiting for us. He drove up Washington Street, the main street to the Big House. We went in the side door where a porch light was on. Grandpa Horlock walked behind me up the quiet stairs, carrying my suitcase. I was amazed how nice everything was. The red plush carpet up the stairs made our footsteps silent and made me think how much nicer this was than our bare steps back home. At the top of the stairs at the first bedroom Grandpa knocked quietly. Aunt Gladys in her nightgown opened the door, took me in, and closed the door so the light wouldn’t awaken Uncle Eugene, Little Gladys, my age, and Kathryn three years younger. I slipped into a nightgown and went down the long hall with bedrooms on either side to the bathroom. I later found out that everyone was afraid of the dark hall and kept a chamber pot in their bedrooms to use at night. At last I slipped into a pallet on the floor beside the big bay window glad to have the long, adventurous day come to an end.
Next morning for breakfast we had pancakes and delicious homemade preserves. I enjoyed exploring the house. It was large. The furniture seemed especially nice to me, especially in the two parlors and the dining room which was not used except for company. All meals were served in the very large breakfast room. I loved roaming around the yard. It covered a whole block except at one end of the block was a cottage where Aunt Iscah and her family lived.
In front of the house a large bed of Vincas bloomed. They reminded me of when our cousin Joe Bob (Aunt Effie’s son) came to visit from Conroe, pretended he was a preacher and conducted burial services for our dead dolls in the Vinca bed. Between the house and Aunt Iscah’s was a row of peach trees, all hanging with ripe fragrant fruit ready to be picked and put in homemade ice cream. I remember my Aunt Aggie coming from Chicago where she lived with her husband and son and worked for Marshall Fields ( before Marshall Fields came to Houston and set up companies everywhere) for her vacation and enjoying homemade icecream in a large cereal bowl.
Then I discovered the side yard where the Buick was parked, and the side porch laden down with many huge watermelons, which I learned came from Hemstead, the watermelon center of Texas. Everything here came in large quantities, different from home. It was as if this was a Raggedy Ann place where all good things grew on trees.
Then I discovered the backyard with the vegetable garden laden down with tomato bushes, and the root vegetables, picked and stored safely under the back porch. I was fascinated. I
I followed my Grandma Horlock around the kitchen, asking her how she made angel food cakes, but she only said, “Just watch me.” Of course I couldn’t remember the amounts of sugar and eggs. Her program for the day consisted of phoning downtown for the groceries;preparing a big basket of lunch for Grandpa, so the chauffeur could deliver it to him at noon, and serving the rest of the family a hot lunch. Sometimes if we were going to a party in the afternoon, which happened often, we would come home to find two plates put away for supper for Little Gladys and me. It was always delicious.
In mid afternoon the chauffeur picked up Grandpa at his office in the Cotton Seed Mill. One day I went there and saw the great piles of cotton seed. They were soft and fluffy and made me want to jump in the mass, but no I couldn’t do that; I would have smothered. Grandpa spent the afternoon at home and retired at 7:30 pm. Little Gladys and I loved to go downstairs in the two parlors, play the victrola, put on costumes and dance and put on shows. Some of my aunts came in, and even they would dance. If Uncle Edwin came by, he would play the piano. The family loved music. Grandpa taught me a song. When he sang it to me he had an Irish twang:
As I went out to walk one day thinking of the weather, met a pair of roguish eyes neath a hat and feather. I looked at her; she looked at me, My heart went pit pat
Aand turning around she said to me, “How do you like my hat?” “Oh,” I said, “It’s gay and pretty, too They look so well together Those roguish eyes and jockey hat neath a rooster’s feather Orewah and Orewiy Before I’d time to say goodbye, she was round the corner. I tried that night, but couldn’t sleep so up in bed I sat And right before my eyes they came Those roguish eyes and jockey hat.
“Oh,” I said, “It’s gay and pretty, too; they look so well together, Those roguish eyes and jockey hat neath a rooster’s feather.
Then I remember him at Church on Sunday. He stood up in front of all of the Sunday School. It was a tiny Episcopal Church but lovely. The two sides of the church had stained glass windows of Biblical figures below with Horlock names in memory of people filled in the space. Grandpa led the singing, his voice carrying above the others. Aunt Emma played the organ.
After Sunday School we all drove home in the big car and sat around reading the funnies. Lunch on Sunday had two entrees; roast with Yorkshire pudding at one end of
the long table and fried chicken at the other end. I was amazed at so much food. My favorite was a molded jello salad.
During the afternoon we drove downtown which was only a mile away, waving to everyone we passed in town, then we turned around and waving again as we passed back around. Then Aunt Gladys took us to the drugstore for chocolate sodas or sundaes. During this visit to Navasota, being twelve years, I knew nothing of Grandpa as a business man. The date was 1921. Grandpa was 72 years old. Eight years earlier in 1913, R.A. Horlock bought Navasota Water Works. In 1917 Horlock and Sons sold out to Intermountain Light & Railway. Grandpa was winding down. In 1920 his oldest son, Bobby, moved to Houston with his family, started Southland Ice Co and the Orange Crush Distributorship. In 1926 at age 77 Grandpa Horlock died and ten years later, Grandma died.
I looked upon Grandpa Horlock as a kind, gentle, jolly, smart person. I rationalized that he must have been smart to own such a large house on a block of land in the center of Navasota. But I never associated him as a great business person. I really didn’t know that he had owned eleven businesses. When I stopped to think about it, Grandpa Horlock had to have that many businesses to feed and clothe ten children. I have a picture of Uncle Bobby, the eldest, driving a Packard with six women, his step sisters, a sister and wife, all dressed up wearing hats as large as my five gallon flower pots and dresses with so many yards of silk in them, they must have been expensive.I
In 1992 Horlock House had its 100th birthday. My husband and three children and I went to the birthday celebration, but it didn’t seem as nice as the old house with all its original furniture. However it had been given to the Grimes County Heritage Association by Roy Horlock, son of Uncle Edwin and restored by them and named Horlock History Center. It is now open to the public on certain days. I donated pictures of Grandma and Grandpa Horlock and to decorate the walls, I gave them about fifty of my flower photographs, which were pictures of my flower arrangements from my garden and photographed by my son, Dale.
Grandpa Horlock passed his adventuresomeness, his daring, his courage on to Dale, my son, who today is on his way to explore another space. Dale, his friends Jack, Sam and each friend’s son, are flying to England thence to Bristol to help man a tall sailing ship which will sail to Ireland. My story closes with R. A. Horlock’s great, great grandson standing on deck of a tall sailing ship in the wind looking through binoculars at the gathering of Tall Ships in Bristol’s harbor.