Interesting Things About the 1950 Istrouma Graduates

By the way, I thought I would share with you all a picture below of me (I will be 71 on January 19, 2003) and my older brother Wiley Raborn (who was 78 this past August). This picture was made on East Mason Street in old Monte Sano about 1935-37--I am not sure. Our family moved to Monte Sano in late 1932 or early 1933. The depression was at its height, and Dad wanted to farm to feed the family. With 7 children his work and pay at the old Standard Oil was not enough to feed and clothe his family.   Those were the good old days in many respects--but it also was a time when we had outdoor toilets, took baths in washtubs, Mom stoked the fire under the old wash pot, made her own soap, hung clothes out to dry, and ironed with an old cast iron which she heated by the open fireplace. We slept under "mosquito bars", killed mosquitoes with flit guns and smoke pots (now, who knows what that was???) Answer: Dried cow manure was put in a bucket and set fire (smoldering fire without flames--it made lots and lots of smoke, and Dad or Mom would walk through the house to "smoke it up" and kill mosquitoes)   We all were played in barnyard lots 6+" deep in manure, never wore shoes, and all of us were constantly treated for worms, boils, ground itch, red bugs and poison oak (hey, I don't think I ever heard the word "poison ivy" until I was much older). Mom "wrenched" her dishes, and if she did not plan to do something right away she said she would do it "drectly"--pronounced without an "i". And, all the black kids who were our neighbors ("Yan" , "Jr. Green", "Aunt Jane") were always "feendego" do something or the other. As for example, Yan would say something like --"Jus as soon I throw this rock, I feendego to de sto for a coal drank". And, even until today, the blacks are always "fixing to go"--feendego--and do something or the other). I was young then, but my memories are crystal clear on a lot of my life experiences which occurred years before I started the 1st grade in 1938.

       Nelson and I would love to get stories of your early life--everybody loves a story, and like Stephen Ambrose used to always say, history is the most interesting story of all--and personal histories are the crown jewels of all histories.
                                                                   Robert Lee Raborn

Robert Lee Raborn and his big brother Wiley B. Raborn-"depression boys"
About 1936-7 in old Monte Sano on East Mason Street

Lester Landry's wife, Geri, sent me some information about him that I think would be of interest to the Istrouma group. If you think so, maybe you can pick out some vital points for our web site. I believe he is someone we can all be proud of. Background on this is: I coordinated an event in Lake Charles and heard something about Lester and the hall of fame. So I asked Geri what it was about, and this is what she sent me.Lester was inducted into the McNeese Hall of Fame on September 8, 2001. Played quarterback for McNeese three seasons- 1950-52- He was named Most Valuable Back in 1951 and Most Valuable Player in 1952. Comments in the news release:

He was a talented passer during a period when the pass was not as dominate as it is now. The cowboys ran out of the "T" formation then and he led the team in passing in both 1951 and 1952 and earned such nicknames as "the arm" the "pitching arm" and "lobbing Lester" In 1951 in one game he passed for four touchdowns and ran for a fifth. He was all conference honoree in 1952 and has the record for the longest scoring pass in McNeese history - a 99 yard completion.

After McNeese he had feelers from the Los Angeles Rams but he opted to serve one season as a high school coach at Breaux Bridge then entered the service as a LT. and played ball until an injury halted his career.

He is retired from Olin Corp

He is married to Geri Christ Landry and they have two daughters and four grandchildren.
------

We lived in Utah from 1968 to 1975 and our house was up the side
of a mountain at about the 6000-foot level. The valley was at about 4200
feet so we had a great view of the city lights at night and the great salt
lake looked beautiful at sunset about 20 miles out and we could see it. The
lake looks bad up close though. But the mountains are beautiful. I was
about 15 minutes to Alta Canyon and the Snowbird ski resort where the
Kennedy's kind of made popular in the late 60's. Also, we were about 30
minutes to Park City - an old mining town that will be the sight of the
Olympics (winter) in 2002. When I was there I had a Chinese client from
Hong Kong that was really wealthy and he came to see my twice while I lived
in salt Lake. He liked Park City so much that he bought a very nice Condo
on one of the ski slopes and asked me to take care of it when he was not
there. Turns out he never came back and Billie Jean and I used it until
1975 when we sold it for him when we came back to Houston. Anyway, I think
I am a reincarnated mountain man because, like you and Elsie, I love the
mountains. From Houston you can fly nonstop to Salt Lake and be in the
mountains within 30 minutes after you land so it is actually closer than
Denver time wise since after you land it is about two hours before you are in
the mountains. I recommend it to you.

Hi Robert,

Sorry I cannot be at the "get-together" in February. I am living in Rome,
Georgia, for the next few months. My husband, Wallace, is teaching at
Berry College during the Spring Semester. This is a lovely place in the
hills of northern Georgia, about half way between Atlanta and Chattanooga.
We are enjoying the different terrain and climate for a while. But we look
forward to returning to Baton Rouge and our old address in May. So I hope
I can attend some of the get-togethers then.

Thanks for the Birthday greeting. It happens that mine is on January 23!
I'm younger than you are by a few days. Hope you had a happy birthday
too.

I know you'll have a good time on February 13. Wish I could be there.

Elaine Lamb McKenzie Top of Page

Dear Robert, Thanks for writing and trying to get in touch. I think Doug sent you our new e-mail address but I wanted to say "hi" also. We have moved back to Baton Rouge, Central actually, after living in Fort Bend County, Texas for 11 years and one year in our motorhome. The last two months we've been in Texas working with a ministry called SOWERS (Servants on Wheels Ever Ready) helping build at Christian camps. Plan to leave again this week for another month near Austin. When we get back I'd like to join the group for lunch sometimes. Please let me know when you all will be meeting and any other news.

.
No, we're not missionaries nor is Doug a preacher. We do mostly physical
work- the men build or repair buildings at Christian camps and churches.
SOWERS is inter-denominational and has over 2000 members throughout the US
and Canada. SOWERS work 4 days a week, the men six hours a day and ladies 3
hours. The host camp or church provides hook-ups for our RVs. In our off
hours we have great fellowship with the other couples and go sight-seeing in
the area. We choose where we want to work and Doug and I usually go to
Colorado in the summer and Texas in the winter. The only Louisiana project
is Dry Creek Baptist camp in Dry Creek (near DeRidder). If you know anyone
who has an RV and likes to do volunteer work and see the country, it's a
great ministry. Since moving back we've joined Grace Presbyterian Church on
Joor Road.

Richard attended the February 13 luncheon at Franks Restaurant. He lives in Orlando Florida now. Richard had a wet stroke about two years ago. The doctors had given him up and suggested to the family that they should pull the plug and let him go. For some reason they decided not to do so. The family was told that he would probably remain in a comma for the rest of his life. The doctors decided to operate on him and he remained in a comma for several months. Then he began to wake up. Almost immediately on waking up he began to fight. He would swing his good arm and kick his good leg such that at times he had to be tied down. He was fed through his stomach for months. When he was finally able to eat someone had to feed him. He finally got to where he could be put in a wheel chair. It was about 8 months before he would acknowledge that he could recognize people. After about 18 months the medical people decided that was all that could be done form him. He could barely move his left leg and left arm. He wife decided that they would not quit then after coming so far. She made contact with the Veterans Medical Hospital and found that they had a rehabilitation hospital that performed rehab on some patients. Somehow she got him in. In six months they had him walking and he was sent home. She couldn’t leave him home alone and she didn’t want to put him back in a nursing home so she enrolled him in a day nursing care. She took him in the morning and picked him up in the afternoon. He hated this. He called it a kiddies keep and raised so much hell about going that she had to do something else. Somehow she found a nurse to come in the morning and leave after noon. The nurse cooks his breakfast, baths him, and cooks his lunch. He calls her his guard. From the time his nurse leaves until his wife returns from work he has an electronic box that he wears around his neck that he can use in case of emergency. The stroke has affected Richard’s reading ability. He cannot even recognize the channel numbers on a television set. When his nurse leaves in the afternoon she turns the history channel on and he watches that the rest of the afternoon. He says that Hitler has died 300 times in the last 6 months. He walks to his mail box about 22 times a day to get his exercise. The mailbox is about 50 feet from his apartment. He has nuts and bolts that he is constantly working with to try to get his left arm to working. I tell him that the muscles in his right arm and mouth are very strong since he has gained 50 lbs since getting out of the Veteran’s hospital. Reading was one of his hobbies and now he can’t read at all. He is going to try having someone read to him and point out the words as they read. May be he can learn to read again. His mind is as sharp as ever. Before the stroke his hobby was reading history and he seems to remember everything he has read. I enjoy reading history and we discussed many of the things that I had read. He brought up many happenings in history that I had forgotten about. He is the most determined human being I have ever known.

Richard’s brother, Marion Wallace, had the same type of wet stroke last May. He didn’t make it.

Robert, I know just how you felt when you looked at our old school
building.    A few years ago when my oldest grandson was attending the
magnet school there in 8th grade, I went on parents' day and attended
afternoon classes with him as his Dad could only be there for morning
classes and his Mom couldn't be there at all.   I was overwhelmed by the
fences, security guards walking around, deterioration, etc. and tears
flowed, I can tell you.    One of the students in the office asked if I
was alright.   I said, "No, I am not.   I am remembering the school as it
once was, when I attended, and how fortunate we were then." What a
change has been wrought.   And the sad thing is, it appears that the
situation is not going to get any better.   Thanks for the pictures.
Ouida

Nettie Jean married Pete McCulley her high school sweetheart. She retired in 1999 from Escambia County Public Schools in Pensacola FL after 30 years as a Library Media Specialist. Nettie worked in Texas, Maryland, Califronia, New York, Kansas and then to Pensacola. She has a Bachelor's degree from Baylor University and a Masters from George Washington University.

Nettie Jean was on the planning team which opened Jim C. Bailey Middle School and was the Media Specialist responsible for establishing the excellent Media Center.

She has been named Media Specialist Emerita at the Bailey Middle School in Pensacola FL.

George Blankenship

Robert, I would like Miss Annie's address, and if you could send it, I would
appreciate very much. She lived on Prescott, so did I. I would pick her
up on the way to school, when my old Plymouth was running. You know she
usually walked to Istrouma before she had a car. ----On registration day for
1948, I was picking my subjects/teachers etc. She asked if I had a
preference for English teacher, I said the only one not to get was Miss
Annie Stewart, but that it didn't matter to me who I had---Guess who my
teacher turned out to be---we had a nice grin together that first day. I
liked her. (she had a part in a play on stage and was very funny-I don't
remember the name of the play)
George B.
Top of Page

And, in spite of the wonderful times we all have with families and friends at Christmas times, I seem more cognizant now than ever before that some people really don’t have as much as we do. Additionally, some people that are physically and financially well off have made gigantic personal sacrifices that inure directly to our benefit. In fact, the whole story of Christmas is about the beginning of life here on earth for a man who was destined to eventually give his life for all of mankind.

“For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life” John 3:16

So, how much do you know about your fellow classmates, and what trials and tribulations, sadness and losses, they might have suffered—and how much resulted in personal gains to you and your family. I have been fortunate in having people send me personal stories affecting them and their families. Let me share with you a few thoughts that have anchored themselves in my heart and soul, and a few things that have happened to other people that inured directly to my—and to your-- benefit.

First, I have deep and thankful respect for the veterans that have given up years of their lives to defend our country. And I become emotional when I think of personal acquaintances that have given their lives so you and I may live in peace with our families, and be able to enjoy in peace holidays like Christmas. But, have you ever thought of the pain and suffering families went through when the news arrived that a husband, son, or brother has been killed on the field of battle—the ultimate sacrifice, and all for you and me. Let me share with you of a few instances.

During World War 2, both Larry McKee and Ouida Zeigler Hamilton lost a brother in battle.

Larry’s brother, Raymond McKee, was a tailgunner and died when his bomber, a “Billy Mitchell” B-25, was shot down during a bombing raid over Germany in 1944. He went down with his plane, his body finally recovered, and he is buried in the National Military Cemetery on Florida Blvd here in Baton Rouge. Larry was only 12 years old at the time his brother was killed, and in the 5^th grade. The family was notified that Raymond was missing in action, then one year later they were notified that his death had been confirmed. Raymond’s wife became pregnant prior to his shipment overseas, and his son, Raymond, Jr. was born after his death. Raymond Jr. lives here in Baton Rouge.

The McKee family did indeed make the supreme sacrifice for you and me, and for that I am forever thankful. Don’t ever forget, Raymond McKee died for you and me, and our families of today and ever after -- and all of those who live in America as long as it remains a sovereign country in the centuries to come.

Ouida Zeigler Hamilton was just a young girl just 12 years old when the Battle of the Bulge started during Christmas of 1944. Her older brother, Bert Zeigler,was with the U.S. Army near Luxembourg when Hitler launched the attack. Bert was killed in the battle. Here is Ouida’s own words describing her memories of the days when the family got the word of Bert’s death.

Robert, you may have received this before, but I know you will appreciate it. One of my brothers was killed on January 7, 1945, in the Battle of the Bulge. After we had gotten the dreadful telegram, I had gone to the mailbox, which was a good distance from our house (we lived in the country outside of McComb, MS), and there was a letter from Bert. As it was postmarked January 12 I thought a mistake had been made in our being told he was dead, so I ran all the way home to tell Mama the good news. (I was twelve years old.) How hard it was for her to read that letter. We actually did live for a long time with the hope that a mistake had indeed been made, as did so many other families. And there were some death messages delivered in error. No, freedom is not free. Ouida

The Zeigler family did indeed make the supreme sacrifice for you and me, and for that I am and will be forever thankful. Don’t ever forget, Bert Zeigler died for you and me, and our families today and ever after -- and all of those who ever live in America as long as it remains a sovereign country in the centuries to come.

Patsy Thornhill’s brother, M.E. Thornhill, was killed July 7, 1952, during the Korean War. M.E. and I were only a month apart in age, and were friends all of our lives. I was born in the same house on Kelvin Street where the Thornhills later moved. My LST had just landed Seabeas about 30 days earlier on Yo Do Island in Wonson harbor, North Korea on June 6, 1952—about 75 miles behind enemy lines. I was devastated when I later learned that we were so close to each other when he was killed. M.E. was a marine, and had just celebrated his 20th birthday in February of 1952. The Thornhill family was a good family, loved by all their friends and neighbors. Patsy, M.E., and I have been friends since the 1^st grade at Hollywood Jr. High School. Can you even begin to imagine the indescribable pain and sorry that fell on the Thornhill family when word arrived of M.E.’s death—a death for our benefit and all the people of this country.

The Thornhill family did indeed make the supreme sacrifice for you and me, and for that I am and will be forever thankful. Don’t ever forget, M.E. Thornhill died for you and me, and our families today and ever after -- and all of those who ever live in America as long as it remains a sovereign country in the centuries to come.

Willie Nall and Gary Littlefield were classmates at Hollywood Jr. High School. Both were killed in Korea, and their families lost a loved one and experienced that unbelievable sorrow that follows such a loss. Neither attended Istrouma, but the sacrifices of their lives were for the direct benefit of me, and you, and all those who live in America. Thanks to the Nall and Littlefield families for their sacrifices on behalf of me and my family, and yours, too.

Gene Hogeman, another one of our classmates, died in a C-47 plane crash near Saigon, South Vietnam, in November, 1966—37 years ago, and during the Vietnam War. He was among 27 servicemen who died in the crash. Gene was 34 years old when he was killed, and had graduated from LSU. Gene was married to another of our classmates, Carolyn Thomas. Gene had been in the air force 11 years and was a target intelligence officer for the 388^th Tactical Fighter Wing stationed at Korat Royal Thai, Thailand, and was on a routine flight when the plane crashed. Gene was a fine guy, and everybody liked him. I served on the local draft board during the Vietnam War and saw many, many young men go fight a war, which our useless politicians were committed to losing—regardless of the number of American lives lost to the enemy.

The Hogeman family did indeed make the supreme sacrifice for you and me, and for that I am and will be forever thankful. Don’t ever forget, Gene Hogeman died for you and me, and our families today and ever after -- and all of those who ever live in America as long as it remains a sovereign country in the centuries to come.

A beautiful remembrance of Elaine Dykes

We all remember Lillian Elaine Dykes (she was known to us as “Elaine”) as one of the sweetest and prettiest girls in our class. She is pictured in the War Whoop with the girls basketball team. Elaine was endowed with so much energy. I remember as if it was yesterday when we were in the 2^nd grade at Hollywood School and Elaine and her older sister, “Bobbie”, both wore cute little white boots to school, and they could outrun all the boys in the class. They lived on the north side of Hollywood Drive near Plank Road, and we all referred to the pasture behind their house as “Dykes’ pasture”. Elaine was always a very smart girl, and all the teachers respected her as well as her classmates. I always thought it was a big event for her to tell me “hi” if we passed in the hallway.

One of the saddest events in the chronicles of our class history is Elaine’s death in Vienna, Austria, on January 4, 1960, during childbirth. She will have been deceased 44 years on January 4, 2004. Elaine is buried at Greenoaks Cemetery. The story of Elaine’s short life, and her tragic death, will touch your heart. Her sister Bobbie (now Sunnye Dykes Jones) prepared the following article for our newsletter.

Lillian Elaine Dykes was born July 12, 1932. Her parents were Jerdy and Nanie Mae Dykes of Baton Rouge, Louisiana. She attended Hollywood Elementary, North Highland Junior High, and Istrouma High Schools in Baton Rouge, Louisiana.

After her graduation from High School, she entered the school of Nursing at Louisiana College in the fall of 1949. The school of nursing at Louisiana College closed in 1950, and she transferred to Northwestern State in that year. She completed her clinical training at Confederate Memorial Hospital in Shreveport from where she graduated 1951 with her RN.

After graduation she married Ronald Ralph Roberts at North Highland Baptist Church. Early in their marriage Ralph decided to enter LSU to study music. While in college two sons were born. Their names are Ronald and David Roberts.

Ralph graduated from LSU and he was encouraged to purse a career in opera. He was invited to study in Europe. Elaine and their two sons accompanied Ralph to Europe. While in Europe Elaine became pregnant with their third child. Ralph was singing an opera in Germany when Elaine entered SANATORIUM HERA in Vienna, Austria where they were living. Following a seemingly normal delivery, Elaine began hemorrhaging from every possible area of her body. After numerous blood transfusions all hopes of saving her life were exhausted. Her physical life ended January 4, 1960.

Memorial services were conduced in mid January. Her body could not be placed in a traditional casket. When her husband and father met her plane in New Orleans they were confronted with a wooden structure that covered an iron container in which her body was sealed. A friend of Sunnye Jones covered this enclosure with pink satin and covered the satin with hundred of sweetheart roses. Welsh Funeral Home handled the arrangements. Visitation was at the funeral home with memorial services at North Highland Baptist Church.

Elaine was survived by her husband Ralph Roberts, three sons: Ronald, David, and Layne Dykes Roberts; her parents Jerdy and Nannie Dykes; and two sisters, Sunnye (Bobbie) Dykes Jones, and Sally Dykes Vicellio. Internment was in Green Oaks Memorial Park.

Because of international law, Layne could not come to the Untied States until he was a month old. Elaine’s mother went to Austria to bring him to Louisiana. She was able to visit with the doctors and nurses who had cared for Elaine in the hospital. She assured all of us that they had given excellent attention to Elaine.

Thanks, Bobbie, for a beautiful reminder of our beautiful and lovely friend and classmate, your sister and our dear classmate, Lillian Elaine Dykes.

THERE HAVE ALWAYS BEEN PLACES - FAVORITE PLACES. I think first of all of the house in which I grew up. My nest. My haven - port in a storm. My safe place where I was watched over, maybe sometimes a little too much. It wasn't much to look at. Essentially four rooms and a bath with two count them, 1,2 doors. The locks were unreliable and I could relate times when relatives stopping by for no other reason other than to use the convenient facilities would walk in on me in some private bathroom activity and laugh. I wanted to brick them up side the head.

I'll never forget the address - 3711 Pontiac St. White at this end and black at the other. Two blocks from the chainlink fence that separated the Standard Oil Co. of New Jersey at Baton Rough from the world around it. It is where my tree, as in TREETOPVIEWS, was on the corner. I looked it up on Google Earth and that tree is still there. My breath caught in my throat for a moment when I saw that for the first time and then backed off to reveal the whole area and all that favorite era invaded my mind.

It is hard to make such a simple and transient place in memory such an important part of one's life but there it is. It's all gone now. Vacant lots. Elevated four lane cutting through the neighborhood as though the place where people were born and died didn't matter. Well, maybe it doesn't, except to the interested. I am certain that as we drive along some elevated Interstate through some town we are passing over someone's childhood playground or birthplace. Progress.