The Scream Heard ‘Round The Neighborhood

It was the summer of 1964.  My parents were out of town on a weekend trip to Fort Worth to visit relatives.  This would be the my first time being left alone. After all, I was fifteen years old and also had a driver’s license, a car, and I could cook.  I had displayed confidence and responsibility.  So it was a safe bet that I would probably be fine.  If I did have a problem my sister and brother in law lived a few blocks to the east on Sixteenth Street.  I could always call them if I got in a tight.

To be perfectly clear, I am not admitting to guilt with this writing.  I am simply explaining what could have been a slight possibility but absolutely NO ADMISSION OF GUILT.

I purchased a VOX Super Beatle Amplifier a few months earlier.   I had seen an ad in Teen Magazine listing this fine amp for sale located in Los Angeles, CA.  The retail value at the time was $1260.00.  I had actually only seen one in person in a music store in Abilene.  The “Beatle” amp was properly named after “The Beatles” and was a fine amp that boasted a hundred watts of horsepower.  And at this current time in my life I was all about horsepower.

A rock band from Los Angeles called The Music Machine had previously owned all of the equipment in the listing.  Their record label now owned the equipment and it was all being sold.  The price for the amp was $630.00,that half price! I had to have this amp and furthermore I needed it.  If it was good enough for The Beatles and The Music Machine then it was certainly good enough for me. 

I had a few cows of which I had been saving the proceeds from the sale of my calves, and the funds were ear marked for college.  I had three years to replenish the withdrawal along with my extra income from all of the extra dollars owning this fine amp would bring my way.  I had no worries.  It was going to be a sure thing.

Although the statue of limitations on this incident has run its course, I am still not admitting guilt.  So, according to the neighbors this is what allegedly occurred. 

I was staying alone with my parents out of town.  My bedroom was my sister old room.  It was located facing north on Fifteenth Street on the northeast corner of the house.  Our front door also faced north and was between the living room and my bedroom.  

It was a still Saturday night a few hours after the regular neighborhood bedtime.  There came a blood curdling scream that lasted close to a minute that could be heard all over our part of town.  The screams cried for help over and over and then followed by complete silence.  First one neighbor’s porch light came on followed by just about every porch light on Fifteenth Street and Waco Street.  I must have slept through the whole ordeal because I do not recall anything.

The police obviously were called to investigate.

During the following day there was many stories that circulated throughout the neighborhood.  Everything from a man running through someone’s backyard, an unexplained open alley gate, a window that was tampered with, late night door bell ringing, and even a car speeding away from the neighborhood.

It remained a mystery for months and to make matters worse nothing was ever discovered.  Case closed.

Several months later my parents made another weekend trip to visit relatives.  Again I was left alone and unbeknownst to me it would be the last time I would be left alone.  Everything had gone very well before when my parents left town so they had no problem leaving me alone again.  I had proven to be responsible.

It was late fall and the nights were cool so a light jacket was in order and certainly a robe was required for someone to go outside in the middle of the night or early morning if they were only wearing their pajamas.

Our neighborhood was the perfect neighborhood and I knew everyone.  Some of the kids were older, but we all played together.  We had a wonderful time.  On Fifteenth Street were the Wittens, the Majors, and the Dulins.  On Waco Street north of us were the Warrens, the Nobles, the Mahons, and then the Trulocks.  South on Waco Street was Dr. Majors, who by the way played steel guitar, the Kendricks, the Fosters, and the Pilands.  

This particular quiet, nippy late fall night came another ear shattering, screaming cry for help for at least a minute.  According to some of our neighbors it was just awful.  It sounded as though someone was being murdered.

I am just repeating what I heard but I did not actually hear any thing.  Again, the porch lights in the neighborhood came on one by one.  

According to Pete Warren, the way my father later explained to me, and you would have thought Pete was actually in my room with me watching every move I made this particular night.

My statement to the policeman, who happened to be Truman Henderson, was short.  I said “Sir, I was asleep in my bed and did not hear anything, Sir.” 

Someone was yelling and ringing the door bell and beating on the front door.  Someone was also beating on one of my bedroom windows.  “Open this door we know you’re in there.  Open this door Jay Boy, you little bastard! I know Polly and Jay are out of town and I know you have that loud speaker!  Jay is going to bust your little ass when he hears about this!”

I did recognize the voice. It was Pete Warren.  I turned on the porch light and opened the door. There stood Pete along with some of the other neighborhood dads.  Pete was wearing his lime green ban lon pajamas and robe.  He was also wearing a pair of house shoes just like the ones my own Dad wore.  Pete was accompanied by Ray Noble, Mr. Dulin, Buzz Majors, and Dr. Majors. They were all in there pajamas, robes, and house slippers, and they had policeman Truman Henderson with them.  They were all armed with flashlights except for Officer Henderson and of course he was in full uniform with his flashlight and his gun!

Of course being sound asleep when all of the window knocking and doorbell ringing stared, I opened the front door, rubbing my eyes and yawning, and asked what was going on.

To continue with Pete’s account:  He alleges that sometime in the night I opened the front door, rolled my Super Beadle Amp in the door way, plugged in my microphone, turned the volume up as loud as it would go, and then, and then, started screaming as loud as I could for help and appearing to eventually be tortured and then murdered.

Then I apparently rolled the Super Beadle Amp out of the doorway, closed the door, put the amp back in place in the living room and then jumped back in bed and waited for the action to start.

All of this theory of Pete’s is possible and furthermore it could have happened exactly the way he explained it to my father, and he could possibly be correct but I do not remember.  

There is one thing however that I can remember and will never forget and that is the sight of all of these men in their pajamas, robes, and house shoes with their flash lights and all fit to be tied!

Side note:  All of the men mentioned in this tale were hard working family men who were respected members of our community.  I still to this day carry an insurance card in my money clip for traveler’s accident coverage sold to me by Pete Warren.  I have a watch from Buzz Majors jewelry store, and I think of Ray Noble often when I pump my own gas. I spent many hours in the living room of the Dulin’s home being tutored English by Mrs. Dulin who by the way was one of my favorite teachers.  I cannot eat a salted peanut without remembering Mr. Kendrick who was the Tom’s Toasted Peanut man, and I will never forget Eddie Piland and G.D. Foster.