My Big Brother BLEW UP the Barksdale Post Office

Well, not really, but for the two little ladies working in the post office, it must have seemed that way.


You may remember that in a previous post about digging holes in the Nueces Canyon of Texas, I mentioned that I would tell you the true story about my big brother Norvell, septic tanks and dynamite.  It's important that you remember this is a true story - now it may be embellished just a little bit, but since Norvell's not able to correct anything from his new digs at Ft Leavenworth, KS (wow, that could be the subject of a whole 'nother blog - but another time), I'll go ahead in my own words.

Likely due to our Father Si's doing, Norvell had the job one hot Summer of digging a septic tank (it might have been an underground gasoline storage tank - but a septic tank adds more "flavor" to the story so I'm sticking with that) at my Uncle Harlan's gas station in the beautiful city of Barksdale, Texas.

Yep!  Pretty Much What It's Like!

My previous post attempted to describe the typical digging conditions in that part of the State, and this photograph, while not taken in Barksdale, illustrates the thin topsoil layer which (barely) covers the hard limestone layer in many parts of central and southwestern Texas, which, for all I know, goes down to China. 

Now Norvell being the smart one of the family, (I freely admit it - he definitely got all the brains - that's OK though, cause I got all the good looks and Mother liked ME more),  knew that a hole this size wasn't going to happen anytime quickly using the normal tools of the trade, even though he had Babe Taylor helping him!

You see Norvell and Babe had already spent some time using the tried and true method of crowbar and Folgers can, taking turns chipping out the hard rock and using the coffee can to dig out the fragments which look like so many broken teeth.

Norvell decided that there was a better, more efficient way of getting this done, and so it was off to the Alamo Lumber Yard in Camp Wood where everyone trooped directly out to the dynamite shed and loaded up on dynamite, caps and fuse.  This was back in the 1960's, so pretty much anyone could buy dynamite and other incendary and explosive devices without much thought, regulation, or training.

Like I said, Norvell was smart, but he was also safety-conscious! (I've always admired that in him). He knew there might be some degree of risk in this new, improved method, so after he packed a 1/4 stick of dynamite into the hole Babe had chipped into the Limestone and lit the fuse, he and Babe hustled to get behind Uncle Harlan's propane tank where they hunkered down and waited for the blast.

"Fire in the Hole" Norvell yelled.  (That's the rule - you have to yell that before blowing something up!)

A satisfying THUUUUUMP!! announced the shot, and peering from just over the propane tank, Norvell watched as the ground expanded, then collapsed back with a fair amount of dust kicked into the air.  Now, both he and Babe could get their cans and begin to scoop out the fractured limestone.  Progress!

After a couple more 1/4 stick shots, and more progress, Norvell decided that this was still taking too long.  Even with dynamite, the hole simply wasn't going down as fast as he liked.  So, like any good powder monkey, Norvell decided to up the ante!

At this point, I need to set the scene just a little.  You are likely already visualizing Uncle Harlan's gas station, the propane tank and the limestone rock which was being piled up around the Mesquite tree.  What I have neglected to tell you was that the Barksdale Post Office was right next door to the hole.

In those days, the Post Office was a small, white wooden frame building with a tin roof, where two sweet little old ladies (who to Norvell and me, personified the definition of "Ancient" but were probably younger than I am now), worked.  Remember this was back in the 60's, so it didn't have air conditioning, or maybe a swamp cooler, and they probably kept the windows open for what little breeze they could get in the summertime, but the screens shut to keep the dirt daubers from building nests in the post office boxes.  Not much between the tin roof and their work space but the rafters, dauber nests, and maybe a light bulb or two.

So up the ante he did.  Norvell decided that if 1/4 stick was OK, then a full stick would be even better!  Babe dutifully drilled the hole, and Norvell carefully placed the full stick into the hole, packed it down, lit the fuse, and he and Babe scampered back behind the propane tank to watch! (Yep - always the safety guy.) 

When the dynamite went off this time, it went off this time with an incredible
KERRR-WHOOOOOMMMMMPPPPP!!!!!

Norvell says at that point, from his safe perch behind the propane tank, time didn't stop, but it sure went into serious slow motion!

An incredibly large, precise cone of limestone lifted slowly and majestically from the hole , then slowly and majestically floated up, up, up up into the beautifully blue Barksdale sky.  The cone paused, as if to admire the view of the Barksdale crossing on the Nueces River from up there, then just as slowly and majestically, began to rotate so that the truncated portion of the cone was oriented like the Apollo space capsule placing it's heat shield forward for re-entry, then started it's inevitable descent.

Even in slow motion, Norvell's nimble mind quickly determined that the re-entry trajectory was going to bring that massive cone of limestone smack dab right down on the roof of the Post Office. No doubt about it.  And so it did.

Time suddenly returned to normal and rocks, noise, dust and mahem rained down on the tin roof of the Post Office for what seemed like a decade to Norvell, and likely a century to the sweet little postal ladies inside.  The noise outside, even from the safety of the propane tank was deafening; imagine what it was like under the tin roof.

Norvell knew that the little old ladies were inside, and from his perch, he and Babe hung on to the tank lifting rings and waited for signs of life.  Finally the rocks stopped falling, the dust began to clear, and to his immense relief, two little old ladies could be seen, arms around each others shoulders, stumbling out the front door of the post office, blinking at the blinding light and lingering dust, and wondering what on Earth had just happened.

Norvell never did tell me what happened after that.  I like to think that he and Babe hid behind the propane tank until dark, then went home.  But I'll bet he never went by the Barksdale Post Office ever again, even to mail a postcard to Bonnie Sue!