South Belt Houston Digital History Archive: March 2014

In the early days if your family lived on the south east side of Houston and they wanted you to go to kindergarten close by, the go-to choice was Easthaven Baptist School.

Just up the Gulf Freeway one exit, at Edgebrook, it offered half day kindergarten for scads of early South Belt residents before they entered elementary school. The photo above was posted on the FB Easthaven Alumni page. It's a class of kindergarten students from 1961.

Since the Herman Head building (the oldest) was dedicated in 1959, I'm guessing this is one of the first groups the school had.

(Next 8 photos are from the Easthaven Alumni page)

The Chapel

The cafeteria, in later days

these stairs in the old building by the chapel show up in my dreams

between the cafeteria building and the kindergarten building

the gym: home to the annual dreaded Square Dancing Unit and merciless dodgeball, among other activities

Fast forward 15 years from that early class photo, and Easthaven was still putting on the annual Thanksgiving play when I was the first grader. We didn't have any cowboys or soldiers by that time, though. You were either a pilgrim or an indian.

The funny thing is, I can name more than half of these kids' names, even now . Top row from left I can spot Stephanie, Keir, Robert, Bob, Shiela, ?, Jason, and Me. Middle is Mary far left and Peter in the center (I always had a crush on Peter. He was groovy.) And front row, there's Sandy, ? Chantelle, ?, ?, Pricilla, and Shannon. Most of these kids I only had class with a few times. How does that happen?

Okay, everybody was a pilgrim or an indian, unless you were Chris.

And there's Mrs. Head on the piano, our endlessly patient music teacher

And, when I think back to my days at Easthaven, from kindergarten through the sixth grade, substantially longer than most kids attended, I am struck by how our years revolved around school plays. We seemingly had them for everything!

First grade Easter show, with Mrs. Tulloch (and Peter is right behind moi)

We also had Mrs. Dora Guerra, our Spanish teacher who came in once a week for lessons.

We had a big show for the Bicentennial, too:

And by the 4th grade, we were just having them for the heck of it.
It was "Free to Be You and Me" the musical.

These became pretty elaborate spectacles. Above is Mrs. Rhodes and Mrs. Head, music teachers, and my fifth grade teacher, Mrs. Upshaw, far right. (That's me as a firefly!) Note all the costumes.

My last year, for the Christmas program, we did the Grady Nutt (he of Hee-Haw fame) Parable of the Christmas Story, complete with talking camels. Man, I wanted that male camel part. I got stuck in the angel chorus. Hmph. I was a grumpy angel.

My very last semester the new worship building was finally finished, and we debuted The Grady Nutt Parable: Daniel and the Lion's Den

(I was Daniel as well a the narrator. The music program was gender-bending way ahead of its time in 1982.)

The dancing lions were the scene stealers, though.

There were plenty of other memories to go around, besides the show numbers, but those productions seem to mark off the years in ways nothing else did.

About three years ago, recovering from surgery, I wrote this long post about Easthaven on my personal blog where there a quite a few more pictures included. I don't think I realized then how many people from my neighborhood had attended Easthaven, at least for kindergarten, when I wrote that post.

Since then, this is the only photo I've come across so far with an infamous Easthaven bus. Of course, it's in black and white, so you don't get the full effect of whatever custom color it was painted. These ranged from your basic tan to baby blue to light green to vaguely pinkish red. The insides were fitted with four wooden benches running the length of the van and comfortable size for no one over the age of five.

And since then, sadly, Mrs. Mary Miles has passed on. Mrs. Miles was a mainstay at Easthaven. She taught there for decades before becoming principal. She was my toughest teacher, not putting up with any nonsense, but also with that twinkle in her eye that let you know she wasn't beyond a little mischief in the right doses at the right times. According to her obituary, she served 45 years, easily enough time to see one generation grow up to raise another. For you, Mrs. M..

(Of all the class photos shared on the Easthaven site, guess who pops up the most?)

Almeda Mall.

It seems a bit strange to write a love letter to a shopping mall, I'll admit.

But she's like your great aunt whom you remember so fondly from your childhood, dressed to the nines, in her gleaming, gorgeous home, with her cookie jar flowing with fresh sweets, and her sparkling house so modern and fine, with all the amenities you wish you had at your own house, as you gaze upwards through her sunshiny windows or sit and play on her cobbled tile floors. Getting to go see her meant it was a special day. And all your cousins (and in this fantasy, you have a bunch who all get along) would be there with you, playing in the yard and teasing one another and feasting on the great dinners with corn on the cob and tomatoes fresh from her garden, and a chicken from the hen house.

And now, when you try to go back, just to get a whiff of those days gone by?

Your great aunt has gone off the deep end and owns sixty cats and pulls a shotgun on you as you pull into her driveway. The yard is overrun with weeds, her roof is caving in, and you're slightly frightened that she'll be featured on an episode of Hoarders before long.

But it wasn't always like this. You can't bring anyone with you who wasn't there in your childhood. They'd never believe you. But your cousins remember.

Almeda Mall was constructed in 1968, but the Foley's had arrived two years earlier, in the spring of 1966, with her spaceship themed elevator and giant Aztec sun gazing down in glorious 60s splendor on the shoppers riding the escalator.

The outside of the building was brick with ten two-storied peacock-blue awnings on each side -- remembered by children as sleeping giant eyelids or elephants toes, depending on who you talk to.

The handles of the doors were done in a decorative brass "f". The Foley's font was all lowercase, with a flower in place of the apostrophe. That flower, according to the Foley's press releases, was an Azalea, chosen as the flower of Almeda, with special azalea bushes groomed to bloom "on command" the week of the grand opening. Mayor Louis Welch cut the ribbon at the grand opening from a string of azaleas, as well.

Click here to see more 1965 - 1966 details of Foley's at Almeda Genoa photos and info

If you reminiscence about Almeda Mall, you have to start with Foley's. It's the living room of the place.

This article from the 1967 Chronicle morgue files calls the Almeda store "A Store on the Prairie":

Because of the wide open spaces, Foley's was betting not on the immediate success of the store but on developments that would take place 10 years from today when the housing patterns change. Today, Almeda sits out in the middle of the wilderness, all alone by itself. But next year, the 65 acre site will be a completely covered air-conditioned mall with a major J.C. Penney store for a neighbor and about 80 other stores for company.

Where does Almeda draw from today? From the NASA Space Center, from Galveston and from the surrounding areas connected by freeways which are gradually building up. . . . Already, though it is less than a year old, the Almeda-Genoa store is running ahead of the Sharpstown store's first year of sales, despite the absence of any housing in the area.

(I'm not quite sure where the writer was getting his information, since there was housing along Almeda-Genoa already and houses in Kirmont and Sagemont already underway and going up fast in 1967.)

Click here to view more photos from Foley's Groundbreaking and Grand Opening

The children's shoe department featured a pirate ship built along its back wall, with carpet-covered stairs and deck, wide banisters, and two little cannons peeking out of the portholes. It had a big sail with a red cross on it and the bow and stern were raised areas that let a little kid feel amazingly tall, gazing out over the sea of shoe shoppers and across the aisle, to the land of enchantment, the toy department.

The first found photo of the Foley's Shoe Ship, taken for the first volume of the Dobie Yearbook 1969

Click here for the Shoe Ship Photos uncovered from the Bob Bailey holdings at the University of Texas Briscoe Center

found via Google Image search in 2009: Foley's Toy Department

Upstairs was the Terrace restaurant, a dining room on the left, the lunch counter on the right, and the gift wrapping department, and the huge layouts of the finest in 60s furnishings, turntables, and one wall of entirely televisions, some in color!

This was the age of the department store, with its attempt to offer the shopper everything they needed under a single roof. You could buy guns and ammo as well as furs and candy and tickets to games and events. You could get your hair did while they fixed your watch, schedule a carpet and drapery cleaning, or just shop for new ones. You could plan a trip with a travel agent or get your family's photo taken at the studio upstairs. There was a stationery store, because people actually wrote letters to one another on a regular basis, and records, and books, because people actually read, too.

Click to here to read more about Foley's on what would have been its 50th anniversary

When the rest of the mall opened in 1968, it was an architectural marvel. "Anyone who thinks there is nothing new under the sun should come out here and see this beautiful mall," said Rep. Casey at the formal opening ceremonies. (Thursday, October 10, 1968)

Click here for many more photos and information from the University of Houston Foley's Archives that I visited two year after this post you are currently reading.

"completely air conditioned with temperatures maintained at 72 degrees the year 'round."

I purchased the print of this negative in the Houston Post holdings from the Texas Room at HPL last month. It was taken in 1969 from the center court looking down to the Penney's. The Sampieri's sign is just out of sight on the right. The Singer Sewing Machine store, Lerner Shops, and Woolworths run down the rest of the right side in the photo. Hardy Shoes' sign is just visible by the last two letters in the foreground at left. Le Petit Restaurant is visible with their striped window coverings, and I believe Kinney Shoes might already be in place after Le Petit.

Click here for the full set of 1969 Photos taken by the Houston Post, purchased from the Houston Public Library's holding.

The other print I ordered was of the other side of the center courtyard, from Christmas 1976, looking the opposite direction, with Penney's behind the photographer. The Leopold, Price, and Rolle Windows are on display at right. You can also make out the Baskin Robbins striped sign in the far back, left. The center fountain with pineapple top is behind the Nut Hut.

Click here to view the full set of 1976 Almeda Mall Christmas photos purchased from the Houston Public Library's holdings.

That pineapple fountain was the home to endless pennies and little kids falling in,

as well as a popular place for yearbook photos. (Although, to be fair, lots of places in the mall show up in the Dobie yearbooks.)

Click here for many more Almeda Mall photos from Houston area yearbooks.

Click here for exclusively Dobie Yearbook Almeda Mall photos

Almeda was, in many respects, the town center of our neighborhood. We didn't have a square other than this one, and even if we did, nine months out of the year no one would want to be outdoors in it. Almeda was air-conditioned and out of the endless Houston rains and sauna heat. It marked off the seasons, with decorations galore and new fashions in every window.

On your birthday, if you were lucky, you'd get your birthday party at Farrell's Ice Cream Parlor, where you'd all wear straw hats and they'd beat the drum and make a huge deal out of making your stand up on the chair while everyone sang to you and you got the gigantic vat of ice cream to share with all of your friends.

Click here for Farrell's Photos

The Doctor's Pet Store was just down from Farrell's and out front, for a good while, there were large animals you could climb on. I remember they were painted in bright yellow and orange and green and blue. If memory serves, there was a lion, a hippo, and a couple of other wild animals waiting to be ridden. What I'd give to see a photograph of those again.

Click here for photos of the play space and those animals

In the same wing was the Gold Mine Arcade, once you got tall enough to see over the controls.

And the Pipe Pub, with their amazing smells wafting out into the mall,

next to the piano store, complete with life-size Liberace standee.

Battlesteins was the large store across from Liberace and the Pipe Pub at first, and then Bealls moved in and took over the space. Foley's sat at the end of that section, with the rounded glass ceilings letting in the sunlight or the dreary gray light through the clouds.

On the October day I popped in in 2009 to see what was still recognizable, it was sunny with a side of ghost.

It was the place, when you were a pre-teen, that you would mark that amazing coming-of-age moment when your parents dropped you off with your friends, unsupervised, for hours. It was where you could go when you were a broke student on date night and window shop and hold hands and steal kisses in the out of the way corners of the mall. It was record stores with giant center tables of endless vinyl records, and the wall stock changing from 8-tracks to cassettes to CDs. The teenagers' hairstyles changed even faster than that.

In the center at the Pineapple fountain, heading towards Penney's, the Food Court was on your right and Palais Royal on your left, with an appliance store with huge windows that once occupied space on the main drag beside Palais Royale. At the opposite corner, Wicks and Sticks competed with cookie smells for your attention. At the end of the food court wing was, and still is, the Picadilly Cafeteria, with its brass ape statues (now gone) sitting out front in which you could extinguish your cigarette before dining.

Click here for photos of Piccadilly at its Grand Opening

Click here for Piccadilly's closing June 2014

Across from the Picadilly was the El Chico, before that known as The Saloon.

(Ad from 1976 Leader)

Kay Johnson Jackon posted this picture from the Chuck Wagon Restaurant (pre-dated Farrell's in that spot in the mall) on the Almeda Mall '68-'88 Facebook page.

And her photo from inside La Petit, also 1970

At each entrance, the interlocking A symbol was stationed on large banners.

(from the Leader files)

And the marquee on the Gulf Freeway sported the same logo. (Blue Foley's awnings visible in back.)

(From the 1977 Dobie yearbook)

What none of these pictures or words completely convey was the sense of community the place provided for a neighborhood that was first seemingly "on the prairie" and then, in very short order, swallowed up by the insanely fast outgrowth of Houston. For those first two decades, the people who built first houses and raised families were a mixture of blue and white collar worker bees, commuting into Houston or down to NASA in a post-Vietnam world where everything seemed to be changing at a pace we couldn't quite comprehend.

This mall, its stores, and especially its people, held that disparate and unlikely group together. It's why we still try to orient someone to our childhood home by saying, "You know where Almeda Mall is?"

And why, whenever we get together, memories inevitably include this place, sort of mystical and timeless to us, when life was just a bit simpler and sweeter.