All in all, 1964 was a tough year for Fort Stockton.
Folks were still getting over the shock of Kennedy getting killed, right here on Texas soil, followed by Oswald being taken out on live TV right in front of their very eyes. “That was a hit. No two ways about it,” some said over at the Rusty Hammer Hardware Store. It challenged what people could believe in.
And that wasn’t the only thing on TV challenging what people believed in. “Did you see those long-haired boys from England on the television on that Ed Sullivan Show? What the hell is this country coming to?” Nadine Thompson seemed more exasperated than usual as she was getting her hair fixed over at the Klip-N-Dye, and that’s saying something. Nadine was wound tighter than an eight day clock on normal days.
The Civil Rights Bill was being signed into law. For folks in small towns in the deep south that was an affront on their worldview and a demand that they accept change that many just weren’t ready to go along with.
On KFSX radio Bob Dylan was singing The Times They Are A-Changin. People were put off as much by the message as they were the godawful yankee twang in the voice of the boy singing it. “That kid ain’t no Buck Owens, that’s for damn sure,” was the generally accepted review in Fort Stockton of Dylan’s early work.
Everything just seemed to be a half bubble off plumb. Even something as simple as kids’ toys had all of a sudden become an issue, and everyone had to have an opinion. Folks had finally started to accept Barbie as the new doll of choice, and then Troll dolls flooded the market out of nowhere. “The damn things are naked,” was the general response at the Ben Franklin when the first shipment arrived. The fact that they were androgynous did nothing to soften the blow. When someone noted that each one said ‘DAM’ on the back, it inspired a full-fledged boycott of the store and a sermon series at Second Baptist.
It was just tense, all the time.
A lot of people hoped that when Mary Poppins opened in the movie theater that enough people would go to see the movie that it would lift the spirits of the community. But seeing Rob Petrie dancing in full color on the big screen with someone other than his wife, Laura, just made people all the more anxious, especially the womenfolk. The movie did nothing to lift spirits.
But in a strange twist of events, something else did. A hearse.
The business of death is one that is slow to change. There are expectations. Traditions. Things that ought not be messed with. It is traumatic enough to say goodby to a loved one; no need in muddying the waters with things that might throw the mourners off their grief game. In the fall of ’62, Nadine Thompson put bacon bits in the funeral potato casserole she brought for the hot dish buffet in the basement of Second Baptist after her brother-in-law’s passing. She and her sister didn’t speak for nearly 18 months. Traditions involving death are not to be trifled with, even with bacon bits.
That’s why there was such an outpouring of surprise at the arrival of a new 1964 Oldsmobile Ninety-Eight Cotner-Bevington Hearse at the Bridges Funeral Home, whose motto was, “We’ll take your loved one to the other side.” They’d been making those deliveries of loved ones to the other side in Fort Stockton for as far back as anyone could remember. But for the last 16 years they’d been using a black 1948 Ford Sedan hearse for the trip.
They’d bought the Siebert hearse conversion brand new in 1948 and it had hauled a lot of folks out to Bluebonnet Hills Memorial Gardens out west of town. The 239 cubic inch flathead engine, good for about 100 horsepower, assured those final trips were slow ones. The styling and color was about as dowdy as Henry Ford himself, who believed cars (especially hearses) were utilitarian in nature. Style was of no consequence.
The Bridges family would have probably kept the old ’48 in service a few years longer, if the whole back end of it hadn’t been folded up like a beer car in an unfortunate accident. Floyd Bridges was pulling out of the Eggs & Ammo after filling the hearse up after a funeral. The Ector girl, behind the wheel of the Driver’s Ed car from Jim Bowie High School, “Home of the Fighting’ Knives,” was approaching the intersection at what was later described at a “rate of speed exceeding the posted limit” in the Stockton Telegram-Dispatch.
Seeing the hearse apparently caused a flashback to time she’d spent in a similar black Ford sedan with Bobby Brewer, (a fact not reported in the paper), and she panicked. She hit the accelerator rather than the brake. In a matter of seconds the front end of the 1962 Plymouth Savoy Driver’s Ed sedan was buried deeper in the side of the Ford hearse than Bobby Brewer had been in the Ector girl before she had second thoughts.
Anyway, the insurance company totaled the Ford hearse, replacement sheet metal for Ford sedan hearses being as hard to replace as the Ector girl’s virginity. Mr. Bridges had some decisions to make.
When Mr. Bridges placed the call to Cotner-Bevington in Blytheville Arkansas to start talking about placing the order, he got a hold of someone in the sales office by the name of Bob Muerte. Before Mr. Bridges knew what was actually happening, Bob Muerte was writing up a 1964 Oldsmobile Ninety-Eight Cotner-Bevington Hearse with just about every bell and whistle checked off on the ordering form.
The car was powered by a 394 cubic inch V8 paired with a three-speed automatic transmission. Equipment included drum brakes, 14″ steel wheels, chrome bumpers, bright trim, a rear access door, and air conditioning. Perhaps more than any other aspect of the new funeral coach, the outstanding feature was its metallic gold over beige vinyl color scheme.
Mr. Bridges, who was known to get into the cups in his private office just off the embalming room, promptly forgot the details as soon as he hung up and poured himself another scotch. He assured his wife when she asked him, “Yeah. I got it on order. They had one on the floor I was able to get quick.”
When the mammoth extended chassis casket carrier arrived several weeks later, it was hard to say who was the most surprised, Mr. or Mrs. Bridges. “That is what you ordered?” she asked him. Of course he didn’t want to admit that the details were sketchy and he didn’t even remember making the call. He especially didn’t want to admit to any chance that Bob Muerte might have seen him coming.
“Damn right that’s what I ordered.” He seemed to bow up just a bit. “This thing has got to last us a long time. No point in not going Top Shelf.”
“It’s gold!” his wife cried out.
“Damn straight. Just what I ordered. This is the 60s! We need to move towards Celebration of Life rather than somber, staid, and depressing funerals.” He said it with such a level of conviction that he actually sounded sincere. Like he had put some thought into it.
“Alright,” she said, lighting up a Viceroy and taking a long drag. “It’s not like we can send it back. I just don’t know how folks are going to respond to a Gold Oldsmobile 98 hearse. Guess we’ll find out.”
Well, how they responded was with shock and awe. The new Oldsmobile Ninety-Eight Cotner-Bevington Hearse was about as far from the 1948 Ford sedan funeral coach as it could be. The first time it was used for a funeral people would pull over to the right side of the road to let the procession by and then honk their horns and give a thumbs up out the window when the Oldsmobile went by. Mr. Bridges, behind the wheel, didn’t know how to respond. Thankfully the widow in the car behind the funeral coach was hard of hearing, deep in grief, and none the wiser.
But the hearse seemed to lift the spirits of all the folks from Fort Stockton who saw it. Mayor Goodman called Mr. Bridges and asked if he’d drive the car in the Founder’s Day Parade. Mr. Bridges, seeing the advertising value in promoting the big new Oldsmobile in front of the aging public, wanted to get out ahead of the coming shift to cremation and took him up on the offer.
The Oldsmobile Ninety-Eight Cotner-Bevington Hearse was the second car in the parade, right behind the Cadillac convertible carrying Mayor Goodman and the Jim Bowie High School homecoming queen. The crowd cheered as the big gold meat wagon passed with Mrs. Bridges perched in the back end, door propped open, and legs dangling over the rear bumper, as she tossed packages of candy cigarettes to the kids lined up on both sides of the street.
Not everything had been changed for the sake of progress, though. Mr. Bridges still had Buck Owens playing on the radio throughout the whole parade. Dylan never caught on in Fort Stockton.
7 responses to “CELEBRATION OF LIFE”
I sure prefer Cadillacs, but this isn’t a bad looking coach.
Thank you very much. Those of us in ‘the world’s second oldest profession’ appreciate the memories from reading Cotner Bevington, Siebert, S & S, Superior, Eureka, Miller Meteor, Flxible, etc. that we literally grew-up with. Dylan was and still is correct: The Times, They Are A-changin’
Bob Muerte! Ha ha ha ha ha.
Nothing better than stumbling on the random Easter egg, right Roger?
“Mayor Goodman and the Jim Bowie High School homecoming queen.” makes one wonder if the Mayor is a pedo, like the “leader” (either one of them) in the Oval office . . .
Known locally for his professionally demure demeanor and attempts to extol accomplishments of his “clients”,
Floyd Bridges was recognized around Fort Stockton as:
“The Last Man to Put You Down”.
‘…legs dangling over the rear bumper, as she tossed packages of candy cigarettes to the kids lined up on both sides of the street.’
THAT, Cappy, is classic !