Posts Tagged ‘Joseph Samuel Warren’
“Sammy” The East Texas Country Boy Workaholic
Parental Portrait for Christmas
Sammy
The East Texas Country Boy
Workaholic
“Sammy”
Samuel E. Warren, an east Texas country boy, had his own style in life. In appearance, this Capricorn man was meticulous about his dress. In the era before “Wash and Wear”, he had his dress shirts taken to the cleaners to be ironed and pressed. He wore a tie bar to keep the starched collar of his shirt down. He taught his son, Sam Junior, “how to tie a Windsor knot” to wear a neck tie. His dress shirts had French cuffs, which usually had a matching tie clasp in his personal jewelry box that contained his business jewelry. In his 40s and 50s, he usually wore a stockman’s Stetson hat. In his youth, like many men of his era, he wore a more traditional business fedora, like in this studio portrait. My father believed you should, “Dress For Success.”
by Samuel E.Warren Jr.
Samuel E. Warren had the blond crew cut and blue eyes. He stood six-feet and one inch. Middle age gave him a weigh in the area of around 200 pounds.
His pressed western shirts and creased denim jeans were the visual confirmations of military service – His civilian clothes had the appearance of a military uniform.
He earned two “Silver Stars” in World War II.
I never heard daddy speak of the war to anyone. Momma told me that through the years, he had talked to her about the things that happened in the war.
Black cowboy boots, the “Lady’s Head Liberty Silver Dollar” in the brown western belt and the diamond Masonic ring identified him as, “Sammy” to his friends and family.
He loved his Chevrolet and GMC pickups. Daddy’s traditional gray stockman’s Stetson hat, western shirt, boots and denim jeans, identified “Sammy” as a Texan through and through.
Sammy could be considered shy in social situations. He preferred to listen rather than speak. My Scorpio Uncle Leo, an oil company executive, usually led the conversations between the family men. Uncle Audrey will smile and interject humor into the discussions. Daddy would listen and might on occasion add a comment or two.
“Papa” Warren loved to talk and tell stories. “Mama” Warren, had polio, which forced her to use a crutch. She was quiet natured and seldom raised her voice unless it was at something “Papa” Warren said. Daddy, obviously, inherited Mama Warren’s quiet side.
Aunt Bill, Daddy’s eldest sister had an award-winning smile. She had a big heart for kids and animals. Her laugh was loud, definite, and would echo throughout a room.
In Houston, or east Texas, Momma and Aunt Bill would go grocery shopping together and run household errands. They were more like sisters than sister-in-laws.
My Scorpio “Aunt Pet” always seemed distant to me. Aunt Bill and Uncle Audrey had no children of their own, but, “Aunt Bill” never missed an opportunity to spoil me and I always enjoyed the attention.
In Texas in the late 1950s and early 1960s, kids were still expected to be seen and not heard. In a room of adults you never knew if you were an extra end table or an unfinished robot.
Papa, Mama, Aunt Bill and Uncle Audrey always made me feel like a welcomed miniature adult. Uncle Leo liked to scowl and tease me, Daddy expected me to act like “daddy’s little man.”
Momma had briefed me on “Southern protocol” from an early age, so I could be a “kid”, but, I always had to be respectful and polite around my adult elders. I never had to worry because I was never off Momma’s “mother radar.”
Most definitely, “I am a Momma’s boy.”
Daddy was an East Texas country boy, who grew up on the farm. I heard stories that as a young boy he worked in the cotton fields and sugar cane fields of east Texas.
Momma said daddy worked as a short haul trucker making runs from Gilmer. Tyler, Kilgore, Gladewater and Mount Pleasant until Uncle Sam “drafted” him to fight in World War II.
Yellowed V-mail correspondence from east Texas revealed one girl back home in Thomas, Texas, during World War II, had an interest in my father. The attractive brunette, dressed in a navy blue sailors’ suit dress even posed for a photograph of her standing by an old Ford ton and a half stake truck.
Uncle Sam “drafted” Sammy and sent him to Fort Chaffee, Arkansas for “boot camp.” After basic, Uncle Sam shipped daddy out to the European Theater of Operations and later to the Pacific Theater of Operations for World War II.
Thanks to the United States Army Signal Corps, daddy put some of the first land line telephone lines in the Philippines and picked up the skills of an electrician, during the war.
After the War, Daddy got on out at Cameron Iron Works in Houston. He worked part-time, which meant, most nights for George Cook as a bartender or bouncer at “Cook’s Hoedown Club.”
Later, he worked part-time at the “Dome Shadow,” a club near Houston’s famous Astrodome.
Daddy liked to talk to people, but, he spoke low and sometimes didn’t finish his sentences as though he just got tired of talking and stopped.
“Lodge work” excited Daddy. He would get excited about the humanitarian activities of the Reagan Masonic Lodge, his lodge. He looked forward to getting the monthly issue of the magazine in the mail. He kept his Masonic apron in the elegant locked glass bookcase in the living room.
Daddy proudly displayed framed photographs of himself and his lodge brethren on the furniture in the living room.
Besides the Masonic Lodge, daddy the reserved Texan, only showed emotion if he got mad. He cussed. Then, of course, his message was distinct and crystal clear. Daddy was not a skilled communicator and usually let momma do the talking in social situations.
He had the “hard work” ethics of Americans of his generation. A Capricorn, daddy definitely embodied his Zodiac sign because he worked hard all his life and everything he ever got he earn by elbow grease and the sweat of his brow.
Capricorn rules earth, real estate, agriculture and basically, anything to do with land. Daddy grew up on the farm. He served in a major global war of human history that changed the borders and infrastructures of nations for generations and his job at Cameron’s was to supervise an ore taken from the earth being turned into liquid to be poured into dies to create tools.
One factor astrologers point to about the sign of Capricorn is that people born under the sign usually have to work hard all their lives. Daddy did
Sammy loved to spend the money he earned. His philosophy of finances was,“You can’t take it with you.”
While daddy’s carefree financial philosophy has merit on the surface; it doesn’t work in the long haul. To live bold without a regard for cost means you have to be making a ridiculous amount of money each day or you will have to be a “workaholic” most of your life.
After World War II, Samuel E. Warren always had a “part-time” job, in addition to his regular job until his death in 1978.
Daddy worked too hard; he never took the time to enjoy his life. The true irony is he never made the opportunity or took the time to truly enjoy the money he earned.
Sam
Hat Links
Samuel E. Warren, my father, loved his hats. From the time I was a small boy, I remember my father wearing a Stetson. It was a gray western hat with a small brim that was called, “The Stockman.”
Stetson
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stetson
Samuel E. Warren, my father, and my uncles, Leo Greene and Audrey Irwin were “Texans”, who in the 1930s and 1940s usually wore a hat. There was the dress “Zoot Suit” style for Friday and Saturday evenings with a wide brim and there was the more traditional everyday business hat, which was known as a “Fedora.”
Fedora
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fedora
Opal M. DeLong Warren, my mother, worked as the chief waitress at the Cook’s Hoedown Club in Houston, Texas. The dress code for the club required the women to “dress western.” The white hat of momma’s uniform came from the American Hat Company.
Samuel E. Warren, my father, also had a white western hat and a black western hat from the company. Inside all the hats was a humorous name card the size of a post card. It listed the person’s name on the card. The words at the top of the card stated: “Like Hell, this is your hat ! This hat belongs to:”
The American Hat Company
Wingman To The Angels
Wingman
To The
Angels
By Samuel E. Warren Jr.
I can die a happy man !
I don’t have a son.
I don’t have a grandson.
I had the honor of any father or grandfather, as I stood and walk alongside my nephew in his commencement exercise.
I walked alongside my nephew, Glen Roa, on the day that he underwent a monumental turning point in his life.
March 29, 2012, I strolled alongside my nephew, Glen Roa, in his formal graduation procession of the Juan Villablanca National High School, in Pastrana, in the Republic of the Philippines.
The joy inside my heart, mind and soul, I describe as, being promoted to the rank of “Seraphim” and given the opportunity to fly Combat Air Patrol off of the left wing of Saint Michael, the Archangel.
As a writer, monumental moments in my life, I always put on paper or place in my electronic journals, the “Sam I Am Blog” and my “Samuel Warren The Writer” blog.
A writer feels emotions like his fellow man and fellow woman, but, a writer has the passion to translate that emotion into words and to commit it to print for future generations.
For me, walking alongside Glen in his commencement exercise gave me a supreme sensation of pride that could only be explained as being assigned to the military ranks of the Heavenly Host.
What greater tribute could there be in the Afterlife for a military man or woman than to be designated a “Seraphim” and authorized to fly alongside the Archangels ?
I am not a religious man. I try to be a spiritual man.
This event, gave me, the Pride, to feel like I had the honor to serve: as “Wingman To The Angels.”
The nature of the ceremony, obviously, made the day a monumental moment in Glen’s life.
The day was obviously – “Glen’s Day.”
However, Glen’s American uncle felt the tremendous positive energy flowing from the universe into the graduates, their parents and relatives.
A magnificent, positive energy that reminds people, you can change the world, you can move mountains. You simply need the faith in yourself and your convictions to move you along the path to greatness.
I stood next to Glen and felt like one of God’s Seraphim standing on a majestic mountain peak bathed in golden sunlight. The rays of the sun, moved along my angelic breastplate and tunic. My wings opened to the sunlight. I stood ready to serve in the immortal ranks of The Heavenly Host.”
My feet stood in the Real World on the soil of the Republic of the Philippines, but, my imagination takes flight. I draw my sword and spread my wings. At altitude, I bank in the sunlight and fly through the ranks of the seraphim. I soar and sail among the formation of the archangels and move into position to fly off the left wing of Saint Michael, the Archangel.
Today, I am Saint Michael’s Wingman.
Back in the Real World, I stand alongside Glen. The sweltering heat and sunlight reaches the point that it is uncomfortable to just be standing outside. Yet, Glen stands in the long white line of students selected to graduate.
I have always been a persistent, passionate writer. When I pick up my camera for a news or important photography situation, I enter my Michelangelo mindset and try to figure out how I will be able to capture a photo that will remain a moving work of art to stand the test of time. The photography mindset is never a conscious act as much as a mental urge to be in the right place, at the right time, to capture a moment of history to stand the test of time.
My calling in life had always been to be the best reporter and photographer that it is humanly possible for me to be.
My writer’s mind, tells me God and Saint Michael, took the necessary actions to move me to this point in time.
In November 1988, I reported to Clark Air Base, Republic of the Philippines. I was a single American G.I., in pursuit of the dream of earning a Pulitzer Prize for writing or photography. Born a Texan and raised an Ozarks country boy, my ambition in life was to be a world-renowned photojournalist.
Life is an assignment that takes a serious of missions to put you in the right position to attain success and contentment. On duty, in the Real World, the United States Air Force would issue orders that would take Christy and I to Japan, Alabama and finally to retirement in Missouri.
Mount Pinatubo’s noxious sulfur fumes had changed the blanket of air over Clark Air Base into the pungent, persistent, almost choking stench of “rotten eggs.”
The slight shudder of the earth beneath your feet in February had grown to an intensity that seemed Mother Earth was being racked with strong contractions like a woman in labor by the month of May.
Before the rebirth of Mount Pinatubo into a volcano, Christy and I had taken the military orders and landed in Japan.
Mount Pinatubo had been nature’s “bunker buster bomb blast” that severed all Real World communications between Christy and her family in the Republic of the Philippines.
The status of all Christy’s relatives were “Unknown” – Missing In Action.
In a matter of days, Mount Pinatubo had devastated a section of a nation with a force usually displayed by nations at war.
And, the aftermath of Mount Pinatubo’s action, took 21 years for Christy to finally locate and determine the fate of her family in the Philippines. Marife and Ramon had had their own families.
With communications reestablished the Warrens in the United States and the Saldanas in the Philippines were becoming a family separated by a body of water called the Pacific Ocean.
Like United States Army General Douglas MacArthur, Christy Warren was determined to “Return To The Philippines.” General MacArthur had a mission. Christy Warren had family in the Philippines.
Glen adjusts his robe and straightens his mortarboard graduation cap, I smile and realize that at last Life had brought us to this point.
Glen, the young man, had grown up hearing stories about his “Tita Christy and Tito Sam.” Since our return to the Philippines, he had seen we were not fictional characters, but real people.
My grandfather, Joseph Samuel Warren, had been an East Texas farmer. My father, Samuel E. Warren, had served in the European Theater of Operations and the Pacific Theater of Operations, during World War II. Dad had earned two Silver Stars and assigned to the United States Army Signal Corps had installed some of the first telephone lines through the jungles of the Republic of the Philippines, during the war.
Glen had told his mom, he wanted to join the military. I hope the stories of my dad’s military service had inspired Glen to understand that military service is a calling of patriotism and compassionate devotion to one’s fellow citizens.
Glen’s confident smile reminded me of my exciting days at Clark Air Base back in the late 1980s. I looked at Glen and was reminded of General Fidel V. Ramos. I had been fortunate enough to take a photo of General Ramos on one of his visits to Clark.
When I arrived at Clark in the 1980s, I landed in the Philippines in the aftermath of the EDSA People Power Revolution and it was an exciting time.
The Global News Media had labeled former President Ferdinand Marcos an “evil dictatorial strongman.” Since President Marcos had always been a reliable and devoted ally to the United States Government in the Pacific and Asia, people in the Philippines were suspicious of the United States Government and most all Americans.
Life in the Philippines had became a constant topic for the global news media. Since the revolution in 1986, the world watched to see what would happen in the Philippines.
Corazon Aquino, a housewife and widow, had become the President of the Republic of the Philippines. While President Aquino had been educated for a few years in the United States, Americans as a rule, really knew nothing about the new president.
At Clark, we performed out military duties and wondered if we would get orders to pack up and head for “home” – the United States. In 1988 and 1989, I went to work each day in a country that was in transition as a new government established itself. It seemed everyday the international news media had stories of political intrigue originating from the Philippines. Americans back home in the United States were confused about the news coming out of the Philippines.
Every couple of weeks I would call my mother back in the United States, who would usually be upset because she had seen television coverage about the actions of the New People’s Army and had seen on television and in newspapers the coverage of protests demanding “Get US troops out of the Philippines” and, of course, the television footage was always shot outside of Clark or Subic on the days that protestors showed up, a few minutes before the global news media arrived with their television cameras and radio microphones.
I remember seeing a photo of General Juan Ponce Enrile, in uniform, on the cover of “Time” magazine. Despite the news going on around us at Clark, the names of two prominent Filipino generals always seemed to emerge in a positive light: General Juan Ponce Enrile and General Fidel Ramos.
I looked at my nephew, Glen and wondered if he would rise in life to have the admiration and respect of his comrades in arms like General Fidel Ramos. Then, we began walking in the procession toward the auditorium.
In my writer’s mind I had been elevated to the position of “Wingman To The Angels.” In the Real World, my nephew, Glen walked the symbolic pathway that led him through the doorway to decide which path he would take in life.
He stepped on to the stage and bowed to the audience.
I stood at his side and bowed.
As we stepped off the stage, I was confident, that Glen would be a young man, who would make a name for himself, and serve his fellow citizens.
To the reporters of “USA Today,” the “New York Times,” the “Washington Post,” “Time,” “Newsweek,” the “Manila Bulletin,” the “Philippine Daily Inquirer” the “Philippine Star,” Reuters and the Associated Press, I would suggest, “Get your cameras ready,” my nephew, Glen Roa, is a young man, who will make headlines and history.
Congratulation, Glen !