Before Texas Changed: A Fort Worth Boyhood

Chapter 12

12. Much around me might have been changing, but the one constant seemed to be trouble. It made an easy transition from one school to the next. For reasons still unclear, Murchison and I were not content with ordinary, run-of-the-mill activities. We were forever gambling, risking, trying something for the primary purpose of seeing what would happen. We did not worry about the consequences until they appeared. At no time was this more evident than a winter evening in Forest Park. Sometime that week we had seen a movie featuring flaming arrows. Not since watching burning fighter planes had we been so fascinated. By now we should have learned our lesson, but these fireballs were so exciting, we decided to make one of our own and see what it would do. One of us already owned a bow and arrow. All that was required was a little wrapping and soaking of an arrow in gasoline. But would it work? Would it stay lit or fizzle out? To find out, we needed a test site. What would be a good target to see if these things really worked? “What about the old wooden hay barn down at the zoo?” one of us asked. “You know, the one where they store hay for the animals.” It was situated in the woods where no one was likely to see us. That sounded perfect, so shortly after dark we drove down into Forest Park, positioned ourselves on one of the hillsides above the barn and, without further thought, prepared for the shot. One of us pulled the bow back while the other tried to light the arrow. The flame kept going out. We were about to give up when suddenly it blazed. Quickly it was aimed skyward and released. We followed the flaming arc through the night sky and watched it disappear into the woods below. 185 Nothing happened. We waited and waited. Still nothing. We looked at each other, guessed that real flaming arrows did not work the way the film ones did, and decided to go see a movie. In the theater I kept thinking about the arrow, and when the movie was over, convinced Murchison to drive back through the park. “Let’s go take a look. What have we got to lose?” So on the way home we turned at the top of the hill and drove down toward the launch site. We didn’t get far. To our surprise, firemen had set up barricades. Even more alarming, the streets were filled with police cars, fire trucks, hoses, firemen, and milling spectators. We could not even get near what had once been the barn. In wide-eyed disbelief we stared through the front windshield. “Oh my God,” I said, just beginning to comprehend what had happened . “Can you believe this?” We sat there a moment in silence, looking through the trees, down in the winding streets, as dark figures lugged hoses and stood in small clumps near the fire trucks. The sound of engines and equipment provided a backdrop to voices barking commands. Shocked at the enormity of our experiment, we did not dare get closer or ask any questions. We didn’t have to. We were the only two there who knew exactly what had happened. We drove away slowly, hoping no one had seen us, and bid each other goodnight wondering what would happen next. I did not sleep much that night. A thousand “What ifs” ran through my mind, the biggest being “What if they find out who did it?” I awoke early and tossed in bed until time to appear for breakfast. My mother was at the stove preparing the usual fare, eggs and bacon. Jim had already taken his seat at the kitchen table next to my father who was holding the morning newspaper, examining the front page. There, over his shoulder, in bold, clear print, I saw the story. Someone had burned the hay barn at the zoo, and the search was on for suspects. Jim had already heard the news from my father and was stunned. “Who could do something like that? How could anyone burn the animals’ food? What are they going to eat? Who could do that, Dad?” b e f o r e t e x a s c h a n g e d 186 “I don’t know,” he sighed. “I just don...