The Harness Maker's Dream: Nathan Kallison and the Rise of South Texas

Twelve: All in the Family

Et TWELVE All in the I=amily D URING THE DEPRESSION and throughout World War II, the Kallisons prospered. In the spacious-but not grandfieldstone homes with wide grassy lawns Nathan had built in Olmos Park, their lives were comfortable; their lifestyles, although considered "upper middle class;' were never ostentatious. The Kallison women-the sisters and sisters-in-law-were the "chief operating officers" of those homes. As women of their time and place, their principal concerns were decor and cuisine, entertaining friends at dinner or lunch, games of mah jongg or bridge, planning family vacations, shopping for clothing and food, preparing three meals every dayand foremost, raising their children with strong values, manners, respect, and good educations. Pauline, Tibe, Ruth, and Frances would have listed their primary occupations as "mothers." Each college-educated woman took her home role very seriously -finding the best schools, summer camps, and museum trips for the eight young Kallison, Lasser, and Neustadt children. In this and other aspects of their lives, they operated in tandem. Living harmoniously in such proximity, they supported each other. But the matriarch Anna remained in command. Family loyalty was important to all the Kallisons. Morris and Perry held enormous respect for their father. Each brother had inherited Nathan Kallison's passion for hard work and pride in the accomplishment of a job well done. Like many businessmen of their day, Morris and Perry spent long hours at work and frequently attended community meetings late into the night. After Nathan's stroke, his '99 THE HARNESS MAKER'S DREAM two sons would stop by their parents' home every day on their way home from work. They dutifully reported to Anna on the activities at the store and, at their mother's insistent urging, often sat down to join Anna and Nathan for dinner. Their mother's table was abundant, but not always appetizing. (Her frequent stewed chicken dish was actually dreaded by her sons and grandchildren.) "Eat, eat," she would insist--even though Ruth and Frances had dinner waiting for their husbands at home. In their efforts to serve their father and mother and also to provide for their own families, however, Morris and Perry frequently came home too exhausted or too late to communicate at length with their own wives and children. At his own dinner table, Morris talked politics and instructed his children in proper behavior. "Sit up straight in your chair," he would admonish them. He signed up Jimmy and Jack (and later, his grandsons ) for boxing lessons so they could also participate in the sport he'd excelled in as a young man. He wanted them trained in the "manly art of self-defense," he said. If Morris did stay home for dinner , his wife Ruth and daughter Jane often would drive him to the YMCA afterward for a massage and visit to the steam room. He was a demanding father, impatient and critical ifhe thought his expectations were not being met. "He was a kind of stoic, larger-than-life figure," revealed grandson Kal Kallison, a mathematics professor and administrator at the University of Texas. "He didn't show his feelings at all, and was never affectionate physically or with words. He was the polar opposite of Grandmother Ruth, who was always warm and loving. We were really important to her.'" Perry and Frances were kindred spirits in their love for the ranch, but Perry's long hours and commitments to his extended family at times strained their marriage. Many evenings, by the time Perry arrived at his home on Stanford Drive, Frances and their childrenPete , Maryann, and Frances Rae, known as "Bobbi"-had already finished dinner and left a plate for him to warm. When Perry did occasionally join them for the evening meal, it would often be interrupted '00 ALL IN THE FAMILY with calls from funeral directors who asked him to announce burial services on the morning radio, or from members of his many civic and religious committees. Soon after dinner, Perry would climb the stairs to his pine-paneled second floor den, where he'd take some more calls and prepare for the next day's broadcast. He might look at an issue of Cattleman magazine before heading to bed. By 9:30 p.m. he would be asleep. If Frances wanted to attend a symphony or other cultural event during the week, she would call a friend to...