I mentioned in a previous post, when my “Memommy” died, that my mother’s father had been killed when she was a teenager. Since then, Mom has been thinking a lot about that time and what she could and couldn’t remember of it, and decided to write it all down. She ended up with a nice article that we have encouraged her to submit to the Brownfield News next in case they would be interested in publishing it. I thought I would share it with you, and since it is rather long, I’ll break it into 3 installments.

THE DAY MY DADDY DIED - Reflecting back 48 years later

written by Lenda Ray Marshall with reflections from Neva and Clara and others who were present

My seventeenth Christmas is forever etched in my mind and it changed the course our family life forever. December 22, 1958 was just like any other day. My sister Neva, 5 years younger than I, received an autograph book for her 11th birthday in October. She had been asking Daddy to write in her book since October and he finally fulfilled her request in the early evening: “Merry Christmas and happy years ahead to a sweet daughter (tom boy) All my love, Daddy.” Those were his last words to her. Our Daddy, James Bryant Ray, was killed on a “Night of Tragedy: December 22, 1958″ (as the headline read in the Brownfield News) in Brownfield, Texas. A butane transport truck was east bound on the Seagraves Hwy. A pickup truck was also traveling east on the access road and pulled onto the highway at Eighth Street into the path of the butane truck. The semi-tractor rig, towing the large double tank butane trailer, struck the pickup, flipping it over. It came to rest upright atop the median strip.

After the initial collision, the butane truck careened down the highway a short distance where it jackknifed and overturned, pinning the driver inside. All butane tanks have a valve which is designed to open, releasing pressure when a tank becomes overheated. However, since the tanks were upside down, the valve was buried in the asphalt and could not be opened. The fact that the butane truck was upside down prevented this safeguard from working as it was designed. A large crowd had gathered and they were being urged to back up or even leave the scene for fear of an explosion.

Brownfield is a small town just South of Lubbock on the South Plaines of Texas. We lived in Brownfield just east of the High School on East Main Street. My sisters and I, were all born and raised in Brownfield. We had recently spent two years in Ropesville where my dad worked for a butane company until October 1958.

Butane is a form of fuel used at lots of farms and some homes. Our car even had a butane tank in the trunk to be used as an alternative to gasoline. My Daddy had converted our car so that we could use butane with a flip of a switch. He was well known in the community for his knowledge and expertise in the butane field.

Late in the evening, around 10:45 p.m.., my sister and I had already gone to bed when a siren began to blow. Normally it didn’t blow very long, but this particular night it began to blow and just kept going. The night sky in the Southwest part of town had an unusual glow My parents never went to see about fires and rarely ever went out late at night but this particular night, Daddy told my Mother he thought he would go see what was going on. Since Neva and I were already in bed, Mother decided to go with him. I don’t know how long it was but some length of time after they left the house, we heard a loud boom. I remember feeling the vibration and wondered what had happened. Being awakened from a sleep I wasn’t sure if it was a dream or if it was real, so I drifted back off to sleep. Later we realized that the vibration was so great that it caused the bed we were sleeping in to slide.

I was later awakened with the sound of someone banging on the front door of our house. I got up and went to the door. It was my Mother. She was frantic, almost to the point of not being able to understand what she was saying. Not understanding her because she was talking so fast and not understanding because it was hard to comprehend what she was trying to say. “Something terrible has happened and I think Daddy may be dead,” or something to that effect. “There has been an explosion and daddy was on his way up to the fire when it exploded - I don’t know where he is - he didn’t come back to the car after the explosion. We were close enough that when the explosion happened, our car was completely engulfed in flames. Get dressed. I think we need to go to the hospital to see if we can find Daddy.”

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