News from Dallas Historical Society

One of the many things that define men is our fascination (some might say obsession) with gadgets, especially large, noisy gadgets that destroy things.Whenever I come across something like that in our archives, I can not let it go until I have learned as much about it as possible. I realize that I have been hitting the military topics heavy lately, but what can I say, I am a man.

A few weeks back while scanning a box of negatives labeled "Bridgeman", I came across several photos of what appears to be Dallas during WWI. Two images in particular caught my eye. The first was of Army tanks (Renault FT-17s to be exact) rolling down Elm Street in front of the Majestic Theater. The other is of three unlikely companions sitting in front of a tent. I can not be sure about the dates of these photos, but the marquee in front of the Majestic Theater reads: Margarita Fisher in "Putup Your Hands", a film that came out in 1919. I noticed in the photo that some of the folks on the street are wearing overcoats. Perhaps this is a shot of the first Armistice Day parade, which would have been in November.

In1919, most military tanks were not the big monsters we know today. These Tanks on Elm

Renaults were small, 6.5 ton, two-man jobs, hardly tough enough to stop a rifle bullet. Rolling along on their solid steel tracks, it looks as if they played the Devil with our city streets. Looking closely, you can see where they are tearing up the bricks. I can only imagine what they did to the street car tracks. In the upper left hand corner of the photo, what looks like fading is exhaust. These things must have had a carbon footprint the size of Waxahachie. I wish I had been there to see these puppies roll by. A tank is one heck of a gadget.

The second photograph is interesting, because I do not think it is what it appears to be. The first time I saw it I thought it was a military camp or had something to do with the tanks. Nevertheless, on closer inspection I see that these three men are wearing a mixture of military and civilian clothing. In addition, in a time when the army was segregated, it would be very unusual to find men of different races living so closely together. Two of these men are African-American and one is white. Then I remembered something: could these men be part of the "Bonus Army"?

The "Bonus Expeditionary Force" as it was called, or The "Bonus Army", was made up of some 43,000 marchers, mostly WWI veterans, their families, and affiliated groups, who protested in Washington D.C. in the spring and summer of 1932. The veterans sought immediate cash payment of Service Certificates granted them eight years earlier via the Adjusted Service Certificate Law of 1924. Each Service Certificate, issued to a qualified veteran, bore a face value equal to the soldier's promised payment plus compound interest. The problem was that the certificates, like bonds, matured twenty years from the date of original issuance. Thus, the certificates were not redeemable until 1945. I remembered that before the train carrying the "Bonus Army" got to Washington D.C., it made stops at cities all across the country including Dallas. Once in Washington D.C., the Veterans set up the makeshift camp Hooverville and protested until the government had had enough. The Bonus Army was forcibly evacuated.

A sad footnote: The break-up of the Bonus Army's shack town in Washington D.C. was carried out by Army Chief of Staff and World War I veteranGeneral Douglas MacArthur, assisted by Majors George Patton and Dwight Eisenhower. MacArthur exceeded President Hoover's intentions, not to mention his orders, with his heavy-handedness. The veterans and their families were forced out at bayonet point and their belongings were burned.

Understand, I am only guessing about this being a photo of the Bonus Army. It might be from a Depression Area work camp, like the CCC or the WPA. Because one of the men is wearing a military shirt, I am going to stay with my story for now.

Mr. Bridgeman was a very industrious local photographer. In the same box with the tanks, I discovered a photograph of a grand ballroom full of very well dressed men all wearing funny hats. I also found many shots of fire trucks, offices interiors and car wrecks. All tell a much better story of our history than yet another photo of some obscure mayor or a long gone mansion. I think I will be returning to the Bridgeman box for more stories.