Tom Stancliffe, Carousel 1996
Fabricated silicon bronze, three sculptures approx. 15h x 5 x 5 each for the Cedars Light Rail Station, Dallas Area Rapid Transit authority, Dallas, Texas. Commission awarded through a national competition sponsored by DART. The sculptures relate not only in form to the landscape design but are also intended to recall the evolution of the neighborhood from a cedar forest, to an elegant Victorian neighborhood, to a now light industrial district.
Somehow, surfing around the web, looking for information on the area near where I live and work, I stumbled across a tiny little article about a place called McKamy Springs, Richardson, Texas. The page told about a historic spring that was once used by the Native Americans as a reliable water source while hunting buffalo on the open prairie. There was a crude black and white photograph of a spring inclosed in a brick dome. Below the dome a small stream of bright water poured out.
McKamy Spring - historical photo
The spring had been bricked over sometime in the past and a commemorative stone placed beside it. The stone said, “The Yoiuane tribe of the Caddo group of Indians lived here as early as 1690 to 1840. They hunted buffalo and deer on the prairie. They used McKamy Spring as a watering place. It was from these friendly Tejas Indians that Texas got her name.”
Well, there isn’t much open prairie in these here parts nowadays – so I wondered if the spring was still there. I noticed that there was a small park called McKamy Springs Park in the middle of a new transit oriented development called Brick Row in Richardson along my way to work. I rode my bicycle there once while working out a bike route to work.
I remembered a nice, peaceful, little park in the place – I stopped there to rest and drink a water bottle. I didn’t notice a spring… but I wasn’t looking for one. Could the little McKamy Spring still be down there?
While I was out and about, it didn’t take much to stop by and take a look. Sure enough, the spring was there, exactly as it was in the photo (only now it was in color). Only a pitiful dribble of water trickled out, but I know how wonderful a trickle like that can be in a dry country. Green algae was growing over the stream and I had to climb down to fish out a discarded water bottle and a shopping bag.
Still, it seems cool to me that the little spring is still there, spitting out a bit of groundwater, even if it is surrounded by kids on a playground, locals walking their dogs, and folks sneaking out for a smoke. The open plains, the deer and the buffalo are long gone, but little McKamy Spring is still hanging in there.
McKamy Spring today.
The spring is in a nice little park in the center of a big mixed-use development.
Mockingbird Station, Dallas, Texas
According to the DART web site, these bike lids were all bought with a federal grant and meet all homeland security requirements. I had to think about that for a while – I guess it’s harder to hide a bomb in these, compared to the old bike lockers. There are 142 of these all over the system.
Commuting Works For Me, but I have a DART issue
Bike Friendly Dallas – DART Bike Lids and Katy Trail Phase III progress
I have ridden and written about three of the McKinney Avenue Transit Authority trolley cars – Petunia, Matilda, and Rosie. There was one more that I had never ridden (or at least didn’t remember riding) – The Green Dragon (MATA does have one more car – but it’s used for maintenance. They have several more being restored).
The Green Dragon is an unusual looking car. The driver’s station at each end looks like it was tacked onto a regular car. Its roof is flat and sort of sticks out and even looks like it dangles down a little bit.
It was built in 1913 (it will be a hundred years old next year) and ran in Dallas for 46 years. It ran on McKinney avenue and the SMU students gave it the nickname “Green Dragon” back in the day. She was retired in 1956 and used as a hay barn in North Dallas for a few decades. For a while it was used to display Roger Staubach’s Jersey in a sports museum in Grand Prairie.
I was happy to see the Green Dragon pull up to the Central Expressway Trolley stop. She is a large car and has a very smooth ride. From the inside, you can see the wooden bulkhead that marks the transition from the curved roof of the car to the flat roof of the cab. It doesn’t look as odd inside as it does when the car is clanking down the track.
The Green Dragon is a sweet ride and a great way to get around Uptown.
I rode the DART trains years ago when they started operating – in the first few days. It felt like luxury then – so few folks ventured on board, sitting in plenty of space, the cars gently swaying. It was like the opening of a new highway – vast reaches of empty tarmac. It is as if the whole billion dollar enterprise was constructed just for you – a new world of dignity and comfort.
That did not last long. The crowds grew with frightening rapidity until, within weeks, I was relegated to a mere straphanger – standing for the whole commute, grimly gripping a hand hold trying not to fall during a lurching curve, propped up partly by the warm bodies of the other riders – all crammed in like ripe sardines.
The only escape from the uncomfortable situation of mass humanity on the train is to look around for a Poetry in Motion poster. These are posters, with poems printed on them. New York has been doing this for decades. The program is done by DART in association with the Poetry Society of America. They work with transit companies all across the country.
The other night I was crammed in, packed, but could turn my head and read “World Trade” by Jim LaVilla-Havelin.
When I look down the road into the enormity of sky
all I see – golden arches
a mammoth American Flag
and the big rigs screaming down
the Old Laredo Highwayall
dwarfed
by
the blameless sky
and for a second I am transported out of that crowded commuted cattle car into… somewhere else.
After a bit it is all too much for me so I start to crane my neck. There, if I dip my head I can see next to the exit door… that woman thinks I’m staring at her… tough, I can see another poster. It’s
On the Patio, Dallas
by Isabel Nathaniel
The prickly pear and yucca
dug from a roadside
do fine in pots. Sun,
sunflowers. The August heat.
Petunias, pinks, and even the geranium
probably don’t belong. With watering
they hold on. One morning
I fed them organic fertilizer
made entirely of sea-going fish.
I hosed the place till the hanging baskets
dripped and the fence soaked dark.
There rose the brackish smell of bays
and wharves and I turned my head
to the distance as if to hear
the regular slapping of the sea.
And I can hear the slapping of the sea over the rat-tatting of the rails.
On farther, past the kid with the dreads holding a bicycle in the aisle there’s a poem, in Spanish.
En la Sangre
Pat Mora
En la Sangre
La niña con ojos cafés
y el abuelito con pelo blanco
bailan en la tarde silenciosa.
Castañetean los dedos
a un ritmo oido solamente
por los que aman.In the Blood
The brown-eyed child
and the white-haired grandfather
dance in the silent afternoon
They snap their finger
to a rhythm only those
who love can hear
And here I am, at my stop. That trip didn’t seem to take so long.
Bill Chance 