Life is full of shocks, but some shocks are more shocking than others

In 1948, when I was seven, our family’s little red Dodge pickup rolled into Mansfield, Texas (Pop. 774), for the very first time. We stayed for ten years. The most prominent building in town, just past the one-block-long business district that sported a traffic signal at both ends, was a structure known as Memorial Hall. It was a six- or eight-sided auditorium whose roof rose to a single-peak, very much in the Chatauqua style of an earlier era.

As far as I knew, Memorial Hall had been there forever. Later I learned that it had replaced the original building on the site -- a three-story, steam-powered, brick grist mill that had been built around 1859 by Ralph S. Man and Julian Feild. The community that grew up around Man’s and Feild’s Mill became Mansfield (people don’t quibble about changes in spelling out where the deer and the antelope play) and the rest is, well, history. There was no Mansfield Historical Society in those days, so the mill was torn down in the name of progress without so much as a by-your-leave or a bronze marker to commemorate the town’s beginnings. The name of the new structure -- Memorial Hall -- sufficed.

Here is an old photograph of the mill the town’s founders built:



And here is the Memorial Hall that replaced it:



In 1956, when I was 15, the Memorial Hall was torn down and replaced by still another structure, the brand-new Mansfield Municipal Building. At its dedication, I played the piano and my picture appeared in the local newspaper. If that sounds vaguely familiar, the reason may be that I posted about it here.

This week, an old friend (Fred Stone, MHS class of 1959) sent me a copy of the latest issue of the Mansfield News-Mirror (Volume 127, Number 20, May 15, 2013). It contained a shocker for yours truly.

The Mansfield Municipal Building, scene of my show-biz debut in 1956, has been torn down. It’s gone, disappeared, kaput. Under a front-page photograph of a pile of rubble was this caption:
“A backhoe sorts through the rubble of the Station House on Friday morning. The former City Hall, library and police department was built in the 1950s but had not been used for several years. The city sold the building to Monty and Kim Slawson, who plan to build a Mellow Mushroom restaurant.”

The accompanying article, “Making way for change: Station House Demolition,” read as follows: “A chunk of Mansfield history quickly turned into a pile of rubble Friday morning as a backhoe demolished the Station House, which had once served as City Hall, the library, police department and jail.

“Built in 1956, the building had been vacant for several years until it was bought by Monty and Kim Slawson of Mansfield, who plan to build a Mellow Mushroom restaurant at the busy southeast corner of East Broad and Main streets. Demolition of the Station House is the first phase of construction, Kim Slawson said.”

And then, almost as an afterthought:

“The area was the original site of the Man and Feild mill, owned by Ralph Man and Julian Feild, the founders of Mansfield.”

My life has come full circle. It has lasted long enough to witness the rise and fall, the ascent and demise, the birth and death of a major public building in my home town. These days Mansfield finally has a Historical Society, but who cares about preserving history when there is money to be made from selling pizzas?

Nobody, that’s who. I do hope some sort of historical marker will eventually be erected at that corner, but I’m not holding my breath.

It’s a little sad to realize that a building for whose dedication I provided music when I was 15 years old has been torn down as old and useless in my 72nd year. The article said it “had been vacant for several years.” I’m sure some people probably think the same thing about me.

In Atlanta, where I’ve lived since the mid-1970s, people got together and raised several million dollars to save and restore the Fabulous Fox Theater. It’s too late to save the Man and Feild grist mill, the old Memorial Hall, or the Mansfield Municipal building that served as City Hall, library, police department and jail. I wonder how many years will pass before someone decides something in Mansfield (estimated 2012 population: 59,831) is important enough to save. When that happens, I just hope it doesn’t turn out to be Monty and Kim Slawson’s pizza joint.



P.S. -- I know I’m being a little rough on the people of Mansfield. After all, the one-block-long business district is still intact. One of the buildings now houses the Mansfield Historical Society. And there may actually be a bronze marker on that corner now. I'm not really sure; I haven’t been back in a long time. I was just responding with my gut reaction to the news article Fred sent. I just wish that the Man & Feild grist mill was still there, or the Memorial Hall, or even the Municipal Building. But tear them all down so that Mansfield’s teens of tomorrow (projected 2017 population: 70,019) can eat pizza at a Mellow Mushroom? In my feeble mind, it does not compute.

Of course, we all know that the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. Or the one.



Live long and prosper.