[AGL] Monday, Aug. 1, 1966, was nickel beer day...I'll bet it isn't 5 cents now.

[Frances Morey]

My, my, Harry, what paralel lives we've led,
  I was there, too, at Scholz Garten's 100th Birthday celebration, estab. Aug. 1, 1866. I musta had plenty of the nickel draught beer because I have no recollection of the six-packs, or kegs running out. I had just been married two years and was at home on Rio Grande and W. 23rd St. when Ann Seaman, then Gunter, called to tell me not to go to the Library as planned. She informed me about the unfolding horror and I turned on the radio. I was preparing lunch in our upstairs apartment. Out of the kitchen window I could see the gunman hanging over the parapet wall shooting downward. I watched, stupidly unaware, at first, that through the scope he could see me even more clearly than I him.
  That dawned on me, though, when I turned my attention back to the hamburger patties frying on the stove. A package of hamburger buns fell off the counter and landed flat on the floor with a splat--a "bang" kind of sound--I musta jumped six feet, and threw the hamburger patty to the ceiling. I sat out the rest of the ordeal next to the radio in the bedroom.
  Interestingly, years later, Richard Smith told me that he, at the time, and unbeknownst to me then, was living across the street from us. On the day of the shooting he had walked down the alley, which was right under my window, going toward W. 24th St., so he could walk over to the Drag without being in the line of fire along 23rd. He may have been carrying a gun, but I can't remember if he told me that. There were instantly hundreds of guns that came out from housing which specifically prohibited firearms, in the hands of students who wanted to take out the Tower shooter themselves. I could see puffs of limestone coming off the railing when bullets shot from below repeatedly hit it.
  Ed Kluth recently told of a neat coincidence of being filmed by a tv camera crew as he was pulling a wounded body to safety. His parents saw the broadcast, spotted him, and were relieved to know that he was all right.
  Another couple viewing the early-on statewide newscasts, upon hearing that the shooter was a blond, blue-eyed male, thought they might know him. They didn't. 
  I think I'll go to Scholz' tonight, for a pint of beer that now costs more than a gallon of gas. I've got my grandchild, Isaac, staying with me. He likes Scholz Garten as much as my sons did back when they were toddlers. 
  Thanks Harry,
  Frances

Harry Edwards <laughingwolf at ev1.net> wrote:
  Today marks the 40th anniversary of the Charles Whitman shooting 
gallery. What some of you might not remember is that that day was also 
the 100th anniversary of Scholz Garten. To commemorate, Scholz's was 
offering nickel beer. I rode in from Lake Austin in mid-afternoon to 
encounter a truly bizarre and chaotic scene at Scholz's. Whitman was 
dead by then and everyone was trying to somehow deal with the 
immensity. Suds were being drained at a phenomenal rate by faculty and 
students alike. I remember drinking with some art department types, Vic 
Babu of ceramics, Bill Walsh, sculpture, Jobn Lednicky, metalsmithing. 
They ran out of tap beer fairly, unprecedented on any other day. 
Six-packs were then sold for 30 cents apiece. As most of us know, beer 
is a sloppy anesthetic, but it was the best we had on August 1, 1966.

twisty dodds



 		
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