Electra owes its existence to three things:
•the huge Waggoner Ranch.¹ Headquartered in nearby Vernon, the half-million acre ranch is said to be the basis for the Reata Ranch in Edna Ferber's book Giant and the movie of the same name. The town was named after W. T. Waggoner's daughter, Electra (1882-1925).
•the arrival of the railroad. W. T. Waggoner successfully lobbied for a depot and switching yards to be built in Electra which allowed for the transportation of the ranch's cattle and provided jobs.
•oil. The area needed water. W. T. Waggoner would have water wells dug, and as luck would have it, keep finding oil. But it wasn't until April Fool's Day, 1911, that Clayco No. 1 struck a gusher and the Electra Field began.
In 2001 the Texas Legislature named Electra the Pump Jack Capital of Texas.
The population fluxuated. It never became more than a town. The Handbook of Texas Online says that the population of Electra was about 500 in 1907, 1000 by 1910, 5000 just a few months after oil was discovered, 6712 and the most populous in 1936, 3599 in 1988 and 3168 as of the 2000 census.
Today water remains scarce. Three gas stations/convenience stores are the closest things to a grocery store there. The church where A. G. Abbott ministered has folded. The Texas Almanac describes Electra as a commuter town to Wichita Falls though it also mentions the annual goat barbecue. Blogs discourage people from moving there. One woman's account of Electra begins with a very unflattering title: A Fading Town...
My memories of Electra are not all that kind either. The wind and the red sand gave concrete an almost pinkish hue. Before the bypass was built, Highway 287 ran through the center of town, parallel to the railroad tracks. There were two traffic lights. One was odd and probably illegal today. On 287 the light was typical with red at the top and green at the bottom. On the side street,however, green was at the top and red at the bottom. Example. This saved money as only three bulbs were needed. There was the Oil City Barbershop, a one-screen movie theater and a furniture store downtown.
A. G. and Beth Abbott lived at 102 W. Wharton. See google map, and be sure to go to "street view." Their house was the second one from Main Street and faced downtown. The street was paved with brick. As was common in those days, the house had white asbestos siding. Each piece of siding was about 24" long and 12" high with a wavy bottom. They are, of course, illegal to make today and have largely been replaced by the James Hardie brand. The roof was green composite shingles. Air conditioning consisted of one window unit evaporative cooler , a black oscillating fan, one box fan and open windows. In the winter heat was provided by three individual room gas stoves (which sat on the floor and could be stored in the summer), the typical built-in bathroom gas stove and the kitchen oven when in use.
You entered the house into a foyer, large enough to greet guests yet too small for furniture. To the immediate left was what could be called a study. It was used to store A. G.'s books, a chest with his old army uniform and quilts, and sundry items that had yet to find a more permanent place in the house. To the right as you entered was the living room. It contained a green, somewhat uncomfortable sleeper sofa, swivel rocker, a television set that recieved three channels (channel 3, channel 6, and on a few days channel 7 out of Lawton), upright piano and a mantle clock that had a constant ticking and a bell that went off each quarter hour.
Directly behind the living room was the dining room. This was where the evaporative cooler was, and it blew directly onto the six-chair dining table. There was also a waist-high hutch to hold the china, silverware and fine dining linen.
Walking from the living room through the dining room was the kitchen. Upon the linoleum floor and in the center of the room was a 1950s era kitchen table and four chairs. The metal was chrome and the table top along with the chairs' vinyl or plastic seats and backs were red. The stove, Frigidaire refrigerator and double sink were white. The countertop was quite small but proportionate in size to the kitchen. There was a small pantry near the back door. Inside the refrigerator was a bottle of cooking wine which had only been used once. Breakfast was always eggs — poached, fried or scrambled to order, sometimes bacon or sausage and toast with preserves or the ever-present store-bought apple butter. Pecos cantaloupe was served at other meals when in season and Jello was always on the menu. It was in that kitchen that, at age 12, I learned to drink coffee — no cream, no sugar. The drink of everyone's choice at other meals was iced tea with a bit of mint which grew wild on the shaded side of the house. Other than that lonely bottle of cooking wine, alcohol was never available. I believe that wine was finally introduced to the drain.
To the left of, and with entrances from both the dining room and kitchen, was the hall. The only thing of significance there was the black rotary dial telephone sitting in a recess built into the wall. The norm of the day was party (telephone) lines. Incoming calls rang at all four households, but each with a distinctive ring. Local calls required dialing only four or five numbers. Long distance calls were considered expensive and often limited.
The hall connected the two bedrooms, with the bath inbetween. Due to age and the sleep difficulties associated with it, A. G. and Beth maintained separate bedrooms. Each bed was full-size. A. G.'s bedroom was toward the front of the house and had maple furniture. Beth's bedroom was at the back and had cherry furniture.
With the exception of the kitchen and bath, the house had wall-to-wall carpeting. I do not remember much artwork on the walls.
Just to the east of the house was a paved driveway. As was typical of the day and to save costs, the driveway consisted of two concrete runners to accomodate car tires. Between them was sparse grass. As the lot was narrow, the two-car garage was behind the house. The garage doors hung on rollers from the top and moved side-to-side, meaning both could not be open at the same time. At the front of one car space and on the concrete floor was an upturned kitchen sink meant to tell the driver how far to pull in. Since A. G. did most of the driving he generally drove the newest car. Beth seldom drove outside of town and had a copper colored 1957 Chevy Bel Air 4-door.
The kitchen had a back door that led to a small concrete porch with two or three steps. The back yard was a mixture of grasses while the front yard was primarily St. Augustine. At the far back was an alley where the trash was collected. The cicada was a common summer neighbor.
A. G. died in 1964 when I was 14 years old. Soon after, Beth moved to Sherman. Except for a quick drive through town around 1974, my memories of Electra ended with Beth's final 144 mile trip east.
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