My Friend, John Pinkerton Paul Hord phord@csisd.org One of my favorite movies is Tombstone. The movie is pretty factual and the action in between is great. There is also an incredible focus on the relationships between all of the characters involved. One of the best is that of Doc Holliday and Wyatt Earp. Both men have a long history and their loyalty to one another is a highlight of the movie. I've never researched the actual relationship between the two, primarily because I love the movie theory and if I discover something otherwise, I won't ever watch it again. When channel surfing, if I come across this movie, I always have to finish it, even though I always know the outcome. I graduated from Tarleton State University in May of 1995. I was desperately looking for a teaching job and not having much luck. I had majored in History and Political Science and was hoping to find a job at the high school level. I was living at home with my parents over the summer and was struck with the possibility of having graduated from college with a degree and possibly not finding a job and then having to have the support of my parents. This was an absolute failure in my mind at the time. I wanted to be independent and support myself, not needing to have the support of my parents. They would have been just fine at the time having me in their home for as long as I wanted; but, I felt the need to prove that I could be independent and support myself. I applied everywhere in Texas for jobs, even El Paso. I would have moved anywhere for a job. I had many interviews but all of the jobs required coaching assignments. I loved and was familiar with many sports but I wanted my first job to have the priority of teaching students. Mid June of 1995, I received a call from the principal at Somerville High School, Somerville, Texas. I interviewed for a position teaching Spanish. This is not something that I was certified to teach but because I had 12 hours of coursework in the subject, I could be emergency certified to teach it. I jumped at the opportunity and figured I would sort out the details later of not really having a grasp for the subject matter or how to teach it. I moved into a garage apartment behind the post office in Somerville in August and tried to get settled into my classroom and figure out how in the hell I was going to teach this subject! My classroom was right next to the library. The school's Librarian, John Pinkerton, was one of the first to welcome me to Somerville and my new job. He was very kind and really enjoyed to talk. He had been an English teacher at the same school for many years and then went back to get his Librarian's certification when an opportunity arose in the school district. I spent many, many late evenings in my classroom trying to get ready for the school year. John spent many, many late evenings working in his library. He always stopped by to check on me. He would ask me how I was doing and if I needed help with anything. The conversations always turned into something more interesting such as politics, war stories when he was a teacher, his time in the service, his cats, his lovely wife Linda, golf, you name it, John knew something about it. One evening, John asked me, "Do you know what you are getting yourself into with being a teacher? Do you know what you're doing?" All I could say was yes although I had no idea what in the hell I was planning for on the first day of school. John was a smoker. Back in the day, teachers could smoke in the workroom or outside of the building during their down time. By 1995, this was no longer allowed. No smoking by anyone on campus, that would have to take place outside of school hours and not on the school campus. Well, John, he kind of ignored this rule. John didn't smoke during school hours, but in the evenings, he smoked. One evening, John stopped by my classroom. He was smoking a cigarette. We talked about everything, school related and non school related. There was a moment that I knew that JP was a different type of cat! He had a really long ash on his cigarette and of course, there wasn't an ashtray and he couldn't leave the evidence behind. So, he dumped the ashes in his pants pocket and kept smoking it until he got to the butt and then put that in his pocket too. I was in awe! This is a moment that I will never forget. This guy did his job well but wasn't going to conform to all of the rules. As I started my school year and struggled mightily, John was always checking on me. One day after school, he invited me to his house for afternoon coffee, a Pinkerton staple that still stands to this day. This became an afternoon ritual. John and his wife Linda, they took such good care of me. They were basically my parents away from home. Those afternoon coffees are some of my greatest memories. We would talk about school stuff (as always), John would tell me how all of these new ideas about how to reach students was just a wash, rinse, and repeat of all educational endeavors in the past, we would talk a little politics, and then we would go back to the school to work. John is from Louisiana. They would invite me to dinner every so often. My first taste of Gumbo took place in their home and that heaven hit my taste buds like a clap of thunder, like where has this been my whole life? Those afternoon coffees were the best! After a couple of years, I got the hang of the teaching thing. I learned Spanish along the way because I didn't know it very well on my first day as a teacher. I stayed a day ahead of the students, prepared well, made sure that I utilized all of my class time, took Spanish classes at Sam Houston to learn more, and learned to become open to learning from others. Besides afternoon coffee, one of the best times of the day was our 30 minute lunch break in the teacher workroom. John and I always ate lunch together at the same time. Others would come and go depending on their schedules. It was always John and I, plus a few others. Now, the topics of discussion at our table were random. There was no set agenda. We would talk about sports, school business, politics, the Somerville community, etc. One day, a new staff member sat at our table to eat his lunch. We were having our normal conversations and this new person decided to try and set an agenda for our discussions, like a time limit. John looked at him and said, "Son, if you sit at this table to talk, you must understand that it's a stream of consciousness discussion. We just talk about whatever comes up. There's no agenda." This is another memory of JP that will always stick with me. Golf is a sport that I came to enjoy later in my life. There were a few male staff members in our district that decided we must play together at times, primarily in Caldwell, Texas. John played golf when he was younger but hadn't played in some time. We decided to play one afternoon after school. John didn't have any clubs so on our way to Caldwell, he stopped at Wal-Mart to buy a set. When we arrived to the course, John brings the box of clubs to the #1 tee, opens the box, and secures them to the golf cart. There was still plastic on the heads of the clubs. He threw away the box and all of the plastic away in the trash can at the clubhouse. He hadn't played in some time but when it was his time to tee off, he hit an Arnold Palmer burner down the middle of the fairway, like he was a pro. John had these wonderful moments, at times. But golf is a game of consistency, which is the struggle for all of us peasants. John returning to the sport of golf was the beginning of many rounds played between the two of us and a couple of other guys, Mark Strauss and Roy Green. Sprinkle in some Noe McCarthy and Shelby Fritsche along the way. We played many scrambles. This is where one team (two people on each team) played against another team. Both team members would hit shots and we played the best shot. My gosh, John and I were always so close to winning until the last 3 or 4 holes and then we would implode. I can never recall that we won a scramble. However, we did tie one time. If my memory is correct on this, John and I scrambled Noe and Mark in Bellville, Texas. Mark is a great golfer, so we were always going to be at a disadvantage. We got to the 18th hole and our 3rd shot was out of sight, down a steep embankment, at least 30 yards away. You couldn't see the hole at all. John hit his and missed. Before hitting my shot, John told me, "Come on Paul, you can do this!" So, I took my two way chipper (I'm pretty sure they don't sell these anymore), and just hit it. Because the shot was uphill, I never got to see it go in. But it went in! John was estactic! He ran down the hill and gave me a hug, declaring, "Paul, we tied them!" It was glorious! Another fond moment shared with JP. When we left the course, we proceeded to Mark's house in Brenham for beers on the patio and hilarious conversations. Laughter was a consistent with John and the rest of these guys that we worked and played golf with. The time spent with the Pinkertons declined a bit after I got married in 1998. I still spent some afternoons for Coffee with John and Linda and of course, John and I always spent time talking during the school day. I learned so much from him. He's just a very unique individual that was cut from a different cloth. I have always felt that he fit the true definition of a "Renaissance Man". He was (and still is) an artist; he could build anything (he fully renovated his home by himself); he was very well read, he knew every form of literature and was grammatically sound; he was well versed in history; he knew everything about politics; and it was always very obvious that he was extremely intelligent. So, hey people, there is a Renaissance Man living in Somerville, Texas! I left Somerville in 2000 after getting my Master's Degree in Counseling. It was just time to move on to something different. I was married, had moved to College Station, and was going to start a family soon. While still teaching in Somerville, I began to search for school counseling jobs in Bryan-College Station. I interviewed for several and was offered one in a small town nearby. I wasn't for sure if it was the right fit for me. Of course, I sought out the counsel of John to get his opinion. The one thing I remember him telling me was this: "Paul, you're a good teacher and a smart guy. You're going to have plenty of opportunities, just pick the one that feels right." Another JP moment that I will always remember. I never saw myself as someone who was intelligent, just a regular guy who was determined to outwork the person to my right and/or my left. His words meant the world to me because I know how smart of a man he is. I have to throw this in as well but it's a bit out of context with this essay. John could fix stuff. And he never used orthodox methods. There was a time that I had checked out a VHS camera from his library (this is old school stuff) to use for a project for my students. You had to insert a blank VHS tape in the camera to record anything that you wanted to watch. For whatever reason, the opener in which to insert the tape wouldn't open. The camera itself wasn't acting right. I let John know about this and he provided the following advice: "Paul, sometimes, when something's not working, you just have to pick it up off the ground about six inches, and drop it." John proceeded to do this with the camera and it began to work fine. Another JP moment that has stuck with me. I've used this many times with everything and his theory is sound! As time moved on, fantasy football kept John and I in touch, along with all of the other great people that worked in Somerville during my early years. We still get together each year for our annual fantasy football party for fun and fellowship and to award the winners. I believe our fantasy group will be celebrating year 25 in 2024. We're all a little older and more wise. I've always been amazed at how this group of individuals can go a year without seeing each other and then just pick up the conversations like we did in the workroom back at Somerville High School. At the conclusion of my first year as a high school teacher, John asked me to reflect on how I felt about my first year. My response was that although it was very hard, I was pleased and very thankful for a break before the next year would begin. John shared these words with me: "Paul, your first year as a teacher will always be you're most memorable." This has held true and it's not even close. That first year as a teacher in Somerville is by far my most memorable and satisfying. So, I started this essay about one of my favorite movies, Tombstone. Doc Holliday and Wyatt Earp had been through thick and thin together, one always sticking up for the other, regardless of the danger. Towards the end of the movie, Doc was in a hospital during his last days, dying of Tuberculosis. Wyatt, loyal to the bone, showed up everyday to visit Doc and to continue a poker game that had been ongoing for some time. Doc tells Wyatt, "Wyatt, why are you doing this? I'm dying. Please, if you ever had any love for me, ever cared anything about me, please leave. Go live. Live for me Wyatt." Wyatt is at a point where he doesn't quite know how to move forward with this life but he honors his friend's request. Before leaving the hospital, Wyatt puts a book in Doc's hand and says, "Doc, thanks for always being there." Wyatt leaves and Doc holds up a book titled, "My Friend, Doc Holliday." Wyatt had written it for his good friend. I love this scene. I'm writing this for my good friend, John Pinkerton. Thanks for always being there JP. enough

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My Friend, John Pinkerton

Paul Hord

phord@csisd.org

One of my favorite movies is Tombstone. The movie is pretty factual and the action in between is great. There is also an incredible focus on the relationships between all of the characters involved. One of the best is that of Doc Holliday and Wyatt Earp. Both men have a long history and their loyalty to one another is a highlight of the movie. I've never researched the actual relationship between the two, primarily because I love the movie theory and if I discover something otherwise, I won't ever watch it again. When channel surfing, if I come across this movie, I always have to finish it, even though I always know the outcome.

I graduated from Tarleton State University in May of 1995. I was desperately looking for a teaching job and not having much luck. I had majored in History and Political Science and was hoping to find a job at the high school level. I was living at home with my parents over the summer and was struck with the possibility of having graduated from college with a degree and possibly not finding a job and then having to have the support of my parents. This was an absolute failure in my mind at the time. I wanted to be independent and support myself, not needing to have the support of my parents. They would have been just fine at the time having me in their home for as long as I wanted; but, I felt the need to prove that I could be independent and support myself. I applied everywhere in Texas for jobs, even El Paso. I would have moved anywhere for a job. I had many interviews but all of the jobs required coaching assignments. I loved and was familiar with many sports but I wanted my first job to have the priority of teaching students. Mid June of 1995, I received a call from the principal at Somerville High School, Somerville, Texas. I interviewed for a position teaching Spanish. This is not something that I was certified to teach but because I had 12 hours of coursework in the subject, I could be emergency certified to teach it. I jumped at the opportunity and figured I would sort out the details later of not really having a grasp for the subject matter or how to teach it. I moved into a garage apartment behind the post office in Somerville in August and tried to get settled into my classroom and figure out how in the hell I was going to teach this subject!

My classroom was right next to the library. The school's Librarian, John Pinkerton, was one of the first to welcome me to Somerville and my new job. He was very kind and really enjoyed to talk. He had been an English teacher at the same school for many years and then went back to get his Librarian's certification when an opportunity arose in the school district. I spent many, many late evenings in my classroom trying to get ready for the school year. John spent many, many late evenings working in his library. He always stopped by to check on me. He would ask me how I was doing and if I needed help with anything. The conversations always turned into something more interesting such as politics, war stories when he was a teacher, his time in the service, his cats, his lovely wife Linda, golf, you name it, John knew something about it. One evening, John asked me, "Do you know what you are getting yourself into with being a teacher? Do you know what you're doing?" All I could say was yes although I had no idea what in the hell I was planning for on the first day of school.

John was a smoker. Back in the day, teachers could smoke in the workroom or outside of the building during their down time. By 1995, this was no longer allowed. No smoking by anyone on campus, that would have to take place outside of school hours and not on the school campus. Well, John, he kind of ignored this rule. John didn't smoke during school hours, but in the evenings, he smoked. One evening, John stopped by my classroom. He was smoking a cigarette. We talked about everything, school related and non school related. There was a moment that I knew that JP was a different type of cat! He had a really long ash on his cigarette and of course, there wasn't an ashtray and he couldn't leave the evidence behind. So, he dumped the ashes in his pants pocket and kept smoking it until he got to the butt and then put that in his pocket too. I was in awe! This is a moment that I will never forget. This guy did his job well but wasn't going to conform to all of the rules.

As I started my school year and struggled mightily, John was always checking on me. One day after school, he invited me to his house for afternoon coffee, a Pinkerton staple that still stands to this day. This became an afternoon ritual. John and his wife Linda, they took such good care of me. They were basically my parents away from home. Those afternoon coffees are some of my greatest memories. We would talk about school stuff (as always), John would tell me how all of these new ideas about how to reach students was just a wash, rinse, and repeat of all educational endeavors in the past, we would talk a little politics, and then we would go back to the school to work. John is from Louisiana. They would invite me to dinner every so often. My first taste of Gumbo took place in their home and that heaven hit my taste buds like a clap of thunder, like where has this been my whole life? Those afternoon coffees were the best!

After a couple of years, I got the hang of the teaching thing. I learned Spanish along the way because I didn't know it very well on my first day as a teacher. I stayed a day ahead of the students, prepared well, made sure that I utilized all of my class time, took Spanish classes at Sam Houston to learn more, and learned to become open to learning from others. Besides afternoon coffee, one of the best times of the day was our 30 minute lunch break in the teacher workroom. John and I always ate lunch together at the same time. Others would come and go depending on their schedules. It was always John and I, plus a few others. Now, the topics of discussion at our table were random. There was no set agenda. We would talk about sports, school business, politics, the Somerville community, etc. One day, a new staff member sat at our table to eat his lunch. We were having our normal conversations and this new person decided to try and set an agenda for our discussions, like a time limit. John looked at him and said, "Son, if you sit at this table to talk, you must understand that it's a stream of consciousness discussion. We just talk about whatever comes up. There's no agenda." This is another memory of JP that will always stick with me.

Golf is a sport that I came to enjoy later in my life. There were a few male staff members in our district that decided we must play together at times, primarily in Caldwell, Texas. John played golf when he was younger but hadn't played in some time. We decided to play one afternoon after school. John didn't have any clubs so on our way to Caldwell, he stopped at Wal-Mart to buy a set. When we arrived to the course, John brings the box of clubs to the #1 tee, opens the box, and secures them to the golf cart. There was still plastic on the heads of the clubs. He threw away the box and all of the plastic away in the trash can at the clubhouse. He hadn't played in some time but when it was his time to tee off, he hit an Arnold Palmer burner down the middle of the fairway, like he was a pro. John had these wonderful moments, at times. But golf is a game of consistency, which is the struggle for all of us peasants. John returning to the sport of golf was the beginning of many rounds played between the two of us and a couple of other guys, Mark Strauss and Roy Green. Sprinkle in some Noe McCarthy and Shelby Fritsche along the way. We played many scrambles. This is where one team (two people on each team) played against another team. Both team members would hit shots and we played the best shot. My gosh, John and I were always so close to winning until the last 3 or 4 holes and then we would implode. I can never recall that we won a scramble. However, we did tie one time. If my memory is correct on this, John and I scrambled Noe and Mark in Bellville, Texas. Mark is a great golfer, so we were always going to be at a disadvantage. We got to the 18th hole and our 3rd shot was out of sight, down a steep embankment, at least 30 yards away. You couldn't see the hole at all. John hit his and missed. Before hitting my shot, John told me, "Come on Paul, you can do this!" So, I took my two way chipper (I'm pretty sure they don't sell these anymore), and just hit it. Because the shot was uphill, I never got to see it go in. But it went in! John was estactic! He ran down the hill and gave me a hug, declaring, "Paul, we tied them!" It was glorious! Another fond moment shared with JP. When we left the course, we proceeded to Mark's house in Brenham for beers on the patio and hilarious conversations. Laughter was a consistent with John and the rest of these guys that we worked and played golf with.

The time spent with the Pinkertons declined a bit after I got married in 1998. I still spent some afternoons for Coffee with John and Linda and of course, John and I always spent time talking during the school day. I learned so much from him. He's just a very unique individual that was cut from a different cloth. I have always felt that he fit the true definition of a "Renaissance Man". He was (and still is) an artist; he could build anything (he fully renovated his home by himself); he was very well read, he knew every form of literature and was grammatically sound; he was well versed in history; he knew everything about politics; and it was always very obvious that he was extremely intelligent. So, hey people, there is a Renaissance Man living in Somerville, Texas!

I left Somerville in 2000 after getting my Master's Degree in Counseling. It was just time to move on to something different. I was married, had moved to College Station, and was going to start a family soon. While still teaching in Somerville, I began to search for school counseling jobs in Bryan-College Station. I interviewed for several and was offered one in a small town nearby. I wasn't for sure if it was the right fit for me. Of course, I sought out the counsel of John to get his opinion. The one thing I remember him telling me was this: "Paul, you're a good teacher and a smart guy. You're going to have plenty of opportunities, just pick the one that feels right." Another JP moment that I will always remember. I never saw myself as someone who was intelligent, just a regular guy who was determined to outwork the person to my right and/or my left. His words meant the world to me because I know how smart of a man he is.

I have to throw this in as well but it's a bit out of context with this essay. John could fix stuff. And he never used orthodox methods. There was a time that I had checked out a VHS camera from his library (this is old school stuff) to use for a project for my students. You had to insert a blank VHS tape in the camera to record anything that you wanted to watch. For whatever reason, the opener in which to insert the tape wouldn't open. The camera itself wasn't acting right. I let John know about this and he provided the following advice: "Paul, sometimes, when something's not working, you just have to pick it up off the ground about six inches, and drop it." John proceeded to do this with the camera and it began to work fine. Another JP moment that has stuck with me. I've used this many times with everything and his theory is sound!

As time moved on, fantasy football kept John and I in touch, along with all of the other great people that worked in Somerville during my early years. We still get together each year for our annual fantasy football party for fun and fellowship and to award the winners. I believe our fantasy group will be celebrating year 25 in 2024. We're all a little older and more wise. I've always been amazed at how this group of individuals can go a year without seeing each other and then just pick up the conversations like we did in the workroom back at Somerville High School. At the conclusion of my first year as a high school teacher, John asked me to reflect on how I felt about my first year. My response was that although it was very hard, I was pleased and very thankful for a break before the next year would begin. John shared these words with me: "Paul, your first year as a teacher will always be you're most memorable." This has held true and it's not even close. That first year as a teacher in Somerville is by far my most memorable and satisfying.

So, I started this essay about one of my favorite movies, Tombstone. Doc Holliday and Wyatt Earp had been through thick and thin together, one always sticking up for the other, regardless of the danger. Towards the end of the movie, Doc was in a hospital during his last days, dying of Tuberculosis. Wyatt, loyal to the bone, showed up everyday to visit Doc and to continue a poker game that had been ongoing for some time. Doc tells Wyatt, "Wyatt, why are you doing this? I'm dying. Please, if you ever had any love for me, ever cared anything about me, please leave. Go live. Live for me Wyatt." Wyatt is at a point where he doesn't quite know how to move forward with this life but he honors his friend's request. Before leaving the hospital, Wyatt puts a book in Doc's hand and says, "Doc, thanks for always being there." Wyatt leaves and Doc holds up a book titled, "My Friend, Doc Holliday." Wyatt had written it for his good friend. I love this scene. I'm writing this for my good friend, John Pinkerton. Thanks for always being there JP.

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