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Thursday, June 30, 2011

COUSINS DEFINED

COUSINS DEFINED

Most dictionaries define “cousin” broadly as a close relative. Some are more specific, defining “cousins” as relatives who share common ancestors other than parents (that is, they share a grandparent, great grandparent, great-great grandparent, etc.).  Lawyers and genealogists have devised even more specific definitions, based on both “degree” and “removal.”

Degree (First, Second, Third, Fourth, etc.)
The degree indicates the number of generations between the cousins and their common ancestor.  For example:
First cousins share grandparents.
Second cousins share great grandparents.
Third cousins share great-great grandparents.
Fourth cousins share great-great-great grandparent etc.
(Note that the degree is always one more than the number of greats in the title.)

In this system, the degree is directly linked to the common ancestor, and is used to denote a direct descent relationship.  But what if my grandparents are your great grandparents?  Or if my great grandparents are your great-great-great grandparents?  How are we related?  This is where the "removes" come into play.

Removal (Once removed, twice removed, thrice removed, etc.)
The “removal” indicates the number of generations between any two cousins. 

For example, the children of your first cousins are your first cousins once removed. 
The grandchildren of your first cousins are your first cousins twice removed. 
The great grandchildren of your first cousins are your first cousins thrice removed.

Similarly, the children of your second cousins are your second cousins once removed, while the grandchildren of your second cousins are your second cousins twice removed.  The great grandchildren of your second cousins are your second cousins thrice removed, etc.
In this system, we see the following:
Descendants of my cousins are my first cousins with differing removals.
Descendants of my second cousins are my second cousins with differing removals.
Descendants of my third cousins are my third cousins with differing removals.
Descendants of my fourth cousins are my fourth cousins with differing removals.

In this system, “Removal” is always based within the original “Degree” of cousin relationship.  That is, the common ancestor sets the Degree (first, second, third, etc.) while the Removal is determined by the number of generations separating the cousins.  In figuring relationships, you first determine the generation of the common ancestor (degree) and then the removal.  On a family tree, this can be seen by the branching.  

In the examples above, if my grandparents are your great grandparents, you are my first cousin, once removed.  That is, you are the child of my first cousin.  In the second, example, your grandparent was my second cousin, and you are my second cousin, twice removed. 

Half Cousins:
Systems concerned with genetics, may use the term “half cousin.”  Just as “half” siblings share only one parent, half cousins share only one grandparent or one great grandparent, etc.  This distinction is often ignored.

Double Cousins:
When siblings marry siblings, (for example two sisters marry two brothers) their children have the same  grandparents.  These “double first cousins”(like siblings) share four grandparents, and are genetically as close as siblings.  
Does all this remind you of the very old country and western song, "I'm My Own Grandpaw?"

Wednesday, June 29, 2011

COUSINS

COUSINS[1]      

I have always considered it most strange that sociologists and psychologists, who are obsessed with studying every aspect of sibling relationships, universally neglect relationships with almost equal potency – cousins.  My cousins (and I had 36 of them) were among the most enduring and powerful influences in my life.  From them I learned most of the really important things in life.  Everything from where babies come from (and how they got there) to how to thrive, as a kid, in an adult- dominated world.  They were the “pack” in which I learned submission and domination, how to conform to rules; how follow and how to lead (and the dangers that accompany either role).  You can choose your friends, and they come and go; but cousins, like siblings, are non-negotiable and permanent.  You are family, and you have to learn to understand and get-along with each other; there is no alternative.  In these fixed relationships, you learn valuable skills of negotiation, compromise, and survival. 

Sibling relationships are fixed by birth order.  You are the “oldest” or the “baby” or the “middle child,” and you learn to occupy that niche.  With cousins, your role is more fluid, and you get to play multiple parts.  If you are lucky, you have a turn at being the “baby,” at being the “big kid,” and even at being “in-between.”  You play multiple characters and learn from each experience.  You learn humility and confidence; fear and courage.  To borrow from the Bard, I recall four stages in cousinship development: the “coveted baby,” the “rejected tag-along,” the “initiate,” and the “boss kid”.

The Coveted Baby
When a new baby is introduced into the family, cousins compete for access to the little one, quarrelling over who can hold it, who can rock it, who can feed it, which one it likes best.  As the baby progresses to crawling and toddling, it retains its attraction, and the cousins take turns lugging it around and playing with it.  I remember the shaking, bouncing, thudding of being carried on the hip of a running big cousin.  Grownups carried you, but they never ran with you.  I have a vivid memory of sitting high on a big cousin’s shoulders, gripping his neck with my legs, my hands entangled in his hair, and shouting “gittie-up, gettie-up” as we ran through the fields.  Actually, as I learned with later babies, I was the “handicap” that the oldest cousin carried while racing the younger cousins.  My parents would have died if they had witnessed this contest, but it was exciting beyond belief. 

The primary lesson I learned during my “baby” phase was self-control.  Specifically I learned not to cry, piss, or shit because any one of these ended my fun, and resulted in my immediate return to my mother’s care.  My mother always assumed that my early “potty” training was the result of her superior parenting skills, never appreciating the critical role my cousins played.

But like all good things, my term as “coveted baby” was brought to a close by two events.  New babies were born, and I learned to talk.  As the glories of total acceptance yielded to absolute rejection, I suffered greatly.


Rejected Tag-Along
My older cousins didn’t want me around anymore.  They had secrets that a blabbermouth child couldn’t keep, and games to play that didn’t include me.  I cried to go with them, and only when the adults vehemently insisted was I allowed to tag-along.  Of course, as soon as the adults were out of sight and ear-shot, I suffered the consequences.  The main thing I learned during this period was to take my lumps without whining or tattling.

This was how I began to learn the “rules” of “kidhood.” Rule #1 -- Adults are the natural enemies of kids.  Under the guise of protecting us, adults attempt to oversee and control us.  The goals of “kidhood” are freedom and adventure.  The battle lines were clearly drawn – it was them against us.  Acceptance by my cousins was entirely dependent on my understanding this rule and inculcating it into my very being.

Initiate
Once this percept was clearly implanted in my mind, I was elevated to the lowest rung of cousinhood.  I was allowed to go along on a gradually expanding set of “adventures,” but I must: 1) never cry or run to an adult with any injury suffered during our adventures; 2) hide any blood, scrapes, cuts, bruises or other signs of injury (and if I couldn’t hide these, I was to lie about how they occurred); 3) never complain to any adult about anything the older cousins did to me; 4) always follow the orders of my older cousins without objections; and most importantly 5) never, ever tell any adult the truth about our escapades, plans, or other secrets.

To toughen us up and ensure we could keep these rules, the older cousins put us through rigorous training.  These training procedures were educationally enhancing exercises, primarily giving us first-hand experiences with Newton’s laws, including his Universal Law of Gravitation and all three of his Laws of Motion.

Among other trials, we were required to jump from the roof of the old barn, and if we hesitated, we had to do it again.  I remember this one because I have a fear of heights, and had to do it several times before my bravery was successfully demonstrated. 

We also had to “ride” pine saplings.  This game is an old one for country kids, and can best be accomplished by someone who weighs less than 60 pounds.  Older cousins, too big to ride, assisted.  A rope was attached near the top of a flexible young pine.  The size of the child and the size of the pine had to be carefully matched.  While older cousin(s) held the rope against the pull of the bent tree, the selected rider was mounted near the top, clinging tightly with arms and legs.  At the signal, the rope was released, and the pine acted like a catapult, swinging upright and oscillating until equilibrium was reached.  If the rider held on tightly, he could then shimmy down the tree, victorious.  If the rider lost his grip, well, he would wind up with an even greater appreciation for Newtonian physics.

Sometimes lessons in animal husbandry and physics were combined. One skill I learned was goat riding.  Well, actually, I learned to hang on to a running, bucking goat until I fell off.  We learned bovine dzhigitovka. We had to stand on the broad back of Polly (the gentlest milk cow) while the older cousins held her head and fed her fallen pears.  From that perch, we had to pick ripe pears from the higher tree limbs.  If we were lucky, Polly cooperated.  When she grew tired of the activity, we had to be prepared to leap free before she galloped off. 

One favorite test of courage and agility was “taunt the gander.”  My grandmother’s gander was vicious and hated all the grandchildren.  Actually, he hated every living thing except my grandmother.  He was wary of the bigger cousins, but had no fear of the smaller ones.  The game was to send several of us into the chicken yard, to provoke and frustrate his attacks.  To do the job well, we had to be part picadore, part matadore, part sprinter, and part gymnast.  Now you have to understand that the gander was big and mean.  His beak and wings were powerful weapons.  My grandmother kept his wings clipped so he couldn’t fly (at least not often or high).  He was the bull and we were the toreros.  We kept him confused, but when he charged no “red flag” worked.  The selected victim had to flee at top speed and vault to the top of the gate before being caught.

There were also psychological tests.  I think the most horrendous trial I suffered was staying alone in a large, darkened, storage closet with a variety of stored furniture and a portrait of my great grandmother.  I was told that if I was patient and brave my great grandmother would speak to me.  With some tricky assistance from an older cousin, she did speak, and we had a long conversation.  Today, that portrait hangs on my bedroom wall, and I never see it without recalling our haunting dialogue. 

Without doubt, my favorite test was the ghost story ritual.  The younger cousins were allowed to sit in the evening dark while the older cousins took turns telling the most fearsome ghost tales.  I loved these, even the “got ‘ya” endings.  Anyone who cried or ran to mother was dead meat.

When our bravery, fortitude, and loyalty had been fully tested, we were finally allowed full participation in adventure-filled cousinhood.  Interestingly this wasn’t that much of a change.  The hierarchy was established and we just benefited from fuller participation, and being allowed to share in “training” younger cousins.  We had many adventures, including “stealing” watermelons and roasting ears from our grandparents’ fields, and slipping out of the house at night to feast on our ill-gotten gains.  Describing the things we did would take too long for this post, and deserves to be published alone.

Boss Kid  
The time did come when the older cousins moved on to young adulthood.  The day came when I was the “oldest,” the official “boss.”  I confess I was initially rather drunk with my new power.  It was only later that I realized the awesome responsibility that fell to me to continue to create new and more challenging adventures for the cousins.  I confess to being overwhelmed.  The opportunity to really establish my credentials came when all of the adults except my grandmother left the farm for an outing.  I took the younger cousins exploring, what they might call in Australia, a walk-about.  Indeed, we did explore.  We ventured into the woods and through the swamp and into areas of the farm where we had never been.  The younger cousins decided we were lost, and began to wail.  I assured them that all we had to do was find the fence and follow it.  This comforted them, but not me because I was not at all sure how to find a fence or where it might lead.  I did manage not to show fear or doubt before the troops.

We found the fence, and it did lead us back to the house – several hours after the adults launched search parties.  Our arrival was greeted with great celebration.  All the children – except me – were hugged and petted.  I was singled out as the perpetrator, the instigator, and the cause of the problem. I was punished, unjustly I felt, while the others were given food and pampering. When I protested that I had saved them by bringing us safely home, I got no takers.  This was my first encounter with the dark-side of leadership.  Something like, “the buck stops here” and “if you can’t take the heat, stay out of the kitchen.”  Being “boss” can be fun, but when things go wrong, you have to be ready to stand up and take the blame. 

All-in-all the lessons I learned from my cousins have proven valuable throughout my life.  I still love my cousins, mourn them when they are gone, and look forward to being with them at every opportunity.


[1] In this narrative, I’m combining my maternal and paternal cousins without differentiation.  In later stories, I will talk about each separately.

Tuesday, June 28, 2011

FAMILY HISTORY -- The Power of Stories

Lessons from Neurolinguistics --
The human brain cannot deal with randomness.  It seeks patterns through which to organize perceptions of the world.  The sciences of neurolinguistics, psycholinguistics, and cognitive linguistics seek to understand the neural substrates and processes by which our brains organize the information we extract through our senses.  Many of my friends have devoted their lives to understanding these processes.  I am about to oversimplify volumes of research, but hope to convey an accurate sense of their work.  If readers want to learn more, I have included a list of links to lead the curious to more information.

Our brains are not built to retain and access random information.  Therefore, our brains organize the incoming information in several “universal” ways (common to all members of our species). Among our most powerful organizational tools are “categorization” and “narrative” (stories). Human beings are driven to categorize the world.  From the child who views all women as “Mommies” and all men as “Daddies,” to the botanist who creates phylogenetic classifications, we express our universal need to organize and store information in categories.  The second process -- the focus of this blog is narrative or stories.

Much research supports man’s inherent neurobiological need to organize information in story form.  Simply stated, when confronted with apparently random events, we seek to find connections, to understand relationships such as cause and effect and sequence and even motivation.  We are compelled to discover “meaning” in our world and our lives.  When meaningful relationships are not evident in the data (the observed events), we derive or hypothesize meaning (relationships).  Science, religion, fabrications, and many aspects of creative art (including fiction) result in large part from our need to impose meaning.  When seeking to create meaning, we may resort to hypothesis-driven research or simply to imagination.  We derive meaning by creating stories in which events fit together in a coherent whole that satisfies our need to understand why and how.  Our cultural beliefs and personal experiences determine how we go about creating our narratives, but all human beings create and use stories to explain their world and their lives. 

The Power of Myth -- 
The stories, that we believe, guide our decisions and are a powerful aspect of who we are as individuals, as families, and as nations.  Joseph Campbell compellingly presents this concept in his documentary and book, The Power of Myth (see link below).  What we believe (and relate as stories) is a form of powerful “truth” even when it does not accurately represent “fact.”  Often our stories (myths) tell us more about ourselves than about the world around us.

What is History?
As a species we love stories and storytelling because narratives satisfy our need to understand, predict, and to some extent control our world and our lives.  The discipline of “History” exists because of man’s need to create a meaningful narrative to explain the past, predict the future, and guide decisions.  By reading ancient histories (writings from past civilizations), histories written a hundred years ago, and histories written today, we can easily see how the same events result in quite different “stories” depending on the cultures and the times (scientists would say paradigms) in which the historians (story tellers) live. 

Lessons for Family Historians -- 
I come from a long line of story tellers and married into another such family. My mother was a great teacher of history.  She led me to view history as a series of wonderful stories.  I feel so sorry for those whose educational experiences have turned them against history, who see this great story of mankind as dry and meaningless – boring. 
 
From my earliest childhood, I heard stories told by my family members, relating things that had happened to them, and retelling stories passed down by their parents and grandparents. I loved these stories.  The people in them were my relatives and the events and times in which they lived came alive in the stories.  I wanted to know the people better.  History was my “window” into understanding their stories, and their stories gave me insight into history.

As a young adult, I was disillusioned to discover that many of the favorite “stories” of my youth were not solidly based in fact.  There were inaccurate elaborations and clear errors in some family myths.  I found identical versions of stories handed down in other families.  I became rather obsessed with unearthing “proofs” and “evidence” in my genealogical research. 

But somewhere along the line, I gained some insight that may pass for wisdom.  The “stories” are as important and as worthy of transmitting to future generations as the evidence-based “facts.”  Together, what happened, and what people believed about what happened, both enhance our understanding of history. People’s lives consist of both events and perceptions. 
 
Understanding our family histories requires attention to both facts and stories.  When “fact” and “story” appear to be at odds with each other, it is a mistake to believe that the facts must be true.  DNA research is rewriting many family histories and in the process, demonstrating that the facts we once believed, are less accurate than our family stories.  As a family historian, I always seek to separate myth from fact, but I pass on both stories and evidence, even when these appear contradictory, because I know that both contain their own essence of “truth.”

Monday, June 27, 2011

Thomas Pinkney Heard -- Pink, Red,, T.P., Skipper

Thomas Pinkney Heard was called Pink by his Mother, Red by his classmates, T.P. by his business associates, and "Skipper" by most of LSU and Baton Rouge.  The following pictures and newspaper articles were published on the occasion of his induction into the Louisiana Sports Hall of Fame on July 25, 2011.  On this occasion, his only living brother, Lindsey Heard, all five of his living children, and over forty of his grandchildren, great grandchildren, nephews, nieces, and great nephews and nieces gathered in Natchitoches to celebrate the occasion in Heard style.




From the Shreveport Times:
http://www.shreveporttimes.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=2011106170319 


Heard had amazing impact on LSU athletics
10:38 PM, Jun. 16, 2011  |  
Written by
Marty Mule'
More than eight decades after he arrived on the scene, his fingerprints remain all over the LSU athletic program.
A case could be made that in the 118-year history of Tiger sports no one — not Doc Fenton, Billy Cannon, Pistol Pete or even the Kingfish, Huey Long — left an deeper imprint on the program, which owns an Southeastern Conference-leading 43 national championships, than Thomas Pinckney Heard.
A force behind three expansions of Tiger Stadium (1931, 1936, 1954) — in which the arena grew from 12,000 to 67,500 without which LSU could not evolved into the potent football entity it has become — Heard, known as "Skipper" was the far-sighted athletic director when the Tigers became a charter member of the SEC (1933); when LSU first hooked up with 50,000-watt clear-channel WWL-AM (1942), giving the Tigers a national broadcast platform; when LSU became one of the first teams to fly to faraway intersectional football games (1939). He even coached the LSU golf team to a national championship (1947).
Heard was also an early pioneer in the establishment of legal and above-board athletic grants-in-aid, and is described in Times-Picayune columnist Peter Finney's book "The Fighting Tigers" as "a man who might well be considered the father of the tremendous sports plant on today's Baton Rouge campus."
He's an overdue but logical inductee in the Louisiana Sports Hall of Fame.
That will take place Saturday, June 25 in Natchitoches, with Lt. Gov. Jay Dardenne speaking about his impact, and grandson Will Wilton accepting the honor on behalf of a man who shaped the destiny of LSU sports.
Prime example is relayed from Finney's tome in which he writes, "The first addition to the stands in Tiger Stadium reflected the shrewd business sense of LSU's graduate manager. Later, though the grapevine, Heard learned that LSU president James M. Smith had $250,000 earmarked for dormitories. Armed with that knowledge he proceeded to sell Smith on the idea that the president could have his dormitories in the stadium simply by raising the stands on both sides and extending them to each goal line.

 From the Alexandria Town Talk:
 

Pitkin's Heard won, and lost, battle with general

 
Lindsey Heard, the youngest brother of Skipper Heard, who was inducted into the Louisiana Sports Hall of Fame, honored his brother at the induction banquet on Saturday in Natchitoches. Melinda Martinez/mmartinez@thetowntalk.com 

Written by
Marty Mule' For the LSWA
NATCHITOCHES -- Who would've thought the little Vernon Parish town of Pitkin would produce two Louisiana Sports Hall of Famers in the last six years?
In 2006, it was Sheila Thompson-Johnson, the legendary women's basketball player and coach at Louisiana College, and this year, it is former LSU athletics director Thomas Pinckney "Skipper" Heard.
Through the stories and festivities that led up to Saturday night's induction ceremonies at the Natchitoches Events Center, many across the state finally became familiar with the story of Heard's visionary and ground-breaking tenure as the LSU athletics director from 1933-54.
What is less known about Heard is that he was one of 13 children (10 boys, three girls) who quit high school when he was 16 to join the Navy for two years and fight in World War I.
"He came back and finished high school and then went to LSU," said his grandson Will Wilton, a Baton Rouge native who has been the director of the Pete Maravich Assembly Center for 15 years.
The youngest of Heard's siblings is 88-year-old Lindsey Heard, who is one of only two surviving siblings of the former LSU AD, the other being a sister in Beaumont, Texas. Lindsey is also one of only two members of the once thriving Heard family who still are in Pitkin.
"He was about 27 years older than me, so I don't remember much about him," confessed Lindsey Heard, when first asked about his brother, but later confirmed that Skipper Heard coached the LSU golf team to the NCAA championship in 1947 and, while he was the athletics director, on trips back to Pitkin he would stop at gas stations along the way and drop off LSU football schedules in Vernon Parish.
During the Great Depression, that made him a marketer ahead of his time.
The Heard family came to Louisiana from Georgia and first settled at Dry Creek in Beauregard Parish before moving to Pitkin, said Lindsey Heard, who was a Army combat engineer in World War II.
One of Skipper Heard's career hallmarks was to raise the capacity of Tiger Stadium in a few increments until it reached 67,500, when he persuaded the state legislature to enlarge the stadium by more than 20,000 and enclose the south end. That likely cost him his job, ironically, because in doing that, he was butting heads with his boss, LSU President Troy Middleton.
Understand, that was Maj. Gen. Troy H. Middleton, the forgotten but crucially important American general during World War II, with whom Heard was butting heads.
Middleton was a guy who butted heads with Gen. George Patton -- and won.
Middleton's ax with Heard was that he badly wanted a new library to come first, ahead of the stadium expansion. Although the library (named after Middleton) eventually was built, Heard's was a Pyrrhic victory of sorts since it cost him his job.
For some perspective, the soft-spoken, bespectacled Middleton was the general who, as commander of the VIIth Corps, feuded with, and ultimately convinced, the combative Patton of a strategy that could - and did - turn back the deadly onslaught of the Germans in the Ardennes Forest in mid-December 1944.
Patton later characterized Middleton's plan as "a stroke of genius" and it was one that ultimately led an otherwise minor player in the war, Brig. Gen. Anthony McAuliffe, to get the confidence to resist the Germans' demand to surrender at Bastogne with his famous one-word reply: "Nuts."
Lt. Gov. Jay Dardenne, the presenter for Heard's posthumous award at Saturday night's banquet, said for Heard to "maneuver through the political minefield" to get dorms to be one of the ways to get the stadium expansion "was really unheard of at the time."
That, along with his "let there be light" innovation of night games, set the stadium apart among college stadiums and started a Saturday night tradition like none other.
He may not have had as short a quip as "Nuts" to Middleton in his battle for stadium expansion, but he did deliver famous last words in the feud. Some years after his departure as AD, he was sitting in the press box while fans were squeezing into the expanded stadium for the game between top-ranked LSU and undefeated Ole Miss.
"I wonder," he said, "how many people are at the library tonight?"
Maybe as many as there were at the one in Pitkin.

AD Heard had lasting impact on LSU athletics
1:25 AM, Jun. 16, 2011  |
Written by
Marty Mule' For the LSWA 

 
A case could be made that in the 118-year history of Tiger sports no one -- not Doc Fenton, Billy Cannon, Pistol Pete or even the Kingfish, Huey Long -- left an deeper imprint on the program, which owns an Southeastern Conference-leading 43 national championships, than Thomas Pinckney "Skipper" Heard.
A force behind three expansions of Tiger Stadium in which the arena grew from 12,000 to 67,500 without which LSU could not evolved into the potent football entity it has become.
Heard was the athletics director when the Tigers became a charter member of the SEC (1933); when LSU first hooked up with 50,000-watt clear-channel WWL-AM (1942), giving the Tigers a national broadcast platform; when LSU became one of the first teams to fly to faraway inter-sectional football games (1939). He even coached the LSU golf team to a national championship (1947).
Heard was also an early pioneer in the establishment of legal and above-board athletic grants-in-aid, and is described in Peter Finney's book "The Fighting Tigers" as "a man who might well be considered the father of the tremendous sports plant on today's Baton Rouge campus."
He's an overdue but logical inductee in the Louisiana Sports Hall of Fame. That will take place June 25 in Natchitoches, with Lt. Gov. Jay Dardenne speaking about his impact, and grandson Will Wilton accepting the honor on behalf of a man who shaped the destiny of LSU sports.
Prime example is relayed from Finney's tome in which he writes, "The first addition to the stands in Tiger Stadium reflected the shrewd business sense of LSU's graduate manager. Later, though the grapevine, Heard learned that LSU president James M. Smith had $250,000 earmarked for dormitories. Armed with that knowledge he proceeded to sell Smith on the idea that the president could have his dormitories in the stadium simply by raising the stands on both sides and extending them to each goal line. Explained Heard: "What it meant was, for $250,000, the president got his dormitories and we increased the seating capacity."
The filled-in dorms eventually housed 1,500 students and the stadium grew by 10,000 seats.
But what Heard will forever be remembered for is his invention of "Saturday Night in Tiger Stadium." Night football, which changed the landscape of fall evenings in Louisiana -- and gave LSU its signature sports persona.
For the princely Depression-era sum of $7,500, Heard took a gamble and installed lights, though success was not immediate. Rains swept across Louisiana during the early part of October, 1931 and just 6,000 fans were scattered in the 22,000-seat stadium when the Tigers beat Spring Hill 35-0. A week later, in a 19-12 victory against South Carolina LSU drew 10,000. The precedent had been set, and Heard had forever changed the setting of LSU football.
When Cohen resigned as football coach, Army's Biff Jones was brought in. But Jones was also an instructor in military science and did not have extra time from his coaching to oversee the entire program. Thus, Heard became LSU's second official athletics director but in reality continued as its first, and began building further on an enviable and long-lasting program.
But not every story has a fairytale ending. After more than two decades on the job, Heard was forced out of office in 1954 largely because of his persuasion of the state legislature to again enlarge Tiger Stadium by more than 20,000 seats enclosing the south end to 67,500.
It was a good idea, but not when Heard's boss, LSU President Troy Middleton, wanted a badly needed new library to come first. Both projects eventually came to fruition, but when Heard's idea prevailed, his fate was probably sealed.
Still, Heard got off the last word, or least the most memorable, on the subject.
Four years later, when LSU filled the expanded stadium for the first time with the new-ranked No. 1 Tigers playing undefeated Ole Miss, Heard was sitting in the press box he had built, watching the fans squeeze into the stands.
"I wonder," he said low, but loud enough for those immediately around him to hear, "how many people are at the library tonight?"

From the Baton Rouge Advocate

Heard, Walker lead 2011 inductees

  • By ROBIN FAMBROUGH
  • Advocate sportswriter
  • Published: Jun 25, 2011 - Page: 
NATCHITOCHES — Nearly six decades have passed since T.P. “Skipper” Heard served as athletic director at LSU.
Heard’s legacy grew Saturday night when he was posthumously inducted into the Louisiana Sports Hall of Fame, providing a lasting memory for 42 relatives on hand.
“We want to thank the Louisiana Sports Writers Association for their work and research that made this possible,” Heard’s grandson Will Wilton said. “When you look at the numbers — we have relatives who came from all across Louisiana and Texas to be here — it shows what it means to us. I know it’s something my grandfather would be very proud of.”
Heard and former LSU baseball star Todd Walker were part of an eight-member class inducted into the Louisiana Sports Hall of Fame during ceremonies Saturday night at the Natchitoches Events Center. About 650 attended the 52nd annual induction event.
Also inducted were three former members of the New Orleans Saints: kicker Morten Andersen, fullback Buford Jordan and linebacker Vaughan Johnson. Former University of Louisiana at Lafayette softball star Kyla Hall Holas, former Xavier University and NBA standout Donald “Slick” Watts and West Monroe High football coach Don Shows were the other inductees.
Boxing official Elmo Adolph, of New Orleans, and former legislator and Haughton coach Billy Montgomery were recipients of the 2011 Dave Dixon Louisiana Sports Leadership Award. Also honored were New Orleans writer-historian Ron Brocato and former Southeastern Louisiana University Sports Information Director Larry Hymel, recipients of the 2011 Distinguished Service Award in Sports Journalism Award.
“I grew up watching the Saints,” Walker said. “So for me, it’s cool to be in the same room with them, much less be inducted into a hall of fame with them.
“The other halls of fame I’ve been put in are baseball specific. This is everybody who can run, jump or throw something. It’s a unique class and I’m very honored to be part of it.”
While Heard, who died in 1980, helped build LSU into the national sports power by promoting Saturday night football as an event by installing lights om Tiger Stadium and brokering statewide broadcasts of games during his tenure as athletic director from 1933-54, Walker was a key player in the Tigers’ rise to prominence in college baseball.
Walker was an All-American who was voted the 1993 College World Series MVP after helping lead the Tigers to the national title. He went on to play 12 seasons in the major leagues with seven teams after being drafted in the first round by the Minnesota Twins in 1994.
Holas, now the head softball coach at the University of Houston, became the first softball player inducted. She led the Cajuns to their first Women’s College World Series in 1993. She compiled a 104-20 record in the circle and an earned run average of 0.50.
“It’s still very humbling getting a whole perspective of it,” Hollas said of the Hall of Fame. “It’s just something I  never imagined, but it’s also something I worked very hard for.”
West Monroe’s Shows enters the 2011 season with 321 victories and has won seven state titles with the Rebels dating to the early 1990s. He ranks fourth on Louisiana’s all-time victories list.
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“This is a great thing you have done for all the people of Louisiana,” Shows said of the Hall of Fame. “And not just for the ones who have received this award. It gives everybody a hope of getting in the Hall of Fame.
“I’m privileged to be where I am. It’s not a Don Shows thing at West Monroe or anywhere else I’ve coached. It’s about the parents, the players and the other coaches.”
Watts, a Mississippi native, was an NAIA All-American at Xavier-New Orleans, then went on to play with both the Seattle SuperSonics and New Orleans Jazz in the NBA. He led the NBA in assists and steals and made the NBA’s All-Defensive team.
Jordan, an Iota native, helps lead the contingent of three New Orleans Saints who all played at the same time with the team. He played fullback and special teams for the Saints from 1986-92 and also was Louisiana’s all-time leading rusher with 4,156 yards when he graduated and now ranks third.
“We all did some good things for Louisiana,” Jordan said. “And I’m Louisiana through and through. It’s an honor to be inducted with this group. I’m glad to bring some recognition to my home town.”
a Andersen scored 2,544 career points during an illustrious 25-year career in the NFL that included 13 seasons with the Saints. Johnson becomes the fourth member of the Saints’ famed “Dome Patrol” linebacker corps inducted. He played eight seasons with the Saints and made the Pro Bowl four times.

Pictures from the Occasion:
Nieces and great nieces -- Sarah McGrade, Alex Jackson, Frances Jackson Freeman, Danielle Rhine, & Veronica Perez Mueller