0.29 Charles pebworth, b. 1926  (Page 2/3)

The 50s were the age of innocence in Houston because the Museum was a very nice place. It was free and you could go in, which I did a lot, and I loved to look at the paintings, the old masters. It was a very personable place. In those days you could touch paintings and feel the texture of them. In fact, one time when I was at the display department at Foley’s I was doing some kind of western theme for the men’s wear window and the Museum loaned me all the Remington paintings. That’s kind of how the art scene was in Houston. You could do things like that at the Museum.

I wasn’t part of the Contemporary Arts Association but I knew all of those people who were working at the Contemporary Arts Museum, especially when it was out by the Prudential building. It was strictly a volunteer organization during those times. The art community was very, very small when you think about it.

In the sixties

In the 60s that was when things just started. Galleries were starting to open, new galleries were opening and people were just feeling their way and Mrs. de Menil was still at St. Thomas and Jim Love was doing the displays for her. I can remember very well, Guy Johnson, he was a painter in Houston, and starting to emerge as a good painter. I got a lot of [business] through Ben DuBose—people trusted him. Back in the 60s I’d get my receipts and I could see addresses on Inwood going all the way down the street. Everybody was starting to buy from him. So I felt very fortunate to be in his gallery at that time. Of course, my pieces were selling for $25, but that didn’t make any difference. That was good money then; I was very happy to get it.

They started getting big-time directors in the Museum, and it became more professional. I could leave my house here [in Huntsville], drive out the driveway, pull up on Main Street and park at the side entrance of the Museum in one hour. On I-45 I could see maybe only five or six cars that I would pass during that time!

Early education

I grew up in Pawhuska, Oklahoma, which is Osage Indian territory—and boys didn’t take art classes even if they offered them. I can remember in the sixth grade I did a wood block, linoleum cut, and made a print—and I can still remember the teacher thinking it was good. But I didn’t think anything about it because in high school boys didn’t [do art]. It was World War II and there weren’t guidance tests or anything. I started high school in 1941 and the only thing you could think of at that time was when you were going into the army when you got old enough, and where you were going to be. There was no future beyond the war. No one thought about college, anything. It was just the war. And so my formative years in high school were about getting into the Army as fast as I could, which I tried and tried and tried. At 16 I joined the Navy by forging my parents’ signature. (That was the first time I showed artistic talent.) I forged my parents’ signature and they called the high school principal and told him I was 16 and couldn’t go. It was supposed to be 18—but with your parents’ signature you could go in at 17. At 17 I joined the Air Force to become a cadet and I had to wait until I was 18 and by that time the war was winding down. They said they weren’t accepting any more cadets then, but I could go into the infantry if I wanted, which I did. I went into the airborne, became a partrooper in 1945, and when I got out of the Army I had the GI bill. So I started going to college.