Means to Be a Soul Winner
We drove a few hours to Dallas so my brother could fly back to the desert. We as in: me, him, and my dog. The drive went by fairly quick. We listened to some of our favorite jams and a podcast.
Driving through Dallas is never fun, even in the middle of a Friday. We got there though, and did our hugs and pats goodbye. I got a hug, my dog got a pat. Maybe I’ll get a pat next time.
I will miss my brother, I am not sure when the next time I will see him in person will be.
Learning to Move
After we dropped him off, my dog and I drove about thirty minutes to the grounds of Arlington Baptist University, home of the Patriots.
The only TB there is the Taco Bell two-and-a-half miles away on Cooper Street, open until four in the morning Thursday through Saturday, three in the morning the other days.
The predecessor of the university was founded in 1939 as Fundamental Baptist Bible Institute by J. Frank Norris. The J stands for John, and the Frank is short for Franklyn.
JFN was a pivotal figure in the Baptist scene in Texas in the first half of the 20th century.
He graduated as valedictorian from Baylor University in 1903. Some were wary he could do it because he had spent the three years before attending the school learning how to use his body again.
He became paralyzed after two men on horseback came to his family’s property and started shooting at his father. They shot his father, but also JFN when his 15-year-old self charged them with a knife. His father had testified in court against some horse thieves, and they were not happy.
During those years between the shots and Baylor, his mother read him books about the “great men” of history.
JFN went on to receive his Master of Theology from Southern Baptist Theological Seminary in Louisville, Kentucky. Once again graduating as valedictorian.
His first call to service was at McKinney Avenue Baptist Church in Dallas. The church grew to a thousand, doubling its membership, and then he was asked to become editor of the Baptist Standard newspaper. He accepted and used this platform to wage war against racetrack gambling after receiving a letter from a mother whose son had taken his life after losing it all at the track.
The legislature held a special session on racetrack gambling. The proprietors of the tracks brought their supporters, JFN brought his. He spoke last and preached until nearly two in the morning. He ended by reading the letter from the mother and said, "Shall we fail this godly mother?"
He then left the paper after he was called to serve at First Baptist Church of Fort Worth at thirty-three years old. The vote of the congregation was 334-1.
The one man who voted against him was asked why, and he said:
"I am not opposed to J. Frank Norris: I am for him but this church is in no condition for his type of ministry. If he comes, there will be allfiredest explosion ever witnessed in any church. We are at peace with the world, the flesh, the devil, and with one another. And this fellow carries a broad axe and not a pearl handled penknife. I just want to warn you."
My dog and I did not go for the university though. We went for what used to be there, for what little remains.
Rouge Means Red
In 1921, Beulah and Thomas Marshall turned a big ole house into a tea room. The tea room was well known for its chicken fried steak, something I never really got into but my dad and many others enjoy quite a bit.
In 1929, Arlington Downs opened not too far away from the tea room. It was a horseracing track built by W.T. Waggoner, W.T. stands for William Thomas. He spent three million on it, which is the equivalent of nearly sixty million today.
The Waggoners could be, and probably will be, their own note.
As mentioned, JFN got racetrack gambling outlawed. W.T. and his two sons, Guy and E. Paul (Edward), got parimutuel betting legalized to drive profits for Arlington Downs.
Parimutuel betting was invented by Joseph Oller in 1867. He co-founded the Moulin Rouge in Paris.
The idea is everyone throws their bets into a pot, the house and the taxman take their cut, then at the end of the event whoever bet on the winning outcome (for example, a winning horse) splits up the pot.
The Devil’s Playground
In 1930, the tearoom was sold to Fred and Mary Browning who turned it into a nightclub catering to patrons of Arlington Downs. Fred had run clubs who kept gambling on the down low in Richmond, Texas, and Tulsa, Oklahoma, so he figured this was a good spot to do the same.
The new place was called Top O' Hill Terrace, or “The Devil’s Playground” as it would later be unofficially known.
Above ground was the restaurant. And below ground was the gambling. Nearby was the brothel. They also served alcohol during Prohibition.
Below, they spared no expense. Rosewood billiard tables, an oak bar, crystal chandeliers, and Irish linen.
Fred didn’t allow guns, and required his patrons to enter through a corridor of many doors, surrounded by peepholes and two way mirrors.
The facility had a massive iron gate over the driveway, and watchtowers with armed guards. If police approached, the guards warned Fred and his team so they could cover up the vices and patrons could escape through the tunnels they built. They would go to the tea garden and act like good, upstanding citizens… or hide in the woods.
Not everyone who came to Top O’ Hill were there to gamble or darken the halls of the brothel. Many were there for the food as the dining was as fine as the view from the thousand foot hill it was on, overlooking Fort Worth.
My dog found the tunnel interesting.
Fred Said Flip It
At its peak, the establishment was handling half a million a weekend (~ten million today). Characters such as John Wayne, Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, and Howard Hughes came by. As did Bonnie and Clyde, guns left in the car.
The Texas Rangers attempted to raid The Devil’s Playground on November 5th, 1935, and failed.
When they got in, everything was flipped, hidden in the secret compartments in the walls, and the business looked like something they couldn’t disagree with. The next day, they raided again and did arrest Fred and some of his associates. Patrons got to leave.
Fred and friends were released shortly after, and got their gambling equipment back, due to an issue with the search warrant. The issue was they didn’t get one. Captain Tom Hickman was fired.
Over the next several years the establishment was raided multiple times but it was not until 1950 when they were able to charge and indict Fred. He died in 1953, one year after J. Frank Norris.
Down and Up
When JFN was a boy he helped his mother dump his father’s liquor bottles on Christmas Day. When his father Werner returned home that day, he saw what happened. He asked JFN if he emptied the bottles, and the reply was in the affirmative.
Werner was drunk already and he entered a blind rage. He used a whip on JFN until he was unconscious. The next day, JFN woke up, bloodied and bruised, to find his father, now sober, sobbing.
Werner was saying, "Daddy didn't do it! Daddy didn't do it! Liquor did it!"
He then said a prayer for his son, "Oh God, liquor has wrecked my life and home. Take this boy and send him up and down this land to fight the curse that wrecked my life."
The Change of Hands
In 1956, JFN-founded Baptist Bible Seminary bought the grounds where Top O’ Hill Terrace lay. The school was then under the leadership of Dr. Earl K. Oldham.
Dr. Oldham made the deal for the property without a dollar for it, and then raised the funds from the World Baptist Fellowship. Baptist churches from all corners pooled the funds and the property changed hands.
They changed their name to Arlington Baptist College and started offering four year degrees.
They destroyed most of the buildings of Top O' Hill Terrace, but kept the tunnel, the gate, and the guardhouse. They also kept the swimming pool and tea garden.
They changed the name to Arlington Baptist University in 2017, and the area around the terrace ruins is now part of a disc golf course.
It all keeps on spinning.
