innocently instructing his younger brothers in its use. Belle told Ed he must discipline Harlon, and Ed spoke to him, but his heart wasn’t in it. What was so wrong about a Texas boy having a little gun? Belle’s ideals were compromised a little more.
And there were many times when Belle wasn’t told of Harlon’s hijinks. Harlon’s brother Mel remembers when Harlon and some friends, in an attempt to make their own liquor, mixed yeast and grapefruit juice in mason jars and hid them behind a pillar in the barn. “For two weeks those jars were exploding,” Mel told me. “We found this concoction dripping all over the barn. Dad thought it was funny. Mom never found out.”
Harlon’s developing brawn made him a natural for the Weslaco High football squad when he transferred there. He quickly became a star despite a certain naïveté regarding the game’s finer points. Leo Ryan recalled a practice early in Harlon’s first season when the two of them had drawn their equipment from the team manager and were ambling out to the hard-dirt field. Leo noticed that his friend was limping along on bowed legs. “Hey, big guy,” he said, “what’s the problem?”
Harlon spoke right up: “My thaghs hurt.” He glanced down to a point below Leo’s waist. “I sure wish I had me some of those boards you have in your thaghs.”
Leo had to think about that for several moments before he realized that Harlon was referring to the protective pads in Leo’s uniform pants.
Harlon was tough; he could take it. In one game the archrival Donna High School players somehow learned of the painful boils covering Harlon’s back and shoulders. The Donna boys pounded on Harlon but he didn’t flinch. Harlon caught a breathtaking pass that scored the winning touchdown against Weslaco’s biggest rival.
In fact, Harlon spearheaded Weslaco to an undefeated season. With him as punter, pass-catcher, and blocking back, the Panthers ground their way through every other team in the Valley with an offense as dry and drab as the red dirt under their cleats. They quick-kicked a lot out of the short punt formation, and as far as Leo Ryan could remember, they had only one running play. It was called “Harlon’s play,” which was strange in that it called for Harlon to block out for the fullback Glen Cleckler. But when the Panthers needed an artillery strike—a pass to gain some first-down yardage—Harlon’s big milk-hauling hands were usually wide open and ready for the ball.
Harlon, the middle child, loved being part of a team, going along with the guys. He was a real contributor, but not a leader or initiator. He wasn’t a quarterback calling the plays or a team captain. His main job was to block for others, to be a real teammate.
He played hard enough to catch the attention of the editors of the student newspaper, the Weslaco Hi-Life: “Hard-hitting, pass-catching, 165 pounds, 5 feet 11 inches describes Harlon Block, right end of the Panther line. Although this is his first year in Weslaco High School and his first year of athletics, he is probably one of the more natural athletes in the Valley.”
Harlon made “All South Texas” along with Leo Ryan and B. R. Guess in that undefeated 1942 gridiron season. Leo always felt that the team might have triumphed in the Texas playoffs if their bus hadn’t been confined to the Valley by the gasoline shortage. Still, it was a team to remember. Their photograph appeared in the local papers, all open collars and parted hair and confident grins.
But Belle hadn’t seen Harlon star on the gridiron. Belle insisted the family observe the Adventist Sabbath from Friday sunset to Saturday sunset. During Harlon’s Friday-night football games she sat quietly at home, concerned for his soul. This proud Christian woman never could quite enjoy the way Harlon was throwing himself into life as a budding young man. She was fearful for his spirituality; she seemed to worry that she was losing him. He was