By Jerry Morgan, Reporter

Each of us has a few times in our lives that prove to be particularly dramatic, times that are seared in our memory with great clarity, times that are recalled throughout the balance of our days.

One of those times came for me while I was living in Austin, attending summer classes at the University of Texas. I have never written about that time before now, partly because I am a not too proud of my actions that day.

On August 1, 1966, forty years ago, it was just another clear and hot summer day. In the late morning, near noon, I had finished my classes for the day and was back in my Goodall-Wooten dorm room. I was waiting for my roommate to get back from his classes so we could go get a hamburger for lunch.

I spent the waiting time writing a letter to my sweetheart, Sheri Shelby. She was living in DeLeon that summer while working for her father at his pharmacy. We were engaged to be married in less than a month. Being in love and apart, writing letters was pretty much a daily routine. Long distance telephone calls were way too expensive.

While writing, I started hearing some gunshot-type noises. I walked out onto the small balcony outside my dorm room to see if I could hear where they were coming from. The third floor balcony overlooked Guadalupe Street, otherwise known as “The Drag”, which formed the western border to the University of Texas campus. From there I had an unimpeded, treetops height view of the UT Tower and up the Drag.

An addition to the English building was under construction on the campus a short distance away. I decided they must be using guns to set nails in the concrete. I went back inside and continued my letter.

By the time I finished writing the letter, I still could hear the occasional gunshot-like noises. and now sirens wailing. I again walked out onto the balcony. I looked to the left, up the Drag, and saw cars parked in the middle of the busy street with no traffic moving.

WHERE A POLICEMAN WAS KILLED. Austin PD officer Billy Speed was standing at or very near this spot when the first of two rapid fire shots were sent his way by Charles Whitman. The first shot gouged out a chunck of rock, still visible today at the bottom of the photo. The second shot, also fired between the closely spaced stone columns, was deadly. The tree limbs partially obscuring the view of the tower were not growing so low in 1966

My semi-college-educated mind leaped to the conclusion that “something was going on.” It didn’t, however, register danger. That was the farthest thing from my mind.

I only thought that things were unusual and I wanted to see what was happening.

I sealed and stamped the letter and carried it with me as I walked out the dorm building and onto the sidewalk. I headed north along the west side of the Drag toward the West Mall area, a couple of blocks to the north. Along the way I stopped and dropped the letter in a sidewalk mailbox.

I had no idea that during my times out on the balcony and while strolling up the sidewalk along the Drag I had been an easy target for a sniper who needed far less opportunity for lethal results.

As I walked near the area where the bookstores were located, I noticed people crouched down behind cars. Still not comprehending the danger, I asked them what was going on. “Get down!” was their urgent response, “Someone’s shooting people from the Tower!”

Being incredibly slow to comprehend, I expressed some skepticism at what I was being told. One of those crouching behind a car pointed to the wall a little behind where I was standing. He said that a boy riding a bicycle along the sidewalk had been shot right there. I looked around, saw a large hole about four feet high in the blue terrazzo tile wall in the front of Hemphill’s Book Store. It was right behind where I was standing. I finally realized my mortal danger.

The next thought that occurred to me as I crouched behind the car was that I wanted to get closer so I could see something. I edged along behind the parked cars about a half block back down the street until the Architecture building and trees temporarily blocked the view of the 300 foot tall UT Tower building. I decided if I couldn’t see the Tower, whoever was up there shooting couldn’t see me. From there I ran eastward across the Drag and onto the campus.

I headed eastward along the Inner Campus Drive toward the South Mall as buildings facing on the West Mall provided a safety shield.

As I neared the steps leading up to the southwest corner of the South Mall I came upon two policemen kneeling along either side of another policeman who was lying face down, motionless. I asked the obvious question, “Is he dead?” All I received as an answer were grim nods.

WHERE THE POLICEMAN WAS STANDING WHEN SHOT. Officer Billy Speed was standing to the right of the statue near the right edge of the photo looking up at the Tower while holding a shotgun that was useless for returning fire at the sniper.

I continued eastward until near where the main steps lead up from the South Mall to the large plaza in front of the Main Building and the UT Tower. There are statues of Woodrow Wilson and Jefferson Davis located on either side of the broad expanse of limestone steps. Between the statues and the nearby solid limestone walls that form the south boundary of the main plaza are limestone railings supported by limestone columns. I stopped and started looking up at the tower between two of the short columns, hoping to get a sight of the gunman.

A woman sitting on the ground nearby and leaning against the safe side of the solid limestone wall called out to me, “The policeman that got shot was standing right where you are.” I then noticed that there was a fist-sized hole where a chunk of limestone at the base between the two columns had been blasted away. The police officer, Billy Speed, had been killed by a bullet that was fired between the closely spaced stone columns. I quickly abandoned that vantage point.

I crept up to the corner of the stone wall and carefully looked out onto the wide expanse of the main building plaza. There were several people lying on the ground. I can recall seeing at least three. One person lying on his side was weakly motioning with only the lower part of his arm to come and help.

It was about this time that I got my only real scare of the day. BAM! I thought for a second that I might have been shot. As it turned out, there was a policeman firing a deer rifle toward the Tower from a ground level window in the English building, a short distance away. I could see the rifle protruding out the window from the room where I had taken my very first class at the University. The gunshot noise, amplified by the high limestone walls on either side of the one lane inner campus drive, further underscored the danger in the situation.

THE TOWER VIEW FROM THE DRAG. This photo was taken from approximately where the author was standing when he first realized he was in danger of being shot.

By now there were various efforts being made by law enforcement authorities and various citizens to return fire toward the Tower. Rifle fire could be heard from various directions. There was even an attempt made to fly an airplane over the Tower and shoot at the gunman. After the sniper began shooting at the airplane, however, the two men inside realized that they were an easier target than was the sniper. After being hit by two rifle shots, they left the scene.

Somewhere during this time, a television video camera caught sight of me looking around the edge of the stone wall. I recognized myself on the national television news that evening.

By now there were a few brave souls who were gathering near where I was and talking about running out onto the plaza to rescue the casualties when the gunman moved to the other side of the Tower.

I had not yet gotten to witness the gunman in action. I had already been shaken up by the unexpected gunfire behind me. I decided that the rescue plan was not for me.

GOODALL WOOTEN DORM. The author’s room was on the third floor on the closest corner. The concrete balcony walls were later added. At the time of the shooting there were open metal pipe railings.

I have ever since regretted my decision not to participate in that rescue effort. Instead, I headed back west to the Architecture building where there were elevated balconies that could afford an unobstructed and higher view of the Tower.

I ran into the Architecture building and found my way to the top floor and the small balcony with a roof. I was not the first person who had a similar thought. Another Austin policeman was up there with a deer rifle and he also was shooting at the Tower. He asked me to reload his rifle clips for him. I was now enlisted in the effort to defeat the Tower sniper. I loaded bullets into the rifle ammunition clips and the policeman blasted away.

It wasn’t too long, however, before word came over the policeman’s portable radio. “Cease firing, we have people in the tower.”

That was all I needed. If the policeman was no longer allowed to shoot, he didn’t need me to load his rifle clips, so I headed back downstairs.