Football fever never died in Wichita Falls. The West Texas state of mind had seized its citizens back in the early twenties, about the time that oil geysered from the hard, red earth. Wichita Falls was really no different than Amarillo, Abilene, Breckenridge, Odessa, or Midland. Every business in town would be closed and locked up, every highway deserted, every man, woman, and child seated inside the stadium when Friday night’s game kicked off.
