Locals mourn Texas tragedy

Jace Radke

Wednesday, Nov. 24, 1999 | 10:33 a.m.

The 12th man has always been ready to go into the game for Texas A&M, and after 12 students were killed in the collapse of the university's annual bonfire, he is finally on the field.

Texas A&M's 12th-man tradition dates back to a 1922 football game in which the Aggies were losing players left and right to injury. When the team was almost out of players, a student in the stands stood up and said he was willing to put on the maroon and white and take the field.

That student never got in the game, but ever since the university's student body, alumni, and supporters have been known as the 12th man, standing through every A&M sporting event to show they are ready if needed.

The support of the university's 12th man has been felt in the wake of Thursday's tragedy in College Station, Texas, said Danny Rakestraw, president of the Las Vegas chapter of the Texas A&M Association of Former Students.

"It's been amazing the way the Aggies from around the world have come together to help our university family get through this tragedy," Rakestraw said Tuesday night at a memorial service at the SRO Club, 1700 E. Flamingo Road.

A family is just what everyone who goes to Texas A&M becomes a part of, 1937 graduate Harry White said.

"When I heard what had happened, it was like losing several members of our family," White said. "Those students are part of the university just like I am."

About 75 Texas A&M alumni and their families gathered Tuesday to remember the 12 people who died last week while building the 40-foot pyramid of logs that is lit every Thanksgiving week as the highlight of preparations for the annual football game against the University of Texas.

Twelve maroon candles were lit by 1996 Texas A&M graduate Randy Deupree, then the alumni sang their school song in memory of the fallen students.

"I went into work Thursday and my boss told me what had happened and I thought, 'No big deal they can rebuild it and still light it off,' " Deupree said. "But then the reports that students were killed in the accident started to come through, and I couldn't believe it."

The accident left the university's student body in a state of shock that it still hasn't recovered from, Bonanza High School graduate and Texas A&M student Alicia Foyt said.

"The magnitude of the loss is just so big, and it's still being felt here," Foyt said. "Our classes were canceled for Wednesday to give the students some extra time with their families, and I think after Thanksgiving we'll all start to feel a little better."

Foyt, 21, is Student Senate president at A&M's Galveston, Texas, campus where she studies marine biology. She and her friends traveled to College Station to take part in the memorial services.

The university's tradition was evident at Tuesday night's memorial, with alumni bringing pictures of the bonfires from their years at A&M as well as other keepsakes from their time in college. Boots, hats and pictures were all arranged on a table with 12 short biographies of the students who died in the accident.

"I can't really explain why the tradition of the bonfire and the tradition of the school are so important to us," Johanna Barnes, who attended the university from 1965-67, said. "Words like pride don't come close to describing the feelings we have for this university."

Barnes, who was one of the first women to attend A&M, said she remembered all the work that went into building the bonfires while she was there.

"It's something everyone looks forward to," Barnes said. "I remember the cooks from the chow halls would come out to where the trees for the bonfires were being cut and cook up soups and stews in huge trash cans so there would be enough to feed everyone."

White, who played clarinet and baritone saxophone in the Aggie band, said in his day the bonfire wasn't nearly as big as it is now, but in the 1930s they added their own special touch.

"We'd always be scavenging around town to find more wood to put on the thing," White said. "No matter what it seemed every year one of those wooden outhouses with the moon cut out of the door would find its way on top of the fire."