Ethel Wilson Harris was a Texas original. I remember her very well from my own childhood and adolescent years while I was growing up in San Antonio, where she was a civic force in her own right. When I knew of her while I was a high school boy in the 196
0s, she was a woman then in her sixties and she had been a formidable personality in the Alamo City for almost four decades. When I participated as a teenager in work sessions for the Night in Old San Antonio to help make the thousands of cascarones sold by the Conservation Society at that event, there was Mrs. Harris seemingly in charge of all that she surveyed. Mrs. Harris also came to my high school to talk about Mexican American Arts and Crafts. When I visited the Mission San José with friends who lived nearby, she was there too, residing on the grounds in a house filled with the most colorful tile work imaginable. Artistic tiles such as those that decorated her kitchen were ubiquitous to me throughout San Antonio and served as decorative backdrops to my youth. These magnificant tiles and their distinctive motifs even decorated the gasoline station where my family traded on the way to my home. I took them for granted. I do recall that, as a young person, I vaguely knew somehow Mrs. Harris had something to do with making all these tiles. My incomplete youthful knowledge about those tiles, however, seemed at the time of little consequence to me so many years ago.






