Turtle on a Post (Lamar University Press, 2024) is a memoir that transforms what Jim Sanderson describes as “bits and pieces of anecdotes” into a compelling narrative of Carl Parker’s life. The story traces Parker’s journey from his childhood in East Texas to a distinguished career in public service. It follows him from his early years as the son of a union leader at the Gulf Oil Company plant in Port Arthur, Texas, through law school and his time as a Navy lawyer, to his rise in the Texas state legislature, where he served for thirty-three years before returning to private practice. At its core, this book is less about the technicalities of Parker’s work as a lawyer or legislator—though much of it is set in courtrooms and the Capitol building in Austin—and more about the character of his service and how it evolved over the decades he dedicated to the public good.
The memoir begins with young Carl Parker navigating two contrasting worlds. In Port Arthur, his mother read Robinson Crusoe and Huckleberry Finn to him, while his father instilled in him the complexities of labor struggles, including the difference between between a fair fight and tracking down a scab worker to deliver “a whipping.” In Oak Grove, Louisiana, at his grandparents’ home, he learned to care for dairy cows, hunt raccoons and squirrels, and embrace a world of rowdy pranks and tall tales—stories he later carried with him into the Texas legislature. While Parker’s upbringing rooted him in 19th-century notions of labor and earthy folk humor, he also developed a progressive outlook. He enjoyed law school, for example, partly because “the wrong answers are so funny,” yet he was outraged when a professor refused to treat a female classmate—one of only three women among 400 students—fairly.
After completing his naval service in 1961, Parker returned home intending to practice law. However, a corruption scandal in local politics led community leaders to encourage him to run for office instead. In 1962, after a contentious campaign, the 28-year-old Parker was sworn in as a member of the Texas House of Representatives. Representing Jefferson County, he had to learn the unwritten rules of the House, an institution steeped in traditions that could resemble hazing to modern readers, while carefully balancing the influence of industry lobbyists.
Over time, Parker developed the political acumen and connections necessary to push meaningful legislation through the House. Committed to progressive causes and good governance, he enjoyed combing through state statutes to repeal outdated laws. One such law made it illegal for women to dance in a tent within a certain distance of a public roadway. Reflecting on its repeal, Parker quips, “I never received the thanks I thought I should have from women. After all, I had made it legal for them to dance wherever they wanted.” This wry remark encapsulates his approach: an old-fashioned, sometimes patronizing attitude masking a fundamentally progressive strategy of dismantling antiquated, sexist laws.
After fourteen years in the House and a failed bid for Speaker, Parker saw an opportunity to move to the Texas Senate in 1977. Describing the Senate as “a truly deliberative body,” he contrasts its spirit of camaraderie and bipartisan cooperation with the more chaotic House. His most productive years in the legislature were spent in the Senate, where he championed public education and engaged in intricate legislative maneuvering. A key mechanism of Senate governance was the Two-Thirds Rule, which required a supermajority to move past a symbolic “blocker bill” before addressing substantive legislation. Parker saw this as fostering collegiality, as senators had to cooperate to advance their own agendas.
However, not all Senate battles could be resolved through parliamentary finesse. One of Parker’s most infamous moments came when Lieutenant Governor Bill Hobby attempted to bypass the Two-Thirds Rule. In response, Parker and several colleagues absconded to break quorum, effectively halting all Senate proceedings. Evading law enforcement officers tasked with bringing them back, they successfully stalled Hobby’s plan for over four days before voluntarily surrendering to the Department of Public Safety.
Parker was also a dedicated advocate for public education. In the 1980s, he served on the Perot Committee, a reform initiative led by Texas billionaire Ross Perot. However, Parker remained dissatisfied with its outcomes, lamenting the unresolved challenge of funding an effective public education system. His frustration resonates today, given ongoing debates over education policy and dissatisfaction with later reforms like No Child Left Behind.
Toward the end of his political career, Parker became entangled in a feud with Jefferson County District Attorney Jim McGrath. The controversy stemmed from Parker’s co-ownership of a property from which a former client sold pirated adult videos. McGrath accused Parker of offenses including “production of salacious material,” “solicitation of prostitution,” and involvement in “the delivery of drugs.” While Parker’s association with the venture may have been unwise, he argues convincingly that McGrath’s pursuit of him was politically motivated—an attempt to undermine his legal work protecting Jefferson County residents from prosecutorial overreach.
Parker left the Senate in 1995, returning to private practice in Port Arthur, where he continued to handle civil and criminal cases. The final section of the memoir recounts these years, highlighting moments of legal and personal danger, which Parker shrugs off with characteristic humor and nonchalance.
Though Parker’s career had its share of controversies, his contributions to Texas politics are undeniable. His memoir closes on an ambivalent note, warning against the dangers of ideological rigidity: “The people who do well to help others or get something proper done have ethics, beliefs, party affiliation, loyalties, and supporters, but were able to overcome them.” Read through the lens of his East Texas experiences—marked by corrupt officials, labor disputes, and political infighting—his words leave the reader with a lingering question: Did his pragmatic approach truly improve people’s lives, or merely keep the system running? Turtle on a Post offers no definitive answer, but it provides a fascinating glimpse into the life and mind of a man who dedicated himself to public service.
Jim Sanderson
Texas writer Jim Sanderson has published over eighty short stories, essays, and articles. His collection of short stories, Semi-Private Rooms, won the Kenneth Patchen Prize for fiction in 1992. His first novel, El Camino del Rio, won the 1997 Frank Waters Prize. He also wrote the novels Safe Delivery, La Mordida, Nevin’s History, Dolph’s Team, Hill Country Property, Gambled Dreams, and Nothing to Lose. Sanderson’s short story collection, Faded Love, was a finalist for the 2010 Texas Institute of Letters’ Jesse Jones Award for best book-length fiction by a Texas writer or about Texas. For a living Sanderson teaches fiction writing and American literature at Lamar University. After serving as Chair of the Department of English and Modern Language for eleven years, Sanderson was appointed Writer in Residence at Lamar University.
Thank you Chris Bundrick and SOUTHERN LITERRARY REVIEW