PHILIP COWEN: PUENTE-BRADSHAW DISSED JOHN, WE WAS PO'

From: Philip Cowen's Facebook page

I am disappointed by my nephew, John Cowen’s opponent’s reference in the Brownsville Herald where she tries to claim that the Cowens are persons of privilege in Brownsville. Obviously this person does not know our history, long term or short.

For those who do not know, let me tell you that the Cowens have lived in the Brownsville-Matamoros area since years before 1834 when my great great grandfather William Neale built a home on what is now 13th and Washington. (Ed.'s Note: Actually Brownsville wasn't laid out until 1848 or 1850, but hey, family lore is family lore.)

My grandfather, Louis Cowen, came to Brownsville in 1850, and later married Loretta Neale, who was born in Matamoros. Louis Cowen was of Jewish origin from Poland, spoke many languages, learned both English and Spanish, and established a real estate business and became a lawyer and practiced law in Brownsville and San Antonio. Our family has over 5000 relatives living in Texas, most from the Brownsville area.

My father was Louis Raphael Cowen, born in 1902. He was a lawyer and practiced in New York, where he worked for Texaco in the Chrysler Building. When his father died, he came back to Brownsville to take care of his mother, Lucille Thomas Cowen. He met my mother when he was 45, married her, and from 1946 through 1961, he and my mother brought 11 children into the world.

The early years were good.

But, by the late 1950s, cancer struck my father, and for six years, until Jan. 9, 1964, he was dying of cancer. My mother taught school, but with no father working, all of us children had to work to supplement the family income. We went from nice homes to more humble homes to the Poinsettia Project on McDavid Street. My brother Paul and I hitchhiked downtown to shine shoes. 

The little money we made went to our mother to help my mother buy food to feed us. John’s Father, John Ford Cowen, worked wherever he could to make money. At 13, he went down to the Missouri Pacific Depot and shoveled sorghum from box cars into Mexican trailers. He gave the little he made to our mother to help take care of all of us. Those who could worked as children. There were times, even when all of us worked, when no money came in and we simply had no food. Hunger is not a pleasant feeling. 

As a child, to be hungry, and knowing there is nothing at all to eat, was both frightening and humbling to me. Such feelings taught me and my siblings to be patient and to believe that God would take care of us no matter what. Our mother taught us that no matter how great the burden that God would never test us more than we can be tested. She said faith and hope would overcome any difficult situation. And she was right.

On Christmas Eve of 1963, we were told our father was going to die of cancer. Rather than cry, my mother baked a birthday cake, brought it out, had us say the rosary, and then we sang Happy Birthday to Jesus. On January 6, 1964, on the 12th day of Christmas, our home at 542 Adams street caught on fire and we became homeless. Three days later, when I was 13, and six children were younger than me, our father died from cancer. 

At 13, I had no father and no home. My mother held the family together. When she did not know what to do she made us all get down on our knees to thank God for the little we had and then had us all stay kneeing to say the rosary. Somehow, with the prayers and with the hope she inspired in all of us, we came back and have succeeded far beyond anything we could ever have dreamed of as children. 

My mother later went back to school, to A&M, and almost completed her Doctorate in English literature. She retired after 17 years from Texas Southmost College and UTB.

The Cowens have always worked hard. Growing up, we all knew we were not privileged and would have to earn every penny we made. All of us succeeded in some form or fashion.
So to John Cowen’s opponent, all I can say is that our history does not reflect privilege, but rather hard work, resilience, and a fastidious insistence not to let despair overcome any of us. 

If there was any privilege we as a family held, it was the privilege which suffering gives one to better understand human suffering in this world, it was the privilege which hunger gives one to make sure everyone has enough to eat, it was the privilege which being homeless gives one to make certain every child sleeps in a warm, dry bed, with a roof over the child’s head, it was the privilege of being allowed to exercise those skills which God gave us all and to use them to better ourselves individually, as a family, and to help improve the community we live in.

I humbly ask all of you who have not voted to please go out tomorrow to vote for John Cowen. He is a reflection of the hard work, and generosity of spirit, which our family has exhibited and has always given back to our community. He will make you proud.