Showing posts with label backroads. Show all posts
Showing posts with label backroads. Show all posts

Center of Texas Oak Tree

Center Oak
In 1871, a geographical survey determined the center of Texas to be in the tiny settlement called Hughes Store. In the middle of this settlement was a large oak tree which, according to the old timers, had been there as long as anyone knew. The survey crew decided this old oak tree was growing in the exact center of Texas and placed a "this is the spot" marker beside it. The tree shortly became known as Center Oak and a town began to grow around the tree to serve the needs of the hard working families living in the scattered ranch and farm houses.

Taking it's cue from the Center Oak, the town's residents voted to change the community's name to Center City, a rather intrepid declaration of their intention to become important. When places so small they can barely be called a town change their name to include "city," it's a sure sign the residents are people with vision and ambition. Perhaps Center City could have become an actual city if all the people's dreams came true and, for a while anyway, their dreams actually were well on the way to fulfillment. 


Several mercantile establishments opened and then a bank and a hotel were built. A blacksmith shop and several saloons came next. A gristmill opened and a post office was gained in 1874. Soon, stage and freight coaches began stopping in town for a change of horses, to drop off and pick up mail and to load and unload travelers.  Until a 2-room school could be constructed, classes were held for the children of the area beneath the old oak tree. Plans were made for Center City to become the seat of government for Mills County and a large plot of land which included the Center Oak was reserved for a courthouse. While plans were being developed for the courthouse and funds sought, the giant Center Oak tree provided shade for the court trials that were held under its spreading branches and a traveling preacher began holding church services beneath those same branches every other Sunday.

In 1885 however, the dreams for Center City to actually become a city were dashed when the railroad bypassed the town, choosing instead to establish a stop in Goldthwaite which then became the county seat. In the early 1900's, surveyors, using newer and more accurate tools, determined the geographic center of Texas was actually about 50 miles west of the Center Oak tree along a lonely, middle-of-nowhere section of Highway 377. Center City continued as an ongoing commercial center for a few years, but it lost any chance it had to actually fulfill the goal of those early dreams. Slowly, over time, with one or another business going under every couple of years, with the closing of the school and finally the closing of the post office in the mid-1920's, Center City simply gave up and reverted back to a settlement of scattered ranches and farms.

In the late 1930's, the state decided to widen Highway 7 between Goldthwaite and Gatesville. Construction plans callously called for removal of the old historic oak. The remaining citizens however, knowing the significance of the tree and perhaps feeling it stood as a symbol of their shattered but still remembered dreams, banded together in a show of will to protect it. Letters were written, meetings were held, threats against the road crews and their machines were made and the state conceded. The highway was re-routed 100 feet to the north. The Center Oak was saved and Center City went back to sleep.

Time has a way of slipping by and today it seems it has completely forgotten Center City. It's no longer listed on most state maps and appears on numerous "Ghost Towns of Texas" lists. Other than the 12 remaining residents, all that's left is a small combination general store and gas station, an old lodge building, a small church and the Center City cemetery which was established in 1874 and contains more than 500 graves. Sadly, the Center Oak tree died in 2011 after bearing witness to the birth and gradual death of a town and men's dreams. During its life, it provided shade for roving bands of Indians, cowboys, Texas Rangers, pioneers, ranchers and farmers, romantic picnics and lawless men being tried for their crimes. For the last 100 years though, all it has seen has been the changing of the seasons. It's not known for sure what caused such a magnificent old-timer to die. Perhaps like Center City itself, it just got tired and gave up the fight.


Postcard From Graphic - Small Town America



Graphic Road
The other day, I found myself driving through Graphic, Arkansas again. It was a place I had driven through a couple of months ago, in late fall. To say Graphic is located "in the country" isn't accurate. Graphic is so far out in the boonies that "the country" is where these people go to kick up their hills on a Saturday night.

I was listening to the news on the satellite radio. Muslims were still killing people just because; Iran was thumbing its nose at the world and threatening to kill everybody in Israel and America, just because; a teenager in a high school killed some of his classmates because of some perceived slight; a little 4 year-old girl's body had finally been found after she had been kidnapped, sexually molested and killed; gas prices were getting higher because somebody wearing a towel on their head sneezed; everybody in American government was still acting like a spoiled 12-year-old who wasn't getting his way; and the love and pursuit of the all-mighty dollar was of higher priority than being nice to each other.

The Graphic store
In Graphic, the person driving the one car I saw raised 2 fingers and a nod of his head in greeting as we passed each other; the cows were still contented out in the fields; when I stopped in and bought a coke at the Graphic Store, the girl behind the counter smiled, asked how I was doing, and said, "Have a nice day" as I walked out the door.


I stood in the empty parking lot and realized, there's no noise. I heard a couple of birds singing and, well, that was it. No cars, no airplanes overhead, nobody shouting, no hustle and bustle. I realized that except for the leaves having fallen from the trees, it was exactly the same as when I stopped here a couple of months ago.

Fall colors just outside Graphic
I opened the door to my truck, turned off CNN, popped in my newest CD and listened to the soothing sounds of Ale Garofalo - soothing music of Ale Garofalo. I sat in the seat with the door open, listening to "The Giant Trees" and slowly drank my Dr. Pepper. The first time I came through Graphic was basically an accident, a wrong turn. This time I was here simply because it was on my way to some other remote little town with an interesting name. I'll come back again in the spring, this time on purpose. I'm pretty sure, except for the new leaves on the trees, it will be exactly the same. I'm counting on it.

Bridge on the way out of Graphic


Even the cows seem to be very contented with
 life in Graphic.





 

Jenny Lind & Father's Day

Down this road the Mother of Father's Day
was born.

The first official Father’s Day was celebrated on June 19, 1910, in Spokane, Washington, but a tiny, almost forgotten little town in Arkansas had a hand in this holiday. Sonora Louise Smart Dodd, known as the “Mother of Father’s Day” was born in Jenny Lind on February 18, 1882, to a Civil War veteran and his wife, the daughter of a farmer. When she was 5 years old, the family moved to Spokane where Sonora resided until her death in 1978.

Not many houses remain in Jenny Lind today and 
of those remaining, many look like this one.
After her mother’s early death in 1898, 16-year-old Sonora helped her father raise her 6 younger brothers. She began petitioning to make Father’s Day a nationally recognized holiday in 1909. After listening to a church sermon about Mother’s Day, she suggested to the YMCA and Spokane Ministerial Association the establishment of an equal holiday to honor fathers. Thirteen days later, on June 19, 1910, the first Father’s Day was celebrated in Spokane.

The old Jenny Lind school.
For over 20 years the holiday evoked mixed emotions. Congress refused President Woodrow Wilson’s desire to make the holiday official for fear it would become too commercialized. The holiday was not recognized as an annually observed holiday until 1971 when President Richard Nixon officially designated Father’s Day as the 3rdSunday of every June.
 

Postcard From Dalby Springs, Texas Ghost Town


Dalby Springs church and bell
Dalby Springs. At one time a vibrant town, people thought it was a place of healing. Now it is a virtual ghost town, just a shadow of what it once was. For the folks who still call it home, that may not be such a bad thing.

Interior of the church gathering dust
and spiders
Located in Bowie County in far northeast Texas, Anglo settlement of the area began in 1839 when Warren Dalby and his family settled on land beside four natural fresh-water springs. The land was fertile and proved ideal for farming and soon a handful of other settlers arrived. Unknown by them, archaeological evidence later proved the springs had been used for thousands of years by prehistoric people and then by Caddo and other bands of Indians who roamed the area before the Dalby family arrived. By the 1850′s, the Anglos learned what the Indians had known for hundreds of years; the springs which gushed reddish colored water due to their high mineral content, contained healing medicinal properties. Through word-of-mouth, visitors who came to “take the water” at Dalby Springs soon made the sleepy little farming settlement into a boom town.

Dalby Springs Cemetery
Buildings were erected to accommodate the visitors and a post office was opened in 1860. The town made it through the Civil War relatively unscathed and by the late 1860’s it had churches, a school, five mills, five cotton gins, a newspaper, and a population estimated at 250. In 1871, it was reported that there were fifty to seventy-five people there every day to drink the spring water. The same observer claimed the water was “good for dyspepsia, diseases of the skin and kidneys and also for diseases of females. It is a sovereign remedy for barrenness. If Abraham and Sarah had visited this spring, Isaac would have figured fifty years earlier in Biblical history.” Unfortunately, crime also found the town with several murders and a number of theft incidents.

Gravestone with fungus eating away at it.
The popularity of bathing in mineral waters peaked in the early 1890’s with people spending a week to a full month in the towns containing the springs, but the fad was over by the mid to late 1890’s. In the 1900 census, the population of Dalby Springs was listed as 200 as farms consolidated and fewer people came to bath in and drink the spring water. The town’s population gradually reduced until the 1950 census showed only 50 residents remained with no business, no school, only 1 church and the graveyard beside it.

Today, the spring waters have declined to a trickle and several hand pumps are in use to bring the water above ground. There are still a few isolated farms and homes in the area, but even the church with it’s updated interior has been shuttered and is busy accumulating dust and cobwebs. The fenced graveyard has been mowed, but the old headstones are slowly being eaten away by fungus. The bell beside the graveyard which used to be rung to summon the residents for church services, burials, and community functions is rusting and hasn’t sounded in years.

Fungus rotting away a windowsill of the church.
As I started to leave, a kid of about 12 pulled up on a red Honda 4-wheeler next to where I had parked my truck on the side of the dirt road. I walked out and tried to start a conversation with him. “Nice truck” he said as I approached. “Thanks,” I replied, “Does anyone use the church anymore?” “No, sir. I don’t remember it ever being used. Nothing ever happens around here. I gotta go home ‘cause my dad called me” he said as he pointed to the iPhone hanging from his belt. He waved as he pulled away and I stood there watching as the cloud of dirt he had raised slowly settled. I left in my truck a few minutes later and my own cloud of dirt billowed up behind me until I made it to the 2-lane black top road. I continued on my way as the dirt settled back down in my rearview mirror.
 

Lead Hill - On This Date

Downtown Lead Hill, Arkansas
Lead Hill was a small mining town in north-central Arkansas from the early 1900's until the town was covered by the waters of the newly created Bull Shoals Lake in the early 1950's. The residents packed up and moved to higher ground where the new Lead Hill community was built. 287 folks call it home today. It's a quiet little town. The most excitement lately has been the opening of the new post office building. Yes, a very quiet little town.

I was on the road driving Arkansas Scenic Highway 7 when I drove through Lead Hill. Thirsty, I stopped at a convenience store for a Dr. Pepper. I was the only customer. I brought my DP to the counter and thinking maybe there is an interesting story about the town, tried to begin a friendly conversation with the young lady who took my money. She wasn't friendly. That's OK. I'm rarely more than a day away from a shower and shave and I don't think I look like a serial killer, but I understand. I handed her a business card indicating I write this blog and told her I was thinking about writing a story about her town. Most people are friendly, especially folks in small towns, and the vast majority of the rest relax and are friendly once they see my card and understand why I'm talking to them. Not this young lady. Not only did she not get friendly, she got antagonistic. No problem. She was probably just having a bad day like everyone has now and then. I said thanks, took my cold drink and drove on down the road.


As far as I know, on October 29, 2011, in Lead Hill, Arkansas, nothing happened; nothing at all.

Beans, Music, & Outhouses

Festival goers on the courthouse lawn
watching a band.
Autumn chill in the air means it's about time for the almost world famous Bean Fest & Championship Outhouse Races! The last weekend of every October, Mountain View, Arkansas steals the title of "The Windy City" from Chicago as the population of this pretty little town nestled in the Ozark Mountains swells from 2,900 happy souls to over 50,000.


The festival celebrates pinto beans in a big way. Since the bean is a musical fruit, the festival starts with music concerts on Thursday and Friday with folk, bluegrass, Cajun, Ozark Mountain blues, and gospel as the main styles of music. Bands and individual performers take the main stage in front of the court house, but other musicians come from all around the state and many from out of state, unlimber their guitar, mandolin, fiddle, bass and spoons, meet up around the town square, in front of the local music store, at the Old Grey Hippie Corner, or in Washington Street Park and join together in always changing, impromptu groups to play and sing the whole 4-day weekend.

These are the groups I gravitate toward. A lot of these folk are getting on up there in years, dress in overalls and don't always have the newest instruments, but they can play as good or better than most professionals. Looking at some of them, I can't help but hear the theme to Deliverance in my head, but I doggies folks, those hillbillies can flat play their instruments!
 
Of course, any bean festival worth its salt has to have a "Beanie Weenie Dog Show." All dogs are welcome from the most pure pedigrees to the Heinz 57 pets. Some of the costumes are simply amazing and some are just simple, but a good time is always had by all.

Early Saturday morning, registered teams start cooking them beans to compete in the pinto bean cook-off. This year there were 36 bean teams competing with each group using their own secret blend of herbs and spices trying to win the title of Best Bean. Most teams have their own costumes and team name and many of them have been coming here to compete for years and years. The beans are cooked in large, old-fashioned cast-iron pots big enough that the beans have to be stirred by using large wooden oars. While the beans are simmering, many of the teams put on little shows or just meet and greet with the festival goers.

By mid-morning, the aroma from the beans cooking fills the air and your belly gets hungrier and hungrier as you amble around the Artisans Market On The Square, looking and purchasing handmade goods from local and regional crafters. About 11:30, when the beans are done, the judges, hidden away inside the courthouse, are served with samplings from each team. At noon, the judges emerge from hiding and announce the winners and the grand champion Best Bean. Soon, the dinner bell rings and everyone is served cups of beans and slices of cornbread. There was enough for everyone to have one or two cups this year before all 1,800 pounds of beans were gone. I had a cup from one of my favorite teams, the Jail Birds, and managed to score a 2nd cup from the 2nd place team, the L.A. Honey Bees (We put the sting in beans!) with peppers and onions to mix in. Yummy!

The Nerd Bean Masters team.
The Jail-Bird team preparing to serve.
















Nothing follows a large meal of beans better than an outhouse, so after lunch, the Championship Outhouse Race gets underway, beginning with the Parade of Outhouses. Two contestants push each outhouse-on-wheels with one person sitting on the throne and steering. These are not real outhouses; more like people-powered-potties. Think about designing a vehicle, let your imagination go in the toilet, and you'll fit right in. Competition is up a paved, slight incline with teams competing head to head until the fastest "outhouse" has been determined. Second and third place wins silver and bronze toilet seats. The winner receives bragging rights for the year and the revered and coveted Gold Toilet Seat to proudly display.

There's a reason these guys are the champs
multiple times - they've "bean" at it for years!
Them's some good beans!
One bit of warning, there are not that many lodging places in Mountain View so rooms, especially the charming Bed and Breakfast homes around the square, are booked a year or more in advance. It's a great weekend full of fun, but if you decide to go at the last minute, plan to find a place to stay 30 minutes to an hour away. Parking is relatively plentiful; just follow the crowds once you get into town. And start lining up to get them beans from your favorite bean cooking team by about 11:30. You wouldn't want to be next in line when that last cup of beans gets handed out!

Outhouse racers lined up before the parade.




Guitar racer. Guitar pick top is a nice touch.
The Methane Machine - complete with roll
of toilet paper.





The "Silent Butt Deadly Racing" team's entry.
The local high school 's Strato-Gasser entry.



Even the senior citizen center get's involved with
they're "Old Farts Linger Here" entry.


And they're off!





 

Great Arkansas Pig Out

The sign may have fallen a bit, but it still
marks the place!
In 1991, a group of good people living in Morrilton determined their little town had a problem. Many small towns in Arkansas have festivals, but Morrilton didn't. Figuring the town was in need of something that would bring the people together for a time and just be good clean family fun, an idea was born and when the 2nd weekend of August came around, the 1st Great Arkansas Pig Out was held.

The festival, with the effort and enthusiasm of the volunteers and sponsors was a great success. There were all kinds of booths by vendors offering items from arts and crafts to face painting to the main thing people think of when they think of Pig Out - food. There was food enough to feed thousands. There was barbecue, homemade ice cream, gumbo, watermelon, sausage on a stick, hamburgers, lemonade, and shrimp. Almost anything a person wanted could be found along the wall of the old high school gymnasium and in the adjoining city park. There was a hot dog eating contest and watermelon eating contest. The Great Arkansas Pig Out lived up to its name. Additionally, there were games and live entertainment to raise the level of fun even more. And what would a festival with a pig as its mascot be without a muddy, slippery Pig Chase for the kids? With all this fun, food, entertainment and the thousands that came to participate, the Great Arkansas Pig Out had indeed been a huge success and people planned for it to return the next year.

Not all of the entertainers will be stars, but give
them credit for having the guts to get up in front
of an audience and perform.
With such an oinking success on their hands, the next year the Pig Out was extended to a three day festival. The same traditions of food, fun, and family were and still are the main focus of the Pig Out. This same pattern carried on for the next 11 years. As the festival grew, so did the quality of the entertainment. From Jerry Reed, Justin Moore, Aaron Tippin, and the Randy Rogers Band, the Pig Out Festival has continually provided free concerts of up-and-coming stars of the country music world. In 1998, the Great Arkansas Pig Out even went international when the BBC sent a crew over to film the goings-on.

Mechanical Bull riding is always fun to watch!
Along with one of the largest car shows held in Arkansas, the Pig Out has also got sports covered. Events now include a tennis tournament, 5k run, the Pig Dig (a co-ed volleyball tournament), The Tour-de-Oink (a 40 mile long bike race), and a Horseshoe Tournament. However, the most entertaining event is the Pig Chase. What could be more clean fun for adults than watching a herd of kids chase after a pig in a very large pile of mud?

Kids always love bounce houses.
Since August in Arkansas isn't exactly the most comfortable place to be outside for long, the festival has changed dates several times. This year it was held on Sept 30 and Oct 1 and if the weather this time is any indication, I think they've found their timing and should keep it right there. A clear, blue sky with a high temperature of 75 and a slight breeze rustling the leaves of the trees which provided plenty of shade made the day simply perfect on the weather front.  In my book, this wasn't the absolute number 1 fun festival I've ever been to, but I've certainly been to worse and for a small town festival run entirely by volunteers, it was right nice!

Nice food vendor and arts & crafts strip
with wonderful shade!




Great car show.


Yeah, its got a Hemi.















In Arkansas, you make do with what ya have.




Loafer's Glory

On the way from somewhere to somewhere else, I found this sign on the side of the road and thought, "Now that's my kind of church!"

If you must know, the town where this is located is named Fallsville, deep in the Buffalo River country of the Ozarks. The first name of the little town of Fallsville was Loafer's Glory, named such because it was a stopping place for men going down to the river bottoms to pick cotton. This area is even today very rural and peopled by individuals who are descendants of the southern Appalachians who settled here as early as 1825. The rugged terrain, few roads and no electricity until the late 1930's kept the people isolated. They learned to make what they needed and most of those old skills have survived. Oak furniture, handcrafted baskets, and pieced quilts were some of the homemade things every cabin had and which Ozark artisans still craft today.

The facts for the origin of the name may be a bit boring or anti-climatic, but it's still a cool name. If I ever get the little retirement cabin I want deep in the wooded mountains somewhere with a rocking chair on the front porch and a good dog to lay down beside me as I put miles on the rocker, I do believe I'll steal the name Loafer's Glory and carve it into a sign to hang over the front door. And that will be that.

What A Rush!

An honest to goodness true ghost town has two qualities; the existence of structures and no people. There are a number of almost ghost towns, close to ghost towns, used to be ghost towns, and fake ghost towns, but Marion county Arkansas claims the only true ghost town between the Mississippi River and the Rocky Mountains. Rush, a once prosperous zinc mining town obtained true ghost town status over 40 years ago when the last person moved away and abandoned their home in the late 1960's. In 1972, the National Park Service obtained Rush when it was included in lands acquired for the creation of the Buffalo River National Park System.

During the early 1880's, prospectors came to the Rush area searching for silver mines they heard about from Indian legends. Soon, they found shiny metallic flakes in the rocks. Thinking they had struck silver, news of the discovery quickly got out and the rush was on to Rush.

The rock smelter built in 1886.
In a short period of time, the area was home to numerous mines with names like White Eagle, Monte Cristo, Red Cloud, Beula, Edith, and the largest, Morning Star. In late 1886, a rock smelter was built to extract the silver, but during a test run in January, 1887, green zinc oxide fumes were emitted and the silver failed to collect in the molds. With no silver being found, the men who owned the land, built the smelter and owned the Morning Star mine sold their holdings for a fraction of what they had paid and left town. Then someone figured out that what the men had thought was silver was actually zinc, a valuable mineral which has many uses including being alloyed with copper to produce brass. The new owners of the Morning Star became wealthy and in 1892, a 13,000 pound zinc nugget they found was exhibited and won blue ribbons at the Chicago World's Fair.

General store built in 1891 remained in 
business until 1956.


When World War 1 began, with the demand for brass and copper shell casings, the price for zinc shot up 300%, the mines expanded and more people moved to Rush. In 1916, the town was incorporated with a population of over 5,000. The Taylor-Medley General Store, built in 1891 by Bill Taylor to serve the community, became the location of the post office and served as the hub of the community where you could buy groceries, receive and send letters and packages, and sit a spell on the large, covered front porch and visit. You could also get married here because the store owner was, in addition to shop keeper and post master, also the justice of the peace.

Front porch of the store where people met 
and did business.



With the end of WW1, the zinc market cratered. The mines began shutting down and the residents began moving away. Eventually even the Morning Star mine closed and that spelled the eventual death of Rush. The store, then operated by Lee Medley, was the last business to close it's doors in 1956. The last human holdout moved away sometime in the late 1960's and Rush began its life as a ghost town.

Row of homes built in the early 1900's.
Getting to Rush is pretty easy as long as you don't miss the turn. Located in a very rural area 5 miles off of Arkansas 14 just east of Caney, there is but one little sign indicating where you should turn off of AR-14 and it is pretty easy to miss. The 2-lane (more like 1 1/2 lane) road is blacktop most of the way, but the last mile or so is dirt so you might think twice before going if it has rained recently.

While there, I found it to be a really interesting place; way off the beaten path, quiet, full of history. The houses have a fence along the road in front of them, but more symbolic than functional, it's easy enough to get around it. Hopefully it will do enough of a job to keep out any vandals who manage to find the place. After walking around for over an hour with no other person to bother me, I took a water break and while sitting on a rock next to my truck, a butterfly landed on my shoulder. I slowly turned my head and looked at it looking at me. I've heard it's good luck so I didn't want to disturb it. It finally flew off, but only went down around my feet to some little bitty flowers so I took a picture of it before it went on its merry way. A few minutes later I hoped in the pickup to leave and as I drove down the dirt road a ways, I rounded a curve and a baby deer was standing in the middle of the road. I stopped and the mamma deer immediately jumped out of the bushes and both of them ran across and into the bushes and trees on the other side. I drove slowly and had to keep a sharp eye to find them hidden away. When I did, I stopped again and had just enough time to take a picture before mamma deer protectively put herself between me and her baby. I quietly told her, "It's ok. I'm not going to hurt your baby" and let the pickup idle on down the road a ways. By the time I turned around, they were gone.

Home to a family at one time.  I wonder 
what became of them.





My lucky butterfly












Look close and you will find a mamma deer
 and her doe.