Postcard From Boot Hill, Texas

One of the reasons I so like road trips is that you never can tell what you might find just over the next hill. On a recent trip, just meandering around the central Texas Hill Country on Highway 39 near the town of Hunt, I came across "Boot Hill." Not on any map and down a narrow, twisting 2-lane blacktop road in the middle of nowhere, I almost drove right past it before thinking, "What the heck is that?" I pulled off to the side of the road (no worries as there was nobody else on the road) to take pictures and investigate. 

It seems the "Boot Hill" fence got its start in the early 1970's when a family with six kids began mounting their children's worn-out boots on the wooden fence posts of their friend and neighbor's property. The neighbor, John Jobes, thought it was kind of funny so he started putting his two daughter's outgrown boots on the posts as well. Then the ranch hands began putting up their boots and before long, it became the final resting place for other folk's boots. Now, the boots are on every post for a lengthy distance and have even jumped across the road.

It's not exactly uncommon for people to put all sorts of mementos out on a fence for the pleasure of gawking passerby's. There is a stretch of road near Placerville, California which has shoes of all kind placed on fence posts and another place in Minnesota where people placed their old sneakers on posts. There's even a lengthy section of road in New Zealand which has become widely known as the Cadrona Bra Fence, but you can't get more pure Texas than this stretch of road known as Boot Hill.

10 Commandments for Road Trips

When is the best time to take a road trip? Anytime as far as I'm concerned! I love road trips. I've always wanted to see what's on the other side of the hill; what's just down the road a piece; around the other side of the bend. It doesn't take long for me to feel bored if I just stick around the house. Road therapy I call it. Time to drive, head for parts unknown. I'll send a post card.

I've taken a lot of road trips. Especially since I retired several years ago. Over those dozens of trips far and wide, mostly on 2-lane back roads, I've come to realize there are rules to be followed if you want to have a good road trip. Feel free to add your own, but break any of the following at your own risk!

1. Choose your companions carefully - Sometimes it's wonderful to travel alone. Taking a solo road trip allows you to clear your head, think through things, go where you want and see what you want without interference. But it usually is more enjoyable if you have a traveling companion, someone to talk to while driving and share the trip experiences and sites you will see. Plus, it's always helpful to have a navigator, preferably someone who will give directions in a clear and timely manner, providing the driver with more than 10 seconds to move three lanes to the right. Make sure it is someone you are comfortable with and who shares the same interests. It's not a good situation when you want to visit a museum and they want to find the nearest bar. Sooner than you expect, 24-hour-per-day togetherness while sharing the close confines of a car and sleeping in the same hotel room has a tendency to expose and even exaggerate personality differences.
2. Have a destination in mind, but no rigid timelines. Be willing to stop for unexpected road nuggets - a quirky roadside site, the world's largest pecan, a fruit stand on the side of the road, that perfect spot for a picnic or nap. Some of them won't really be worth your time, but that's OK because others will turn out to be the most fun and memorable activities of the trip.
3. Have a comfortable and reliable auto. Remember, you might well be spending 8 or more hours in your auto so a comfortable seat is much preferred. And being in the middle of nowhere with a broken down vehicle can be miserable so get your car checked by a mechanic and do all the preventive maintenance called for before you leave. 
4. Snacks. There MUST be snacks. Apples, trail mix, nuts, peanut butter and a loaf of french bread makes the days on the road better. Healthy is good, but a road trip is NOT the time to deprive yourself. Be sure to add goodies to your snack sack - M&M's, Snickers, cookies and chips are perfectly acceptable. And feel free to add to or replenish your snack sack with goodies you find along the way - a fried pie or two from that little bakery you stopped at or a sleeve of peanut butter crackers from the convenience store where you got gas for the car. The path to a great road trip goes through the belly.
5. Pack light. Make sure you have what you need, but remember, the lighter the better. You will not be seeing the same stranger two days in a row so the people you meet will not know you wore the same outfit yesterday. Unless you do something strenuous, like taking a hike, neither you nor your clothes will be grubby or stinky within a day. The exception to this is underwear. Pack enough to start each day wearing a fresh pair. The same pair of jeans on the other hand, can be worn for a number of days. Dress presentable, but for comfort. No need to dress to impress strangers you will most probably never see again.
6. Bring plenty of tunes. A great road trip playlist is the soundtrack to a good adventure. Memorable songs and driving down little country roads just go together and makes your trip even more enjoyable. Don't be afraid to sing along with your favorites. Even if you can't carry a note in a hand-basket, sing along. Enjoy the moment!
7. Get off the boring, mind-numbing interstate. Back roads are where you truly discover America. Bring along some good old-fashion paper maps and don't forget your GPS, but be willing to slow down and spend quality time on little 2-lane roads that go from small town to small town. Road trips are not for getting from Point A to Point B as fast as possible. Enjoy the journey.  
8. Eat local, stay local. Be adventurous. It may be reassuring to stay in one of the nation-wide hotel chains like Marriott or Hilton, but it rarely is as interesting as a local mom-and-pop motel or a historical bed-and-breakfast. You must also eat, as often as possible, in a locally owned restaurant. Very often, the best food will be served up in an establishment only the locals know about. The number of cars and pickups in the parking lot will tell you whether you should eat there or not.
9. Trust your instincts. Be safe. If you happen to find yourself in what feels like a sketchy area, it probably is. If there are bars on the windows and doors of buildings and houses, pass on through. The goal is to have an enjoyable and fun adventure, not to tempt fate.
10. Take lots and lots of pictures. Bring your camera and maybe a journal to record the adventures and sites you encounter and the stories you'll hear. You'll be sharing your trip with friends/family and reminiscing weeks, months and even decades later. Banish any thoughts that you are taking too many pictures - you're not. Remember, it's easier to delete than to regret.

Feel free to add your own rules. Let me know in the comments section if you think I should add something. Here's to future road trips!

Fading Photographs

When my mother passed a few years ago, I inherited two large boxes full of photographs – family photos, old pictures of old houses and cars and places, old pictures of old people. A few were identified with a name written on the back, but most were not. Some were correct, some not. In my mother’s halting hand-writing, with failing eye-sight and a faulty memory, she had identified childhood photographs of me as my brother and my brother as me so who knows if the others are correct or not.

The other day, with nothing pressing to do, I broke out one of those boxes again to try and correctly identify people and put some kind of order to them. It's a futile effort as I didn't know most of the older individuals who have long since passed on and the ones who knew them have passed as well. It always makes me sad. These individuals had lives they lived, laughs they shared, stories they told, love and fear they felt and life choices they had to make. Some of those choices they made affected my life - where I was born, what religion I was taught, how I was raised by the people they raised. Now, they are dead and buried and forgotten underground with nothing to mark their resting place but maybe a broken headstone and weeds. I couldn't help but think, when an old person dies, it's like a library burning down.

Why am I sitting on a mule in the snow getting 

my picture taken with this man identified as 

 Pa Kerly? There is no 'Kerly' in my family.

While sitting on my home-office floor surrounded by all these photographs, somehow a smell I remember from my childhood came to me. It was a very distinctive, sickly sweet smell. At one time when I was quiet young, we lived next to a horse processing plant. That was back when they killed and processed old and broken-down horses to be used for glue-making and other processes. I would wonder over to the corrals and look at all those horses and dream of being a cowboy. Occasionally, one of the workers would lift me up and put me on the sway-back of one of those poor creatures. The horses never seemed to mind and rarely moved with me on their back as their spirit had long ago been broken and used up. Sometimes the man would lift me up from one horse and place me on another, then slowly lead the first horse into one end of the big shed and I never saw them come out of the other end even though I always watched closely.

That smell of death that came drifting to me through the years to where I sat in my modern office with all the modern electronic machines I feel I need to keep me informed, warm, cool, dry and comfortable caused me to reflect on why I felt a need to identify the people in these long-forgotten photographs. Maybe it's me I'm actually thinking about. I don't want to end up like them, just a little footnote that nobody pays attention to or actually cares about.

I have a lot of digital photos I've taken and I have them all cataloged in several different ways on different mediums all backed up in triplicate. And I now realize, as I'm edging closer and closer to my own end-of-days, I'm probably unconsciously using these photographs as a barrier, individual bricks in a fence against my own mortality. After all, no one is dead, truly dead, until no one remembers them and no one speaks their name. But that's life though. It's the way it's supposed to be. And so I took those stacks of old photographs and put them all back in their cardboard box, still unidentified, still forgotten. I printed out a few of me and put those in there too, unidentified. Maybe someday someone else will pull them out and think, "I wonder who these people were? What were their stories?" 

First Train Robbery in Texas

Sam Bass (historical picture)

There are many historical places right under our noses that we pay no attention to. Places some come from miles away to see, yet hundreds or even thousands of people living nearby never give the place a second's thought as they pass by. One of these places is in Dallas, Texas, or more specifically, Allen, which is a suburb of Dallas, but these two along with numerous other formerly little towns have grown so much over the years you can't tell where one stops and the other begins. No, we're not talking about where President John F. Kennedy was assassinated or where the TV show "Dallas" was filmed. We're talking about the notorious outlaw Sam Bass and the site of the first train robbery in Texas.

Sam was born in Mitchell, Indiana on July 21, 1851. Not much is known about his early life as it seems to have been a very normal, uneventful childhood. In early adulthood, he worked as a teamster, farmer and saloon owner, but failed in each of these endeavors.

Site of robbery in Allen, Texas

In desperate financial straights, he joined a gang of outlaws which planned to rob a train in Nebraska. After getting the train stopped, the small, rather inept gang had found about $450 and turned to ride away when one of the men accidentally fell over a wooden box and heard a tinkling sound which came from within. Upon investigation, the tinkling sound turned out to be $20 gold pieces. The gang rode away with over $60,000 (about $1.5 million today). They had just pulled off the largest train robbery in American history! Taking his share of the loot, Sam left the gang and made his way south to Texas.

Finding such success on his first illegal endeavor, Sam soon put together his own gang in Texas. On February 22, 1878, the gang held up the Galveston and Red River Railroad while it was stopped at the watering station in Allen. It was the first train robbery in Texas and netted the outlaws about $1,500. Over the next few months, Sam and his friends successfully pulled off four stage coach robberies and two more train robberies, all within 25 miles of Dallas.

Fearing the law and bounty hunters were on to them, the gang headed south out of Dallas with the intention of hiding out in Mexico. Needing funds to get there, they decided to rob a bank in Round Rock, Texas. Unfortunately for Sam, one of his trusted gang members had turned traitor and managed to get word to the Texas Rangers that the gang would soon be in Round Rock to rob the bank. Eight or nine Rangers were quickly dispatched to await the Bass gang's arrival.

Just several blocks off a busy intersection, 

but you wouldn't know it.

A day before robbing the bank, the gang was out of feed for the horses so Sam and two of his men went to the feed store for oats and corn. As they entered the store, two sheriff's deputy's named Moore and Grimes, happened to be standing on the wooden sidewalk across the street. Moore saw that Bass had a pistol into his waistband. The two deputies who had not yet recognized the men, went to investigate. Grimes walked up to Bass and asked him if he had a gun. Sam looked at him, said, "Yes, I do have a gun" and immediately pulled his pistol and shot Grimes dead. One of the other gang members shot Moore in the chest and all three ran out into the street toward their horses.

Texas Ranger Dick Ware was in the barber shop a few doors down getting a shave. At the first shot, he jumped out of the barber's chair and ran toward the commotion. He recognized Sam and got off a shot. With the help of Frank Jackson, one of the three gang members, the severely wounded Sam managed to get on his horse and ride away. It was only later that Ranger Ware realized he had shot the notorious Sam Bass while his face was still covered in shaving cream.

Early the next day, a posse was formed and began hunting the outlaws. In some woods not that far out of town, they had ridden past a tree when they heard a man they had not seen call out to them, "Here I am. I'm the man you are looking for." Sam was sitting down, propped up by the tree and barely alive. The posse loaded him on a horse and got him back to town where a doctor began treating him. It was too late though and Sam Bass, notorious outlaw and the man responsible for the first train robbery in Texas, died the next day, his 27th birthday.

The robbery occurred on the same tracks that run through Allen at the intersection of W. Main St. & S. Austin Dr. Today, the site is just a quiet little crossing near a neighborhood of nice, middle-class homes with no historical marker to memorialize it. The neighborhood's residents walk their dogs past, most not knowing and probably not caring that right where they stopped to let Rover do his business, history was made.

Lady walking her dog on the quiet spot where the first

train robbery in Texas took place.

Postcard From The Regency Bridge

The Regency Bridge

The Regency Bridge spans the Colorado River just outside the tiny community of Regency, Texas. Known to the locals as "the swinging bridge," it is located at the intersection of two gravel roads, Mills County Road 433 and San Saba County Road 137. Built in 1939, it is a simple 325-foot long, one-lane bridge with a wood surface used by the local farmers and ranchers in a remote, very rural section of the state.

So why in the world is this particular bridge being featured in this blog when there are literally thousands of rural bridges serving the people of Texas? Well, because this bridge has become famous for several reasons. The first and most obvious reason for bridge fanatics is because in 2005, it officially became the last suspension bridge in Texas open to automobile traffic. All the others have been closed to cars or have been abandoned and fallen into total disrepair or been torn down and replaced by newer, more modern, boring, cookie-cutter concrete ones. This is the last one standing.

Colorado River from the Regency Bridge

There's another reason "the swinging bridge" has become famous, which to the author of this story, is the most important. This is the bridge featured in the opening/closing credits of the TV show Texas Country Reporter. A lot of folks, myself included, first became aware of the Regency Bridge by seeing it on the show and refer to it simply as "the TCR bridge." People often ask me where I get my inspiration for traveling to the places I go and Texas Country Reporter is one of those places. It's one of my favorite shows and I've been watching and saving notes from it since the mid-1970's when it was known as 4 Country Reporter. In my humble opinion, the host and producer, Bob Phillips, has just about the best job in the world. I never hear that theme music without nostalgically thinking of growing up in my native state of Texas.

For a number of years, after finally figuring out exactly where the bridge is located, I've wanted to go see it for myself, but somehow, it just never was possible. Something would come up that cancelled the trip or changed my direction of travel away from it. Twice I was in the area, but torrential rains came and dissuaded me from traveling down those back-country gravel roads. Eventually though, early this year, I made it! My good buddy (not from Texas and doesn't have a clue about the show) who was on the trip with me found the bridge interesting, but from his somewhat confused expression, I'm pretty sure he was merely humoring me and not asking why in world we had driven several hours to get there. To me, it was well worth the trouble and if you are as big of a fan of Texas Country Reporter, you will too.

Colorado River viewed from the Regency Bridge

If you want to visit the TCR bridge yourself, from Goldthwaite, take Highway 574 west until you come to Highway 573 on the right. Go a little further to the dirt road on the left. Take this dirt road and angle right when needed until you reach the community of Regency. You can catch an excerpt of Texas Country Reporter and information on The Regency Bridge here.

That Time In Texas When A Monkey Was Killed Crossing The Road

Town limit sign near the site where

a monkey made a fatal mistake.

The first settlers in Archer County, Texas were ranchers and today, ranching is still the main driver of the area's economy. In 1886, Sam Lazarus purchased the land owned by the Stone Cattle and Pasture Company and established a ranch. He sent to Kansas for Tom Mankins, an experienced ranch foreman, to come down and manage his cattle operation and erected a house for Tom to live in.

In 1890, the Wichita Valley Railway laid tracks across the Lazarus Ranch to connect Wichita Falls with Seymour. They laid a spur line to the ranch headquarters by Tom's house to facilitate cattle shipment. Tom established a supply store at the end of the line as a supply point for the local cowboys and railroad workers to purchase essentials. 

In 1908, Charles Mangold purchased the whole operation and established several business's, including a small hotel, located next to the main rail line. He plotted a town site and began advertising lots for sale. By 1912, enough people had established residence in the community that a post office was applied for. The first name submitted for acceptance by the post office was Mangold, but there was already a town by that name so it was rejected. The next name submitted was Mankins, to honor Tom Mankins. This was accepted and the town of Mankins was officially born with 55 people calling it home. The town continued to grow as a supply point for the surrounding area and eventually included several stores, a thriving bank, two churches, several hotels, restaurants, its own telephone exchange, two schools educating over 400 students and a moving picture theatre.

During this time, a local cowboy, Dick Dudley, gained fame for being a superb horseman, able to ride even the meanest, rankest wild horse. In 1914, a traveling wild west show came through the area and offered cash prizes for cowboys who thought they could ride several of the unbroken wild horses the show had. Dudley rode them all, one after the other, collecting all the cash prizes. While collecting his winnings from the owner of the show, Dudley found out he was having financial difficulties and was trying to find a buyer. Dudley returned his winnings for sole ownership of the show, the contracts of the performers and all of the show's assets. Under his guidance, the show traveled throughout the small tows of West Texas. Although not a roaring success financially, Dick managed to turn a small profit. More importantly, he discovered he very much enjoyed show business.

Dudley expanded the show to include circus-type acts and carnival attractions like rides, games of chance and side-shows such as "Elephant Boy" and "The Snake Girl." During its heyday, the show employed as many as 250 people.  For four months every winter, the show, the animals and most of its employees settled in Mankins for the off-season. For 70 years, well into the 1980's, the town benefited from the influx of winter residents and the additional cash they brought in, but ultimately, it wasn't enough.

Dick Dudley's stone house in Mankins

The consolidation of the ranches and farms and better roads making it possible for residents to live and shop in larger cities began taking a toll on the town. Another limiting factor was the continued lack of potable water. Often, the town required water to be brought in by rail or water tanks. Fewer residents meant fewer students in the Mankins school district and in 1947, it consolidated with the Holliday school district and the school closed its doors. The depopulation continued until the post office closed in 1958. Today, Mankins is a virtual ghost with an official population of just 10 hardy souls, a few empty houses and scattered debris documenting lives of the past.

Abandoned structure in Mankins

For many years, travelers told of seeing elephants, zebras and other exotic animals roaming around among the homes and in cages along the road as they passed through Mankins. One time, a semi-truck driver noticed one of the elephants was standing right beside the highway. Unfortunately, he was staring at the elephant when a monkey who had escaped from his cage decided to run across to the other side of the road. The driver didn't see him in time, the monkey wasn't fast enough and Mankins remains the only place in Texas where a monkey was killed while crossing the road.

Another abandoned building in Mankins.

Cowboy Capital of the Texas Panhandle

The town of Tascosa was once known as The Cowboy Capital of the Texas Panhandle. Unofficially, it was also known as the Gunfighter Capital of the Texas Panhandle. Tascosa came into being in the mid-1870’s on the vast prairie of the Texas Panhandle. It was surrounded by huge ranches like the LS Ranch which grazed 50,000 head of cattle and covered 4 counties as well as part of New Mexico and the 3-million acre XIT Ranch. The Dodge City Trail ran right through the middle of town which was there strictly to serve the cattle drovers and cowboys who worked the ranches – supplies, whiskey and girls. Less than a mile east of Main Street was “Hogtown,” so named for the collection of “less beautiful” girls who serviced the cowboys.  Homely Ann, Gizzard Lip, Rowdy Kate, Boxcar Jane, Panhandle Nan, Slippery Sue, Frog Lip Sadie and Big Dog Jenny all were kept busy by the boys who came to town after spending weeks out on the lonely trail or riding the prairie with none but other men and cattle for company.

In the 1880’s, the population reached a high of 400, but the entire region was lawless. Billy The Kid escaped his pursuers from New Mexico to spend time playing cards, racing horses and having shooting matches with Bat Masterson. The first permanent resident of Boot Hill was Bob Russell, a former cowboy who quit to open a saloon in town. Unfortunately, Bob was by all accounts a mean drunk and he all too frequently imbibed in his own product. He got into an argument with a local store owner, Jules Howard, and a few evenings later, after a large amount of liquor, he staggered into Howard’s store, pulled his gun and fired off a shot, missing Jules by a wide margin. The store owner, who was stone cold sober, had seen Bob heading his way and was waiting with his 6-shooter drawn. After Bob’s wild shot, Jules fired three shots, hitting his target in the chest, head and trigger finger. Bob was placed in a pine box and buried the next day, minus one finger.

Tascosa's Boot Hill

Several months later, the second resident of Boot Hill was planted. Fred Leigh came to town while driving a cattle herd to market up north. After spending most of the day in a saloon, he drunkenly mounted his horse and rode through town shooting his revolver. At one point, he shot the head off a resident’s pet duck which chose the wrong time to cross the dirt street. The county sheriff arrived and with a posse of four men, including the duck’s owner, confronted Fred. When the cowboy reached for his gun, the sheriff blasted him off his horse with his double-barreled 12-gauge shotgun.  Within the next year, eight more men would be buried in Boot Hill. All died of gunshot.

In 1886, a gunfight erupted over a girl. A cowboy was caught flirting with the girl another cowboy considered his. He shot and killed his rival, but then the dead man’s friends came after the killer and then his friends got involved. By the time it was all over, there were four dead, including an innocent shop owner, and four more men badly wounded.

Still maintained, but rather sad and lonely
out in the middle of nowhere

Until the early 1890’s, there was an average of a gunfight every two weeks. Fortunately for the participants, most occurred after much alcohol had been consumed and the bullets either missed a vital organ or totally missed their intended targets. Often, sobering up after a day in jail, the combatants would shake hands and go back to cowboy work. However, not all fights ended so amicably. A total of ten gunfights were recorded with fatalities. All became forever residents of Boot Hill.

During the late 1890’s, Tascosa began to decline as cattle drives ended and roads made it easier to go elsewhere. In 1915 the county seat was moved to Vega and Tascosa’s business owners and residents went with it. The adobe buildings were abandoned and began to crumble into dirt piles.

Cal Farley’s Boys Town now occupies the old town site. All that remains is the 1884 stone courthouse, the reconstructed schoolhouse and Boot Hill, the forever home of pioneer Tascosans who lived, fought, and died in the Cowboy /Gunfighter Capital of the Texas Panhandle.

Who Fired The Actual 1st Shot of the Civil War?

Historical photo of William Simkins

William Stewart Simkins was born on August 25, 1842 in Edgefield, South Carolina. In 1856, he entered the Citadel, a South Carolina military academy. Simkins was on guard duty as the sun began rising on January 9, 1861 when he saw an alert signal from a guard boat in Charleston Harbor. The guard boat had detected the arrival of the Union steamship Star of the West entering the harbor. Since South Carolina had declared she had seceded from the Union several weeks earlier, this was considered a military incursion by a foreign power.

The Star of the West was a 172-ton steamship built in New York in 1852 for Cornelius Vanderbilt. She made regular runs to Nicaragua, Havana and New Orleans until she was chartered to the War Department on January 1, 1861. She was loaded with ammunition, food, uniforms and sundries in New York before being sent to deliver the supplies to Fort Sumter. 

After alerting the other cadets, Simkins loaded his cannon and fired upon the "Star of the West." Within seconds, his mates joined in. Although not damaged to a great degree, the ship was hit three times and the captain of the Star of the West considered it too dangerous to go on. He ordered the ship turned around and, with both paddle wheels churning, fled from the scene. Although the bombardment of Fort Sumter would not take place until April 12th, three months later, William Simkins had effectively just fired the first shot of the Civil War.

Grave of William Simkins & family

Due to the inevitability of the coming war, Simkins and his fellow cadets were graduated early on April 9th that year. Three days later, he was on duty once again and participated in the bombardment of Fort Sumter, marking the official beginning of the war. 

Simkins was commissioned as a first lieutenant of artillery and fought in a number of battles during the first two years of the war. He was named inspector general for General Hagood in 1863. He survived the war and surrendered as a colonel under General Joseph Johnston in 1865. After he surrendered, he and his brother moved to Florida and eventually organized the Florida Ku Klux Klan. He became a lawyer in 1870 and moved to Corsicana, Texas in 1873 where he established a law practice. In 1885, he moved to Dallas and established a law practice with his brother. The firm was very successful, but he moved to Austin to be a law professor at the University of Texas in 1899.

At the university, he became a very popular professor and his publications became standard textbooks across other schools in Texas and many campuses across America. He became professor emeritus in 1923, but still lectured once every week until he died in 1929. He is buried in a family plot in Greenwood Cemetery in Dallas.

Simkins was such a popular teacher and held in such high esteem that a new residence dormitory was named Simkins Hall and a green-space park on the campus was named Simkins Park. Simkins' history with the Ku Klux Klan in Florida was rediscovered and in 2010, the African American trustee, Printice L. Gary, made the motion to delete the name "Simkins" from the dormitory. The motion was unanimously approved and the dormitory name was changed to Creekside Residence Hall. The park was also renamed and the name "Simkins" has been disassociated from the University of Texas.

Postcard from the Frontier Times Museum

Years ago in America, there were hundreds of "dime museums," private collections of anything and everything the owners found interesting. Most of the time, the artifacts were simply thrown together in no particular order. Visitors were charged a nickle or 10 cents to see freak animals in jars, trinkets from faraway lands and strange, but realistic-looking fakes like "monkey boy" and "fish girl." Sadly, there are only a few dime museums left now. One of the best of those left however, can be found in the little central Texas town of Bandera at 506 13th Street. Founded in 1933 by J. Marvin Hunter, the Frontier Times Museum remains alive and well.

The haphazard arrangement of the many artifacts is part of its charm. As you walk through the rows and rows of display cases, you will come across a 2-headed calf skull sitting next to a collection of old Novocain syringes used by a dentist. A beautiful example of Native American bead-work shares space with a serpent made from hundreds of old English postage stamps. Look through the World War I and II memorabilia to see guns, equipment, ammunition and a German helmet with a large hole in the side and then gaze at the "Shrunken Head of Zorro" from a doglike creature that lived in the jungles of Ecuador and was unlucky enough to have been captured by Jivaro headhunters. In another room, you don't want to miss the shrunken human head which a few years ago was noggin-napped and missing for a while, but then returned after it was found in a plastic bag in a San Antonio parking lot. No doubt it was abandoned after the noggin-napper was afflicted with a South American curse.

The Frontier Times Museum does have a western theme as its name implies. There are arrowheads, branding irons, pistols, flintlock rifles, furniture from log cabin days, a bottle from Judge Bean's saloon, a map of Texas made from rattlesnake rattles, and the mounted head of a longhorn named Big Tex whose horns measure 7 feet 6 inches from tip to tip. But then, as you are looking over these artifacts, you unexpectedly come upon a magnifying glass under which is a pair of fleas dressed for a night on the town and a few steps away, next to the leather saddle used by a local cowboy who won a rodeo championship, is a stuffed lamb with two faces. 

Could you be in oddball heaven? You just might be.

Where Men Were Spanked

The Whipping Oak

There is a public gathering spot called Central Park in the middle of the town square across the street from the county courthouse in Seguin, Texas. On the northern edge of Central Park stands a group of live oak trees. One of these large oaks was used by early courts for the punishment of those found guilty of breaking the law, harsh punishment by use of whip. Runaway slaves, thieves, and wife-beaters were among those who received such punishment.

On the side of one oak, a 3-inch iron ring still usable today, is embedded in the tree about five feet from the ground. It was to this ring that the prisoners were tied for their lashing. The number of lashes was always prescribed by the court. One court in 1846 gave the following sentence: "...as many licks as (a certain settler) had given his wife.” Sometimes the sheriff wielded the whip and sometimes the court hired someone at 10 cents per lash.

Being sentenced to receive lashes was the most feared punishment by lawbreakers. Lawmen and many citizens deemed it more effective than sitting in jail for a few days. For wife beaters, judges thought sentencing the convicted man to jail for a while would just end up being much harder on the poor wife when the man got out. They must have had a point as it was noted there were far fewer men who committed crimes again after a lashing at the post then those who had just sat in jail as punishment. 

The punishment was public and, thinking it would be a good deterrent by putting the fear of the whip in their minds, everyone was encouraged to attend. Often, the lashing would be scheduled at lunchtime so spectators who wanted to see it could get off work and have a picnic during the beating. 

The local Texas Mercury newspaper printed a description of one lashing - 

"The shackled accused was stripped of his clothing in front of all who wished to witness the prisoner receive his licks. As his bound arms were raised, the sheriff fastened his wrists to the iron ring implanted in the tree roughly five feet above the ground. The murmuring of the crowd was suddenly silenced as the sheriff began to raise his four-foot rawhide whip to proceed with the punishment. The lashing of the whip could be heard hitting the bare body of the convicted from blocks away. With every whack, whack, whack a painful moan was heard from the accused as he cringed in agony. The crowd which had grown in large numbers flinched with every blow and a slight gasp would follow. The ten strokes were delivered so slowly it took ten minutes to complete. Though no skin was broken, large raised red markings were visible."  

It also reported one of the spectators that day said, "The sheriff did a real nice job of it. In my opinion though, the sheriff did not hit him as hard as my own pa used to hit me."

When I visited "The Whipping Oak," it was a beautiful, sunny day, a perfect afternoon to enjoy a picnic in Sequin's peaceful, shady Central Park. Of course, there wasn't a crowd of onlookers straining to see a man being lashed with a whip, no rawhide whistling through the air, and no painful moans could be heard. I leaned up against that oak tree with the iron ring embedded in the trunk and for a moment I closed my eyes. I know it was just my imagination, at least I'm pretty sure it was, but while leaning against the rough bark, I swear I heard the subtle, but anguished cries of an abusive husband vowing to never strike his innocent wife again. 

Miracle of the Lady in Blue

One of the most fascinating stories of early Texas is of the missionary efforts of a Spanish nun who worked in Texas from 1620 to 1631. She instructed various Indian tribes in the Catholic Faith and told them how to find the Franciscan Mission in New Mexico to ask for priests to come to baptize their people. Her name was Mother Mary of Jesus of Agreda, a nun who never left her Convent in Spain.  

For six years, beginning in 1623, small delegations of Jumanos Indians had come at the same time each year to Isleta, a Pueblo mission near present day Albuquerque, to speak to Fr. Juan de Salas, a much respected missionary who had established the church there in 1613. Each year, the Indians requested a mission be established in their lands and spoke about a woman who had sent them. They were the first to report the visits of the “Lady in Blue.” But the story was disregarded as impossible. Also, to travel from Isleta into the middle of Texas was a long and very dangerous trek – over 300 miles through the hostile lands of the Apache. At that time, the missionaries lacked both the priests and the necessary soldiers to make the trip and establish a new outpost, so the mission was delayed.

Then, in the summer of 1629, a larger delegation of 50 Indians arrived at Isleta requesting priests to return with them and baptize their people.  That year, a messenger was sent to Superior Friar Alonso de Benavides about the strange story of a lady who was supposedly teaching the Catholic faith to the Indians. 

Friar Benavides, who had recently arrived to be in charge of all mission work and who had heard the story of the miracle back in Spain, was very interested to know more. He decided to question the Indian party and ask how they had come to have knowledge of the Faith. In his Memorial to Pope Urban VIII, he reported the results of his inquiry: “We called the Jumanos to the monastery and asked them their reason for coming every year to ask for baptism with such insistence. Seeing a portrait of Mother Luisa (another Spanish Franciscan sister in Spain) in the monastery, they said, ‘A woman in similar clothing wanders among us there, always preaching, but her face is not old like this, but young and beautiful.’

“Asked why they had not told us this before, they answered, ‘Because you did not ask and we thought she was here also.’” The Indians called the woman the “Lady in Blue” because of the blue mantle she wore. She would appear among them, the Jumanos representatives said, and instruct them about the true God and His holy law. The party, which included 12 chiefs, included representatives of other tribes, allies of the Jumanos. In Fr. Benavides’s 1630 Memorial, he notes that they told him “a woman used to preach to each one of them in his own tongue.” It was this woman who had insisted they should ask the missionaries to be baptized and told them how to find them. At times, they said, the 'Lady in Blue' was hidden from them, and they did not know where she went or how to find her. 

Fr. Benavides quickly put together the needed men and materials for a visit to the area requested by the Indians. After traveling several hundred miles east through the dangerous Apache territory, the weary expedition was met by twelve Indians from the Jumanos tribe. They had been sent to greet them and protect them on the last few days journey, they said, by the 'Lady in Blue' who had told them of their location. As the friars drew near the tribe, they saw in amazement a procession of men, women and children coming to meet them. At its head were Indians carrying two crosses decorated with garlands of flowers. With great respect the Indians kissed the crucifixes the Franciscans wore around their necks. 

Fr. Benavides wrote in his report that they learned from the Indians the same nun had instructed them as to how they should come out in procession to receive them, and she had helped them to decorate the crosses. Many of the Indians immediately began to demand to be baptized. The missionaries found the Indians were already instructed in the Faith and eager to learn more. Their astonishment increased as messengers arrived from neighboring Indian tribes who pleaded for the priests to come to them also. They said the same lady in blue had catechized them and told them to seek out the missionaries for baptism. 

The next year, in his Memorial of 1630, a report on the state of the missions and colony, Frier Benavides made a precise account of the Indians who had been instructed by the “Lady in Blue.” His Memorial of 1634, written after he had returned to Spain and personally met and visited with Mother Mary of Agreda in late 1631, also describes that meeting and his favorable impression of the nun. She informed him that beginning at the age of 25, she could, in a trance-like state, travel over the oceans to the New World and while there, instruct the native peoples in the Catholic faith. She said that even though she spoke Spanish, the Indians understood her, and she understood them when they replied in their native dialect. On her first two visits, she reported, the natives were afraid of her and shot her with arrows. She felt the pain of the arrows entering her body, but when she awoke from her trance, she was fine and her body had no wounds. On her next visit, she said she admonished them to stop shooting arrows into her and to listen to her words of salvation. They did and she went on to visit and preach to them hundreds of times over nearly eleven years. She reported she then lost the ability to be in two places at once and her visits to the New World stopped.

Over 50 years later in 1687, Franciscan Damian Massanet had established Mission San Francisco de los Tejas, the first mission in East Texas. In his report, he tells of an incident that took place on his expedition while they were distributing clothing to a group of Indians. Their chief asked for a piece of "blue baize" for a shroud to bury his mother in when she died. Fr. Massanet wrote, “I told him that cloth would be better, and he said that he did not want any other color than blue. I asked then what mystery was attached to the color blue, and the governor said that they were very fond of blue, particularly for burial clothes, because in times past a very beautiful woman visited them there, who descended from the heights, and that this woman was dressed in blue and that they wished to be like her."  Massanet asked how long ago this happened and the chief said it was before his time, but that his mother, who was very old, had seen her, as had the other very old people. 

In 1689, Spanish explorer Alonso de Leon made his fourth expedition into Texas, arriving in the area between the current day towns of Paint Rock and Concho. In his hand-written report giving a detailed record of the expedition, he said some of the Indians encountered were already partly instructed in the Catholic Faith because of the visits to their forefathers of a "Lady in Blue." He wrote, “They perform many Christian rites, and the Indian chief asked for missionaries to instruct them, saying that many years ago a woman went inland to instruct them, but that she had not been there for a long time.” 

Finally, in 1699, Captain Mateo Mange traveled with Jesuit priests Eusebio Francisco Kino and Adamo Gil on another expedition into the same area. Captain Mateo reported that while talking with some very old Indians, the explorers asked them if they had ever heard their elders speak about a Spanish captain passing through their region with horses and soldiers. They were trying to find information about earlier expeditions.  The Indians told them that they could remember hearing of such a group from the old people who were already dead. Without prompting, they said that when they were children a beautiful white woman, dressed in white, brown and blue, with a cloth covering her head, had come to their land. They reported, “She had spoken, shouted and harangued them … and showed them a cross." They said some of the Indian warriors were afraid and shot her with arrows, leaving her for dead on two occasions. Reviving, she disappeared into the air. They did not know where her house and dwelling was. After a few days, she returned again and then many times after to preach to them.

Mother Mary of Agreda, "The Lady in Blue," continued her Godly ways, assuming the role of Abbess, the highest ranking nun in her convent, a position she held for the rest of her life. She never left Spain and there were no more reports of her bi-locating to teach the Indians in America. She passed peacefully from this life in 1665. 

Inspired by their love and respect for the Lady in Blue, a story has been passed down by the Jumanos Indians. According to the tale, after the Franciscans came to baptize the people, the Lady in Blue told the Indians that her visits were at an end. When she left them that last time, the hillside where she had appeared was blanketed with beautiful blue flowers, a memory of her presence among them. That flower came to be known as the Bluebonnet. Today, it is the state flower of Texas.