Death by Elephant in Texas

Entrance of Oakwood Cemetery

Oakwood Cemetery in Corsicana, Texas is a large, very old and quiet place. The grass is kept trimmed, any trash is quickly picked up and the flowing stream which runs through it is kept clear of brush and nature's debris. There are a number of notable folks resting in peace within the fenced grounds - government officials, pioneer settlers, Indian fighters and war veterans. Also interred here is the victim of what surely must rank as one of the most unusual causes of death.

On October 12, 1929, the Al G. Barnes Circus came to town. The citizens of Corsicana, the oil field workers and cotton farmers from near and far made their way in to see the show and the elephants. The circus paraded right through downtown where thousands of men, women and children lined the streets. The largest elephant, a 32-year-old Asian male named Black Diamond, was being led by H. D. "Curly" Pickett.

For seven years, Curly had been Black Diamond's trainer and caretaker, but he had recently left Black Diamond and the circus to work for Eva Speed Donohoo, a prominent landowner, businesswoman and former society editor for the Houston Post.  Eva had spoken with Curly while he was feeding Black Diamond and when he agreed to work for her, Curly and Eva had simply turned their backs and walked away from the creature. When Curly heard his previous employer would be in town, he got in touch with the circus owner and for old times sake, the owner agreed to let Curly lead the massive beast in the parade.

What the people didn't know however was that Black Diamond, who had been born and spent his first 17 years in the wild before being captured and sold, had killed 3 of his trainers in his first 8 years as a circus performer. After each of the first 2 killings, Black Diamond was sold to another circus until finally coming to the Al G. Barnes Circus. The 3rd trainer to die was the one before Curly. 

Curly had a good reputation for being gentle and taking good care of his charge, ensuring the animal had plenty of food, was exercised and washed regularly and removed from the dark, confining boxcar whenever an opportunity presented itself. By all accounts, Black Diamond seemed to have taken to Curly and there were no incidents during their 7 years together. The man who replaced Curly was told of the 3 previous deaths and to prevent another attack, he had sawed the elephant's tusks short and placed a heavy iron bar across them to restrict his trunk's movement. While being led in the parade, he was also chained between 2 other elephants.

 At one point during the parade, the procession just happened to come to a momentary halt stopping Black Diamond right where Eva was standing between 2 parked cars watching the parade. A moment later, Black Diamond picked up Curly and tossed him over the nearest car breaking his wrist. Pushing the parked cars aside and smashing them with his weight, he used the remainder of his sawed-off tusks to drag Eva back into the street where he began flailing her with his trunk before finally stepping on her. 

Screaming in shock and fright, women and children bystanders ran out of harm's way while some of the men tried to pull Eva away, but Black Diamond wouldn't let them get near and continued pummeling her until circus handlers managed to tighten the chains attaching him to the other elephants and used them to pull the enraged brute away. Eva was quickly transported to a local hospital, but there was nothing that could be done for her. She was pronounced dead on arrival.

An angry mob of local citizens soon descended upon the circus grounds demanding the death of the guilty elephant. Black Diamond was confined to his boxcar and guarded by 2 burly roustabouts armed with clubs. One man proclaimed himself the executioner and armed with a .45 pistol, tried to get into the boxcar, but the roustabouts managed to stop him and convinced him to be on his way. When word leaked out about the previous 3 deaths, the pressure to put down the killer became even stronger. Late the next day, word came from the owner of the circus - Black Diamond must die, but he wanted it done in the most humane way possible.

The execution of Black Diamond
(photo courtesy of thecircusblog.com)

There was much discussion as to a humane way to kill such a huge animal. First, a large quantity of poison was put in his food, but other than an upset tummy, this didn't seem to bother him. It was finally decided that death by firing squad would be the quickest method. By this time, the circus, which had quickly left the angry mob in Corsicana, was in Kenedy, a small town outside of San Antonio. On October 16th, the elephant was led to an wooded pasture and securely chained to several trees. While hundreds of spectators watched and circus performers cried, 3 local men standing just a few feet away fired shot after shot into Black Diamond. Estimates vary, but it is agreed between 50 - 120 shots were required to end the elephant's life. 

A taxidermist removed Black Diamond's head and after preservation, transferred it to the Houston Museum of Natural History. An undertaker who was a member of the firing squad, received one of the huge feet and made it into a stool which is still displayed in the Karnes County Museum near Kenedy. The local butcher was given the hide which he sold for 10 cents a strip. The owner of the pasture received some of the bones. Spectators took the rest of the body as souvenirs. Soon, there was nothing left of Black Diamond except a large spot of blood-soaked ground. Even that was scooped up in jars and buckets and carted away by the last of the souvenir hunters.

Two weeks later, the stock market crashed. The Al G. Barnes Circus went bankrupt and disbanded.

Why did Black Diamond so deliberately kill Eva Donohoo and injure his one time trainer? Did he blame her for taking away the only trainer he had loved?  Did he hold Curly responsible for leaving him to the care of a man who cut off his tusks and saddled him with that heavy iron bar? Did he blame them both for simply turning their backs on him and walking away without even a goodbye? Did he think Curly had returned for him and seeing Eva, thought she was back to take Curly away again? Or did he simply miss his home in the wild and have an "I'm not taking this anymore" moment with Curly and Eva merely being in the wrong place at the wrong time? Nobody will ever know for sure.

In the Oakwood Cemetery in Corsicana, Texas lies Eva Speed Donohoo, the one and only person killed in an elephant stampede in Texas.

Page's Tree

In the middle of Clarksville, Texas, a small town that nonetheless calls itself  "The Gateway To Texas" because of its location in the far northeast corner of the state, is the old Clarksville Cemetery.  The first burial in the cemetery took place in 1838, but in the northwest corner is a large, scarred, but still very alive and healthy post oak tree. This tree had already reached its prime when it was selected to help dispense frontier justice by the early settlers in the area almost 200 years ago.

In 1837, Captain Charles Burham and Levi Davis rode off together from their farms in search of several runaway slaves. After a few days when they had not returned, neighbors raised the alarm. A group of men went hunting for them and came upon a stranger riding Captain Burham's mule. Under questioning, the man proved to know nothing about either Burham or Davis and produced a scribbled bill of sale proving he had bought the mule from a man named Page.

One of the group knew Page to be a less than honorable man and also knew where he lived outside of Clarksville. The men rode to Page's place and took him, his son, his son-in-law and a Mexican hired-hand into custody and brought them to town for questioning. The Mexican confessed that Burham and Davis had been murdered during a robbery. Put on trial by the Clarksville Vigilance Committee, Page's son broke down and told how all four suspects, led by Page, had robbed and killed the two men. The four were declared guilty and promptly taken to the large post oak tree in the middle of town and hanged. The tree has since been known as "Page's tree."

Over the following years, numerous men who were found guilty of sins against their fellow man met their fate at the end of a rope tied to the sturdy branches of Page's tree. Sometimes, just the threat of being taken to "see Page's tree" was enough to straighten up a trouble maker or convince them to take their outlaw ways somewhere else.

In late 1839, the sheriff of Miller County in Arkansas was sent to Clarksville to collect taxes in an area which was in dispute between the territory of Arkansas and Texas. When the townspeople discovered what he had come to town for, a committee of men grabbed him, tied his hands behind his back and took him to Page's tree. They informed him what the tree was used for, showed him the scars in the tree's bark and kindly explained what would happen to him if he delayed his departure. In his haste to leave, the Arkansas sheriff is reputed to have forgotten his travel bag back in his hotel room. 

It's been more than 140 years since the last outlaw breathed his last when a rope tightened around his neck under Page's tree and most folks nowadays have no idea of the history and significance of the old post oak. In their haste to get from one place to another, they travel right past thinking it nothing more than just an old tree shading a few graves in the corner of the cemetery. It would probably shock them to know they just passed by a living relic of times gone by, a relic with many interesting tales to tell - of life, of death, of justice meted out, and the inexorable passing of time.
 

Postcard from the Texas State Cemetery

A cemetery is a history of people - a perpetual record of yesterday and sanctuary of peace and quiet today. A cemetery exists because every life is worth living and remembering. - William Gladstone

Show me your cemeteries and I will tell you what kind of people you have. - Benjamin Franklin

Entrance to the cemetery and Visitor Center

If you want to take a walk among the figures who shaped Texas, take a stroll through the Texas State Cemetery, located in Austin about one mile east of the State Capital between 7th and 11th Streets. It is there where many of the shakers and movers and honored Texans lie peacefully at rest.

In 1851, General Edward Burleson, a veteran of the Battle of San Jacinto and former vice president of the Republic of Texas, unexpectedly passed away at the age of 53 after contracting pneumonia.  At the time of his death, he was serving as senator for the 21st district. The Texas Legislature convened to plan a state funeral for him. Senator Andrew Jackson Hamilton donated the land and General Burleson became the first person buried in what became the State Cemetery.

Unfortunately, very little money was allocated for upkeep. In 1874, a newspaper reporter  wrote that the cemetery was poorly maintained and was a "bleak and rocky hillside bordered by a dilapidated picket fence with no tree or bush in sight." A rather feeble effort was made to upgrade the grounds, but little was actually accomplished. 120 years later in the early 1990's, Lieutenant Governor Bob Bullock attended a funeral at the cemetery, found it to be disgraceful and immediately spearheaded a drive for funds for major improvements.

The State Government and citizens of Texas rallied to the cause and a 3-year, $4.7 million restoration and renovation project was begun. New grass was planted and carefully tendered to replace the sparse grasses and weeds, Texas roses and other flowering greenery were planted to beautify the landscape, a new water pond and fountain were built, new sidewalks were added, funereal statuary was cleaned and repaired, including over 2,150 marble headstones of Confederate veterans. Also built was a new limestone visitor center which was designed to resemble the long barracks at the Alamo. The center included a Texas history gallery and an administration building. New walls were erected around the grounds, including columbarium walls made of granite along the northern border.

Today, the grounds are immaculate, the walkways clear, the headstones well maintained, and the staff friendly, helpful, and respectful. Every grave here tells a story - from Civil War heroes to Texas-born Medal of Honor winners in WWII, Vietnam and later conflicts; from Sam Houston, the father of Texas, to historical old-west period Texas Rangers to Darrell Royal, the hallowed coach of the University of Texas Longhorns to one of the most recent burials, U.S. Navy Seal Kris Kyle whose headstone reads, "It is our duty to serve those who serve us." A walk through these grounds provides a true history lesson of the people who made Texas "Texas."

Albert Sidney Johnston - general in the Texas Army and later
served as a general in the Confederate Army. Killed  while
 leading his forces during the battle of Shiloh in 1862.

Over 2,000 graves contain the remains of men who served
in the Confederacy during the Civil War.

Served in the Texas Army and fought in the Battle of
San Jacinto, the battle which enabled Texas to become
a nation. He carried the only Texas flag during the
battle and was the first to see the fleeing Mexican
General Santa Anna and helped capture him.



Grave of Stephen F. Austin, the
father of Texas

Grave of "Bigfoot" Wallace, famous
soldier, Texas Ranger, survivor of many
battles with Mexicans, Indians, and out-
laws and teller of tall tales. Popular folk
hero who died in 1899, it was said of him,
"Without directing many of the events which
shaped Texas history, he was there when they
happened and did not hesitate to tell the tales." 

Monument Hill and the graves of Medal of Honor winners,
most of whom gave their lives in the service of America.

Native Texan who was the author of numerous highly
acclaimed books. Most famous as the author of "Old Yeller."

Vietnam Memorial dedicated to
Texans who served in that conflict.

Moving and solemn 9/11 memorial with two steel beams
from the World Trade Center towers. 

Looking toward the Texas State Capital from Monument Hill
within the cemetery.

General Scurry

Entrance to the Texas State Cemetery

The Texas State Cemetery in Austin was established in 1851 and is the final resting place of Governors, Senators, Legislators, Congressmen, Judges, Medal of Honor war heroes, legendary frontiersmen, famous authors and other noted Texans who have made the state what it is today. One of these resting in eternal peace is General William Read Scurry.

Scurry was born in Gallatin, Tennessee, on February 10, 1821, and arrived in Texas on June 20, 1839. He was licensed to practice law before he was twenty-one and appointed district attorney of the fifth judicial district in 1841. Scurry became aide-de-camp to Thomas Jefferson Rusk in 1842 and represented Red River County in the Ninth Congress of the Republic of Texas in 1844 and 1845. During the Mexican War he enlisted as a private in Col. George T. Wood' Second Regiment, Texas Mounted Volunteers, and was promoted to major on July 4, 1846. After the war he practiced law in Clinton and for a time was the owner and editor of the Austin State Gazette.

General Skurry (historical photo)

After representing the counties of Victoria, DeWitt, Jackson, and Calhoun in the Secession Convention, he volunteered for service in the Confederate army in July, 1861 even though he was 40 years old. He was assigned the rank of lieutenant colonel in the Fourth Texas Cavalry and distinguished himself as a man of leadership and great bravery during the Confederate invasion of New Mexico while commanding the Southern forces at the battle of Glorieta.

After his participation in several more battles, he was promoted to brigadier general and played a vital role in the Confederate recapture of Galveston in January, 1863. In late 1863, General Scurry was assigned to command the Third Brigade of Walker's Texas Division. He valiantly  led his men in the bloody battles of Mansfield and Pleasant Hill and then was transferred with his command to Arkansas to repel the Union army which was marching toward Northeast Texas. 

On April 30, 1864, Scurry again went into battle at Jenkins Ferry. At age 42, after almost three years of war, leading men in ferocious, deadly battles, his luck ran out. As the battle raged, he was on his horse,rallying his men in their attack when a cannon shell exploded close by. His horse was killed, but miraculously, Scurry received only minor wounds. He continued to lead on foot when, as he crested a hill in front of his troops, he was shot in the upper leg, the mini ball shattering the bone. His men wanted to take him to the rear where he could be given medical attention and possibly saved, but fearing to do so would cause his troops to lose the morale needed to turn the enemy, he refused. 

For almost 2 hours the battle raged around him as he laid in the open field shouting encouragement to his men and giving orders. In spite of his bravery and encouragement though, he enemy held off the Rebels long enough to receive reinforcements and pushed the southerners back. Scurry laid in the field with the other dead and wounded as the Yankees rushed by. In the heat of battle, there was no time to care for the  wounded of either side so Scurry went without aid for over 2 hours.

W. R. Scurry grave

Soon, the Confederate's halted their retreat and made a stand. After several Union attacks were turned back, the Southerners rallied and made their own attack. The Yankee lines broke and the pitched battle turned into a route as the Union soldiers were forced into a running retreat. Scurry's men regained the field where he lay and rushed to see if by some miracle their leader was still alive. He was.

When a handful of his men found him, he asked, "Have we whipped them?" On being told the battle had been won, he whispered, "Now take me to a house where I can be made comfortable and die easy." After over 2 hours of laying in the hot sun in severe pain, bleeding with a shattered leg and receiving no treatment, General Scurry finally, mercifully, passed out. His men carried him to a nearby house which had been turned into a field hospital, but it was too late. He died without regaining consciousness.

William Read Scurry's body was brought back home and buried in the Texas State Cemetery in May, 1864. Scurry county Texas is named in his honor.

Postcard from the Tombs

Entrance to the St. Louis Cemetery #1.

One of the most famous cemeteries in the world, St. Louis #1 in New Orleans, was established by Spanish Royal Degree August 14, 1789. Located on Basin Street within walking distance from Bourbon Street and downtown, it is the final resting place for many notable historic figures of New Orleans.

Because the city is actually below sea level, underground burials result in coffins floating to the ground's surface. The first cemetery in New Orleans, located on St. Peter Street, was littered with coffins that had floated up. The site was revolting to the general population and after heavy rains, the cemetery workers started off their workday by getting drunk in order to withstand the stench of the decaying bodies. The above ground wall vault system, popular in France and Spain, was used in St. Louis #1 to prevent "floaters" and the bodies located in the first cemetery were moved and the old place abandoned. Over time, elaborate sculptures and fancy decorative artwork embellishing the tombs resulted in this and the other New Orleans cemeteries to be known as "Cities of the Dead." 

Marie Laveau's crypt.

Plaque on Marie Laveau's crypt.

One of the most famous residents of St. Louis Cemetery #1 is Marie Laveau, the powerful Voodoo queen of New Orleans who was born in 1794. She married Jacques Paris in 1819 and had 2 children by him, but neither survived into adulthood. Around 1825, Jacques died under mysterious circumstances. Supposedly, the doctor could find no reason for him to be dead except he was. Marie was already known as the queen of all voodoo practitioners, had a poisonous pet snake she named Vidom which she danced with, but was never bitten and presided over bloody occult rituals.
 

The matter of her dead husband was not pressed by the police. Soon thereafter, Marie took a lover, Louis Christophe Dominic Duminy de Glapion. Records are sketchy, but she had at least 7 and possibly as many as 15 children by him, but only 2 lived to maturity. She was much sought after by black slaves and white masters alike for protection against disease, evil spirits, curses, bad luck in love, business, gambling, or other personal matters. After she died on June 16, 1881, there were many reports of people seeing her walking around town several days afterwards. Today, many people visit her tomb and leave offerings of coins, cigarettes, alcohol,  candles or Gras beads and mark the tomb in hopes her spirit will grant them a wish or protection. Evidently, she does not stoop to granting a winning lottery ticket - at least she hasn't yet for me.
 

The crypt climbed by Peter Fonda
in the movie Easy Rider. Note
the broken hand on the statue.

Close up view of the broken
handed statue.

Fans of the 1969 movie Easy Rider will recognize St. Louis Cemetery #1 as the place where Peter Fonda and Dennis Hopper filmed the acid freak-out scene. They did not have permission to film there and in one scene, Peter climbs up onto one of the society tombs and while hanging on to a statue's hand, accidentally broke it off. For the scene, Dennis, the film's director, wanted Peter to speak to the statue as if he were talking to his mother who had committed suicide when Peter was only 10 years old. Peter didn't want to as he had never really gotten over it, but Dennis insisted. The resulting monologue, which was not pre-written, was shot in one take and you hear Peter call the statue "mother" and he states he both loves her and hates her. After the movie was released, due partly to the damage, but mostly because of the backlash against drug use, the Archdiocese (the Catholic Church owns the cemetery) began a policy of disallowing any filming in the cemetery except for pre-approved documentaries and educational films.

 

Old statue by a fallen down crypt in serious need
of repair.

A number of years past, the cemetery, which contains roughly 100,000 human remains, fell into disuse, the crypts began to suffer from age and the elements, and it was not a safe place  to go due to muggers, thugs, and drug users. In the last few years however, renewed interest has led police to clean out the bad people, the crypts are slowly being repaired and restored, and it has become a place frequented by tourists. I'm not so sure I would be comfortable wandering around it in the dark, but it was perfectly safe in daylight hours and extremely interesting. By all means, reserve several hours of a New Orleans trip to visit the St. Louis Cemetery #1. And be sure to tell Ms. Laveau I'm still waiting for my lottery numbers to come up!

Crypt of  a powerful voodoo practitioner.

An angel symbolizes a messenger from God. Clasped hands
signifies affection for the departed even in death.

A broken angel.

 

Another crypt of a voodoo practitioner still visited by people
who ask the spirit for protection or a favor.

The pyramid crypt Nicholas Cage had constructed for
himself when the time comes. The writing on the front says
"Omnia Ab Uno" - Latin for "Come from one."

Goat Man of White Rock Lake

In northeast Dallas, Texas is the beautiful, suburban White Rock Lake. The north part of the lake is a state park and in the southern part are expansive waterfront estates. Surrounded by a 9 mile jogging trail and bike path, the park is an idyllic urban oasis visited by thousands of people every day. Fishing, jogging, biking, families having picnics, sailors piloting their sailboats, lovers stealing kisses under a shady oak tree, boys and young men playing football and small children feeding the ducks present a picturesque, idyllic, Norman Rockwell slice of Americana.



Creepy, haunted Cox Cemetery by
White Rock Lake.

All, however, may not be as it seems, for White Rock Lake has its dark stories. There is the creepy cemetery dating from the mid-1800's which is rumored to be haunted. There are the deaths by drowning in the lake with some of the bodies having never been found. At least one person has committed suicide at the lake by hanging himself from a limb of a large tree by the water's edge. The drowning in a boating accident in 1927 of beautiful 19-year-old Hallie Gaston led to the story of the Lady of the Lake. In 1934, a small plane crashed into the lake, killing every passenger. In 1941, 27-year-old John Howard, a world record holder for underwater swimming inexplicably drowned in the lake. Is it any wonder there have been numerous reportings of strange goings on in the area?

Runners talk of strange "cold spots" frequently encountered near the area where J.C. Hacker drowned in 1938. He was one of the victims whose body has never been recovered. Even in the hot Dallas summer months, there is one particular spot that always feels coolish. Perhaps though, the strangest story of them all is of the Goat Man of White Rock Lake.

In the 1960's, I was busy growing up in Garland, a town "just down the road a piece" from the lake. I went to a church located 2 miles from the lake. I heard all of the ghost stories and I heard about the Goat Man. My teenage friends and I spent many Friday and Saturday nights slowly cruising around the lake. A couple of times I somehow even convinced a girl to spend some time with me parked in a dark corner of the park steaming up the car windows. I never saw the Lady of the Lake and I never saw the Goat Man, but a couple of times I did see and have a nice conversation with Officer Daley of the Dallas Police Department. He told me to button up my shirt, get my butt out of the park and take the girl home. My side of the conversation consisted of, "Yes sir." I may never have had an encounter of the supernatural kind at White Rock, but to this day, the stories persist with a few more people over the years giving eye-witness accounts of encounters with the Goat Man.

The last reported sighting of Goat Man
was on this spooky road.

According to these accounts, the poor creature is half-man, half-goat. He is about 7 feet tall when standing and is covered from head to hoof in coarse, brown hair. He has 2 horn-like protrusions coming out of his head, his feet are hoofs like a goat and he has the body and face of a man. It's skin has a jaundiced appearance and he has long, gnarled fingers with grotesque fingernails.

Most often he is seen early in the morning when he comes running out of the woods toward an individual jogger or biker. He sometimes throws trash or even muddy tires at the person. With a fierce look on his face (some have reported his eyes to be red), he turns and seems to vanish into thin air. He doesn't seem to have ever physically hurt anyone, but the fright he gives has made more than one person swear off White Rock Lake forever.

Bigfoot in Texas



Bigfoot sightings in Texas

If you think Bigfoot is only in the northwest states of America, you would be wrong. There have been sightings reported in every state except Hawaii. One of the area's with the most sightings is the nearly 12-million acre "Piney Woods" region in East Texas. Stretching from the Gulf Coast all the way up to Texarkana in the northeast corner, this huge strip of land contains four national forests, five state forests, and accounts for almost all of the state's commercial timber.

It is also home to one of the first documented sightings in history - the strange case of "The Wild Woman of Navidad." This story was recounted in the "Legends of Texas" book published by the Texas Folklore Society in 1924. The creature was described as covered in brown hair and was very fast. She eluded capture because the horses were so afraid of the strange creature that they could not be urged within reach of the lasso. The events occurred in 1837 in the Texas settlements of the lower Navidad. Mysterious barefoot tracks were seen frequently in the area for years. There are Native American legends dating back hundreds of years that describe tribes of giants that were hair-covered and lived in the woods.

In 1965, there was a spike in sightings reported by a number of people living in several small, rural towns located deep in the woods. One of the first of these came from an encounter in a cemetery just outside the town of Kountz.

At that time, there was a group of students at Kountz High School who called themselves the Rat Finks. There sure wasn't much for teenagers to do in the small, isolated town so on weekends they would amuse themselves by going "booger hunting," their name for running around in scary places looking for a boogeyman. One night they took a prospective new member of their group to their favorite place, the Old Hardin cemetery located in the woods a couple of miles outside of town. On that night though, they got more than they bargained for.

The Talking Angel

There is a gravestone in Old Hardin cemetery that has a statue of an angel pointing at the heavens. The Rat Finks called it the Talking Angel and would take the prospective club members to the cemetery in the dark of night to ask it questions. The legend they had made up was that if the angel did not answer you, you were doomed!

On this particular night though, with the half-moon providing just enough light to cast shadows, their ceremony was cut short by an eerie figure racing across the cemetery grounds. It ran into a maintenance shed, turning over cans, tossing equipment around, and generally just making a noisy ruckus for a few seconds. The figure came out of the shed and before running away as fast as they could, each of the kids got a good look at the boogeyman. To their horror, it was a huge, hairy apelike creature! One of the few girls in the Rat Finks, Sharon Gossett, let out a scream and when she did, the boogeyman turned to look at them. That was all they needed to beat feet out of there and jump in their car.

After driving back toward town for a couple of miles and regaining their wits, the teens realized that if they ever told anyone about  their experience, they would be accused of having overactive imaginations, so they went to Sharon's aunt's house and persuaded her to return with them to the cemetery for another look and to verify their sighting.

Closer look at the
Talking Angel.

Sure enough, as they pulled into the graveyard entrance, the car's headlights illuminated the creature standing on two legs at the edge of the woods on the other side of the small cemetery. The aunt later described it as being about 7 feet tall and covered with hair like an ape. The creature disappeared into the trees as the aunt and the teenagers got out of the car with several flashlights. After looking into the shed and verifying for herself the disarray of the contents, they were heading back to the car when they heard rustling noises. Their flashlights illuminated the creature which was now back inside the fenced cemetery. As they ran to the car, the boogeyman followed them, loping on all fours alongside them.

After speeding away, the horrified aunt made the kids drive her straight back to her home. Fearing she would be reluctant to verify the kid's account, they then found an adult male to go back with them. After carefully looking all around the cemetery and in the woods along the fence line and seeing nothing, the adult man was getting mad thinking the kids were playing a trick on him. Wanting to show him how the contents of the maintenance shed had been thrown around, they were walking toward it when the beast once again walked out of the shed's door. This time the creature quickly ran away in the opposite direction, leaped over the fence in one bound and into the woods. It was a good thing it did as after seeing the boogeyman, the brave adult male passed out on the spot from sheer fright!

Later, the grandmother of one of the Rat Finks told the kids she remembered hearing of similar sightings near Old Hardin in the Cypress Creek bottoms when she was a child.

Although there is not yet factual proof for the existence of a Bigfoot creature, it's hard to fully dismiss all of the stories and reported sightings. New creatures are routinely being found in the oceans and jungles of the world; strange creatures which have never been seen until now, living and even thriving in places and environments we assumed could never support life. Would it be that much of a surprise to find a species living off the land alongside creeks, streams, and ponds deep in the sparsely inhabited woods of America? Surviving members of the Rat Fink club still swear - the boogeyman is out there!

Aurora, TX. - UFO Crashes Into Windmill - Alien Buried In Local Cemetery



Cigar-shaped UFO

In 1896 & early 1897, more than six years before Orville Wright made his first flight of 12 seconds covering 120 feet, thousands of sightings of a cigar-shaped flying object were reported from California to Michigan and then down to Texas. Witnesses gave the same general description, sometimes with two lights, sometimes with none, in daylight and at night, hundreds of feet in the air, making right-angle turns and even stopping in mid-air and reversing course. On April 17, 1897, according to reports, a cigar-shaped flying machine suffered a malfunction and, trailing smoke, crashed into a windmill in the tiny town of Aurora, Texas. Afterwards, reports of seeing the UFO dropped off dramatically.

Witnesses at the time said the spaceship exploded upon impact with the windmill and the largest piece of debris hit a large tree with smaller pieces scattered across several acres. In the debris was found pieces of strange metal inscribed with hieroglyphics and the body of the pilot, a small child-sized humanoid. Although the body was badly torn up, it was evident it was a being "not of this world."

Entrance of Aurora Cemetery

The kind, rural folks buried the alien in a grave in the local cemetery underneath a tree and marked the spot with a small hand-made headstone inscribed with the outline of a cigar-shaped airship containing windows.

On April 19th, a small article appeared on page 5 in the Dallas Morning News. It read:
"About 6 o'clock this morning the early risers of Aurora were astonished at the sudden appearance of the airship which has been sailing around the country. It was traveling due north and much nearer the earth than before.

"Evidently some of the machinery was out-of-order, for it was making a speed of only ten or twelve miles an hour, and gradually settling toward the earth. It sailed over the public square and when it reached the north part of town it collided with the tower of Judge Proctor's windmill and went into pieces with a terrific explosion, scattering debris over several acres of ground, wrecking the windmill and water tank and destroying the judge's flower garden.

"The pilot of the ship is supposed to have been the only one aboard and, while his remains were badly disfigured, enough of the original has been picked up to show that he was not an inhabitant of this world."

Texas State Historical Marker at the
Aurora Cemetery

Over the next few weeks, the debris was removed and the farmers went on with their lives. The story was basically forgotten until May 24, 1973, when newspapers around the country published a United Press International account of the story. Within days, the alien's headstone was stolen and on several occasions, intruders were run off from the cemetery by police or, in some cases, local residents armed with their shotguns. The state of Texas declared the area a State Historical Spot and erected a Historical Marker, but eventually, things died down again and Aurora returned to being the small, quiet, rural little town it has been for over 100 years. In 2000, the town's people, utilizing memory and existing pictures, replaced the stolen headstone on the alien's grave.

Alien grave?

Is the story true or was it all just a hoax? The mystery remains.

When I visited recently, I found the residents living across the street from the cemetery to still be wary, watchful, and protective. Parking by the front gate, several dogs began barking as soon as I exited my truck and an elderly lady came out onto her porch to watch me. I waved to her and I think she nodded in return, but I was far enough away that I couldn't be sure. She watched me for a few minutes and then went inside her house and opened the curtains in a front window. About 10 minutes later, a police car slowly cruised by, but didn't stop. I was dressed in good jeans and a pullover shirt and carried nothing in my hands except my camera so I guess I passed his inspection.

Alien's headstone?

The cemetery was very well-kept and pretty with fields of Bluebonnets. It took a while to find the alien's grave. I finally figured out the corner containing the oldest graves and concentrated my search there. Eventually I found what I was looking for. It had been easy to miss because the marker is small and there are no other graves within about 10 feet of it. All of the other graves were next to each other in the normal layout. It was as if nobody had wanted their kin buried next to the alien.

I had been roaming around the cemetery for about an hour and nobody else came in. There had even been very few cars pass on the road, but I still felt like I was being watched the whole time. I'm sure the old lady across the street never took her eyes off me. It wasn't a scary feeling, it wasn't like that "somethings not right, I better be on alert" feeling you sometimes get when you are by yourself in an unfamiliar place; just that general feeling of having someone's eyes on you. I noticed the police car slowly cruise by again, but by then, I was already on my way out. I waved at the policeman and received a small wave of his hand in return, but no smile. I could almost hear the thoughts in his head saying, "It doesn't appear you are here with harmful intent and you are not breaking any laws, but I'm keeping my eye on you just the same." I didn't hang around to see him come back a third time.

I don't know if there's anything in the "alien" grave or not; don't know if the tale is true or not, but either way, it's an interesting story.
 

Philip Work - Civil War Hero Beat The Odds



Philip A. Work shortly after the
Civil War.

Philip Alexander Work, lawyer, Confederate soldier and arguably, the luckiest man to ever go to war, was born in Cloverport, Kentucky, on February 17, 1832. The son of John and Frances, Philip moved with his parents to Velasco, Texas, in 1838 and then to Town Bluff, Texas, where John established a plantation.

In 1853, Philip was admitted to the bar in Woodville. He then enlisted and served with the rank of first sergeant for four months in Capt. John George Walker's Company B, Mounted Battalion of Texas Volunteers protecting the Texas frontier from Indian attacks. After surviving several skirmishes, Philip and the rest of the surviving volunteers were mustered into the regular United States Army. After serving uneventfully for several years, he was honorably discharged and returned to Texas.

In 1861, Philip was one of the two delegates from Tyler County to the Secession Convention, but before the convention reconvened on March 2, he resigned to raise a company of Texas militia known as the Woodville Rifles. The company was mustered into the Confederate Army at New Orleans in May 1861 and became Company F of the First Texas Infantry Regiment, Hood's Texas Brigade. By the beginning of 1862, Philip and his men would be in Virginia and almost continuously right in the middle of the most intensive, bloodiest battles of the war.

During the year 1862 alone, Philip and the brigade would engage the enemy in 24 battles, sustaining a causality rate of over 60%. Due to his leadership abilities, the appalling number of casualties suffered by both the enlisted men and the officers and the fact that he miraculously came through each engagement with hardly a scratch, Philip rose steadily in rank, receiving battlefield promotions almost every month until he became the regimental commander on June 27 during the battle of Gaines' Mill after Col. Alexis T. Rainey was seriously wounded. Afterwards, Philip commanded the First Texas Infantry in the battles of Malvern Hill, Freeman's Ford, Thoroughfare Gap, Second Manassas, Boonesboro Gap, Sharpsburg, Fredericksburg, and Gettysburg. By the end of the war, of the approximately 4,400 men who served in Hood’s Texas Brigade, only 600 remained and the unit would go down in history as one of the hardest fighting and most well-known and respected units of the Civil War.

At Sharpsburg, Philip’s regiment suffered 81% casualties, the greatest percentage of losses sustained by any regiment, Union or Confederate, in a single day of fighting during the war. Of the 226 men he began with that morning, only 44 were still alive by nightfall. His post-battle report is considered one of the most poignant, yet straightforward accounts of the war. At least 8 men had been killed carrying the company’s flag during the fighting and it was lost as he and the handful of survivors retreated through a corn field. When they emerged from the field and he discovered the flag was not with them, he ran back desperately trying to locate it, but only made it into the rows of corn a few yards before encountering a wall of Yankees. He was forced to return without the flag, running through the field as corn stalks all around were cut down by the musket balls being fired at him. In his report, he wrote, “It is a source of mortification to state that, upon retiring from the engagement, our colors were not brought off. I can but feel that some degree of odium must be attached… the loss of our flag will always remain a matter of sore and deep regret.”

Philip was promoted to the command of Hood's Brigade on the third day of the battle of Gettysburg. Although having never been physically wounded during any battle, he became ill on September 18, 1863, the day before the battle of Chickamauga and had to be evacuated to a hospital. He resigned as lieutenant colonel of the First Texas Infantry on November 12, 1863. At that time, he was simply diagnosed with “fatigue.” Today, he would most probably be diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome (PTSD). After dozens of battles, a number of them requiring hand-to-hand fighting, witnessing hundreds of men die horrible deaths or sustaining disfiguring wounds following his orders, personally killing an unknown number of the enemy, seeing the effects of war every day for over a year, and the stress of almost constant battle, every day waking up never knowing if that day would be his last, nothing else could be expected.

He returned to Texas in late 1863, but just 8 months later, raised and commanded a company in Col. David Smith Terry's Texas Cavalry regiment. Returning to the war, Philip fought in battles in Kentucky and Tennessee under Lt. Gen. Nathan Bedford Forrest. His company of men fought in numerous skirmishes as part of the forces under Gen. Joe Johnston that attempted to slow Sherman’s "march to the sea" during the final months of the war. Philip and the remaining Terry’s Rangers delivered what was probably the last charge of the Army of Tennessee at the battle of Bentonville (March 19–20, 1865). Rather than surrender with the rest of Johnston's army at Durham Station, North Carolina, on April 26, 1865, Philip and 157 of the 248 survivors of the regiment slipped through Union lines to join other Confederates that were still in the field. At the actual end of the war, the few remaining Rangers, including Philip, drifted home as individuals and in small groups, having never officially surrendered. 

With the exception of Hood’s Texas Brigade, the Eighth Texas Cavalry was probably the best-known Texas unit to serve in the Civil War. It earned a reputation that ranked it among the most effective mounted regiments in the western theater of operations. Against all odds, against all reason, Philip Work not only survived, but remained virtually unharmed through dozens of battles while serving with two of the most infamous combat units in the Civil War.

Philip Work's simple grave marker.

Work returned to Texas and resumed his law practice in Woodville. After 1874, he lived in Hardin County, Texas, where he became well-known as a land lawyer and the owner of the steamboat Tom Parker, which navigated the Neches River. Late in his life, he wrote several accounts of his wartime experiences, but unfortunately, only fragments of these manuscripts have been preserved.

Philip A. Work died on March 17, 1911, and was buried in Hardin Cemetery in Kountz, Texas, a very rural, quiet graveyard. Rest in peace, Philip, rest in peace.