Postcard from Judge Roy Bean

Roy Bean (historical picture)

Roy Bean was born in Kentucky in the 1820's (nobody knows the exact year). By the time he became a teenager, her was getting into trouble, mostly for fighting. He and his brother, Sam, left home in 1847 and made their way south into Mexico. Not long after arriving, Bean was forced to flee to San Diego after he shot a man in a barroom fight. Once again though, he was soon forced to leave town after he shot a man during a quarrel. He fled to Los Angeles where he tried to be a law-abiding citizen, but within a year, he killed a Mexican officer in a duel over a woman. The officer wanted to duel with lances, but when the two men faced off, Bean pulled his pistol and shot the surprised officer. Angry friends of the officer kidnapped and hanged Bean in revenge, but luckily, the rope was new and it stretched far enough that Bean managed to stay alive standing on his tiptoes until the woman he had fought for arrived and cut him down. He bore rope scars on his neck for the rest of his life. Fearing the men who hanged him would try to finish the job, he left the woman behind and fled to a less risky life in Texas.

After making his way to San Antonio, Bean lived a somewhat quiet life (at least for him) as a business man. His main income came from selling milk door-to-door from a horse-drawn wagon. He married 18-year-old Virginia Chavez in 1866 and had four children by her, Roy Jr., Sam, Laura and Zulema. They also adopted a son named John. With a family to support, Bean soon found a way to increase his milk selling profits by diluting the milk with creek water. When the buyers started noticing minnows in the milk, Roy seemed as surprised as the buyers. "By Gobs," he said, "I'll have to stop them cows from drinking out of the creek." Eventually, his shady deals became so notorious that the neighborhood where he and his family lived became derisively known as "Bean Town."

In 1880, Bean divorced his wife, left her and the kids in San Antonio and moved 200 miles away to eventually settle in the railroad camp of Langtry in southwestern Texas where he opened a saloon and sold whiskey to the railroad workers. While in San Antonio, he had become enamored with the famous English actress Lillie Langtry. Even though the two never met, he named his saloon, the Jersey Lilly, after her and followed her life through numerous theater magazines he read.

The Jersey Lilly saloon and "courthouse"
(historical picture)

Over the next two years, Bean secured an appointment as a justice of the peace and notary public. He had a sign painted and hung on his saloon proclaiming himself to be the "Law West of the Pecos." Even though he knew little about the law or proper court procedures, throughout the years, he relied on a single law book, the 1879 edition of the Revised Statutes of Texas. When newer law books were sent to him, he used them as kindling. The area residents appreciated and accepted his common sense verdicts in the sparsely populated country of West Texas. For ten years, his claimed authority was not questioned and then, when the government insisted on holding elections, he was re-elected three times. Bean controlled the large territory between San Antonio 200 miles to the east and El Paso, 300 miles to the northwest.

Judge Bean maintained such a rough reputation that few, if any, challenged him. If anyone even thought about challenging him, they knew there was always a bunch of broke, thirsty cowboys hanging around the Jersey Lilly who would gladly do Roy's bidding for a shot or two of whiskey. One time, the owner of a Langtry restaurant owed Bean money. When he didn't pay up, Bean waited until the restaurant was full and with a six-shooter on his hip, he stood in the door and had each customer pay him for their meal. The last few customers paid what Bean claimed as the interest. The restaurant owner didn't protest.

Bean became widely known for his outrageous verdicts and fines. One time, a rich city slicker from back east was riding the rails to see the west when the train stopped to take on water in Langtry. The gentleman strolled into the bar and demanded a bottle of beer. Bean set one out for him. The customer ordered Bean to give him a glass, but he was told, "Drink it out of the bottle or leave it alone." The eastern dude took a drink from the bottle, looked up at a sign that read, "Ice Cold Beer" and asked, "How near the ice do you keep this beer?" Bean told him there ain't no ice in the summer time. The visitor dropped a $20 gold coin on the bar. Bean quickly grabbed it and put it in the cash drawer. When the dude inquired, "Where's my change?" Bean told him "Anybody who comes into my bar and puts down a $20 gold piece and expects to get change back must be crazy."But that's robbery!" the easterner protested. "Is there no law in this country?" "I'm the law," said Bean. He took off his bar apron, put on a long, black coat he called his judicial garment, mounted a low stage and sat down on a chair perched there, his chair of justice. "I find you guilty of disorderly conduct and fine you $10 and costs. The costs will be $9. Court is adjourned." He descended from the bench and said, "With the dollar for the beer, that makes $20 which has already been paid into the treasury of the honorable court. The prisoner is discharged, and you better run for that train as it's about to pull out and me and the boys don't harbor disorderly persons in this town." The poor easterner looked around at the large number of armed cowboys looking at him with unfriendly looks on their faces and decided to run for the train.

Judge Roy Bean and others in
front of the Jersey Lilly
(historical picture)

One day a cowboy lassoed a bear cub and brought it to Bean as payment on his bar tab. Chaining it to a post between the saloon and the train station, Bean charged rail passengers $1 to see the bear drink a beer. Within a few months, the creature became the bear equivalent of an alcoholic. Bean loved the bear, named it "Bruin" and made sure it had plenty to eat and plenty to drink. During one of his infrequent trips to San Antonio to see his children, a passenger on the train discovered Bean gone and, as a joke, sent a telegram to him saying, "The bear is dead." Several days later, a telegram came from Bean to his Mexican assistant which said, "Skin the bear. Save the skin." Knowing he better not question or delay an order from the judge, the assistant went over to the bear, killed it with a shot between the eyes and skinned it. When Bean returned, he looked at the skin drying on the wall of the saloon and said, "To bad. I'm sure going to miss the old boy." "Then why you have him killed?" asked the Mexican. When the judge discovered what had happened, he swore vengeance on the perpetrator if he ever came back to Langtry. Fortunately for the prankster, he evidently never came back through. Bean never really got over the reason for Bruin's death and he kept the bear skin in his bedroom. 

Another tale is about a railroad worker who fell from a bridge and died on the Mexican side of the river. Bean quickly got several men to go fetch the body and bring it to the Texas side. Going through his pockets, the judge found $40 and a six-gun. He immediately declared the corpse to be guilty of carrying a concealed weapon and fined him $40.

What few people know however, is that in spite of his "hard as nails" reputation, Bean actually had a soft side. Most of the fines he collected actually went quietly to the poor and destitute in the area. He also often took money he made from his saloon and bought medicine for the sick and injured. And the $40 he fined the dead man? It bought a casket, a headstone and paid the gravedigger's labor. He did, however, keep the six-gun and used it as a gavel. In spite of being known as a hanging judge, Bean never hanged anyone. He did sentence two men to hang, but secretly arranged for the guards to "accidentally" let the prisoners escape the night before the scheduled hanging. The two men never returned to the area to appear before Bean again. He also never sent anyone to the penitentiary. Instead, he sentenced law-breakers to take care of things that needed doing in Langtry such as repairing and painting buildings and people's homes, replacing rotting sidewalks in town, or cleaning and repairing outhouses. If nothing needed doing, he made them spend some time tied to a stake in the hot Texas sun.

After being the Law West of the Pecos for over twenty years, Bean was defeated in the 1896 primary by a Mexican candidate. Angry and bitter, even though he was over 70 years of age, Bean made it a point to visit every single person of voting age in the area and convinced them to vote for the candidate running against the Mexican who had beaten him in the primary. His man won in a landslide.

Inside the Jersey Lilly Saloon

After that election, Bean retired, but refused to give up his judge's seal. He continued to perform marriages for $5 (he always ended the ceremony with the phrase, "May God have mercy on your souls") and granted divorces for the same charge of $5, but he mostly lived off his savings. He continued to help the poor of the area and made sure the school house had free firewood every winter.

In 1902, Langtry began to decline when the highway was moved a few miles north of the town for a more direct east-west route. In early 1903, construction started on a power plant on the Pecos River. Bean complained that times were changing and he was being left behind. He took a trip to San Antonio where he engaged in an epic drinking bout and kept complaining about changing times. He became sick the next day and took the train back to Langtry. On March 19, 1903, he arrived in town at 10:00 AM, went directly home and died at 10:03 PM that same night. It is speculated he simply gave up the will to live. After such a rough and adventuresome life, Judge Roy Bean died peacefully in his own bed, with boots off, friends in attendance and the bear skin with a bullet hole between the eyes on the floor next to him.

The Jersey Lilly today

Lillie Langtry, the object of Bean's devoted, but one-sided adoration, visited the town just 10 months after his death. She went inside the saloon and Bean's house. She took two mementos when she left - a poker chip from the saloon and the six-gun Bean had taken from a dead man's pockets and used as his gavel. 

In the 1920's, the railroad closed its facilities, most all of the remaining jobs were lost and the town of Langtry began to dry up. Today, there is little there except some ruins, about a dozen residents living in isolated houses, the Judge Roy Bean Visitor Center and the still standing Jersey Lilly saloon.

Postcard from Oakwood Cemetery

Waco's Oakwood cemetery was established in 1878 and is the final resting place for numerous senators, state governors, city mayors, civil war veterans, Texas Rangers and many other notable individuals. One of those notable individuals is Felix Huston Robertson. At the time of his death on April 20, 1928, he was the last surviving general of the Confederacy.

Oakwood is also the home of Charles George Smith (1891 - 1967) and the unusual abstract sculpture that serves as his tombstone. His epitaph says a lot about the man - "Strange cosmic curve integrated arc of space. Unrolling rhythm swinging out from time into eternity." Obviously, Charles G. Smith was not just an average thinker.

There is an interesting story behind the damaged headstone of William Cowper Brann (1855 - 1898). Born in Coles County, Illinois, his mother died when he was just 2-years-old and his father gave him to a nearby farming neighbor to raise and help with chores. On William's 13th birthday, he packed his bags, struck out on his own and never returned. In spite of only being formally educated through the 3rd grade, he became a gifted writer and brilliant thinker. 

Epitaph of C. G. Smith

When he was 18, he began writing for various newspapers, eventually making his way to Texas where he wrote for the Galveston Evening  and then to Austin writing for the Austin Statesman. He started his own newspaper, the Iconoclast, proclaiming it to be a "journal of personal protest." When his paper proved to be unsuccessful, he moved to Waco and brought the Iconoclast with him. Here, the paper proved to be a success, eventually having a circulation of over 100,000.

Brann seemed to thoroughly enjoy taking pot shots at many of the city and state officials. This didn't earn him any friends among the power brokers, but then he focused his ire and withering comments on the Baptist religion, the Baptist faithful and Baylor University. He got people so riled up that on October 2, 1897, a group of students kidnapped him, took him to the Baylor campus and demanded he retract his statements about the university or leave town. Four days later, having done neither of the student's demands, he was again kidnapped and soundly beaten by 3 men.

Several months later, having finally recovered from the beating, Brann focused on Baylor president Rufus Burleson (who coincidentally, is also buried in Oakwood) and began a series of particularly vitriolic statements against him. Brann unwisely ignored numerous warnings to "leave town or else" and on April 1, 1898, in broad daylight in the middle of a busy downtown Waco street, an angry Baylor University supporter, Tom E. Davis, shot him in the back. As he was falling to the pavement, Brann somehow managed to pull his own gun, turn and fire a shot at Tom. His aim was true and both men died within seconds just a few feet from each other.

Brann's headstone is adorned with his full profile. Not long after the stone was erected, an angry gunman came to his grave and shot his likeness in the temple. Nobody liked him enough to have it repaired and so the bullet impression remains to this day. Evidently, for some people, there are  individuals who just cannot be dead enough.

Postcard from Glenrio - ghost town

The first and last hotel in Texas

Straddling the Texas/New Mexico border is the ghost town of Glenrio. It's a rather sad little place along Route 66, home only to a few old, deserted ruins, critters and tumbleweeds. Like all ghost towns, it has plenty of stories to tell and it is here where you can not only stand with one foot in one state and the other foot in a different state, but also in two different time zones!

Glenrio was established in 1903 and named Rock Island when the Chicago, Rock Island and Pacific railroad laid tracks through the area. Nobody really knows how the name Glenrio was chosen to replace Rock Island several years later as the it is derived from the English word "valley" and the Spanish word for river - the town is in neither a valley nor along a river.

The long abandoned courtyard motel

In 1905, farmers and small ranchers settled in the area on 150 acre plots and a year later, the railroad established a station on the Texas side of the town. Soon afterwards, a post office was opened on the New Mexico side even though the mail was delivered to the rail station on the Texas side. 

By 1920, Glenrio had a hotel (built on the Texas border and billed as the "First and Last Hotel in Texas), a land office, a hardware store, and several grocery stores. Interestingly, the Texas side had several gas stations, but being in Deaf Smith County where no alcohol was permitted, there were no bars. The New Mexico side had no gas stations because gas taxes in that state were so high, but they did have a number of bars because alcohol was not outlawed. This arrangement led to a long debated battle between Texas and New Mexico because both states wanted the tax revenue.

In 1937, Route 66 was built through Glenrio and the town quickly grew as it became a popular stopping place for travelers. A "welcome station" was built near the state line and a post office was established on the Texas side. In 1938, John Steinbeck's Grapes of Wrath was filmed for three weeks in the town and everyone was sure the town would soon be a city.

The remains of a former filling station

In 1955, Glenrio suffered a severe blow when the train depot closed and then in 1973, the town was doomed when Interstate-40 was built and bypassed the community. First, the gas stations moved to the highway. The welcome station closed and the newspaper went out of business. Shortly, the hotel and grocery stores all closed and by 1985, there were only 2 official residents in town and the only business was the post office on the Texas side.

By 1990, the post office was closed and Glenrio was a town haunted by its former glory. The 2000 census showed 5 people living in the area, but none in the town itself. Today, there are only a few abandoned buildings, mere shadows of their former selves as they slowly crumble in the hot Texas Panhandle wind, the unpaved roadbed of old Route 66, and several shy, skinny dogs who may or may not rouse themselves from the shade of a tree to halfheartedly bark a greeting.

The old Texas-side post office hasn't seen mail
in decades.

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.