Postcard from Baby Head, Texas

Texas Historical marker at Baby Head Cemetery

Sometime between the late 1850's and 1873 (no written historical records have been found giving the exact date), Mary Elizabeth, a 10-year-old white girl, was kidnapped from her parent's cabin in the sparsely settled Texas county of Llano. By riding several miles to other local ranchers, the alarm was raised and a half-dozen men were formed into a search party. Shortly after meeting at the missing girl's home to begin their rescue attempt, an Indian pipe was discovered. The poor unfortunate child must have been taken by a raiding party of the same Comanches who had recently been stealing horses and committing other depredations in the area.

The next afternoon thinking the Indians were long gone, the men were about to give up the mission when they crested a high hill and came upon a most grizzly discovery. In the forks of a large mesquite tree they found the tortured, dismembered body of Mary Elizabeth still wearing the muslin dress her mother had made. Nearby, at the very top of the hill, they found her severed head impaled on a stick that had been stuck in the ground. Wishing to spare the women, especially the mother, from the gruesome manner in which the child had died, the men buried the body nearby in a hastily dug grave marked only by a crude cross made from sticks. Mary Elizabeth's parents soon moved away and time erased all traces of the little girl's grave.

Grave of J. Willbern who
died in 1887 at age 27.

The local people began calling the small mountain Babyhead Mountain in honor of the child who suffered such a terrible death. A creek which flowed nearby was also called Babyhead. As more people settled in the area, a community was established with several stores, a community meeting house and a school. A post office was granted in 1879 under the name of Baby Head and in 1884, the Baby Head cemetery was established when a young boy who had died of an illness on New Year's Day was buried. The community of Baby Head became the site of an election and justice court precinct, but with better and more job opportunities in bigger towns, people began to move away and the post office was closed in 1918. Within a few years, every business moved away or closed and Baby Head became a ghost town.

Today, the quiet little cemetery located on State Highway 16 is the only physical remnant of the community and the grave of a little angel remains unfound and undisturbed.



Margaret Calley - died in 1888 at age 22.
"Husband and children; I must leave you,
leave you all alone; My blessed Savior 
calls me;  Calls me to a heavenly home"



Lelah Bell Frazier, died in 1897 4 days shy
of her 4th birthday. "A precious one from us is
gone;A voice we loved is stilled;A place is
vacant in our home; Which never can be filled"

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.

President Roosevelt & The Teddy Bear

In 1902, President Teddy Roosevelt accepted an invitation from the governor of Mississippi to go bear hunting in the Delta National Forest. A number of dignitaries and powerful businessmen joined in the hunt and split into several groups, each going their own way. After 3 days, all had found and shot a bear, all except President Roosevelt. With the president's reputation as a world-class hunter at stake, the governor ordered that something be done about it.

The Delta National Forest Ranger Station - complete
with Smokey The Bear statue.

That evening, one of the guides, Holt Collier, born a slave who later became an admired and much in demand hunting guide, managed to corner and capture an old black bear with the help of his dogs. While the bear was fighting with the dogs, Holt managed to stun the beast with a hard blow to the head with the butt of his rifle. The wounded bear was then securely tied to a willow tree to wait for the president.

Leading Roosevelt to the tree the next morning, the men in the party urged him to shoot the helpless beast, but the president, saying doing so would be extremely unsportsmanlike, refused and ordered the bear set free. News of this was picked up by the newspapers and articles about the president who refused to shoot a defenseless bear quickly spread across the country. 

The cartoon which inspired the
Teddy Bear industry

A political cartoonist heard of it and decided to humorously lampoon the president of the United States' refusal to shoot a bear. His cartoon appeared in the Washington Post on November 16, 1902. A Brooklyn, New York candy shop owner, Morris Michtom, saw the cartoon and was hit with an idea of how to capitalize on the popular story. Morris and his wife Rose also made stuffed animals and sold them in their store. Morris asked his wife to make two stuffed bears which he put in his store's front window. He dedicated them to President Roosevelt and called them "Teddy's bears." 

Soon, Morris and Rose could not meet the demand for Teddy's bears. After receiving Roosevelt's permission to use his name, they founded the Ideal Toy Company and began mass producing Teddy Bears. Now more than 100 years later, the Teddy Bear is still wildly popular around the world and it can all be traced back to that hunting trip in the Delta National Forest.

Today, the Delta National Forest contains over 60,000 acres and is the only remaining bottom-land hardwood national forest in America. From this forest each year, the Forest Service harvests over 3 million board feet of timber, maintains 87 campsites and over 50 miles of all-terrain vehicle trails. The Service also plants over 100 acres of wildlife food plots for wintering, migrating and resident birds annually. It is one of the most popular area's in Mississippi for outdoor enthusiasts.

While on a road trip to the Delta Forest, about 2 miles from the site of the famous hunt and seemingly in the middle of nowhere, Youngest-daughter and I came upon an interesting little store in the small unincorporated community of Onward, Mississippi. In 1913, the Onward Store was opened to meet the basic necessity needs of the locals and hunters who came to the Delta National Forest. Since then, the store has become a staple for the community as well as travelers on historic Highway 61 (nicknamed "The Great River Road" and "Blues Highway"). With creaking floorboards and shelves filled with all manner of old fashioned goods and various food items, the store is considered an important historical structure. Entering the front door is like stepping back in time.

The Onward Store

After a fairly recent renovation by the new owner, Molly VanDevender (a former Miss Mississippi), the Onward Store now serves breakfast and lunch in 2 small dining rooms whose walls are adorned with old photos, animal heads and memorabilia. The food is rather eclectic to say the least, but it is very good and sold at a reasonable price. With choices from quail and filet mignon, to "Mr. Ben's chicken and biscuits" and a "Half-pound Big Bear Burger" with Hoop Cheese and bacon, every selection is pretty tempting. I usually just go for a burger, but this time I got adventurous and ordered the pulled-pork sandwich with fries. The sandwich was good, especially the bun. The pulled-pork wasn't of sufficient quality to write home about, but perfectly acceptable. The fries were pretty good too. I wouldn't hesitate to stop there for lunch again. I still want to try that Big Bear Burger with Hoop Cheese.

After perusing the store shelves, taking a few pictures and buying a couple of cold Dr. Peppers for the road, I turned the nose of the pickup north and set out to cover more interesting miles on The Great River Road.

Souvenir Teddy Bears just $4.99!

Of course there's a lot of bear-
themed items for sale.

Youngest-daughter didn't like this old bear. Don't
really blame her as it is a bit spooky.



Big friendly bear on the front 
porch standing by the front door
to greet you.

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.
 

Texas Plains

While God was creating the earth, quitting time came one day as He was working on Texas. So He smoothed over the great Plains of West Texas with His hand and said to Himself, "I'll come back in the morning and make it beautiful by putting in lakes and streams and trees and some tall mountains."

When He returned to work the next morning though, He found the land had hardened like concrete. He would have to tear up all of His work and start over. But being as how He was God, He had a perfect idea. "Instead of tearing it all up, I'll just make some folks who have appreciation for this kind of land." 

And that is how it came to be that the hardy people who live on the Texas Plains like it that way.

Postcard From Miss Laura's House of Ill Repute

In the early 1900's, Fort Smith, Arkansas was a wide open raucous border town located next to the still untamed Oklahoma territory. Outlaws with loot from robberies and holdups like the James Gang, the Dalton Gang, the Younger Gang, Belle Starr and Cherokee Bill all came and stayed a while. Cowboys with a month's pay, rowdy's looking to blow off steam, soldiers from the fort, outcast characters and a few God-fearing pioneers passed through or settled down in the town. Each had their own reason for being there, seeking their own adventure, seeking their own pleasure. Fort Smith was eager to accommodate all requests.

Front entrance of Miss Laura's

At that time, houses of ill repute openly catered to one of the many vices sought and enjoyed by the men while in town. The bustling red-light district with its 6 houses of prostitution and 66 saloons on Front Street along the Arkansas River became known far and wide as simply "The Row." It was here in 1903 that Miss Laura Zeigler borrowed funds from a respectable local banker and opened a new high class brothel. It proved to be an astute financial decision as business boomed from the very first day. It was so good that Miss Laura paid off her $3,000 loan in just 17 months.

Side entrance

Although it was a bordello from the start, it was originally named the River Front Hotel and it quickly became one of the most celebrated "services" house in the entire Southwest. Miss Laura's ladies were known to be the most refined and healthiest "daughters of joy" in all of Fort Smith (the girls were given a thorough physical checkup every month and if any "illness" was found, they were out of action until cured). Miss Laura herself was well educated, poised and had an air of class about her. However, she was known to have confronted any rowdy customer with a loaded and cocked hog-leg.45 pistol. Problems were few and far between once word got out.

A handyman was employed full time to keep everything clean and in working order. Beautiful stained glass windows were installed. Customers were not allowed to put their dirty boots on the Victorian furniture. The girls were required to keep the rooms where they lived and entertained clean and orderly. With their name engraved on a wooden plaque on the transom above their door, they took pride in their room and had them outfitted in decidedly feminine wall paper and furnishings.

Painting in the front parlor

For a number of years, life at Miss Laura's was like one continuous party - song, dance, gambling and other pleasures were all there. Champagne was kept chilled in an upstairs bathtub and served to the customers at no charge. The only piano player in town played popular tunes in the front parlor while patrons mingled with the ladies. The upscale class, cleanliness, and attention to their wants and needs paid off. Men willingly paid $3 in Miss Laura's for a commodity the other 6 sporting houses charged $1 for. When some of the church-going citizens began clamoring to have the sporting houses closed down and the "fallen doves" driven from town, Miss Laura didn't have to worry as the sheriff, the mayor and most of the other prominent local men were regular patrons who enjoyed free entertainment.


By 1910 however, there were more families and church-going citizens who called Fort Smith their home and they were tired of the frontier permissiveness. Politicians and community leaders started feeling the heat and fearing for their jobs and status in the town. In January, a very questionable "freak" accident happened. In the middle of the night, an oil storage tank next to The Row exploded. The blast was so great it was felt throughout the city. A wall of flames roared down Front Street and engulfed the brothels, sending scantily clad ladies and their very embarrassed customers running down the street. It became known locally as "the night of the lingerie parade."

Stained-glass windows were installed throughout the house

It was also a night of a miracle. Strong winds had pushed the fire from one end of The Row toward the other end where Miss Laura's stood. The roaring flames were within 75 feet of the building when all of a sudden the wind shifted direction. Of the 7 brothels in Fort Smith, 2 were burned to the ground and the others were severely damaged. Miss Laura's escaped with no damage at all.


Business was especially good for the rest of the year at Miss Laura's and in 1911, having made her fortune, Laura Zeigler sold her property to Bertha Gale Dean (known as "Big Bertha") for $47,000, a very nice sum of money when the average person earned just $545 in an entire year. The now wealthy Miss Zeigler moved away from Fort Smith, left her past behind her and completely dropped from history.

The room of a "fallen dove"

The new owner of Miss Laura's didn't keep up the maintenance of the building and replaced the high class girls with cheaper, less refined women of the night. Soon, the remaining buildings which survived the fire declined and the area became a slum where none but the most desperate visited. It became a haven for drifters, drunks and down-on-their-luck gamblers. Even though prostitution was outlawed in Fort Smith in 1924, Big Bertha kept the building in operation as a brothel until 1948 when Miss Dean died and the building was abandoned.

In 1963, the decayed and still abandoned building was scheduled to be demolished, but Donald Reynolds, founder of the Donrey Media Group, saw the need to save an important part of Fort Smith's early days. He purchased the property and began renovations. Restoration work was slow, but 20 years later in 1983, the building re-opened as Miss Laura's Restaurant and Social Club.

The restaurant lasted for a few years, but closed when business declined. The Fort Smith Convention and Visitors Bureau then made the decision to purchase the property and restore it to the glory days when it was a high-class brothel. In the fall of 1992, Miss Laura's reopened as the Fort Smith Visitor Center. 

Today, it is listed on the National Register of Historical Places. Where ladies of the night once greeted visitors with the lure of the world's oldest profession, local volunteers now man the property, telling tales from way back when and giving escorted tours of the grand old building. They like to say, "Our brothel still caters to out-of-towners." It's interesting, it's entertaining, definitely worth a stop, but I'm pretty sure that phrase doesn't mean exactly the same thing it did way back when!

Postcard From Garvan Woodland Gardens

Garvan Gardens entrance

Garvan Woodland Gardens, located at 550 Arkridge Road in Hot Springs, Arkansas is the botanical garden of the University of Arkansas. Surrounded by the Ouachita Mountains, the garden complex is comprised of a 210-acre peninsula extending into Lake Hamilton. The complex features a Welcome Center with gift shop, a wedding chapel, a restaurant, a serenity garden, a children's play and discovery area, small lakes, streams, shore-line trails and waterfront picnic facilities, miles of paved and groomed trails around and through the different themed area's and thousands upon thousands of plantings.

Pretty Azalea bush

The entry price is $10 per adult (discounts for children and seniors) and for that you can explore and marvel at the wonderful and extremely varied plants and trees for the whole day. Spring and fall are the best times to visit due to the heat and humidity during the mid-summer months, but there is plenty of shade provided by tall trees so even during the hottest months it's not too bad. Various themes with different plantings happen throughout the year so if you go once, you can go again several months later and see something entirely different. Go, take your time and have a thoroughly enjoyable day!

If you want to know about more events in Hot Springs, Arkansas check out my daughters blog post, The Ultimate Guide To The World’s Shortest St. Patrick’s Day Parade.



One day we visited, the theme was "Colored Glass." Beautiful
colored glass bowls were placed on display throughout the
park. Glass butterfly's, stained glass pictures and different
colored floating glass balls in the streams and ponds added
an unexpectedly enjoyable viewing experience. 

One of the wooded trails which wind throughout the complex
inviting "off the paved walkway" exploring. 



There are many little streams and soothing waterfalls.

Ornamental grass waving in the breeze.

Very persistent Peacock strutted around looking pretty
while begging for part of our picnic lunch. 



Life can spring from the toughest situations

Some kind of cool moss I don't know the name of not 
growing on a rolling stone.



Youngest-daughter feeding the large golden carp
in one of the ponds.

Postcard From Click, Texas

On the road to Click

There used to be a Click, Texas. It was located on ranch lands where Llano, Gillespie and Blanco counties blur together, way out where there aren't many cattle and a lot fewer people than cattle. There were only two ways in, two dusty ranch roads that met and served as the center of Click. The main road, the one from the big town of Llano, was paved with a mix of crushed shale and sand. The other, the one from everywhere else, was rutted white caliche. Neither was much used.

Back in the day when cotton was king, when you could make a good living from ranching if you could only get the cattle to market, when going somewhere was a major challenge that required planning, little stores popped up everywhere. They were the hub of the community, where folks got their supplies, where news was learned, where people met and talked and interacted with each other. And so it was at the little store in Click. Soon, a church was built and since everybody dropped by sooner or later, a Post Office was opened and Click became an official town.

The other road to Click

Click was a really peaceful place when it was established almost 150 years ago. Nothing famous or historically significant is recorded as happening there. Just a few people living their lives, helping each other when circumstances required, going to church when the circuit preacher came to town and the old cowboys too stove up to ranch anymore dipping snuff and jawing at each other as they played dominoes in the shade of the store's wooden porch. It continued to be a really peaceful place right up to when the old ones died off and the young people moved away for big opportunities in the big cities. Progress they called it.

With fewer and fewer people to serve, the post office closed in the 1940's and eventually there just wasn't enough business to keep the store going. When the owner died, his children wanted nothing to do with it and so the store was no more. The church hung on for a few more years, but the congregation became so small, no preacher man would come to preach to the few remaining faithful. The building fell into disrepair and then the unrelenting heat of the summers and the cold winter winds crumbled it to the ground. Dust to dust.

Today, Click is still a peaceful place. So quiet and peaceful you can hear the birds flying and the roadrunner's feet as he rushes across the crusted sand to catch a grasshopper lunch. What remains are a few old stone foundations, some unidentifiable rusted pieces of metal, an abandoned and broken windmill, one working windmill to bring water to the few cattle that sometimes wander by and the Honey Creek cemetery down the road a ways where many of the former Click-area residents are forever peacefully resting.

Click was doomed when people left for progress in the big city. Now people leave the big city for places like this, places where there has been no progress. Maybe Click could live again. If only there was once more a little store to serve as a hub, a place with a shady porch where you could pass the time talking to another person while sipping a cold drink and playing a friendly game of dominoes.

Bigfoot Wallace & the Hickory Nut Suit of Armor

Bigfoot Wallace in 1872.

Bigfoot Wallace, the infamous soldier, Indian fighter, Texas Ranger and teller of tales came to Texas in 1836 to avenge his brother who had been killed by Mexicans in the Goliad Massacre in March, 1836. There are many fantastic stories about Bigfoot, some told by himself, which might lead folks to believe he was larger than life. Large he was, standing 6 feet, 4 inches in his stocking feet and at least 240 pounds with not an once of fat on him. He was a direct descendant of the great Scottish Chief Wallace. was born into a prosperous Virginia family, had a good education and spoke excellent English. He could go for days without food or water, learned to track like an Apache and was every bit as good with a knife as Jim Bowie. A confirmed bachelor, he loved good company and loved to sit by an open range campfire telling yarns, drinking firewater and singing away the night. His favorite song? "If the ocean was whisky and I was a duck, I'd dive to the bottom and suck it all up."

Bigfoot was a great story teller and wherever he went people were always after him for one of his yarns. Later in life, one of the most frequent questions he was asked was, "what was your most remarkable experience with Indians?" He knew people were expecting something special from him so this is the story he would tell.

When the moon was full, the "Comanche Moon" as people called it, Indians were expected to be about. Bigfoot kept his horses shut up in a picket pen attached to the back of his cabin out west of the Medina River except for one which he would keep staked in a little brush clearing several hundred yards away. He had a pack of mean mongrel dogs that could be depended on to give him a warning anytime anyone got within smelling distance, especially Indians. Bigfoot himself was a light sleeper and he kept his rifle and pistols right next to his bunk bed so with his horses near, his light sleeping, his dogs on the alert and his reputation with the Indians of being a fierce warrior to be wary of, he never lost an animal. That is, he never lost one until one night in late November of 1865.

Early one morning Bigfoot awoke to find his horses gone from the picket pen behind his cabin. The dogs hadn't made a sound all night and Bigfoot himself hadn't heard a thing. He found the rawhide strips holding the picket boards together had been cut and the pickets pulled from the ground. Moccasin tracks were all around. He figured those Indians must have had a medicine man with them who mesmerized his dogs. The Indians had at least a couple of hours head start on him, but it was against his religion to let Indians get away with his horses so he put on his buckskins, packed a couple of pistols, his big knife and a rifle and set out for his horse, a gray mare he had named White Bean, which was still staked in the clearing 200 yards away.

 Bigfoot began following the trail of the thieving Indians and the further he got, the more moccasin tracks he found. He could tell it was a group of Comanches and evidently they had strung themselves out for a ways and only sent in a few to actually steal his horses. As the moccasin tracks became more numerous, he began to wonder just what he would do when he caught up with all those Comanches, but he kept going as fast as White Bean could gallop.

 That evening, just before the sun set beyond the horizon, Bigfoot topped a hill and saw smoke from a campfire about 1 1/2 miles further on. He knew there was a small lake just about there so the Indians must have stopped to have one of their favorite meals, stolen horse steak. He knew one of his fine colts was the main course and it riled him up to no end. He still didn't know what he would do with all them Indians once he caught up to them, but he kept on going anyway.

About half-a-mile from the Indians campfire, Bigfoot came up on some woods full of hickory trees. It was hickory nut time and those nuts were so thick on the ground you couldn't walk without stepping on them. That gave old Bigfoot an idea. One time when cornered in a cabin by Apaches. Bigfoot had hung two wooden window shutters on himself as protection against arrows and charged right into the thick of those Indians. When their arrows hadn't killed him or even stopped him from killing 4 warriors, the ones left beat a hasty retreat. Well, Bigfoot didn't have any window shutters with him that day, so he decided to armor himself with those hickory nuts.

Bigfoot always liked his clothes roomy so his buckskin shirt and pants had plenty of room between him and them. He pulled out some leather strings to tie off his pants legs above his big feet and the sleeves around his thick wrists and began filling his clothes with them nuts. He said he picked up so many hickory nuts he thought he'd go blind, but finally he was all padded out like a fat Santa Claus. There wasn't a sliver of his skin which wasn't protected by layers and layers of nuts. He even took off his old sweat-stained cowboy hat and filled it half-full of nuts to protect the top of his head.

All armored up, he was ready to attack the horse thieves, but when he tried to climb up on White Bean, the mare started bucking and snorting and her eyes got all wide and wild and Bigfoot found he could barely walk, much less hold onto a scared horse and mount her. He had to talk to White Bean for a good while before his familiar voice finally calmed her down enough that he could lead her over to a fallen log and gently step from it up onto her back. He finally got himself situated and with all those nuts rubbing against his skin, he headed straight for the Indian's camp.

About 500 yards from the camp, Bigfoot rolled off White Bean into the waist-high prairie grass. He began crawling as best he could, but with his guns and knife around his waist and all them nuts in his clothes, it took a considerable while before finally getting within about 100 yards of the campfire. He raised his head just enough to count and found there were 42 Comanche, most lying around in a stupor after their big meal of horse meat and 3 lookouts standing a little ways out guarding the horses.

Keeping well hid, Bigfoot aimed his trusty rifle, fired a shot and one of the lookouts went to warrior heaven. Looking around but not knowing where the shot came from, the other 2 lookouts crouched down, but remained where they were. Pouring another charge of powder into the barrel and ramming a bullet home, Bigfoot quickly took aim and another Indian went down with a yell. Now alert though, all 40 of them Comanches who were left saw where the rifle smoke came from, grabbed their bows and arrows and came charging. Bigfoot had just enough time to load his rifle one more time and give another Indian the kiss of death. Knowing he now needed to keep a bullet for himself or those Comanche would have a grand old time torturing him to death, Bigfoot rose up in all his stature and all his hickory nuts ready to take down as many of them as he could before taking himself out of the fight, but to his amazement, those Indians halted "like they'd been paralyzed by Davy Crockett's grin." They didn't seem to know whether they were going up against some unknown supernatural giant or if it was just a swollen up "Old Big" whose horses they had stolen. They talked among themselves for several seconds before deciding it must be the man they had so often tangled with. They didn't know why he was all swollen up like a long dead mule, but they decided to charge.

Bigfoot claimed he was a mighty lucky feller that none of them Indians had a gun, but they all had bows and arrows and all were fine marksmen with them. Every arrow hit old Bigfoot with unerring accuracy, but every time an arrow pierced his buckskins it would hit a hickory nut, split it and fall harmlessly to the ground. Wary of the pistols he still carried in his hands, the Indians didn't charge into him, but stood a ways out and fired arrow after arrow. Bigfoot claimed so many arrows got stacked up in front of him that he stepped up on the pile and got 3 inches taller. The warriors made a right flank movement and bombarded him from that angle for a while. Some of them broke off, ran to the left side and began firing arrows at him from there. Every once in a while, Bigfoot would see an arrow aimed high so he'd duck his head and the arrow would split a nut up there in his hat. Hickory nuts were getting split faster than a Missouri mule can bite the grains of an ear of corn.

Finally, the Indians concentrated their attack in a rear assault. So many arrows split nuts under his knee joints that it started tickling and Bigfoot just burst out laughing. He felt one final arrow split a nut by his waist and when no more arrows came, he whirled around as fast as he could to face his attackers. The Indians had fired every last arrow they had and not one had missed its target, but not only was their enormous foe still standing unharmed, he was laughing! When those fierce Comanche warriors saw that, they acted like lightning had struck the ground among them. They stood for almost a full minute with their eyes rolling around in their heads and their tongues all hanging out. Then all of a sudden they all took off running toward the Rio Grande 70 miles away like the devil himself was after them. "They never even gave the horses or their dead friends a single look."

"I stood there in my tracks," Bigfoot said, "as still and solemn as a cigar Indian until those devils were clean out of sight. Then I untied the strings around my wrists and ankles and those hickory nuts just poured out and you can kick me to death with grasshopper legs if a single solitary nut in the whole passel hadn't been split open. I thought what a pity to lose all those nuts when they were so good at fattening hogs so I walked back to White Bean where I'd hid her in the brush and got on her and rode up to the battleground. Then I tied up the colt skin the Indians had peeled off and filled it with them nuts until it looked like a Mexican's goatskin full of milk. I loaded it on White Bean and got home with them nuts and all my horses except the eaten colt that same night. My pigs ate on them nuts all winter long."

"I reckon that was the most remarkable experience I ever had with Indians."

For another story about Bigfoot Wallace, see The Headless Horseman.

Postcard from Hawaii - IX - Pearl Harbor & The End of Paradise

At the entrance to Pearl Harbor

The inevitable day of departure had finally arrived. We had one more day in Paradise and then it would be a big silver bird back home - jobs to go to, laundry to do, groceries to buy, bills to pay, and a yard in desperate need of mowing.  But that silver bird would not be leaving until late afternoon, just enough time to tour Pearl Harbor and pay our respects to the men who gave their lives there.

After Trip Report - Was it expensive? For a middle-class family of 3 staying in upper-class hotels right on the beach with ocean view rooms, with the helicopter and submarine tours and the nice souvenirs we brought back, sure it was relatively expensive, but we used frequent-flyer miles and hotel loyalty points to help reduce the cost. Was it worth it? Absolutely! Would we do it again? Absolutely! It was a fabulous trip, we have wonderful memories, and our daughter will cherish the memories of our family vacation to Hawaii for the rest of her life. You only live once and you can't put a price on the good feelings and cherished memories that will always bring a smile to your face. In my humble opinion, that, my friend, is more valuable than gold!


On the grounds of Pearl Harbor



The Arizona Memorial is positioned over the sunken remains
of the Battleship Arizona. The memorial straddles the ship,
but does not touch it. The high ends and the depression in the
middle of the structure signify the high American pride before
the war, the depression of America after the attack on Pearl
Harbor and the rise of American power after the war. There
are 7 windows or openings in the middle to commemorate the
date of the attack.  

 

To get to the memorial, you have to take a water taxi. Over
1 million people visit the memorial every year. 

1,102 men are still entombed under the water in the wreck of
the U.S.S. Arizona, almost 1/2 of all fatalities from the attack.
All 21 members of the ship's band were killed and remain buried
within the ship. Upon their death, survivors stationed on the ship
that day are allowed to have their cremated  remains entombed
with their fellow crewmen. As of 2012, there are 31 urns which
have been  placed on the ship below the water by Navy divers.  

Youngest-daughter reading the marble shrine where names of
the sailors and marines killed on the Arizona are inscribed.
There were 37 pairs or trios of brothers who were stationed
on the Arizona. Of those 77 men, 62 were killed. 23 sets of
brothers died. Only 1 set of brothers survived. Ken Wariner
was in San Diego attending flight school that day. His brother
Russell Wariner was severely wounded, but lived. 1 father
and son pair were stationed on the ship. Both the father
and son died.

Gun turret of the U.S.S. Arizona. The day before the attack,
the ship took on a full load of fuel, 1.5 million gallons. An
estimated 1 million gallons was lost due to ruptured tanks
and fires on the day of the attack. There is still almost 1/2
million gallons left. About 8 - 9 quarts still escape every day.
The oil that floats on the surface of the water around the ship
is referred to as "the tears of the Arizona" or "black tears."
 

We had just finished our visit to the memorial and returned
to land when a modern Navy aircraft carrier pulled into port.
It was a reminder to me of the 3 years I served on a carrier
and the times my ship pulled into Pearl. It was interesting
to see the process from this point of view for a change!  

At the airport waiting for our homeward-bound plane. Getting
snacks for the flight, Youngest-daughter (jokingly) decided she
wanted a package of Mentos candy to drop into her coke to see
if it would shoot fiz into the air like the rumors say. I told her
she might better re-think that. Funny girl.