The Haunting of the USS Lexington
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Perhaps the most haunted ship in the United States is the USS Lexington
(CV-16), a World War II aircraft carrier that was decommissioned in 1991
and now ...
The Baker Hotel in Mineral Wells, Texas
The Baker Hotel in Mineral Wells, Texas was built by
hotelier T. B. Baker in 1929 for $1,250,000, a huge amount of money at the
time. Known as the "Grand Old Lady," the hotel was a success as soon
as it opened and was a top spa destination during the 1930s. When the nearby
Fort Wolters closed down after World War II in 1946 however, the fortunes of both the Baker
Hotel and the city declined. For the years it was around though, the Baker Hotel put
Mineral Wells on the map.
The Baker opened on November 22nd, 1929, three weeks after the stock market crash of 1929. After it was completed, the hotel was 14-story's tall and had a bowling alley, two ballrooms, an in-house beauty shop and 450 guest rooms. There were three different staircases: one for the well-to-do guests, one for their servants, and another staircase for those who had reasons for not wanting to be seen. It was widely considered to be one of the finest hotels in America.
The main purpose of the 452 room hotel was to provide stressed-out upper-class people the opportunity to take advantage of the natural mineral waters found in the town's wells for the medicinal value. The water seemed to cure stomach and intestinal problems and even some forms of mental illness. Besides the miracle water, massages and therapeutic baths were a big hit in the hotel's two complete spas. Guests also enjoyed swimming in one of the two swimming pools, going to the gym and attending dances and big band concerts in the hotel's huge ballrooms. Famous big bands of the era from the Dorsey Brothers to Lawrence Welk regularly played for the gala's the hotel held.
Over the years, a number of developers and visionaries have come forward with plans to bring life back to the "Grand Old Lady," but all have failed for one reason or another. In 2013, the city of Mineral Wells partnered with a collection of developers with the intention to renovate The Baker back to its former glory. The plan included the revival of the hotel's famous natural spring spas, construction of world-class business and convention facilities, over 11,000 sq. ft. of retail and shopping space and 157 guest rooms. This latest project however has not moved beyond the planning stage as restoration costs were found to be much higher than first estimated and governmental red tape has brought everything to a virtual standstill. The group is currently attempting to attract foreign investors for the additional funding, but it appears this plan may well end in failure as well.
For now, what once was the pride of West Texas sits slowly falling apart. True icon of a bygone era, gone now are the movie stars, the military officers in impressive uniforms, the big bands, the conventions and the glittery grand balls. Or are they? Perhaps in another dimension, the good times continue and maybe, just maybe, there's a helping hand from beyond that keeps the Baker Hotel un-renovated and locked in a different time.
The Baker opened on November 22nd, 1929, three weeks after the stock market crash of 1929. After it was completed, the hotel was 14-story's tall and had a bowling alley, two ballrooms, an in-house beauty shop and 450 guest rooms. There were three different staircases: one for the well-to-do guests, one for their servants, and another staircase for those who had reasons for not wanting to be seen. It was widely considered to be one of the finest hotels in America.
The main purpose of the 452 room hotel was to provide stressed-out upper-class people the opportunity to take advantage of the natural mineral waters found in the town's wells for the medicinal value. The water seemed to cure stomach and intestinal problems and even some forms of mental illness. Besides the miracle water, massages and therapeutic baths were a big hit in the hotel's two complete spas. Guests also enjoyed swimming in one of the two swimming pools, going to the gym and attending dances and big band concerts in the hotel's huge ballrooms. Famous big bands of the era from the Dorsey Brothers to Lawrence Welk regularly played for the gala's the hotel held.
Other non-advertised activities were provided in hidden
gambling parlors and discreet drinking areas during Prohibition. Dining rooms
offered fine meals cooked in the hotel's kitchen and there were shops and
personal services available so one never had to leave the hotel grounds for the
necessities of life.
In its glory days, from the 1930s until the early 1950s,
such famous people as Judy Garland, Dorothy Lamour, Clark Gable, Marlene
Dietrich, Will Rogers, Helen Keller, Sammy Kaye and General Pershing came here
to relax and enjoy all the Baker Hotel offered. Even Bonnie and Clyde, under
assumed names, took time off from robbing banks and spent some of their
ill-gotten gains while staying at the Baker Hotel.
After the war ended in 1945 and Mineral Wells was no longer
the growing, bustling town it was before, the owners of the Baker Hotel did
everything they could to stay in business. The hotel hosted the Texas
Republican Party conventions of both 1952 and 1955 and the Texas Democratic
Party convention of 1954, the costs to keep it open and operating was more than
the income so the decision was made to close in 1963. Two years later, local
investors leased the building and reopened the hotel, but once again the costs
exceeded income and it closed for the second time in 1973.
The owner, Mr. Baker, lived in a fancy suite on the 10th floor with his family. It is known that he also maintained a suite for his red-headed mistress on the 7th floor. He lived in his hotel until his death in 1972. For the last 20 years of his life, he endured the decline of his fortune and watched the decline of his once luxurious hotel.
Just because the Baker Hotel has been closed to the living
since 1973 doesn't mean it has been devoid of activity. The hotel remains a
grand old structure containing thousands of stories of the people that stayed
there - some during their last days as they sought cures for terrible
illnesses. The reports of ghosts and hauntings began in the Baker long before
it closed and it is regarded today as one of the most haunted buildings in America. For stories about the spirits living in the hotel, click here.The owner, Mr. Baker, lived in a fancy suite on the 10th floor with his family. It is known that he also maintained a suite for his red-headed mistress on the 7th floor. He lived in his hotel until his death in 1972. For the last 20 years of his life, he endured the decline of his fortune and watched the decline of his once luxurious hotel.
Over the years, a number of developers and visionaries have come forward with plans to bring life back to the "Grand Old Lady," but all have failed for one reason or another. In 2013, the city of Mineral Wells partnered with a collection of developers with the intention to renovate The Baker back to its former glory. The plan included the revival of the hotel's famous natural spring spas, construction of world-class business and convention facilities, over 11,000 sq. ft. of retail and shopping space and 157 guest rooms. This latest project however has not moved beyond the planning stage as restoration costs were found to be much higher than first estimated and governmental red tape has brought everything to a virtual standstill. The group is currently attempting to attract foreign investors for the additional funding, but it appears this plan may well end in failure as well.
For now, what once was the pride of West Texas sits slowly falling apart. True icon of a bygone era, gone now are the movie stars, the military officers in impressive uniforms, the big bands, the conventions and the glittery grand balls. Or are they? Perhaps in another dimension, the good times continue and maybe, just maybe, there's a helping hand from beyond that keeps the Baker Hotel un-renovated and locked in a different time.
Popeye in Alma, Arkansas
Remember Popeye the Sailor Man? Alma, Arkansas does and it erected a statue of everyone's favorite sailor to prove it. It's an incredibly cheesy statue, but pretty cool nonetheless. If you're a big Popeye
fan, you can also check out the spinach can water tower that proclaims Alma the
spinach capital of the world. The spinach can is found off U.S. 71 North and
also proudly sports Popeye the Sailor man.
The first Popeye statue was built in 1987 out of paper mache and fiberglass. Tourists in cars and buses would stop by to see it, laugh and leave. Residents of Alma were a bit embarrassed by it all so they decided to either get rid of the statue or make it into something to be proud of. After much discussion and debate, paper mache Popeye was retired in 2007 and replaced with the bronze statue and fountain now in Alma's town square. The original statue is in a store called Kustom Kaps right up the street.
Why all the Popeye love in Alma? Alma is the home of Allen's
Canning Company, which cans spinach. They are also home to the annual Spinach
Festival held the 3rd weekend each April.
To see Popeye for yourself, take exit 12 on I-40 and go south on US 71. Go through the traffic light, bear left, then turn right onto Fayetteville Ave./Hwy 162 into downtown. The Park is near the end of town, on the right.
The first Popeye statue was built in 1987 out of paper mache and fiberglass. Tourists in cars and buses would stop by to see it, laugh and leave. Residents of Alma were a bit embarrassed by it all so they decided to either get rid of the statue or make it into something to be proud of. After much discussion and debate, paper mache Popeye was retired in 2007 and replaced with the bronze statue and fountain now in Alma's town square. The original statue is in a store called Kustom Kaps right up the street.
Mural of old Alma in the Popeye Square |
To see Popeye for yourself, take exit 12 on I-40 and go south on US 71. Go through the traffic light, bear left, then turn right onto Fayetteville Ave./Hwy 162 into downtown. The Park is near the end of town, on the right.
One Feisty Old Woman And Her Dog
Jonesboro Memorial Park Cemetery |
In Jonesboro, Thelma was widely known as the town's eccentric. She was an astute businesswoman who managed a very successful awning business. She was also a great lover of dogs, taking in numerous strays and treating them like the children she never had. In her will, she left funds for a pet cemetery. The executors named it in her honor.
Thelma had been briefly married once, but was divorced in her mid-20's and never remarried. That may account for the message on the sign her monument holds which says, "Don't be afraid to stand alone." Along with her name and dates, the monument also lists her daily prayer - "God help me keep my long nose out of other people's business and give me 26 hours each day to mind my own."
Not long before she passed away, she commissioned her self-designed monument to be crafted in Italy. She wasn't happy with the completed marker though and had it shipped back to be redone. The reason? "It makes my dog look like a horse." She passed away in 1989 at age 82 of natural causes shortly after accepting the 2nd working of her monument.
The Famous King of Clubs Roadhouse
Before the fire |
In the early to late-1950’s, the King of Clubs in Swifton,
Arkansas was the center of a rowdy club scene along Highway 67. Future
household names like Elvis Presley, Johnny Cash, Roy Orbison, Carl Perkins,
Conway Twitty, and Jerry Lee Lewis were paid $10 to perform at the roadhouse for
rowdy audiences of drunk red-neck patrons. The performers often spent more of
their set fending off the drunks with chairs, their musical instruments and in
several cases, a whip, than they did actually singing songs. The manager kept a
tear gas pistol behind the bar and used it on a number of occasions to disperse
people when things got out of hand.
In 1955, Elvis performed there with his opening act, Johnny
Cash. Cash only performed 3 songs, but he was so good the manager paid him $20
instead of $10. Elvis, who was by then already a rising star, was paid $450 and
drew such a large crowd that no more people could get inside the building and
more stood around outside in the gravel parking lot. Whenever Jerry Lee Lewis
performed, he had a guy stand next to the stage with a fire extinguisher to
help control the crowd which he always incited into a frenzy with his
possessed, revival-preacher-gone-wild performances. During his closing number,
his cover of “Thank Heaven for Little Girls,” he would jump around like a crazed
madman pounding the piano keys with his elbows and feet. The bar always had to
have new strings put in and the piano tuned after he performed.
After the fire |
Wild Swans in Arkansas
Magness Lake |
The next day, 4 birdwatchers happened to drive by the lake and when one of them called out in surprise at what he saw, the others didn't believe him. Wild swans had not been seen in Arkansas for at least 80 years so their doubts were justified. However, their sharp-eyed friend convinced them to stop and look for themselves. When they walked back and spotted the 3 swans, they were astonished. "Those aren't Trumpeter swans, are they?" As if on cue, one of the birds called out and there was no doubt. The loud, trumpet-like sound which gives them their name cannot be mistaken for anything else. For a few days anyway, the endangered Trumpeter Swan, the largest fowl in North America and the rarest of swans was back in Arkansas.
The owner of the lake and surrounding farmland, Perry Lindner, for a number of years had been feeding corn to the wintering waterfowl who came to Magness Lake. When he came out several days later, he saw the new visitors so he spread extra handfuls of corn along the shore near them. The hungry birds eagerly ate all he put out. They enjoyed their new home and the free corn so much that instead of staying just a few days, they didn't leave until February 24th.
Nobody expected the swans to return after that first visit. Evidently they liked Magness Lake so much though that not only did they return on Christmas Day, they brought several friends. They were then joined in January by a female and her mate who had been banded in Minnesota. This time the group stayed until the last day of February. The next year, the same group returned and this time the banded female and her mate brought 3 cygnets (juvenile swans) with them. Since then, the swans have taken a break on their way south and returned every year bringing mates, family members and friends. More than 150 swans now stop at Magness Lake and surrounding ponds for several winter months to rest and replenish with the deer corn people bring to feed them.
By a quirk of fate, where once there were no swans in the whole state, there are now many and the people who make the effort can stand within a few feet of North America's largest, most beautiful waterfowl. It's an experience you will probably never forget.
Ozymandias Legs On The Texas Plains
Standing out in the vast, flat plains of west Texas, most of the towns are small and the highest point is the Dairy Queen sign. Eleven miles outside of Amarillo though stands something totally incongruent with that flatness - a giant pair of disembodied legs, all that is left of an ancient statue. A few feet away from the barbed-wire enclosed legs is a Texas State Historical Marker. The inscription on the marker states in part: In 1819, while on a horseback trek over the great plains of New Spain, Percy Bysshe Shelley and his wife Mary came across these ruins. Here Shelley penned 'the poem Ozymandias.' The visage (or face) of the statue was damaged by students from Lubbock after losing to Amarillo in a competition. A stone cast of it will be replaced when it is ready. The original is now on display in the Amarillo Museum of Natural History. Souvenir hunters have scraped off the bottom of the pedestal. Archaeologists have determined it was as Shelley described it.
You are standing looking at a genuine relic of an historical time! At least, that's what you are supposed to think.
In 1996, Stanley Marsh 3 (he uses the number "3" as he feels the Roman numeral "III" is pretentious), the creator of the infamous Cadillac Ranch and other local oddities he referred to as "a legalized form of insanity" commissioned local artist Lightnin' McDuff to create a replica of the ruins in Percy's poem. Only working part-time (Lightnin' had a tendency to fall off his scaffold in the wind so he only worked on calm days), the legs were completed 2 years later.
Standing on a base which is 4 feet tall, 10 feet wide and 20 feet long, the left leg rises 24 feet in the air and the right leg stands 34 feet high. The whole thing is made of concrete, but the legs were made to look like they were carved from sandstone and very old. Lightnin' said, "Stanley wanted them to look like they were weathered and old and had been through prairie fires and storms and one thing or another."
To complete the illusion, prankster Marsh also commissioned a fake Texas Historical marker to mislead the curious. The marker states 3 erroneous claims - the first is that these legs were the inspiration for Shelly's poem, but they were obviously built many years later. It also states the "shattered visage" was damaged as a casualty between the Amarillo and Lubbock schools. In fact, Lightnin' never made a face to accompany the legs. And last, the nonexistent visage does not reside in the Amarillo Museum of Natural History because, just like the face, the museum does not exist. Amarillo has never had a Museum of Natural History. The historical marker is a close enough replica of the real thing though that the Texas Historical Commission reports they often get inquiries from the unsuspecting as to why the marker is not listed on their official web site.
Much like the Cadillac Ranch, the statue and fake marker are frequent targets of graffiti artist. Several times a year the unsightly paint is sandblasted away, but it doesn't take long for the vandal artists to return. Stopping by on a recent road trip, we were totally alone the 30 minutes we were there. The only sound was the cold wind steadily blowing from the north and a disinterested cow standing in the field chewing its cud. We found the marker to be so covered in paint that it was almost impossible to read. There is an abundance of litter around. The statue is rather remote and isolated and is evidently enjoyed as a place of romantic encounters. Among the empty liquor bottles, beer cans and fast food wrappers, we saw 2 bra's (both white), a pair of red thongs and a pair of pink bikini panties, one blouse, a pair of girl's shorts, a pair of jeans and an unopened condom. Interestingly, we saw no men's clothing items.
Not unlike the Egyptian King Ramesses II (Ozymandias is Ramesses in Greek) who filled the Valley of the Kings with monuments to himself, Stanley Marsh 3 filled Amarillo with monuments to his humor. When asked why he had the legs built and placed in a large open field, he said Shelley's poem is about the futility of monuments so he built a monument to it.
You are standing looking at a genuine relic of an historical time! At least, that's what you are supposed to think.
In 1996, Stanley Marsh 3 (he uses the number "3" as he feels the Roman numeral "III" is pretentious), the creator of the infamous Cadillac Ranch and other local oddities he referred to as "a legalized form of insanity" commissioned local artist Lightnin' McDuff to create a replica of the ruins in Percy's poem. Only working part-time (Lightnin' had a tendency to fall off his scaffold in the wind so he only worked on calm days), the legs were completed 2 years later.
Standing on a base which is 4 feet tall, 10 feet wide and 20 feet long, the left leg rises 24 feet in the air and the right leg stands 34 feet high. The whole thing is made of concrete, but the legs were made to look like they were carved from sandstone and very old. Lightnin' said, "Stanley wanted them to look like they were weathered and old and had been through prairie fires and storms and one thing or another."
To complete the illusion, prankster Marsh also commissioned a fake Texas Historical marker to mislead the curious. The marker states 3 erroneous claims - the first is that these legs were the inspiration for Shelly's poem, but they were obviously built many years later. It also states the "shattered visage" was damaged as a casualty between the Amarillo and Lubbock schools. In fact, Lightnin' never made a face to accompany the legs. And last, the nonexistent visage does not reside in the Amarillo Museum of Natural History because, just like the face, the museum does not exist. Amarillo has never had a Museum of Natural History. The historical marker is a close enough replica of the real thing though that the Texas Historical Commission reports they often get inquiries from the unsuspecting as to why the marker is not listed on their official web site.
Much like the Cadillac Ranch, the statue and fake marker are frequent targets of graffiti artist. Several times a year the unsightly paint is sandblasted away, but it doesn't take long for the vandal artists to return. Stopping by on a recent road trip, we were totally alone the 30 minutes we were there. The only sound was the cold wind steadily blowing from the north and a disinterested cow standing in the field chewing its cud. We found the marker to be so covered in paint that it was almost impossible to read. There is an abundance of litter around. The statue is rather remote and isolated and is evidently enjoyed as a place of romantic encounters. Among the empty liquor bottles, beer cans and fast food wrappers, we saw 2 bra's (both white), a pair of red thongs and a pair of pink bikini panties, one blouse, a pair of girl's shorts, a pair of jeans and an unopened condom. Interestingly, we saw no men's clothing items.
Lightnin' McDuff |
Ozymandias, by Percy Bysshe Shelley
I met a traveler from an antique land,
Who said, "Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mock them, and the heart that fed;
And on the pedestal, these words appear:
My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings;
Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.
Silent Witness - Halfway Oak Tree
Trees have been used as landmarks, meeting places and for protection from harsh weather. They have provided wood for homes and church's and provided cooling shade in the hot summer. In times of war they have been used as mustering places, scouting nests, and sniper's perches. In times of peace, churches and courts have been held under their limbs and sometimes, those same limbs were used to provide frontier justice. Over 500 years after Columbus sailed the ocean blue and Europeans first came to America, some of the saplings from then are still alive, silent witnesses to history. If only they could speak.
One of these trees, an gnarled, old live oak, lives on the windswept plains 13 miles south of Breckenridge, Texas. For miles around there's no other tree so it's hard to miss. The tree got its name from its location: halfway between
Breckenridge and Cisco. In the 1800's it served as a halfway rest
stop on the original Fort Griffin to Stephenville stage coach passage. Noted on maps as early as 1858, it
provided travelers a refuge for centuries.
in 1867, Fort Griffin was one of the frontier forts built to defend settlers against Indians and outlaws. The town of Fort Griffin, named for the fort but called "The Flat" by everyone, was established nearby. This lawless frontier outpost attracted many infamous characters of western lore such as Mollie McCabe and John Wesley Hardin. Lawlessness was so bad that the Flat was eventually placed under martial law and soldiers ran the outlaws and troublemakers out of town. As the bad guys rode south, they no doubt stopped under the old oak tree just long enough to rest their horses for a few minutes. In 1877, Wyatt Earp came through The Flat hot on the trail of a fleeing criminal. Doc Holiday was coming to help his friend apprehend the scofflaw and Wyatt left word for Doc that he would wait for him at the Halfway Oak. The next day, Doc caught up with Wyatt at his camp beside the tree.
In the oil boom of the 1920s, thousands of prospectors rushed into Breckenridge. Photographs from that time show almost nothing but wooden oil derricks stretching to the distant horizon. The oil boom brought railroads and the tracks for one line were laid less than 200 feet west of the tree. The tracks are long gone now, but the Half-Way Oak still stands.
Over the many years of its life, the tough old tree has suffered through drought, ice storms, misguided pruning, an accidental poisoning and several car crashes, one of them fatal. (It must be rather embarrassing for there to be only one tree for miles around and somehow you crashed your car into it.) In the 1970s the tree was scheduled to be removed for the widening of Highway 183, but the citizens of Breckenridge banded together, refusing to allow the tree to be cut. Instead of living history being destroyed, the road was routed around it and a few picnic tables and a nice highway pull-off were added, allowing the Half-Way Oak to continue to provide a welcome respite for travelers.
The Halfway Oak Tree next to Hwy 183 |
in 1867, Fort Griffin was one of the frontier forts built to defend settlers against Indians and outlaws. The town of Fort Griffin, named for the fort but called "The Flat" by everyone, was established nearby. This lawless frontier outpost attracted many infamous characters of western lore such as Mollie McCabe and John Wesley Hardin. Lawlessness was so bad that the Flat was eventually placed under martial law and soldiers ran the outlaws and troublemakers out of town. As the bad guys rode south, they no doubt stopped under the old oak tree just long enough to rest their horses for a few minutes. In 1877, Wyatt Earp came through The Flat hot on the trail of a fleeing criminal. Doc Holiday was coming to help his friend apprehend the scofflaw and Wyatt left word for Doc that he would wait for him at the Halfway Oak. The next day, Doc caught up with Wyatt at his camp beside the tree.
In the oil boom of the 1920s, thousands of prospectors rushed into Breckenridge. Photographs from that time show almost nothing but wooden oil derricks stretching to the distant horizon. The oil boom brought railroads and the tracks for one line were laid less than 200 feet west of the tree. The tracks are long gone now, but the Half-Way Oak still stands.
Over the many years of its life, the tough old tree has suffered through drought, ice storms, misguided pruning, an accidental poisoning and several car crashes, one of them fatal. (It must be rather embarrassing for there to be only one tree for miles around and somehow you crashed your car into it.) In the 1970s the tree was scheduled to be removed for the widening of Highway 183, but the citizens of Breckenridge banded together, refusing to allow the tree to be cut. Instead of living history being destroyed, the road was routed around it and a few picnic tables and a nice highway pull-off were added, allowing the Half-Way Oak to continue to provide a welcome respite for travelers.
World's 2nd Longest Burning Lightbulb
There's something to be said for an object that just keeps on doing its job, day after day, year after year. Especially when that object consists of thin glass and wispy little wire. Steadiness in good times and bad. Reliability and durability you can count on.
In 1970, the Guinness Book of World Records listed a light bulb in in Ft. Worth, Texas as the world's "most durable." But then somebody in Livermore, California jumped up and said a bulb in a fire station there had been burning even longer. A lady claimed she was the daughter of a man who had donated some light bulbs to Fire Station #6 on East Avenue and she remembered the light bulb being installed and turned on in 1901. Or maybe it was 1902. Or it might have been 1905. Even with this somewhat sketchy "documentation," Guinness decided the claim was legitimate and the little lightbulb in Ft. Worth was dethroned and relegated to obscurity.
Since bulbs usually fail when they are turned back on, the city of Livermore installed a dedicated power source for the bulb to ensure no electrical interruption even in a blackout or a fire house blown fuse. A rheostat was installed to smooth out any power surges. For its maybe, possibly 100th birthday, the Sandia National Laboratories donated and installed a "Bulbcam," a small camera which has its own web page showing the world that "The Centennial Light," as it has been named, is still burning.
"The Eternal Light" |
In 1970, a nameless somebody flipped a very dusty, never used switch just to see what it went to. The building's owner happened to walk by as the bulb went dark. When he found out what caused it, in a panic, he flipped the switch back and was astounded and relieved when the little light came right back on and burned as steady as ever. After shouting a while (nobody knows what happened to the guy whose curiosity got the better of him and flipped the switch), he placed a piece of cardboard over the wall switch with clear instructions to never, ever, ever touch the switch.
"The Eternal Light" in it's display case. |
Ft. Worth Stockyards entrance portal. |
To see the unheralded World's 2nd Longest Burning Lightbulb, visit the Stockyards Museum at 131 E. Exchange Ave, Ft. Worth, Texas. You might want to hurry as there is no telling when it will finally give up the ghost and become just another burned out bulb. Or who knows, the thing just might keep on shining and outlast us all.
Postcard From Terlingua, Texas
Just south of Alpine on Texas Hwy 118 going to Terlingua is where civilization takes an abrupt vacation. This seemingly
endless highway, devoid of towns, gas stations, motels, stores
and most other cars is like a road leading to the end of the world. If you are the kind who likes isolation and simplicity, the 80 miles of desert, ranch land and mountains have the ability to awe you with beauty. A drive through any desert can be very enjoyable if you have a reliable car, but if your car is sickly, this is one of those roads that should only be aspired to rather than attempted.
Man has inhabited the area around Terlingua for at least 10,500 years. The Comanche and Apache Indians controlled the region for many generations. Explorers occasionally came here, but never stayed. The land was too remote, too harsh, and the fierce Indians drove away even the hardiest and most dedicated. In the late nineteenth century, after the Indians had been largely subjugated and removed by the soldiers, a few settlers came to this wild area to try and make a go of it, but the land accepted civilization only reluctantly.
To call the area settled and fully civilized today would be stretching it. It takes a different kind of person to live here year-round. The few ranchers, desert-rats, and other residents are strong-willed, determined, stubborn individualist who protect their way of life and freedom with fierceness not usually seen in "normal" folks. There are few police and the area is large. If people here have a problem, they take care of it themselves. And if one of their own needs help, they're right there to lend a hand. A lot of people would like to live that way, but few actually can.
Once you pass the Longhorn Ranch Motel, you know you are close to the town. There is no town limit sign, no official boundary. Stubbornly remaining unincorporated, you are either in town or you are not. Like most of Texas, being in Terlingua isn't so much a matter of physically being there as it is a state of mind.
Cinnabar in the area was found and used by Native Americans who prized its bright red color for body art and as paint for rock and cave paintings. Mexican miners had discovered the cinnabar deposits by the 1850's, but until the 1890's, the remoteness and hostile Indians prevented wide-scale mining. Since mercury was used in the fuses of bombs and bullets, mining in the area took off in the early 1900's and continued through 1945 until the conclusion of WWII greatly reduced the market. The population plummeted from 3,000 to zero within weeks of the mines closing and Terlingua became a true ghost town with abandoned buildings, mine tailings and discarded cars and wagons rotting away in the desert sun.
Terlingua remained deserted, desolate and lonely until 1967 when Wick Fowler, Frank Tolbert and Carol Shelby organized a chili cook-off to be held in the former town. The whole thing began when H. Allen Smith, a writer from New York, claimed in a magazine article that nobody could make better chili than him. The Texas boys promptly answered, claiming Smith was a "know-nothing maker of vegetable stew" and issued a challenge to pit Wick Fowler's Texas chili against Smith's New York version in what they called "The Great Chili Confrontation." Shelby owned a 220,000 acre ranch outside Terlingua so it was decided to host the competition in the ghost town just to see if they could attract a crowd of people to the middle of nowhere. News of the upcoming contest became widely known when it was written up in numerous national publications, including Sports Illustrated.
More than 1,000 people showed up for that initial contest, all of them sleeping in tents or their cars since there were no lodging facilities. Large quantities of alcohol was imbibed and all sorts of foolishness and nudity was not only tolerated, but encouraged. In the middle of it all, Fowler and Smith managed to cook their chili. 3 judges were tasked with determining a winner. The contest was declared moot when the tie-breaker judge gagged on a spoonful of Smith's chili and fell to the floor in gastric distress. He eventually was able to claim his taste buds had been damaged beyond repair and he had been rendered physically incapable of submitting a vote.
From that debaucherous start, a few hardy individuals began arriving to live in the crumbling buildings. A commune of hippies tried, but failed to create a sustainable desert utopia. Eventually, others came who wanted to settle there because they liked the isolation or needed the remoteness to leave their past behind and get a clean start. Asking a person about their past was considered rude and could even be dangerous.
Terlingua has come a long way since that first chili cook off. Some of the roads are now paved and there are several motels, gas stations, stores and a new post office building. Business warriors and moneyed elites from Austin and Georgetown have started buying up property and refurbishing structures into weekend retreats. A private airport has been built. The little ghost town far from anywhere even has Wi-Fi. Progress has arrived.
Some folks, like myself, would rather civilization and progress not touch this place. I selfishly would like for it to stay the way it is in my memory, the way it was when I first made trips here in the 1970's. If I could, I'd tie an anvil to the feet of time in Terlingua, causing it to
drag forward slowly, ever so slowly. For now, it's still a cool little town, but it ain't what it was.
Man has inhabited the area around Terlingua for at least 10,500 years. The Comanche and Apache Indians controlled the region for many generations. Explorers occasionally came here, but never stayed. The land was too remote, too harsh, and the fierce Indians drove away even the hardiest and most dedicated. In the late nineteenth century, after the Indians had been largely subjugated and removed by the soldiers, a few settlers came to this wild area to try and make a go of it, but the land accepted civilization only reluctantly.
To call the area settled and fully civilized today would be stretching it. It takes a different kind of person to live here year-round. The few ranchers, desert-rats, and other residents are strong-willed, determined, stubborn individualist who protect their way of life and freedom with fierceness not usually seen in "normal" folks. There are few police and the area is large. If people here have a problem, they take care of it themselves. And if one of their own needs help, they're right there to lend a hand. A lot of people would like to live that way, but few actually can.
Once you pass the Longhorn Ranch Motel, you know you are close to the town. There is no town limit sign, no official boundary. Stubbornly remaining unincorporated, you are either in town or you are not. Like most of Texas, being in Terlingua isn't so much a matter of physically being there as it is a state of mind.
Cinnabar in the area was found and used by Native Americans who prized its bright red color for body art and as paint for rock and cave paintings. Mexican miners had discovered the cinnabar deposits by the 1850's, but until the 1890's, the remoteness and hostile Indians prevented wide-scale mining. Since mercury was used in the fuses of bombs and bullets, mining in the area took off in the early 1900's and continued through 1945 until the conclusion of WWII greatly reduced the market. The population plummeted from 3,000 to zero within weeks of the mines closing and Terlingua became a true ghost town with abandoned buildings, mine tailings and discarded cars and wagons rotting away in the desert sun.
Terlingua ruins |
More than 1,000 people showed up for that initial contest, all of them sleeping in tents or their cars since there were no lodging facilities. Large quantities of alcohol was imbibed and all sorts of foolishness and nudity was not only tolerated, but encouraged. In the middle of it all, Fowler and Smith managed to cook their chili. 3 judges were tasked with determining a winner. The contest was declared moot when the tie-breaker judge gagged on a spoonful of Smith's chili and fell to the floor in gastric distress. He eventually was able to claim his taste buds had been damaged beyond repair and he had been rendered physically incapable of submitting a vote.
From that debaucherous start, a few hardy individuals began arriving to live in the crumbling buildings. A commune of hippies tried, but failed to create a sustainable desert utopia. Eventually, others came who wanted to settle there because they liked the isolation or needed the remoteness to leave their past behind and get a clean start. Asking a person about their past was considered rude and could even be dangerous.
Terlingua has come a long way since that first chili cook off. Some of the roads are now paved and there are several motels, gas stations, stores and a new post office building. Business warriors and moneyed elites from Austin and Georgetown have started buying up property and refurbishing structures into weekend retreats. A private airport has been built. The little ghost town far from anywhere even has Wi-Fi. Progress has arrived.
Terlingua Store |
Terlingua Cemetery grave |
Old abandoned wagon |
The Terlingua Cemetery dates from the early 1900's. Final resting place for miners & residents who died in mine accidents, gunfights & the influenza epidemic of 1918. Very few died of old age. |
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