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"

But what about that forgotten bulb in Ft. Worth? Even in relative obscurity, it still burns, still doing its job. Known as "The Eternal Light," it spent its early life illuminating a stage door entrance at Byer's Opera House on 7th Street. Thanks to meticulous record keeping by the opera house, this bulb is proven to have been screwed in and turned on by a stagehand named Barry Burke on September 21, 1908. The opera house was sold in 1919 and turned into the Palace Theatre, but being a rear door, the light was never turned off throughout the years.

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.

The only other time the bulb was dark was in 1977 as the old building was being torn down. A man named George Dato knew about the bulb which had been burning for so long and managed to remove it and put it in a socket at his home which he then kept turned on. In 1991, it was turned off one more time, the bulb unscrewed and transported to a socket in a glass display case in Ft. Worth's Stockyards Museum. Everyone held their breath when the power was flipped on, but once again, the bulb began glowing and it hasn't stopped yet. 

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 ruins

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.

Terlingua Store

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. 

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.

 

 

Postcard From Big Bend National Park

In far southwest Texas is a great expanse of raw, untamed land. Within this vast area is one of America's least accessible and least visited national parks. The native Americans who once ruled this realm told a story of how the Great Creator, after forming the rest of the world, saw that he had a lot of odds and ends left over. To get rid of the excess, he simply threw it down in one big area. That area is Big Bend.

Within the 801,163 acre park, flora and fauna is as diverse as any place on the planet. There are numerous species, like the Chisos oak and the Chisos agave, that grow nowhere else on earth. It's not rare even today for botanists and zoologists to announce they have found within park boundaries a heretofore unknown plant or species of animal.

The twin peaks known as The Mule Ears

A portion of the Rio Grande River runs in the park and serves as the boundary between the United States and Mexico. Vertical walls of rock rising 1,600 feet straight up towards heaven form canyons and line much of the Mexico side. Standing beside the water with your head held back looking up toward the top of those cliffs makes one feel very small and insignificant. The enormity of the landscape relieves you of any immediate responsibilities or worries; it simply denies the importance of man-made problems.

Sometimes the sheer magnitude of nature is so incredible, so beyond imagination, expression in words is futile. You will no doubt bring back souvenirs of your visit; books, pamphlets, some rocks from the banks of the Rio Grande, and pictures. Lots and lots of pictures. The pictures will bring back memories and the memories will prove to be the greatest souvenir of all.

Purple Prickly Pear cactus

The sparsely travelled road through the park.

Cactus in bloom

Agave plants, also known as the "Century Plant"
only blooms at the end of a 25 year cycle
and then dies. It looks like it came straight
out of a Dr. Seuss book.

One of the many hiking trails in the park.

Remains of the Boquillas Hot Springs, a former
resort developed in 1909, can be hiked to via
a 1/2 mile trail after a 2-mile drive down a
rough, narrow wash in a high-clearance
vehicle. Relax in the 105 degree water next
 to the gurgling Rio Grande River and
soak your cares away.

The Rio Grande River looking from Texas
into Mexico.

The mouth of Santa Elena Canyon and the
sheer cliffs formed by the Rio Grande. Hard to
imagine all of this was once underwater (a few
million years ago) but it was. Ancient marine
fossils can be found on top of the cliffs. 

Santa Elena Canyon at sunset.

Sunset in Big Bend. The end of another
wonderful day.

Postcard from McDonald Observatory

On top of Mount Locke and Mount Fowlkes in far West Texas, one of the darkest places in the world, is the McDonald Observatory. Protected under the multiple silver and white domes are large, extremely complicated yet incredibly sensitive instruments that allow mankind to study planets, comets, asteroids, stars and galaxies millions of light years away.

William Johnson McDonald was born on a farm outside the small town of Howland, Texas in 1844. In 1864, when he was 20, he left college and joined the Confederate army. After surviving several battles, he returned after the war ended and graduated in 1867. During this time he developed a deep interest in astronomy, botany, zoology, and geology.

After getting his degree, he supported himself for the next two or three years by teaching school while studying law. He opened a law office in Clarksville in 1881 and became recognized as one of the best civil lawyers of Northeast Texas. He also prospered financially as he served as president of banks that he organized in Clarksville, Paris, and Cooper.

Despite his wealth, he continued to work hard and live modestly. A life-long bachelor, he did not attend social functions and took no part in public affairs. He did, however, make numerous contributions to charity and helped a number of young men get an education. He eventually hired trusted men to operate his banks and traveled to Europe and Mexico, as well as various places in the United States. In 1895 and 1896 he studied botany in summer school at Harvard University.

McDonald never married. He died at his home in Paris, Texas on February 8, 1926, leaving an estate of over a million dollars, the bulk of which he bequeathed to the University of Texas to establish an observatory. His heirs contested the will, and the university eventually made an out-of-court settlement by which it received $800,000.

By 1934, the university used the funds to establish McDonald Observatory. Its 82-inch telescope, the 2nd largest in the world at that time, was used to make many new discoveries, including new moons around Uranus and Neptune in the late 1940's. In the mid-1960's, NASA granted five million dollars to the McDonald Observatory to help build a new reflector telescope with a 107-inch lens which, once again, was one of the largest in the world. In 1997, a 9.2 meter aperture telescope was dedicated. Today, it is still the 5th largest telescope of its kind in the world.

There are numerous programs and tours available for anyone interested, everything from a daytime safe look through a telescope at the sun (about 45 minutes, tickets are $5) through "Star Parties" which include a 1-hour educational program,  constellation touring, telescope viewing, and other presentations (3 - 4 hours, tickets are $12 with a discount for seniors and military). Over 40,000 people attend these events every year and space is limited so be sure to buy your tickets as far in advance as possible.

 

Postcard from a Frontier Fort - Ft. Davis, Texas

Entrance to Fort Davis

An important post in the defense of frontier Texas, Fort Davis played a major role in the history of the Southwest. Between 1854 until 1891, its troops protected emigrants, freighters, mail coaches, and travelers on the San Antonio-El Paso Road on their way to the gold fields of California. Fort Davis is now considered one of the best examples of a frontier military post in the American Southwest.

Named for Secretary of War Jefferson Davis, the fort was first garrisoned by six companies of the Eighth U.S. Infantry. Constructed in a box canyon near Limpia Creek on the eastern side of the Davis Mountains, wood, water, and grass were plentiful. From 1854 to 1861, the soldiers spent much of their time in the field pursuing Comanches, Kiowas, and Apaches. With the outbreak of the Civil War and Texas' secession from the Union, the federal government evacuated Fort Davis. The fort was then occupied by Confederate troops until they abandoned it in the summer of 1862 and Fort Davis was deserted for the next five years.

Ruins of Ft. Davis

In June 1867, four companies of the Ninth U.S. Cavalry reoccupied Fort Davis and construction of a new fort just east of the original post began. By the end of 1869, a number of officers' quarters, two enlisted men's barracks, a guardhouse, temporary hospital, and storehouses had been erected. Construction continued through the 1880's until there were more than 100 structures, including quarters for more than 400 soldiers.

The primary role of safeguarding the west Texas frontier against the Comanches and Apaches continued until 1881, but the last major military campaign involving troops from Fort Davis occurred in 1880. The Comanche had been driven from the area several years earlier and in a series of engagements, units from Fort Davis and other posts forced the Apaches and their leader Victorio into Mexico. There, Victorio and most of his followers were killed by Mexican soldiers. With no more Indians to fight, garrison life at Fort Davis became routine and often boring for long stretches of time. Occasionally, the soldiers were called upon to escort railroad survey parties, repair dirt roads and telegraph lines, and pursue Mexican bandits and horse thieves. In June 1891, Fort Davis was once again abandoned as it had "outlived its usefulness." Over the subsequent years, many of the structures were stripped for lumber and building materials by area ranchers and the site decayed in the harsh West Texas sun. However, some of the buildings were utilized as homes and these were kept in repair and can be seen today in their original condition.

In 1961, the fort was authorized as a national historic site and restoration work began. Today there are 24 buildings fully restored (some are furnished with historically correct furniture and objects) and more than 100 ruins to explore. For those interested in frontier history, this is a must see. Of course, for a site that is over 160 years old, there are many interesting stories. There's even a reported haunting which you can read about on our sister site by clicking here. Ft. Davis is definitely out "in the boonies," but it is well worth the effort to get there.

2-story officer's quarters

Ft. Davis parade grounds. Officer's quarters
to the left.

 

Postcard From Lubbock: Buddy Holly

In 1958, rock-'n-roll music was taking America by storm. Concerts for the musicians were being arranged at everything from supermarket openings and high school dances to large outdoor venues. One of these promotional tours was booked to last three weeks with appearances mostly in ballrooms and armories in Wisconsin, Minnesota and Iowa. The "Winter Dance Party" tour included some of rock-'n-roll's hottest stars - Dion and the Belmonts, Ritchie Valens, the Big Bopper, J.P. Richardson and Buddy Holly and the Crickets.

Each of the musicians had their own reason for going on the road with the tour. Seventeen-year-old Ritchie Valens and J.P. Richardson wanted to expand on their recently-found fame gained from their new hit records. Others were already stars and wanted to increase their popularity. Buddy Holly was one of those stars, but he was in the middle of a financial war with his manager so he signed on for the money.

The opening night performance was held in the Million Dollar Ballroom in Milwaukee, Wisconsin on January 23, 1959. In a Milwaukee Sentinel review the next day, a reporter wrote, "It was crazy, daddy - the goings-on Friday night at George Devine's Million Dollar Ballroom. Nearly 6,000 young people turned out to hear such rock 'n' roll stars as Buddy Holly and the Crickets, Big Bopper, Dion and the Belmonts and Ritchie Valens. If you haven't heard them, you haven't lived, man."

Despite that successful opening night and the enthusiastic crowds at every concert, the tour was bedeviled with transportation problems right from the start. The tour managers had saved a few bucks by arranging for the musicians to travel from town to town in an old converted school bus. During one of the coldest winters anyone could remember, the bus suffered mechanical problems almost every time it was driven. Late one night in the middle of a snow storm, the biggest icons of rock 'n roll were stranded on the side of the road when their bus broke down. With night-time temperatures that often were below zero, the most serious of the problems was the heater. It seldom worked and even when it did, it never got the bus close to comfortable. One particularly cold night when it didn't work at all, Carl Bunch, the Cricket's drummer, ended up in the hospital with frostbitten feet. He didn't know it then, but it was fortuitous. The next day, J.P. Richardson purchased a sleeping bag with his own money hoping it would help keep him warm enough to sleep. As it turned out, he would never get to use his new sleeping bag.

 On February 2, the tour played at the Surf Ballroom in Clear Lake, Iowa. While visiting backstage with the owner, Buddy Holly asked about the possibility of chartering a plane to take him and the remaining two Crickets, Tommy Allsup and Waylon Jennings, to the tour's next gig in order for them to get some laundry done and to get some much needed sleep. The ballroom owner called a pilot friend and made the arrangements.


Buddy Holly statue at the
West Texas Walk of Fame

Things started to change when the other musicians heard about the plane. J.P. Richardson was suffering with a bad head cold so he asked Waylon for his seat. At first, Jennings said no, but Richardson offered to give him his new sleeping bag in exchange and, feeling bad for his sick friend, Jennings agreed to the swap. Ritchie Valens pestered Allsup to give up his seat for a future, "I'll owe you." Several times Allsup refused, but finally agreed to a coin flip. It came up heads and Valens won the seat.

The passengers arrived at the airport shortly after midnight, each paying $36 for the flight. The plane took off on a heading to Fargo, N.D. at 12:50 A.M. Observers said all appeared normal until suddenly the plane's taillight descended and then disappeared. Efforts to contact the pilot failed. A search for the plane began, but it wasn't until midmorning the next day that the wreckage was found in a farmer's field about 5 miles north of the airport. There were no survivors.

A Civil Aeronautics Board investigation later blamed the crash on the pilot's inexperience with instrument flying and an inaccurate weather briefing which underestimated the severity of an approaching storm. Forensics determined that the pilot, Roger Peterson, age 21, musicians Buddy Holly, age 22, J.P. Richardson, age 28, and Ritchie Valens, age 17, had all died upon impact. It was rock 'n roll's first major celebrity tragedy.

J.P. Richardson is buried in Beaumont, Texas, Ritchie Valens is buried in Los Angeles and Buddy Holly is buried next to his parents in his hometown of Lubbock, Texas. Over 50 years after his death, thousands of tourists and fans from around the world still visit Buddy's grave, leaving sunglasses, guitar picks, and coins to honor him. In tribute to its most famous son, Lubbock has established a well-regarded museum, The Buddy Holly Center. The city also established the West Texas Walk of Fame to honor various West Texans. It consists of a series of plaques which surround a memorial statue of Buddy. He was unanimously chosen by civic leaders as the first inductee. A year later, Waylon Jennings was selected as the 2nd musician to be honored. 

The grave marker for one of rock 'n roll's most famous musicians, a member of the Rock 'n Roll Hall of Fame, influencer of such luminaries as The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, Eric Clapton and Elton John, is inconspicuous. It feature's a simple carving of his electric guitar and is inscribed with the original spelling of the family's name, "In loving memory of our own Buddy Holley, September 7, 1936 - February 3, 1959."

 

Postcard from Palo Duro Canyon

Palo Duro Canyon

In the Texas Panhandle you'll find the second largest canyon system in America, Palo Duro Canyon (the Spanish name "Palo Duro" means "hardwood" and refers to the hardwood shrubs and trees found in the canyon). At 70+ miles long, up to 1,000 feet deep and up to 20 miles across, it is known as the Grand Canyon of Texas. 

Humans have been living in and around the canyon for 15,000 years, but the first Europeans to lay eyes on it were members of the Coronado Expedition in 1541. At that time, the Apache Indians were the dominant tribe, but in the mid-1600's, the fierce Comanche and Kiowa drove them out. These nomadic people were kings of the plains until 1874 when the American military rode into the Texas Panhandle with the intention of driving the Indians onto reservations in Oklahoma and making the land safe for the white man. It was in the Palo Duro Canyon where the Comanche and Kiowa were finally defeated and driven from the area. 

On that fateful early morning of September 28, 1874, a column of blue-uniformed soldiers under the command of Colonel Ronald S. Mackenzie made its way silently down the canyon’s steep walls and just before sunrise, attacked a large Indian camp. The Indians were still asleep as they had been told by Maman-ti, a Kiowa medicine man, that no bluecoats could possibly penetrate the canyon. Startled into a panic, the warriors tried desperately to protect the women, children and their large horse herd, but it was too late: Mackenzie’s men killed several of the warriors and captured 1,400 animals. The fleeing Indians were forced to leave behind their clothing, lodges and all of their winter food supplies. Mackenzie ordered 1,100 of the horses killed and gave the remaining 300  to the Tonkawa scouts who led them to the Comanche and Kiowa camps. Without food, winter supplies, shelter or horses, the Indians were forced to accept defeat and moved to the Oklahoma reservations. A huge pile of bleaching horse skeletons remained for years to document the end of two hundred years of Comanche dominion and still to this day, sounds of a herd of phantom ghost horses galloping through the canyon are reported.

After the Indians left, cattleman Charles Goodnight laid claim to the canyon to raise his vast cattle herds. He co-founded the Panhandle’s first ranch—the JA Ranch—and erected some of the first buildings in the region. Within a few years he had acquired more than a million acres, much of it in the canyon, along with a herd of 100,000 cattle. Soon he was stringing barbed wire in the draws and side canyons where the Comanche had once hunted buffalo. 

Though most of the canyon and surrounding area is now private land—including part of the still prosperous JA Ranch—the 28,000 acres that make up Palo Duro Canyon State Park are breathtaking, an abrupt, uneven landscape made all the more dramatic by the layers of rocks that vary in color: the bright reds of the Quartermaster shale, the yellow and lavender mudstones, the sculpted sandstone that has been stained over millions of years by iron oxides.



Palo Duro amphitheater

Most of the Texas Panhandle is dead flat, but Palo Duro State Park has become a mecca for people who enjoy the outdoors and the beauty of nature. Hiking is the main activity in the park along with horse riding, camping and cycling. For off trail exploration the park has a sizeable backcountry area. An excellent summer musical pageant, Texas, is presented annually in the outdoor amphitheater. The pageant has become so popular that reservations are required weeks ahead of time and even longer for holiday performances.

Plan a camping trip and before you go, read Empire of the Summer Moon, S.C. Gwynne’s interesting history of Quanah Parker and the Comanche. As you drive across the High Plains, listen to songs by Don Williams who was born in nearby Floydada. Most places in the Texas Panhandle are so far from anywhere that you have to take a bus to catch a bus, but when you are sipping your coffee early one quiet, peaceful morning on the canyon floor, listening to the whippoorwill's morning song and watching a hawk soaring overhead, you'll find bliss.
 

Postcard from the Historical Fleming Oak

The Fleming Oak in Comanche, Texas

Martin Fleming and his father arrived in the frontier settlement of Comanche, Texas from Georgia in 1854. They spent their first night under a large live oak tree. The next day, the family was set upon by Comanche Indians. Young Martin survived the deadly fight by hiding in the space between 2 large trunks of the tree.

In 1910, Comanche's city fathers decided to pave the courthouse square. The workmen were busily clearing tree's from the area when "Uncle Mart," as he was by then affectionately known, stopped them as they approached "his tree" and told them he had been tying his horse to that tree for years and he was used to seeing it there. In the exchange of words that followed, Uncle Mart threatened to use his "No. 10's" on them if they even approached the tree with an axe. Not sure whether he meant his size 10 boots or his 10 gauge shotgun, the workers backed down and the tree was spared.

Fleming Oak providing shade for an historical log
cabin on the town square.

In 1919, Uncle Mart once again came to the defense of his tree when some "uninformed" newcomers in town started discussing cutting down the old oak. After he visited with them and "got them informed," the discussion stopped and their plans were dropped. Then in his 80's, he was quoted as saying, "They now pay due respect to that old tree."

The old tree's protector has been gone for the most part of a century now, but his love for "his tree" lives on in the hearts of Comanche's citizens who proudly point to this living memorial as a symbol of their pioneer heritage.

Jacob & Sarah Walker - Poineers & Heroe's of Texas

 

Jacob Walker was born in Columbia, Tenn. in May 1805. His cousin and close friend was Sam Houston. In 1825, Jacob moved to Louisiana where he met and fell in love with Sarah Vauchere. They were married in 1827, bought a farm and quickly had two children. Jacob then sold the farm and moved his family to Nacogdoches, Texas were they had five more children by 1835. That same year, Sam Houston stopped for a visit and persuaded his cousin to join the Texas army because they were giving land to the soldiers.

 

In December, 1835, Jacob fought in his first battle, the storming and capture of Bexar. The siege of Bexar resulted in Santa Anna bringing his large army to retake San Antonio and Texas. His actions and the way the settlers were treated made men indecisive about their future as Mexican citizens or Texans move solidly onto the side of freedom.

 

After the Siege of Bexar, Walker remained as a member of Carey’s artillery company carrying out his duties as a gunner in San Antonio. As Santa Anna's troops approached, the small contingent of Texas soldiers entered into the Alamo. For 12 full days, the men withstood assault after assault until on the 13th morning, The Mexicans attacked in overwhelming numbers.  
 
According to accounts by Susanna Dickinson, one of 20 women and children who were spared by Santa Anna as well as Mexican Army records, Jacob fired his cannon until he ran out of cannon balls. By then he had been wounded several times, but he plugged his cannon with scraps of cast iron and broken pieces of chain and rocks and fired once more at the Mexican soldiers. A Mexican officer trained a force of muskets on Walker and his few surviving me and fired a terrible volley.

Somehow, although wounded again, Walker managed to jump from the ramp and limp to the side of Mrs. Dickinson who had by then been moved into one of the chapel side rooms with the other women and children. Jacob had spoken to Suzanna several times during the siege "with anxious tenderness" about his wife and children and now he begged her to take a last message to his Sarah. Within moments of his entry into the room though, the Mexican soldiers broke through the old doors. It is believed that Walker was attempting to ignite the main powder magazine to keep the Mexicans from getting it, but because of his injuries, he only managed to crawl to Mrs. Dickinson. When the doors were broken open, he stood and turned to face the Mexican hordes. Mrs. Dickinson said he was standing in front of her as if to protect her when four Mexican soldiers "bayoneted him and tossed him up in the air as you would a bundle of fodder." They then shot him as he lay on the ground dying. After that, all was silent. On March 6, 1836, Jacob Walker was the last combatant to die at the battle of the Alamo.

The youngest child of French aristocrat Joseph Vauchere, Sarah Ann Vauchere was born on April 16, 1811 in Louisiana. At 16, she married Jacob Walker and two years later moved to East Texas with him. Sarah had three girls and four boys in the nine years before the Texas Revolution.

After the fall of the Alamo and the death of Sarah's husband, in the dark days when General Sam Houston and a rag-tag band of volunteers were being chased by the mighty Mexican army, it seemed that any additional difficulty might prove to be the end of the revolution altogether. The widowed Sarah answered the call for a volunteer at a patriots meeting held in Nacogdoches. The patriots needed General Sam Houston warned that the Cherokees had been incited by the Mexicans to ambush the Texas army from the rear as it retreated from the forces of General Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna. At only four feet eight inches tall and twenty-five years old, Sarah believed she could pass through enemy lines disguised as a boy. After changing her clothes and stuffing her long hair under a cowboy hat, she set off on horseback. She rode for days across a sparsely settled area where hostile Indians hunted, Mexican solders marched, and many other dangers for a lone woman existed. Three hundred miles later, Sarah reached the town of Gonzales, located Houston and his army, and gave him the intelligence that allowed his army to avoid the Cherokees.

After the Texans won their independence, for the valiant sacrifice made by her husband Jacob, a grateful Republic of Texas issued to her Headright Certificate Number One, deeding to her “a league and a labor” (about 4,416 acres). The certificate was signed by President David G. Burnet, who held the office of President from March 16, 1836 to Oct. 22, 1836. The certificate did not locate the grant of land until Feb. 1, 1841. Col. Leonard William’s, first Indian Commissioner of Texas, located the grant of land for her. The Walker Grant was east of the Brazos River, beginning at a point slightly north of the mouth of the Bosque River and extending past White Rock Creek. The property also stretched east beyond Tehuacana Creek.

Sarah's tombstone

After marrying Jacob's cousin, Jim Bob Walker, Sarah birthed two more children and then moved to her land in the late 1840's. Before Sarah could establish her family on the new land though, her second husband died. It was not unusual for survivors in the West to marry three or four times, but Sarah chose not to remarry again. With considerable fortitude, Sarah assumed responsibility for settling her nine children in the wilderness of Central Texas. She built her log cabin on high ground facing the Brazos River and enjoyed the benefits of fresh water from nearby springs, fertile black soil and native fruit trees. The 1850 Census listed her as “family head, occupation farmer.”
A few years later with so many people looking for land, Sarah began to lease a few parcels of her land grant. Family records tell of how she rode horseback to collet rent from her tenants.

Sarah Walker not only survived as a single woman and mother in these hard times, she prospered and eventually replaced her cabin with a two-story Greek Revival structure with large porches in the front and back. For years, hers was the only house north of the Waco Indian Village on the Military Road, and travelers frequently stopped to drink from the cool spring waters and rest their horses. Indians frequently came by also, but did not attack because they admired her bravery and because Sarah made it a point to always give them gifts of food.

Sarah Ann Walker continued alone while the Military Road became the old Dallas Highway and the family cemetery behind her house filled with her children and grandchildren. As hardy a pioneer as the West had, Sarah witnessed the extension of the frontier into Texas, participated in the Texas Revolution, saw Waco born, and almost lived to see the turn of the 20th Century. She died peacefully at home on Dec. 10, 1899, at 88. She was buried behind her house in the family cemetery, known today as the Stanfield-Walker Cemetery.

 

The Father and Son Generals

Graves of Jerome &
Felix Robertson

In the old stately Oakwood Cemetery in Waco, Texas lie the remains of a father and son who both survived many fierce battles during the Civil War, rose through the ranks to become generals and returned from the war to become successful in civilian life. The son, Felix Huston Robertson, was the only native-born Texan to serve as a general during the Civil War and by the time he died, had earned a singularly notable accomplishment.

The father, Jerome Bonaparte Robertson, came to Texas from Kentucky to join the Texas army in 1836. He served as a captain until he resigned his position in 1837. After getting married, he purchased some land and settled at Washington-on-the-Brazos where he opened a medical practice. Over the next 6 years, he was often away fighting in Indian campaigns and serving in the army to repel two invasions by the Mexicans. He managed to come back home often enough for his wife to give birth to three children, one of whom died in infancy. After finally coming back home with the intention of settling down, he became the town's coroner, post master and eventually was elected mayor. In 1847 he was elected to the State House of Representatives and in 1849 to the State Senate.

Jerome Robertson

In January, 1861, Jerome served as a representative at the Texas Secession Convention and soon after, raised a company of volunteers for the Confederate army. He was elected as its captain when it became an official part of the 5th Texas Cavalry under John Bell Hood. From that date forward, he was in almost continuous campaigns and battles, fighting with distinction in many famous battles such as the 7 Days Battle, Gain's Mills, South Mountain, Antietam, and Gettysburg. At the Battle of Gettysburg, Jerome and his men fought in the ferocious battles of Little Round Top and Devil's Den. In spite of being heavily outnumbered by the Union troops at Devil's Den, Jerome's soldiers accomplished their objective, suffering heavy casualties while doing so. By this time he had been made a general, but he still insisted on leading his men in charge after charge. In all the fighting he had taken part in over the last three years, he had never been hit, but during the last charge on Devil's Den, he was wounded several times. After recovering, he rejoined his unit and once again bravely fought in the Chickamauga Battle in Tennessee. Unfortunately (or perhaps very fortunately - how many times can one man be shot at and missed?), he then became embroiled in a bit of political infighting, came out on the losing side and was transferred to Texas where he commanded the reserve forces until the end of the war.

After the war, in spite of all the death and gruesome things he had seen and was a part of, Jerome simply moved back home and picked up where he left off, reestablishing his medical practice and with his son, investing in railroads and real estate. He died peacefully in his bed in 1890 at age 74.

Felix Robertson was born in Texas on March 9, 1839. He attended Baylor University and then West Point, but quit and offered his services to the Confederacy. He was commissioned a 2nd lieutenant in the artillery and took part in the bombardment of Fort Sumter at the beginning of the Civil War. Felix served with distinction in numerous less well-known battles and several famous ones such as Shiloh and Murfreesboro. At Chickamauga, he was in heavy action near his father. Amazingly, both father and son survived 3 days of fierce fighting in which there were over 18,000 Confederate causalities.

 

Felix Robertson

Felix steadily rose in rank and became a general like his father. In late 1864 though, his luck finally ran out and he was severely wounded in a battle near Augusta, Georgia. He would survive his wounds, but they were so severe that it ended his military service and he was sent home to Texas. While recuperating, he read law books and passed the bar exam to become a licensed lawyer. His partnership with his father investing in railroads and real estate proved to be a success and they both became financially well off.

Other than surviving against the odds, what notable accomplishment did Felix achieve? Not content with just being the only native Texan to serve as a general in the Civil War, when he died in Waco, Texas on April 20, 1928, he was the last surviving general of the Confederacy.