Tragedy in New London


The New London school before the explosion
(historical photo)
In 1937, the New London school district in Texas was one of the richest rural school districts in America due to income from the oil and natural gas fields surrounding the small town. Over 10,000 derricks surrounded the area; eleven of them operating on the school grounds itself. That income enabled the building of a beautiful, 2-story, modern, steel-framed building where kindergarten through 11th grade classes were held. Just before the 1st day of spring that year, the school would become the site of the most heart-wrenching school day in America’s history.

On March 18th, at 3:17pm,the older students were in their last class, minutes away from the last bell. The children in kindergarten through 4
th grade had already been dismissed for the day. The PTA was meeting in the gym as L. R. Butler, the instructor of manual training, turned on a sanding machine in the shop room under the building. Unfortunately, there had been a slow, but prolonged gas leak from a 2-inch pipe. At that time, no one had thought to add a noxious smell to gas to enable detection of it so even though it had accumulated in a large pocket, it had been undetected because it was colorless and odorless. When Mr. Butler turned on the switch, an electrical spark ignited the gas which had accumulated in an enclosed 253-foot long by 56-foot wide space beneath the basement floor.

Minutes after the explosion
(historical photo)
The explosion was so massive that it lifted the concrete floor and the entire building into the air. When it crashed back down, the walls collapsed and the roof fell in. Bricks, steel beams and huge pieces of concrete rained down on the students and adults trapped in the classrooms. So powerful was the explosion that it was heard over 4 miles away and it threw a 2-ton piece of concrete through the air for more than 200 feet where it demolished someone’s new Chevrolet.

Stunned parents at the PTA meeting ran
to the school building and began frantically digging through the massive mound of ruble screaming for their children buried underneath. As word of the disaster quickly spread, the town’s residents came running with shovels and rakes. Roughnecks from the oilfields rushed to the school with heavy-duty equipment. Police, including members of the Highway Patrol and Texas Rangers arrived and pitched in to help.
It began to rain as darkness set in, but floodlights were set up and the workers continued digging through the rubble looking for victims all night. There were a few miracles as a survivor would be dug out of the rubble, but mostly, the heart-breaking screams of anguished parents were heard over and over as workers pulled another lifeless body of a child from the debris and it was identified.

It took seventeen hours for all the victims to be recovered. Garages, churches and even the roller rink were all used as makeshift hospitals and morgues. Of the 500 students and 40 teachers, school employees and visitors in the building, 294 had died that day. Another 17 severely injured victims died in the days and weeks following the explosion bringing the total number to 311.
Killed in blast
Male
Female
Total
5th Grade
26
42
68
6th Grade
33
54
87
7th Grade
17
17
34
8th Grade
12
19
31
9th Grade
7
4
11
10th Grade
9
7
16
11th Grade
13
10
23
Teachers
3
13
16
Other
5
3
8
Totals
125
169
294
There were many horror stories. One family lost all three of their children; one mother could positively identify her ten-year-old’s body only because the little girl, while playing dress-up the night before, had used a crayon to color her toenails red. A set of twins was found lying next to each other, the boy’s arm in death reaching toward his sister. The youngest victim was only 4 years-old. He had been excited to accompany his mother on a visit to see his big sister’s class.
As the last of the debris was being removed from the site, a blackboard was found beneath a large concrete block. The message the teacher had written that day was still legible – “Oil and natural gas are East Texas’ greatest mineral blessings. Without them this school would not be here and none of us would be here learning our lessons.”
Within two months, the Texas Legislature passed a law requiring refiners to add a scent to odor-free natural gas. Today, because of the familiar stink of a chemical called mercaptan, another tragedy like New London will never happen again.


 

 


Postcard From Dobyville Ghost Town


Ghost towns are places where people lived and dreamed and died. They tell the stories of lost lives and abandoned dreams. Often times, the only thing left of an abandoned town is the graveyard. Such is the fate of Dobyville, Texas.

In the state of Texas, there are over 46,000 known cemetery's. No one knows how many others have been lost and forgotten. Time, weather, and vandals destroy the markers. People a generation or two removed from those buried move away and, over time, cannot be bothered to keep up the grounds. Weeds and brush eventually reclaim the land and erase any sign that people were buried there. Sometimes forgotten graves of those gone before us are bulldozed and paved over with highways and subdivisions.

Some of the known cemetery's are well-kept lush parks with mowed green grass, tall shade-trees and water fountains gurgling. Many others though are barren and desolate; quiet places offering stark reminders of our mortality. The Dobyville Cemetery is much closer to the latter than the former. The settlement of Dobyville was established in the 1850's by pioneers who wrestled the land from the Comanche Indians. By the late 1800's, Dobyville had dozens of residents and a post office, a cotton gin and grist and syrup mills. It also had a school, the Lone Star School, with 1 teacher for its 56 students.

WW II soldier killed in action near the
end of the war
Hard times and the hard limestone underlying the ground began to make it too hard to earn a living and the town began to decline in the early 1900's. Better job opportunities became available in larger cities and better roads made it easy to get away. The post office closed in 1900 and the school consolidated with the Lake Victor school district in 1921. In the 1940's there were few residents to take part in the community spring rabbit drive. The annual community event took place on a Saturday in late March or early April and families would gather for a day of hunting and picnicking, but by 1949, only a few scattered houses marked the community on county highway maps. Only a cemetery remained by the 1980s.

Although still active, the Dobyville Cemetery is a typical quiet, country resting place where love ones, recent and from years past, rest in eternal peace. Few people know about this place and drivers on U.S. Highway 281 will speed past it without seeing, without knowing that here lies people who lived their lives, dreamed their dreams, loved and were loved, laughed and cried and at one time, were important to someone.
Baby's grave - always sad to see

Another child's grave. RIP little one















Postcard From Graceland

You know how sometimes you hear stories about a thing or person for years and you begin to build it up in your head until it's pretty much larger than life? Then when you actually see it or meet the person, you suffer major disappointment. I'm afraid such was the case with me and Graceland.

I'm not a huge, go-nuts fan of Elvis; never have been. A long time ago, there was a girl I wanted to impress and since she was an Elvis fan, I bought a couple of expensive tickets for us to see the King of Rock 'n Roll in person when he came through town. He came out to the strains of Richard Strauss' "Also Sprach Zarathustra" – the theme from Stanley Kubrick's 2001 and began singing. The crowd went wild, especially the girls. I looked around confused. He sang a few songs then wiped his sweaty face with a white towel and threw it to the audience in our direction and this rather quiet, sedate young lady I was with turned into some kind of ferocious, get-in-my-way-and-you-die primeval beast! She got that towel and I became a little bit scared. She hung on to that thing for the rest of the night, guarding it like a mother bear with a cub. The concert was pretty good and my mission was accomplished as she was duly impressed. We didn't last, but I have no doubt she still has that towel.

Of course I had heard about the home of Elvis, the mansion known as Graceland; the rooms, the grounds, the parties that went on there. After his death, it became in my mind a sort of shrine, a bigger-than-life edifice. A while back, my daughter, who knows about Elvis but is not a big fan either, for some reason wanted to visit Graceland. The wife wanted to go also, so what the heck, let's do it.

Living Room
We arrived in Memphis on a Thursday evening with tickets for Graceland the next day. We drove by it on the way to our hotel and I have to say, it certainly didn't look like much from the street. Even the surrounding area was past its prime. The street in front, Elvis Presley Boulevard, was full of potholes and needed repaving. Not a good first impression.

I'm not sure exactly what I expected, but the next day, we parked in a lot & took a van across the street to the house. After waiting until our ticketed time, we were escorted inside. I guess I had expected the rooms to be large and ornate rather than the small, shag-carpeted glitzy kitsch-filled rooms most of them are. I'm sure they were cool back-in-the-day when Elvis was there and I'm also sure I had built the place up in my mind so much that anything less than spectacular was bound to be a bit disappointing for me. The house is over 17,000 square feet with 23 rooms, but throughout the tour of the rooms we were allowed to see, I just could not get over how small they were.

The TV Room. Yes, that's a strange
monkey on the table.
The 13-acre grounds were rather impressive and the Trophy Building where all of his jumpsuits, gold records, movie posters and awards were on display was very impressive. I spent more time there than I did in the mansion itself. His airplane, named Lisa Marie, was also cool to go through. The Meditation Garden, where Elvis, his parents, and grandmother, Minnie Mae Hood Presley, are buried is very nice and serene. Visitors are usually naturally quiet when visiting. Across the street is a museum of Elvis memorabilia that is certainly worth visiting. And of course, there is also a gift shop where you can purchase all sorts of Elvis-related souvenirs and mementos.

The kitchen where Elvis had his fried peanut
butter & banana sandwiches made
In spite of the disappointment over the rooms, the visit was worth the price of the ticket (at the time of this writing - $47.50 for adults, $42.75 for seniors and students, $22.50 children 7-12) if it doesn't put a strain on your budget, mostly just because it's cool to be there and tell your friends you have.

One place I would not recommend eating at is Marlowes Ribs and Restaurant on Elvis Presley Blvd. Our experience seems to be in the minority though as the place gets a number of good reviews. This is supposed to be one of Elvis' favorite places to eat, but if it was, they must have served him a lot better food than we were. My wife's plate of sliced beef was nothing but a big glob of fat and my daughter's chicken tenders were served cold. When we complained and sent them back, the waiter acted like we were being entirely unreasonable and a pain in his neck. A different waiter brought them back a while later and apologized, but the wife's brisket was still half fat and rather gross. Plus the place is in an area where we didn't feel very safe after dark. You may very well have a totally different experience than we did, but we'll never go back there.

The infamous Jungle Room
So go to Graceland, get your picture taken in front of the famous gates, and enjoy your visit, just don't go expecting it to be the Taj Mahal!

Marlowes







Inside Marlowes




Postcard from the Texas Munster's Mansion

In these days of cookie-cutter houses in boring subdivisions, there are a few folks who are determined to be different. Take the McKee family for instance. To say they are fans of the old TV show The Munsters would be a bit of an understatement. And when it came to their family home, they certainly thought outside of the coffin!

Just outside the town of Waxahachie, Texas, the McKees built a near perfect modern replica of the Munster's mansion. Since there are no specifications for the TV mansion, the McKees watched all 70 episodes of the series multiple times to come up with what they wanted. Theirs is not as run-down and creepy, but it does have a dungeon, an electric chair in the living-room, a secret passageway, a revolving bookcase and a fire-breathing dragon named Spot under the stairway.

Each October, the McKees open their home and host a Halloween party with proceeds going to local charities. Al Lewis (Grandpa) and Butch Patrick (Eddie) have attended past parties. The rest of the year, the house is viewable from the street. It is the McKees' home so keep in mind and respect that it is private property. To see 1313 Mockingbird Lane, go to the actual address 3636 FM 813, Waxahachie, Texas.



Buried In A Ferrari


There are fascinating cemeteries all over America. A walk through any one of them can be like a living history lesson, taught by those who preceded us and who know where we are all headed. Some cemeteries have given rise to legends of hauntings and curses, while others are of interest simply for the offbeat tombstones to be discovered in them. Each of these tombstones tells a story and every graveyard we whistle as we pass by offers reminders of life’s triumphs and tragedies to anyone who takes the time to read the inscribed words. Sometimes they are words of warning or advice. Some tell tales of earthly woe, while others are actually lighthearted and inspiring.
(public photo)
Many “tombstone tourists” are interested in visiting the resting places of famous people or places which have interesting stories attached to the dearly departed. An interesting story is what has drawn thousands of visitors to the grave of Sandra West in the Alamo Masonic Cemetery on Center Street in San Antonio, Texas.
Sandra was a Beverly Hills socialite and the wife of wealthy Texas oil tycoon Ike West when he died in January 1968.  After she inherited over $5 million (almost $36 million in 2017 dollars), she had the family lawyer draw up her will and in that will, she requested to be buried wearing a lacy nightgown inside her favorite powder-blue 1964 Ferrari “with the seat slanted comfortably.”

(public photo)
For the next 9 years, Sandra partied and lived large with the rich and famous in Hollywood, going through almost half of her inheritance. The excesses of her life style reportedly affected her health and she died in 1977 of an overdose of prescription pills. Upon her death, it was revealed that her brother-in-law, Saul West, was to receive $2 million if he saw to it that her wishes for burial were honored. If he did not, he would only get $10,000. Her brother-in-law went to court fighting the demand, but after a judge ruled the will valid and in force, Saul suddenly decided to carry out her wishes.

1964 Ferrari 250GT - worth about
$2 million in 2017
Two months after her death, embalmed Sandra and her prized Ferrari were flown to San Antonio to prepare for the unconventional burial next to her husband’s grave at the historic cemetery. A large wooden box 6 feet by 8 feet by 17 feet was constructed. One end was left open and the Ferrari was driven into it. The engine was turned off and the keys were left in the ignition. An undertaker dressed Sandra in a lacy, semi-transparent white nightgown and after the driver’s side seat of the Ferrari was reclined, she was placed on it. The box was sealed and hauled to the grave site on a flat-bed truck. On May 18, 1977, with 300 people looking on, a large crane lowered the box into a hole measuring 10 feet wide, 19 feet long and 9 feet deep. After being place in the middle of the hole, a redi-mix truck buried the whole thing in 2 feet of concrete to discourage grave robbers.

Over 300 onlookers watched the burial
proceedings. No family members were present.
Husband and wife are spending eternity side by side in section 1-2 of the cemetery.  Sandra's simple grave marker doesn’t give a clue to what is underneath.
 

 

Postcard From Fort Concho


Fort Concho Parade Grounds
Fort Concho, located in what is now the middle of San Angelo, Texas, was built in 1867 to protect settlers when the area was still subject to Indian attacks. The fort was actively used until it was decommissioned on June 20, 1889.

The original plans called for the construction of 40 buildings situated on 40 acres with a large, open parade ground in the middle. When the first soldiers began trying to construct the buildings with pecan wood as planned, they found the wood to be too hard and difficult to work with so they switched to using adobe bricks. However, none of the soldiers had any experience with making adobe bricks so they were mighty disappointed when almost 2 months of hard work making bricks and starting to construct buildings with them proved to be wasted when the bricks literally melted in a heavy rain storm. It was finally decided to use sandstone from several nearby quarries and to import stone masons from the town of Fredericksburg. 
Original ruins along Officer's Row
Once the Indians had been effectively removed from the area, the fort was decommissioned and abandoned and the buildings fell into disrepair. During this time the first reports of unexplained activity began to be heard - mysterious lights floating in and around the buildings even though nobody was there; the sound of horse's marching in the night, vague men's voices shouting commands. Before long, nobody would go near the ruins after the sun set.

In 1935, the city was able to purchase the old fort and began to save the 23 buildings deemed to be salvageable and started reconstruction of the other 17 from old photos and the layout of the ruins.  And something strange began to happen. The workers told of tools left overnight that disappeared with no trace only to mysteriously reappear several days later in the same exact spot where they had been left. In 1961, Fort Concho was declared a National Historic Landmark. Once the buildings were opened to the public, people began reporting ghostly activities mainly in 3 of the buildings; the fort's headquarters, the officers' living quarters, and the fort chapel.

The current site of the visitor center and
museum is the area where the ghost of
Sergeant Cunningham is often seen.
Although the soldiers posted at Fort Concho were active participants in several battles against Indians and Comanchero's (Mexican and American traders conducting illegal profiteering, kidnapping and looting), the battles all took place in the surrounding area and the fort was never itself attacked. Due to this, there was only one casualty recorded in the fort.
Second Sergeant James Cunningham, a hard-core alcoholic, did not die in battle, but rather from cirrhosis of the liver. Despite his nightly drinking, he had managed to report for duty each morning and was by all reports, a good soldier who was well liked by his fellow soldiers. Unfortunately, the alcohol finally caught up to him and upon being informed by the post doctor that he had only a few months to live, he was removed from active duty. A few weeks later, Sergeant Cunningham returned to the fort and requested he be allowed to spend his last days at the headquarters so he could be with his colleagues and friends, the only family he had. His request was granted. Six weeks later, he died in his sleep. A uniformed soldier has been seen walking near and even inside the old fort headquarters which has been converted into a museum. In nearly all cases, the apparition appears for only a few seconds, but the smell of whiskey will linger. Witnesses who see the ghost consistently pick out an old photograph of Sergeant Cunningham, apparently still hanging around the last earthly home he knew.
Reconstructed Officer's Row
Benjamin Grierson, the regimental commander of the 10th Calvary, lived on Officer’s Row with his wife and young daughter, Edith. Shortly before Edith's 12 birthday, she became very ill and died in the upstairs bedroom. Since the building was restored, many people have told of seeing a young girl sitting on the floor of an upstairs bedroom quietly playing jacks. The game was known to be Edith's favorite and her grieving parents placed a cloth sack containing a small ball and jacks in her coffin before her burial. The bedroom where she is seen was the exact room in which the little girl breathed her last. The apparition usually appears to be oblivious to anyone who sees her, but occasionally she will look up and smile before slowly vanishing. Visitors often state that room is colder than any other even when no ghostly visitor is seen.

Colonel Ranald MacKenzie
(historical photo)
Colonel Ranald MacKenzie was the commanding officer of the fort when it was decommissioned.  In letters and records, Colonel MacKenzie often stated Fort Concho was one of his favorite duty stations. In fact, Colonel MacKenzie retired as the fort was decommissioned and he elected to remain, living in his home on Officers' Row until he died several years later. One December several years ago, a female staff member was working in the Mackenzie house preparing for a Christmas event. She said she heard footsteps behind her and turned to see who was there, but just as she turned, she was pushed up against the wall by a strong hand and felt a blast of cold air. Seeing nobody in the room with her, the frightened woman stood there for several seconds trying to make sense of what had just happened when she heard the sound of knuckles cracking. Before she could bolt from the room, a misty, almost transparent figure of a man in soldier's uniform materialized in front of her. It seemed to somehow be floating just above the floor and as the woman looked down, she noted the apparition seemed to be invisible below the knees. As abruptly as it appeared, the misty man disappeared. Colonel Mackenzie had been known for the habit of cracking his knuckles. There was no doubt the lady staffer had come face to face with the fort's last, and perhaps forever, commander.
The 3rd building where unexplained things happen is the chapel. The chaplain, George Dunbar, was said to be a very devout Christian, a loving, devoted husband, and a dedicated father to his 6 children, all of whom lived with him at the fort. He was known to get so involved in his sermons that his voice could be heard across the fort on Sunday mornings shouting that week's message of God. After several years at Fort Concho, the chaplain was transferred to Fort Sill. It was unsafe for his wife and children to accompany him however as Fort Sill was often being attacked by Indians. His family was allowed to stay at Fort Concho until it was safe for them to travel to Fort Sill. On the morning he left, George promised them he would return. Several months had passed when a messenger arrived one day with sad news from Fort Sill. While under attack by a large group of Comanche’s, one of the soldiers inside the fort had been mortally wounded. As he lay dying, Chaplain Dunbar ran to his side and began praying over him. While comforting the dying soldier, the chaplain was himself killed. He was eventually brought back to Fort Concho where his wife claimed the body and a proper burial was conducted. Today, visitors and staff report hearing a loud and powerful male voice delivering a sermon. There have also been sightings of a soldier in uniform kneeling in prayer inside of the chapel.  Occasionally, a female voice is heard accompanying the male voice, speaking quietly, perhaps in prayer. The staff likes to think this is the good chaplain's wife, the two of them spending eternity together.

On the day I visited Fort Concho, there were only a couple of people walking around the grounds. I made my way to the gift shop and since I was the only visitor, I struck up a conversation with the male staff member working there. After discussing the history of the fort for a while, I brought up the rumors it was haunted. At first reluctant to talk about it, he finally told me they were not supposed to discuss it as it often made people uncomfortable. He did tell me he hated to be the only one at the fort after dark and that many of the staff members simply refused to stay after the sun went down. I said, "So the ghost stories are true then?" He replied, "I wouldn't say this place is haunted, but I will say that I and a lot of the other staff have at one time or another personally experienced something not easily explained. It's just really spooky around here in the dark."
Floating balls of lights, the sounds of horses being rode as if in a parade, men's voices in the middle of an empty parade ground, and even an occasional unexplained loud boom as if a ceremonial cannon has been fired are still heard today. There were no large battles with horrible loss of life at the fort, no unsolved ghastly murders, no desecrated burial grounds, so It is unknown why Fort Concho seems to be haunted. Perhaps not all ghosts are tortured souls unable to cross over. Perhaps Fort Concho simply was the place of good memories for the dearly departed and it is where they are content to spend eternity. Only they know for sure.

Paisano Pete – World’s Former Largest Roadrunner

Located in the center of Fort Stockton, Texas on the corner of Main and Dickenson, is Paisano Pete, one of the most recognizable roadside attractions in the southwest. Before we get to that though, let’s talk about the Old Spanish Trail.

The history of the Old Spanish Trail is as varied as the areas it crosses on its journey from Jacksonville, FL to San Diego, CA. In Texas, the OST has had many routes, but by 1921 a predominantly southern route from Orange to San Antonio to El Paso had been formalized. In the 1930s, Fort Stockton had three US highways converging just east of its busy downtown; US 290, US 67, and US 285. In the middle of this convergent where the 3 historic highways met was a small, wasted triangle of dusty land.  Travelers on the OST passed right by this very spot. In 1980, not wanting to let this small patch of land go unused, Fort Stockton built Paisano Pete, the world’s largest roadrunner statue, and placed him there where travelers could easily see him. Although Pete never brought smiles to the Old Spanish Trail travelers back in the day, he is located on the historic route of the OST through Fort Stockton. Today, visitors are encouraged to take a picture with Paisano Pete and thousands of them have done just that.
The scrap metal roadrunner
For 13 years, Pete was the World's Largest Roadrunner. At 22 feet long and 11 feet tall, he's still pretty big, but in 1993, a replica of a roadrunner 20 feet tall and 40 feet long was constructed out of junk at the Las Cruces, New Mexico landfill. That replica began rusting and falling apart over the years until 2011 when the artist who built it stripped it down, brought it back to his home and began replacing the rusting junk with thrift store rejects and scrap metal salvaged from the Las Cruces recycling center (it has eyes made from Volkswagen headlights.) Between 2011 and 2014 when the New Mexico roadrunner was placed back in public view at a roadside rest stop, Pete once again held the title of World’s Largest Roadrunner.
Paisano Pete
Even though Paisano Pete is now the world’s former largest roadrunner, he is still the most famous. If you find yourself in Fort Stockton, be sure to stop and get your picture taken with Pete. It's tradition!
Of course my daughter had her picture
taken with Paisano Pete!
 

Native Texan & DeKalb's Favorite Son - Dan Blocker

Dan Blocker played Hoss Cartwright on the TV show Bonanza which ran from 1959 - 1973; second only to Gunsmoke as the longest running western. Standing 6'4" tall and weighing 320 pounds as an adult, Dan was a big child as well. When he was born in DeKalb, Texas on December 10, 1928, he weighed 14 pounds. His father and his poor, poor mother moved to O'Donnell, Texas when Bobby Dan ("Dan" was his stage name) was six years old and opened the Blocker Grocery Store. The grocery store provided a modest, but steady middle-class income for the family. It was a good thing they owned a grocery store as Bobby Dan grew to be 6' tall and weigh 200 pounds by the age of 12.

Dan played football at Sul Ross State Teacher's College in Alpine, Texas and then worked as a rodeo performer and a bouncer in a bar while earning a Master's degree. After graduating, Bobby Dan became a high school English teacher in Sonora, Texas before moving to California where he again took a high school teaching position. In 1951, he was drafted into the Army and went on to become an infantry sergeant in Korea. He saw a lot of action from December 1951 to August 1952 and received a Purple Heart for wounds he received in combat along with eight other medals.

With a Master's degree in theatre arts, it still took four years after his return from the war before he began to land appearances on various TV shows and small parts in a few movies. His big break came in 1959 when he won the part of Erick "Hoss" Cartwright when Bonanza began its run.

Playing a big, friendly, gentle giant, (a good reflection of him in real life), Dan was actually pretty tough. While shooting one of the episodes, Blocker's horse fell and threw him off, breaking his collarbone when he hit the ground hard. The bone was protruding from his skin when Dan got up, but he refused medical attention, stuck the bone back in place himself and resumed filming. After filming was finished for the day, he was convinced to go to the hospital where the broken bone was set. The doctor gave him strict instructions to not ride for six weeks. When he was allowed to ride again, evidently Blocker's horse forgot what it was like to carry the big man  because the first time Blocker swung up into the saddle, much to his embarrassment, the horse collapsed under his weight and the cast and crew collapsed in laughter.

Because of his unassuming, caring and down-to-earth ways, he was the television crew's favorite actor on the Bonanza set. According to all who knew him, he never forgot his small town upbringing and manners. Unfortunately, on May 13, 1972, Bobby Dan died in Los Angeles at the early age of 43 from a pulmonary embolism following gall bladder surgery. Bonanza lasted only one more season without Hoss. The 14th and final season ended on January 16, 1973. Dan, befitting his personality, is buried in a simple common grave next to three family members in the Woodsman's Cemetery in little DeKalb, Texas.