Join us for the Third Annual Historic Magnolia Cemetery Tour.
Thursday, October 19th, 4:00 – 6:00
Saturday, October 21nd, 10:00 – 2:00
The purpose of this tour is to promote the rich history of our area through the lived experiences of our past residents. There are many stories, mostly forgotten over time, that we feel need to be told and remembered. We hope you will enjoy this opportunity to look back on our SETX history and will share some of the stories about the people you will learn about on the tour.
Last week, the mysteries of the disappearance and the whereabouts of Kimberly Langwell were solved—hopefully. I say “hopefully” because, not to be morbid, they still need to ensure that the remains are hers. Yes, it’s bad when someone who is missing is officially declared deceased; at least, though, it gives the family closure. This family has been suffering for 25 years, AND THEY DESERVE CLOSURE!
I will not get into the details of the case, but I will definitely be interested in what comes out in the trial. I’m sure the people at the Listen Closely podcast also want the facts. For my 2013 book, I researched a few serial killers, both male and female. It was interesting. I’m not saying the accused is a serial killer, as he may only be convicted of one murder, but his dad was also killed on the property. I forgot about this until someone I know told me that he grew up in the neighborhood in question and that, as kids, they would ride bikes with the accused, whom they called a momma’s boy. I also talked with someone who informed me that you can watch trials on YouTube and find their dockets online. If this is the case, then I’m interested.
The City of Beaumont has given the owner of the Gilbert Building, Tom Flanagan, 60 days to basically get his crap together and not cast a vote to demolish the building within this period. Fingers crossed; although, from what I hear, Tom Flanagan seems to never get his crap together. He owns many buildings in downtown Beaumont and says many things about restoring this building and preserving that building, but in the end, he does nothing but let the properties deteriorate and become fire hazards. By the way, does anyone know the cause of the fire at the Gilbert Building? A building with no electricity does not usually catch fire. Arson? Homeless people’s arson? I think this needs to be addressed.
To Mr. Flanagan’s credit, he stated in a KFDMinterview that his goal is “to preserve the facade and save the building, developing it and retaining a rich part of Beaumont’s history.” I really hope this is legit and not just the same old BS that apparently goes on in Beaumont.
Concerning the public’s reaction to this issue, we had a few members from the Jefferson County Historical Commission speak at the meeting. The Beaumont Heritage Society also showed up, and the Texas Historical Commission sent a letter about saving this treasure. So, it is now up to the owner to do something. The City of Beaumont has done the math, and it doesn’t want to put up a million dollars to demolish the structure. It is great that Mr. Flanagan and his “investors” spent 46 million dollars for their Beaumont properties, but they rarely do anything with them. Note: I’ve thrown in the “investors” quote because all his investments do not seem to come from his funds. Also, I’m sure that when you throw in names such as Umphery, you want to look at the bigger picture of 41 years of investments. I may be a year or two off this in terms of the quote because I, sadly, was not at the meeting—I have to work for a living! In the end, I hope the building can be saved, but I’m not holding my breath, and I also want to know who started the fire! I guess we can acknowledge that the singer Billy Joel didn’t start it. (I love that song!) I digress, but no one seems to give a crap about answering this question.
This week, I was contacted by an organization that repairs and cleans headstones and does other cemetery stonework around Texas. Since they have more work than time and are not local, they reached out to someone at the McFaddin-Ward House Museum, who gave them my contact details. (Shout-out to the McFaddin-Ward House Museum!)
I believed the person at the other end of the line because they were reaching out to find someone who knew the dos and don’ts of cleaning headstones and monuments. They didn’t want to send someone with a bottle of Clorox and a wire brush to help a client who had reached out to them for assistance. (Note: You never use Clorox or a wire brush! Damn you to hell if you do.) We talked for 30 minutes or so, and I found out that someone had a few headstones that needed cleaning, but they didn’t live in the Beaumont area, so they reached out to this organization for help. We shall see where this goes.
I’ve been known to clean a headstone or two, especially at Magnolia Cemetery, if it becomes unreadable due to lichen, algae, mold, or mildew. My only go-to product is the D/2 Biological Solution cleaner. I won’t leave a link because I’m in the retail business, and I don’t sell this product, but it works. You spray it on, and, eventually, you will see a change for the better. I do not scrub or wash it off, but if you’re expecting an overnight improvement, then good luck. It won’t happen. After a period between six months and a year, you will see a change. Sometimes, a few organizations hold workshops on fixing and cleaning headstones in this area. If I see one coming up, I’ll definitely get the word out.
We lost a few people this week. The first one was Willie Mays. He was by far the best baseball player of our time. His humbleness added to his greatness in a time when players weren’t equal in the eyes of some, but he left it ALL on the field. He was like no other. Considering all the overpaid players nowadays, he earned a lot less than he should have.
Another icon, whom I admired through tankery, was the actor Donald Sutherland. He was a brilliant performer, and my love for his work was born with the movie Kelly’s Heroes. Sergeant Oddball is a part of my past and present, and I will keep rewatching that film.
Until next time, when in Beaumont, please get your crap together! And Sherman Vor! (All Sherman’s forward)
Man Indicted for 1999 Murder After Police Find Human Remains:
I take one week off, and Beaumont turns into Pompeii. Apparently, there’s a firebug or firebugs in the city who are disgruntled with properties with the name Gilbert in them. Or maybe not; I’m just speculating. I really haven’t heard anything about the cause of the Gilbert Building fire as of this writing, but as the son of an ex-fireman, I have my suspicions. The Caroline Gilbert Hinchee House was also targeted the same night, for those not in the know. Someone threw gasoline around the house and tried to torch it. Fortunately, a neighbor saw this, and the Beaumont Fire Department was quick on the scene. It is somewhat of a miracle that this property didn’t go up in flames.
I rarely check Facebook, because I don’t care about most people’s thoughts and empty prayers or about their opinions on politics or religion and why dem boyz haven’t been to the Super Bowl since the 90s. I can answer the latter: Rodger the Dodger’s old neighborhood needs a new owner, and Dak sucks more than Danny White back in the day—but at least Danny could punt!
I did search a few pages when I heard the news of the fire, and boy, oh boy, many West End Wandas in the comments were triggered about other things! “What about this building?” “What about this house?” “What are you doing for these places?” “Why aren’t you doing more?”
Let me explain how preservation works, Wanda. There are many wheels to grease to keep them turning and many hours of volunteer time to grease those wheels. Yes, volunteer time! Volunteers are the unpaid soldiers who preserve our historical sites and do hours of research because we are passionate about history. There are also paid people at originations, some of whom I support and others whom I deem worthless. I will not get into those people because some have a higher boss. #peckem.
Wanda, sorry you don’t like when things get torn down. I don’t either, but typing on social media platforms about your agenda doesn’t help. You need to show up in the real world. Things don’t change because you like or share a post that says some buildings are up for demolition. No one cares about your thoughts or prayer-hand emojis in the end. Be the socks-and ruby-slippers-wearing gal we need. Sorry for bringing up your cousin, but sometimes you need to also wear the hat and wear it with authority! Shout out to my spirit animal, Margaret Hamilton!
This is how preservation works. You show up, then you see what you can accomplish by saving the property, updating the history, or just figuring out what needs to be done to a project. On Friday, I learned that the recent fire at the Gilbert Building will be an item on the agenda at Beaumont City Council this week on Tuesday at 1:30 at the Council Chambers City Hall at 801 Main Street.
“Council consider an ordinance to declare 328-338 Bowie & 486-498 Pearl Street, also known as ‘The Gilbert Building,’ as Imminent Danger and order the owner to raze the said structure within 5 days. If the property owner fails to comply within 5 days, staff is requesting City Council authorization to demolish said structure without further notification to the property owner or City Council action.”
I have no idea whether the building’s structure is safe, because, as of this writing, that has not been determined, and this is the problem with being too hasty about demoing things. If you are interested in making your views heard on this subject, I hope you show up at the meeting. As far as I’m concerned, I hope this building doesn’t end up like South Park High School. And yes, this is the same fate as the Central High School campus. Some of you Facebook keyboard warriors need to realize that this was the sole action of the Beaumont Independent School District and that no other organization can do anything about it. So there you go. Take issue with them.
Well, it’s Father’s Day, and I will end this with a short post from Susie’s weekly letter, dated June 16,1929:
MARY AUTRY HIGGINS came along with the epitaph she found somewhere:
Today is June 2, and I hope you have a plan ready for the next six months. I do because it’s that windy season, and we need to stock up. I’ve loaded up on canned goods, and I have a strategic beer reserve, just in case all hope is lost. The reserve is at 20%, in case you’re wondering. I don’t expect Jim Cantore to show up on my street within the next couple of weeks, but you never know. It will be at 100% the day something is in the Gulf!
I’ve got a complaint, and it’s an expensive one. Yes, it’s the beach road. I love stopping at Whataburger in Winnie when I head down the highway to hell (Interstate 10), but when I want to go to Galveston, I don’t want to be near this highway. It was good when we could travel down Texas State Highway 87. Yes, most of us stopped at McFaddin Beach to enjoy a day of dodging jellyfish and tar balls and eating sandy hotdogs, but we loved driving from Sabine Pass to High Island. Hurricane Chantal wiped out the road in 1989. There was an outcry to build it back, but it has fallen on deaf ears. The powers that be didn’t listen. I will end this discussion by saying that a 20-minute drive is a hell of a lot better than risking your life driving down an interstate that they’ll never finish, then having to drive down Highway 124. Yes, some of the wild mallow hibiscus are nice, but I can do without them. By the way, did you know that hibiscuses belong to the okra family? Or is it the opposite? Okra is just a crappy seed version of a hibiscus flower. You don’t believe me? Just ask the local Aggie weatherman.
June brings many things to me. The first one is my work with regard to what this hurricane season has in store. The second one is Euro 2024. Yep, although this is a blog on Southeast Texas, I can’t abandon my interest in Welsh/English history or my love of real football. This year, you will not hear me hum the sweet tune of “Yma o Hyd” (“We’re Still Here”) by Welsh singer Dafydd Iwan because the Welsh are sitting this one out. Hopefully, the Scotsmen and the Three Lions will have good runs.
Another June project is to work on the Historic Magnolia Cemetery Tour. For those not in the know, we, along with the Jefferson County Historical Commission and Magnolia Cemetery in Beaumont, do an annual cemetery tour the third weekend of October. As always, many of your favorite stories will be mixed in with new historical evidence brought to you by researchers who sometimes work on their topics all year. This year, we are thinking of expanding our Thursday tour. Normally, our tour runs from four to six thirty in the afternoon. Although we would love to move it to a later time, the October darkness creeps off Brakes Bayou, and it’s pitch black around seven. In most cases, this would add to the atmosphere, but there is one big problem lurking in the bayou—mosquitoes! Remember what happened in the movie Ghost when someone evil died? First, there was silence. Then, there was a rumbling. Finally, a massive dark blob enveloped the spirit of the newly deceased and dragged it to the nether regions. That’s similar to what happens with the mosquitoes when you stand in the middle of the cemetery after dark—I digress.
We are aware that those who work usually can’t attend the tour until around five, and that’s fine. We also have a Saturday tour from ten in the morning to two in the afternoon. But we do have some attendees who are retired, and maybe it would be possible to start the Thursday tour at two or two thirty. What say you?
Our tour has many presenters, and there is really no start or ending point other than the sign-up table where you receive your program. Unlike walking tours, where you have to be there at a certain time, you can start whenever you like. This is helpful if you have limited time for your visit to our hallowed ground. However, if you had more time, would you be interested in a walking tour on Thursday? What are your thoughts on this? Email me at rediscoveringsetx@gmail.com, or comment on the Facebook page. Well, that’s about it for this week. I hope to get back to Mrs. Sol Elisha vs. Baseball next time, before all eyes go to Euro 2024 on June 14.
Until next time,
It may be coming home, but I’m not holding me breath! #ThreeLions #42yearsofhurt Never stop me dreaming!
Usually, when I’m spent, I hand the blog over to the reliever Susie, and boy did she give me a rabbit hole to explore this week. I had just finished reading The Wingmen: The Unlikely, Unusual, Unbreakable Friendship between John Glenn and Ted Williams by Adam Lazarus, and I was interested in mentioning Hank Greenberg and other Beaumont Exporters who famously made it to the major league, but then Susie mentioned Mrs. Sol Elisha, and down the rabbit hole I went. I even dragged a couple of other researchers down with me. Although I won’t be getting into the Beaumont Exporters, Hank Greenberg, or the odd couple (Ted and Glenn), I will get into a little bit of the Elishas’ story. Some more will follow next week.
The Elishas lived at 812 Magnolia, right next to Magnolia Park, which opened in 1911. Addresses can change over the years; also, according to Don Streater, a reporter for the Beaumont Enterprise, Piggly Wiggly bought the property in 1939. For researchers, Streater is NOT a source of accuracy. He forgot to mention that in 1929, the Masons bought the property, which was supposed to become a new Masonic temple. Plans change, and to this day, the site is still an empty lot. I’m sure Mrs. Sol Elisha would revel in knowing the absence of people, traffic, and baseballs.
In May 1916, the first lawsuit (for $15,940) was filed against the Beaumont Baseball Club, with Ed Stedman, H. C. Langham, and E. A. Fletcher as defendants. I’m sure some of you can recognize these names. The lawsuit against these property owners and baseball itself did not succeed.
I don’t know if the Elishas’ property was at the back of the home plate and the grandstand (I think it was) or in the homerun derby zone. However, I think they were disgruntled, and they had a good reason to be. Most of their gripes were related to baseballs hitting the roof and windows of their property, as well as other damages. Also, they lived in the same scenario that plagues anyone living near a high school football stadium today—loud, obnoxious fans and lots of people walking down their street. I feel for them, but this article appeared in October 1916. A Quaker Herb Extract advertisement states that this elixir got rid of a 33-foot tapeworm from Mrs. Elisha’s body and that you should buy it for a dollar.
The things you saw in the media in 1916 sucked as much as those in 2024. CHANGE MY MIND!
We’re still looking into the Elishas and this episode in particular, but after all that went on, Mrs. Elisha refused to give the baseballs back, so she accumulated a tub of them. Luckily, Florence did not accumulate the legs, arms, and tonsils thrown out by the new medical clinic built next to her apartments on Magazine Street.
It’s Memorial Day weekend, and I hope you understand what this holiday is all about. It is not about barbecues, beaches, jeeps, and you getting a DWI charge on the peninsula. Memorial Day is a special day that remembers those who died protecting this country and others. Our heroes are scattered in hallowed ground worldwide, and their memory should be preserved.
Here is the origin of the holiday; it goes back to the Civil War. I understand that there were memorials both in the North and the South, but history is mostly written by the victors. Have a safe and happy Memorial Day weekend.
Memorial Day is a time to reflect on peace and remember those who made the ultimate sacrifice in the service of our country. It is a time to honor the dead, but many have forgotten its meaning over the years. Most people see this day as the start of summer and shenanigans such as barbeques, beach outings, and vacations. I guess this is acceptable. But we should not forget that those who we remember on this day played a vital role in retaining the freedoms we still enjoy.
Finding the origins of this holiday should be simple, but it’s easy to get bogged down in different timelines and arguments about which city and state first celebrated the day. Everyone agrees that the first ceremony was held during the American Civil War. At the time, both the South and the North observed their fallen by placing flowers on their graves. Warrenton (Virginia), Savannah (Georgia), and Jackson (Mississippi) are a few places where people publicly expressed their love toward the dead during the war. There is even a story about 10,000 people, including recently freed slaves, who held a parade in honor of 257 Union soldiers who had died in captivity in Charleston, South Carolina.
The official National Decoration Day began on May 5, 1868, when General John A. Logan proclaimed that this date would be observed as a holiday nationwide. According to the US Department of Veterans Affairs (USDVA) website, in 1966, Lyndon B. Johnson declared Waterloo, New York, as the birthplace of Memorial Day because people there honored “local veterans who had fought in the Civil War.” I wouldn’t rely on the USDVA for accurate history. Honor a veteran on Veteran’s Day, and honor the dead on Memorial Day.
There have been many accounts on both sides about when this tradition started; I lean toward the Southern ones. It doesn’t matter if it was Southern women placing flowers on the graves of both Confederate and Union soldiers or 10,000 ex-slaves marching to honor Union soldiers in Charleston, South Carolina. Regardless of the precise scenario, these events happened. A brother against brother war is idiotic; moreover, sisters also died in this Schadenfreude war. Let us not forget this human tragedy.
Rumor is telling it around that some doctors are going to build a clinic right alongside of Stratton’s flat in Magazine street. Della, if this is true I DO hope they won’t throw all amputated legs, arms, tonsils, adenoids and appendixes out of the back window into the front yard of the flat. You know, I’m in debt for that flat. However, that mortgage I have plastered all—over the place may keep this human debris out. Guess I had better ask Miss Pearl Brock—she is the yes-and-no man for the building company.
So with a clinic next door, it looks like I will inherit the burden lifted from Mrs. Sol Elisha’s shoulders when the baseball park was moved. Mrs. Elisha had a tub full of baseballs which had fallen into her yard after inflicting damage to the roof of her home. Well, Della, I’ll promise you not to carry the burden that far. I’m not going to save things in my yard until I get a tubful.
* * *
If I had my druthers, druther build over an old house any time than a new one. How about you? Owen Southwell is rebuilding an old farmhouse out from Atlanta that has a natural stone walk and steps. It’ll have a conference room, too. Owen told me so himself. What is a conference room, Della? Owen’s place has toadstools in the front yard and four huge redwoods at the front gate will give it its name “The Red Woods.”
Owen is a bachelor, girls. Don’t crowd.
* * *
Mr. Fletcher, Mr. Mapes and Mr. Thompson are paying daily visits to the foot of Pearl street in case their Tyler county farms come washing down. I’d suggest they carry along spears and spear them.
* * *
Della, believe it or not, but I played a return engagement in Brazoria county last Sunday and visited the Hogg place, although the Hoggs didn’t know it.
My understanding is the Governor bought the old Patton plantation just about the time he went out of office. The colonial house is situated right on the banks of Varner’s creek. There’s a big bell hanging above the kitchen door and a playful cousin tugged at the bellrope just to see what would happen, she said. She saw. A dog gave us a wicked look. Ditto caretaker. A swell thing to do on an incog trip, being uninvited and all that.
The live oak trees on the lawn are too wonderful for words and I blush to repeat what one of our party said… that I could have the live oaks but he’d take the oil wells.
I have been told that Governor Hogg very greatly admired trees and that he requested to be buried beneath the spreading branches of a pecan. I’m going on believing, Della, that the great pecan grove at his place had as much to do with his purchase as the prospective oil field did.
In the offing there’s a crumbling red brick something. An aunt said it must be an old sugar house. Somebody else opined that ’twas Governor Hogg’s big outdoor bathtub. We didn’t go close enough to investigate.
* * *
Speaking about Brazoria county … I’ve had an answer from one of the owners of grandpa’s old place down there about the plantation bell which I aspire to own. He wrote that he was referring my letter to his partner and while not saying so, I rather think he classed it as a nut request.
And he set me straight too on his name. Earley, NOT Easley. Now, how could he blame me with all tha Easleying and Tabering in the papers?
* * *
A postcard in my mail yesterday was signed informally “Sam,” and gave Cadiz, Spain, as the writer’s next stop. I ran up and down the list of all the Sams I know… Mr. Sam Park, Uncle Sam, Sam Young. Nothing doing. Then I took a look at the postmark and read “Ss. Raleigh.” Sam Waite himself, son of Bob and brother of Bitsie.
Join the navy and see the world, Della.
Sam addressed me as Miss “Francis” Spindletop. Don’t blame Mr. Earley a bit for not letting me have that bell.
* * *
Now, Della, what do you know about me getting a letter from the Bow and Arrow Man of Woodville. He’s on the warpath. It seems, against the slaughter of magnolias. “I am sorry the automobile manufacturer ever found out that magnolia lumber makes good auto bodies,” he wrote. “The Rolls Royce uses ash for its bodies; so why is ash not good enough for the best American cars? Unless some one comes to the rescue of our magnolias, as Colonel Roosevelt did in the case of California’s royal sequoyas, they are doomed.”
All I can say is if the auto makers do damage to the big magnolia in Mr. Tubb’s yard, I’ll take it as a personal matter.
Just as soon as the flood waters abate, I’m off to keep a watchful eye upon it and also visit the Bow and Arrow Man’s archery shop just across the canyon from the grammar school because he promises to show me the finest beech tree in Woodville under which he has his summer work bench, but I notice doesn’t promise to teach me to arch.
* * *
Texas history furnishes two dramas with marvelous possibilities for the screen, according to D. W. Griffith. These are the life of Sam Houston and the battle of San Jacinto. No, three, Della. Mr. Griffith’s attention must be called to the Battle of Montauk Point.
* * *
When Edna Akers moved into her new home, the girls gave her a book shower, How about a ham shower for me?
Talk about tired. I was truly Madeline Kahn tired last week because of the whole rain and power outage thing. To those wondering, our area experienced the solar eclipse late. On Thursday, May 2, at 8:30 a.m. it was pitch black with a tad of green. Then, the hail came. Many certain words were said to the sky that week. Around midnight, we got the power back and prepared for our journey to Galveston. I left home after another lightning storm on Friday afternoon, but to be honest, I had a great weekend. No worries at all, and luckily, all the people I volunteered with on Sunday (most were from Liberty County) were good and made it home safely without the flooding affecting their homes.
As I said last week, it was a joy to see Kathleen Maca before one of her cemetery tours on Friday evening. Also, I’ve never seen the flowers in the Broadway cemeteries so gorgeous. You should add this to your bucket list—yes, both the cemetery tour and seeing the wildflowers at City Cemetery on Broadway Avenue in May!
On Saturday morning, some of us took a walk on the seawall. Afterward, we were supposed to meet at Denny’s for breakfast before taking the Galveston Historic Homes Tour. I left my Airbnb and proceeded to walk a block and a half to Denny’s. When I arrived, there was no Denny’s; instead, there was an empty lot that looked like a demolition site. I guess I need to listen to the news—unfortunately, Denny’s burned down in October last year. So off we went to IHOP near the San Luis Resort.
We took the whole tour on Saturday. There were 11 stops, and we had done 10 by four o’clock. So, after eating our leftovers from IHOP (the omelets are huge) as lunch/dinner, we headed to our final destination, which was the 1883 William L. Moody Building at 2206 Strand. I nearly skipped this part of the tour, not because it wasn’t worth it, but because of Galveston’s parking. Last year, you could park for free on weekends and after six in the Strand district, but they’ve changed this. They’ve doubled the price from $10 to $20 in the parking lots on weekends. I did find a parking lot that claimed you could park all day for $4. The tech wasn’t up to date, but the parking was glorious! Basically, you shove $4 folded in a slot with your parking-space number. Could it be sketchy? Maybe, but I parked, shoved a fiver in the slot, and proceeded to tour the 1883 William L. Moody Building. The parking lot is located at 1916 Postoffice Street, if you dare. I think you’ll be all right.
After visiting the Moody Building, we set off to photograph the USS Texas. The ship is out of the dry dock and currently doing fine in the water at Gulf Copper Ship Yard. It will be there until they build a permanent home for it near Pier 21. This information is both official and nonofficial because the authorities have not yet stated that Galveston will be the ship’s new home. They’ve just put out a drawing of how great its new home will look, and they have said that it will be built near Pier 21. Another advantage of the place where I parked was picking up my pizza from Mama Theresa’s Flying Pizza, which is located just a few blocks from Pier 21. I got everything I wanted for that fiver and more!
When we left the Strand, a few of us wanted to experience the San Luis Resort. I’ve never been. It is a beautiful resort, and it has security. So, seeing the inside might have been a problem. Our plan was to head to the lobby and, if stopped, say that we were there to meet our friends Ruth and Florence Chambers, who were probably running late. (Shout out to the Heritage Society!)
For a second time that day, we parked at IHOP. We did see the lobby. A wedding was going on outside to the right of us, and all the prom photoshoots were happening to the left. Unfortunately, the concrete gun emplacements of the Hoskins battery were off limits to tourists. Oh well, I’m sure the Chambers sisters would not have cared about looking at gun emplacements, but Ruth may not have liked us using their names as references—I digress!
Volunteer Sunday was cloudy and cooler, but at least it didn’t rain as much as it did north of Interstate 10. As I said, all the other volunteers made it home to dry houses in Liberty County. I always enjoy my stint with these folks and the Candy Lady, and I will continue to help as long as she and our group are there.
Since today’s blog is an all-Galveston blog, I want to give a shout-out to blog reader Don Dickerson, who, on Facebook, recommended the podcast Galveston Unscripted. I will provide a link to the podcast’s rebroadcast about the Great Storm of 1900. This is probably the best roundup of what happened before and after the hurricane that you can listen to in under 23 minutes. If you have more time, then read the book Isaac’s Storm: A Man, a Time, and the Deadliest Hurricane in History by Erik Larson. When I first read it, I was not a fan of the meteorologist Isaac Cline, nor am I today. He probably would have fit in at the Weather Channel today, but this book triggered me so much that I added some of his philosophies to my 2013 book Blood of the Innocent. In the book, my character is meeting someone at the Menard House to purchase land in 1875. I’ll let Lady Annabel Falsworth explain my thoughts.
Mr. Stiles, a friend of the Menard family, was just beginning his journey into the world of land brokering and was grateful to have full use of the magnificent house. He felt the environment provided him with the credibility to do business. It was a jewel compared to his modest “two-roomed shack,” as he called it.
“So, Lady Falsworth, Miss Sterling, I do hope you are enjoying our young up-and-coming city by the sea,” Mr. Stiles said in an attempt to draw attention to the island’s attributes.
“Yes, it is a quaint little place, but I don’t know if I would be comfortable living by the sea,” Annabelle responded.
“What do you mean? Living near the water is the best part!” Mr. Stiles feigned astonishment. “There is always a breeze, and a dip into the ocean is most gratifying on a hot summer’s day.”
Annabelle looked at him in a bemused manner. “True, it is definitely wonderful, but I do feel that this area is plagued with storms, is it not?”
“Hmmm. . . We have our fair share of storms of a tropical nature but nothing to worry about. Those that do the most damage tend not to come this far west.”
Annabelle looked at him in disbelief. “Oh? Well, that is good to know. Unfortunately, your brethren in Indianola cannot say the same, can they?”
“Pardon? Oh yes.” Mr. Stiles remembered almost a month to the day that a strong hurricane had blown into Matagorda Bay, Texas, destroying almost the entire port town of Indianola. “Yes, what a terrible and tragic situation,” Mr. Stiles recalled, “but here in Galveston things like that just don’t happen. I believe God shines down on our glorious little city and protects it.”
Annabelle’s smile grew wider on hearing his words. She looked into his eyes mischievously, “Well, if I may give you some advice regarding the future of your glorious little city. Heed this warning and remember those who perished in Indianola, because it may be you who finds yourself in the eye of destruction with no warning or means of escape.” Annabelle paused for a moment and, noticing Mr. Stiles’ blank stare, continued, “Well, enough of that. I believe we shall continue with other business at hand.” She smiled graciously.
The Galveston Historical Foundation’s Historic Homes Tour has finally reached fifty. I’ve been taking and/or volunteering on the tour for at least fourteen years. It is special to me because I love old houses and talking to some of the owners. By simply asking, you can learn about their journeys restoring these precious abodes. They love to talk about their treasures, and I love to listen.
Our journey to Galveston began Friday afternoon, down the beach road to the ferry. After checking into our Airbnb, we headed straight for City Cemetery to photograph the wildflowers. I highly hoped that we could get some good photos this year because of the recent soaking rains, and we were not disappointed! The cemetery looked like a blanket of yellow and red. It was gorgeous. And to make the visit even greater, we bumped into author Kathleen Maca, who was giving one of her cemetery tours that evening. I love these kinds of surprises, especially when they involve good people.
Yesterday, at around two in the morning, a storm popped up and rocked our abode with hail; there was also lightning. So, as you can imagine, everyone was talking about this at our first stop on the tour. The first house was the 1871 Frederick and Minna Martini Cottage at 1217 Market Street. This is where I’ll be today from ten to two in the afternoon, so come by! It is a lovely house and definitely worth a visit. I especially love the office near the front entrance. Note: this was the first of eight homes on the tour where we had to wear booties on our feet. So, keep this in mind. This will slow down the tour, and long lines will occur, but at this house, the lines were fine.
Our next stop was the 1905 Charles Marschner Building at 1914 Mechanic Street. It’s been on the tour before, and the owners did a wonderful job restoring it, but when you are parking in the area, and this also includes the 1883 William L. Moody Building at 2206 Strand Avenue, be aware that parking is NOT FREE on weekends this year. So, it’s probably best to tour these gems later in the day if you also want to shop at the Strand. By the way, the 1883 William L. Moody Building isn’t fully restored yet, but it will be a sight to see and worth a peek.
In my opinion, the 1887 Albert Rakel House at 1808 Postoffice Street is the house to see on this tour, but there were long lines, and booties were worn. This visit had many staircases, but I think it took gold. It also had many restored antique furniture, which looked beautiful. Furthermore, there is a sketch of Old Red, the Ashbel Smith Building at the University of Texas Medical Branch, in the parlor (no one mentioned it, but that’s all right). I get excited when I see things like this.
Next on the list was the 1896 William and Adele Skinner House at 1318 Sealy. This is a wonderful house to tour, and no booties! I volunteered at this house in 2018. It was a day of happiness. I was the gatekeeper on that Sunday of the first week of the tour. I remember the neighbor’s cat being a constant visitor and having lunch while people were waiting to enter the house. He dined on a bird he had caught, which didn’t go down too well with the tourists. I talked to the homeowner next door, and he mentioned that the cat loved to hang out at the church across the street and tour the neighborhood. The next year, we were visiting a home in the same area, and he showed up. I have to admit the animal loves the social life. Unfortunately, the neighbor’s cat was a no-show this year, but I’m sure he was catting around somewhere. Check out the birdhouse in the parlor and the stained glass, and enjoy the air conditioning.
The 1928 Sally Trueheart Williams House at 1616 Broadway had long lines all day. It’s a beautiful house and worth the wait, but booties and no shade create a problem.
The 1888 Alphonse Kenison House at 1720 Avenue K was a gem—no booties, no lines, and just a pleasure to tour. They even had what I call a “ringy thing” attached to the door—it rings when you turn it (others call it a doorbell). I also loved the porch.
There were no lines at the 1859 John Henry Moser Cottage at 1208 Twenty-Fifth Street. We toured it after lunch, so there was less traffic in the area, as well as near the other houses on Avenues P and Q. But let’s not dismiss these properties as places not to see. They were superb additions to the tour.
The 1891 Christian Wolfer Tenant Cottage at 3101 Avenue Q is a nice house. My only beef with it is the photo of the Mexican terrorist Marcos on the wall. I first visited this Green Revival house in 2012, I thought it was nice, and they kept promoting its Leadership in Energy and Environmental Design credentials. This year is much of the same. It’s a short tour, and booties were worn.
The 1839 Samuel May and Sarah Scott Williams House at 3601 Avenue P was interesting because it is the second oldest house in Galveston. Its story is worth your short wait in a shaded, short line. To be honest, as a volunteer on the tour, I can say that this house was made to be included. Perfect shade and the perfect gate for traffic. Stop by the Galveston Historical Foundation’s temporary shop to pick up some of their wares.
The 1929 Edward and Katherine Randall House at 3502 Avenue P is in the process of being restored. This structure is massive. I hope to see this one finished on a future tour.
Well, that’s it. I hope you enjoy the fiftieth anniversary of the Historic Homes Tour in Galveston.
It’s finally upon us. The 50th Annual Galveston Historic Homes Tours is here, and the Galveston Historical Foundation, along with its many volunteers, will be there to guide you, inform you, and hopefully educate you on these precious structures, but please note that there will be delays, long lines, and booties at some of the homes. Which ones, I have no idea, but I’ll definitely get into that on Sunday.
People tend to take this tour in different ways, and I want to help you as much as possible so you can have a wonderful time visiting these treasures. First off, buy your tickets online. Keep them on your phone and/or print them. This should make it easy for you to pick up your tour book/ticket when you are at your first house. It shouldn’t be a secret that credit card machines, and the many gremlins inside their wires, like to screw with this technology. Most of the time it works, but I’ve volunteered for 10 years, so… Also, cash for tickets will be taken, but there will be no cash boxes, so we cannot give change. Keep this in mind. This is a new arrangement, so any disgruntled persons should contact the Galveston Historical Foundation. As a volunteer, I will quote Sgt. Oddball on this: “Don’t hit me with them negative waves.” My animal spirit, Yukari Akiyama (秋山 優花里), backs me up on this.
When taking the Historic Homes Tour, you should have a plan.
1. Each ticket is valid for one visit to every house on both weekends. If you can go both weekends, taking the tour with family and friends is a great experience. However, if you only have one weekend or even only one day, then it is better to take the tour with no more than three people. Long lines can be an obstacle. One year, I took the opening-day tour solo, and there was a point when I passed in front of 14 people because they only had enough room for one more person in the group.
2. Some of the houses are in the same neighborhood, so have a plan to park centrally. You will be able to walk to multiple places without wasting time looking for a parking spot for the various destinations.
3. NO HEELS! I should have put this up top. This is the one thing I’ve never understood. Why would someone wear heels on a home tour that involves walking upstairs and on lovely restored floors? If you do wear heels, you’ll end up walking through some stranger’s house shoeless. There was an instance when a homeowner had their beautiful restored floor damaged by someone who chose not to wear comfortable shoes. The money raised by the tour paid for the floor to be restored again.
4. Booties! Speaking of shoes, it is always inevitable to have one house on the tour that doesn’t want you prancing around in heels or people walking on their newly restored floors. I get it, restoration is expensive! But then why have your home on the tour? Anyway, I digress. This will undoubtedly slow down the people taking the tour. So, you may have to wait some time.
5. It may be better to visit popular homes, such as the cover house, at the beginning of the day, during lunchtime, or close to the last tour (six in the afternoon). I’ve found that these times have fewer lines.
6. Volunteers. Most of the people who check your ticket, sell you the excellent wares that the Galveston Historical Foundation offers, and are stationed throughout the properties are volunteers. This means they are not getting paid. The white shirt–black pants army is there to keep the tour rolling and help you visit these beautiful homes. I say this because when you find yourself in a line, know that most of these people are doing the best they can to give you a great experience.
7. Visit the Old City Cemetery! The wildflowers are lovely and a great photo opportunity for photographers.
8. Make sure to look for the cemetery tours hosted by Kathleen Maca. They sell out fast! The reason is that she is a great storyteller and has written several books on Broadway’s prominent cemetery.
Before I get into this week’s blog, I want to give much credit to my good friend Mr. Don Smart. I’m sure his wife, Darlene (another awesome person in our historical-preservation crew), would agree with me that he goes above and beyond in his research and that he is constantly there if an organization needs a volunteer. Actually, both Don and Darlene are two treasures when it comes to preserving and teaching history!
Last week, during our Lincoln Rest Cemetery cleanup day, Don handed me a DVD of the Texas Historical Commission marker dedication at the World War II prisoner of war (POW) camp in China, Texas, that he filmed in 2000. A while back, he told me that he had footage of the dedication and the person I wanted to see. The person was Hans Keiling, a German tank commander who immigrated to Port Arthur. I posted his story back in 2022, and I will add it to this blog, but there was more information about his journey to Southeast Texas in the video. The footage also mentions letters written by relatives a some who were incarcerated at the China camp and even those who were young when the camp was established and who got to know the prisoners. This was a great video, and I thank Mr. Smart for always bringing these things to light; without his journey into history, a lot would be lost to time. For example, there would have been no video of the marker dedication. I will add that we also wouldn’t know the story of Wong Shu, who we believe is the person who lies under the Chinese stone on the tree line near the bayou at Magnolia Cemetery. It was Mr. Smart’s research on the Beaumont Enterprise that gave us Wong Shu’s story. I’ll leave a link at the bottom of this blog.
Getting back to Hans Keiling and the POW camp dedication, there were three camps in this area—one in Orange County, one in China, and one in Tyrrell Park in Beaumont.
By 1943, the war and its effects had been felt by people throughout the world. This was also true for our brave men and women here in Southeast Texas. Without hesitation, they answered the call of duty on three levels, doing their part in both the Pacific and European theaters as well as on the manufacturing front. Sacrifice and effort were given freely in support of the cause. Because of the need for wartime laborers, other sectors, such as timber and agriculture, suffered.
At the time, the number of German and Italian POWs was increasing, especially in North Africa. The surrender of 150,000 soldiers of General Rommel’s Afrika Korps resulted in their transfer to the United States where they remained incarcerated until the end of the war.
The Geneva Convention of 1929 required that POWs be located in a similar climate to that in which they were captured. This made Texas the ideal place for the Afrika Korps prisoners. At the time, Texas had twice as many POW camps than any other US state. In August 1943, there were 12 main camps, but by June 1944, there were 33. The need to house, feed, and care for these POWs was enormous, but Texas embraced the challenge.
In Southeast and East Texas, the arrival of (mostly German) POWs couldn’t have come at a better time. Smaller camps were erected throughout the region to aid timber and rice farmers. As I stated earlier, three sites—China, Tyrrell Park in Beaumont, and Orange County (off Womack Road)—housed prisoners who worked on the rice farms under the Texas Extension Service of the Texas Agriculture and Mechanical University.
During the camps’ existence, there were escape attempts. This was a significant problem for the sites near the Mexican border, but for the most part, the prisoners spent their time incarcerated without incident. And now for Mr. Keiling’s story.
Hans Max Keiling immigrated from Germany in 1956. His story should be a movie, as he is one of those immigrants who loved this country for its freedom.
Hans was from Frankfurt an der Oder, a German town on the Oder River, near the Polish border. He was drafted into the German army and became a master sergeant and a tank commander at 23. In a few newspaper articles, he stated he only fought the Russians (the Soviets) and never faced the Americans. From what I know of the Russian front, it was a logistic nightmare during which everyone waited for Der Failüre to see how many soldiers would die in order to hold at all costs some land they shouldn’t have taken in the first place. Keiling did his duty, but when the Germans surrendered, he didn’t want to surrender to the Soviet Army because he would have been executed. He stayed in an American camp for two days. However, he was turned over to the Soviets because of an agreement the Americans had with them to transfer prisoners who fought against either army. So, Keiling was handed to the Soviets, but without his uniform that showed he was an SS tank commander. He was put in a labor camp near Stalingrad, where he spent three and a half years working in a coal mine 14 hours a day.
In 1948, some of the POWs who had special training were sent to East Germany to train “police forces.” Keiling said he had to choose between staying in the coal mine, where he could perish any day, and going to East Germany. He chose the latter, signing an agreement under pressure from the KGB.
Keiling became a special-weapons training officer at the “police academy,” but he soon “found out that this training had nothing to do with police work.” Germany was secretly working to establish a new army, although prohibited from doing so under its terms of surrender.
Still, Keiling said he had no choice in the matter. One night in 1950, while walking to the post office, he was kidnapped by two KGB officers and was jailed for six months, during which he received monthly “hearings.” He was then sentenced to 10 years in a slave-labor camp. He was sent to a coal mine in Vorkuta, Siberia, 80 miles above the Arctic Circle. Each day, he marched three miles from the barracks to the coal mine, with the temperature usually around 45 degrees below zero. He was released when Stalin died in March 1953, but he remained in custody in the USSR. While being transported back to East Germany, he escaped to West Berlin.
In 1954, he settled in West Germany, where he met the niece of Bruno Shulz, the man who founded Gulfport Shipyard in Port Arthur. Keiling was finally able to emigrate from Germany in 1956. He moved to Texas and worked for Shulz, managing a trailer park he owned in Kerrville and working on his ranch in Comfort. It was in Texas that Keiling learned to speak English, in part from television. Keiling worked for Schulz until the latter’s death in 1981. Then, he moved to Port Arthur, where he worked as a security guard until 1984. Afterward, he moved to Temple and back to Port Arthur.
Hans passed in 2008, and he currently rests in Magnolia Cemetery in Beaumont, near fallen Beaumont police officer Paul Hulsey, who ended his watch in March 1988. This is another tale from that hallowed ground I may get into someday.
This week may be short and sweet because my granddaughter, Erzsébet, is running rampant in my office. I guess I should have nicknamed her Erwin, as in Erwin Rommel, instead of Erzsébet, because the blitzkrieg is strong with this two-and-a-half-year-old. I will also admit that her sword skills (with a plastic knife) have improved thanks to her father (a marine) and that her banzai charges have also gotten better (thanks to me) since her last visit—but I digress!
Yesterday, a few of us at the Jefferson County Historical Commission (JCHC) started a project that was a long time in the making. Before I get into our plans, I will tell you a little bit of the history of what I will call the Lincoln Rest Cemetery Project.
Back in 2012, when I joined the JCHC, I learned of an abandoned cemetery on Labelle Road. The then cemetery chair said in a meeting that she tried to enter the grounds, but the trees and the underbrush were too thick to penetrate. So here I go, a couple of weeks later, armed with a line trimmer, a hedge trimmer, and loppers. It took me two hours to make it to the first crypt, but it was the beginning of a twelve-year (and counting) journey. That day, I discovered that some of the crypts were broken. I found out later that a group of teenagers from Beaumont vandalized this cemetery in 1967. This was the first detail I learned of the cemetery, but why did it become abandoned?
Initially, we called this the Broussard Cemetery, but after doing some research, we realized that it was the Lincoln Rest Cemetery, a burial site for low-income people used between 1930 and 1950. It has been abandoned ever since. The county did a cleanup a few times through the years, but there is no overseer of this hallowed ground. The last cleanup was in 2015, and they did a great job clearing three acres of what is an eleven-acre cemetery. At the time, the public was watching. They saw a crew working in an old cemetery and blue tarps put down over the damaged and broken crypts. So, some of you called KBMT News, saying that there were people removing bodies. They weren’t, but KBMT came out and discovered the rub of the situation.
One great thing from this episode was that a man named Cleveland Dyer, a World War II navy veteran, saw the KBMT News broadcast and contacted the program because his dad was buried in the cemetery. He was ninety-seven years old at the time and had been trying to clean around his father’s crypt through the years. In 2015, he visited the cleared cemetery, pointed out his father’s crypt, and made sure we knew about it.
One problem we’ve had with identifying the crypts and graves is that we have a map of the cemetery but no names, and since this is an abandoned burial ground with no headstones, we have no information on its residents. We found one headstone in the three acres that were cleared, and it belonged to Uncle Ed Jones, who died in 1930. I would assume that one of the workers laid the stone on Mr. Dyer’s crypt during the cleanup, and yes, we thought that was where Mr. Jones was buried, but thanks to Cleveland Dyer, we now know that this is not the case. Also, we found the base of a headstone that is the perfect size for Mr. Jones’s tombstone, so that was also a win.
Since the 2015 cleanup, we’ve had floods, COVID-19, and many other issues that have meant this cemetery hasn’t been cared for as it should, but there is hope. A few individuals seem to want this hallowed ground cared for. Cleveland Dyer passed in 2018, and I have the recording of the oral-history interview we did with him the day he set foot in the cleared cemetery where his father is interred. When you hear his voice, you can feel his determination to keep his father’s resting place tidy.
We began cleaning the cemetery on Saturday; we mowed the trails to the crypts and got rid of some of the brush around them. We are not done—by any means—but it’s baby steps in a major project. If you would like to get involved and volunteer on this project, email me at rediscovingsetx@gmail.com
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