The website is called Rediscoveringsetx, and my weekly blog is entitled Thoughts and Ramblings. The blog goes live at 12:15 a.m. central time, while the Facebook post is scheduled for 7 a.m. each Sunday. Everything has been relatively fine since I started blogging weekly eighteen months ago. So, I have no idea why my scheduled Facebook posts disappeared last week. It may have been a technical problem, but given that a lot of BS goes into scheduling a Facebook post, everything should work. If it doesn’t, what are the other options? A newsletter? Maybe, but I would have to find a mechanism not to show the email addresses of all subscribers. I subscribe to a few newsletters, but I don’t like the type of situation where someone can see all the emails and go rogue to promote their own agenda. Anyway, how many of you read your emails? Maybe 10 percent? Going forward, I will copy and paste the blog to this godforsaken network until it makes my unpaid job harder, then I’ll cease to exist. And that’s all right—but I digress.

Did I read the calendar right? Yes, I did! And the veil is thinning. I hope your trick or treat doesn’t involve Nineteenth Street in Port Arthur or the Church of Port Arthur, as I’ve already gone into the details of my childhood. Many churches give out candy and usually call it “trunk or treat.” I guess it’s better than getting candy from an unmarked van. But we did trick or treat along Nineteenth Street; we grabbed as much candy as possible, and no one worried about razor blades in the wrappers. Well, my dad did, but he ate the suspected candy nonetheless. We didn’t die, so I guess it was okay.

I also remember October being CavOILcade month. In my days, the fair/festival part of it was held in Pioneer Park (near Saint Mary’s Hospital). I can’t talk about the parade part because I don’t do parades. Never have and never will. The early history of this event goes back further than what the CavOILcade website states. This celebration began on May 18, 1912, when it was known as Gate’s Day—that is, the birthday of John “Bet-a-million” Gates. Gates died in Paris, France, in August 1911, and the city made this a holiday out of respect for the family. If you know the history of how Port Arthur actually became a city, then you know that Mr. Gates kicked old Arthur “All-hat-and-no-cattle” Stilwell out of his own railroad company and funded most of this city’s beginnings. (Okay, I’ll give old Arthur kudos for hiring his brownies—the Wiess brothers—to show him where to build his port.) Nothing about this was paranormal. Just a shyster trying to outshyster the Kountze brothers. And yes, I spelled Wiess right! The link to this story is at the bottom of the blog.

Charles Gates, the family’s oldest son, chartered a train to Port Neches Park to host a free picnic for all the children in Port Arthur. Gate’s Day lasted for several years, peaking in 1918 when the Gates Memorial Library was dedicated. (The library opened on December 1, 1917.) The holiday was stopped in 1921 at the family’s request.

The first CavOILcade was held in 1953. If you check on the event’s website, its origins lie in the fiftieth anniversary of Port Arthur (1948). Many festivities followed, and a Port Arthur News editor asked, “Why can’t we do this every year?” So, a new festival was born for the city that “oiled the world.” Now it is a pageant. I have no idea what that involves, but there are tiaras at the end of the day. Congratulations!

In honor of the spooky season, I’ll begin with Mid County’s favorite legend. I wrote “The Legend of Sarah Jane Road” in 2012; since then, it has been my most viewed post every year. I think we all have stories from this dark, twisty road, and I would like to hear yours. What say you?

Until next week, here is the full blog and our trick-or-treating adventures on Nineteenth Street in Port Arthur.

Legend of Sarah Jane Road

Most people who have grown up in the mid and south Jefferson County have heard at least one version of the legend of Sarah Jane and the lowly road that it’s attached to. I remember riding the darkened road myself many times in the 1980s. I even fished from the bridge during a dark and foggy night. So, what did I see? (He paused to entice the reader before modestly stating that the author saw nothing of substance.) We will however delve into that a bit later.

So who was Sarah Jane, and what are the legends surrounding this ghost road? In one version, on a moonlit night, you may see her ghostly apparition searching the marsh and thicket for her baby who drowned in the murky waters of the Neches River.

Other versions include Sarah Jane as a lady pirate (or Lafitte’s girlfriend). In a further account, she was attacked by a group of bandits, so she placed her child in some weeds near the bridge. When it was safe, she returned for the child—but it was gone. It somehow got into the canal and disappeared.

The story I know is as follows: Sarah Jane was crossing the bridge of the canal when she accidently dropped her baby in the water. Try as she did, she could not save her child, and it drowned. Distraught about losing her child, Sarah Jane hung herself from a huge oak tree further up the road from the bridge.

There are many renditions of this story, but whichever version I read, I inevitably uncover a big problem with the historical accuracy. I am not saying that something isn’t afoot along the Neches—I just don’t think it was with Sarah Jane. Union soldiers were never in Grigsby’s Bluff (Port Neches), which another version implies. In this report, Sarah Jane hears there are Union soldiers making their way toward her cabin, so she puts her baby in a wicker basket under a wooden bridge before fleeing the area. Later, when she returns, the basket and the baby are gone. (Please note that this area, in the past, present, and future has been, is, and will be known to have alligators frequenting its waterways. To put anything remotely fleshy in a waterway is therefore not advisable.)

In an article by Carl Cunningham Jr. in the Mid County Chronicle dated October 28, 1998, the author asserts in an interview with W. T. Block (whose family owned a lot of the land in this area) that a reporter from the Port Arthur News made the connection to his mother’s name (Sarah Jane Block) and the dark spooky road, and so the legend began.

As I said, I spent many a night on both the road and the bridge but never saw anything of substance—except for one night. Three friends and I had decided to drive down Sarah Jane Road to see what we could see, or at least scare the hell out of the couple making out on the parked motorcycle we encountered while driving with the headlights off. (Thank you, Bryan, for warning them of our impending appearance with your rendition and re-enactment of the laugh from the movie “Gremlins.”)

Just before our encounter with the Harley lovebirds, I looked into the trees and noticed a faint ball of light shooting across the tree line. I immediately asked another friend Hector if he’d seen it.

“Uh yeah,” he had said nervously.

Replaying the scene in my mind, I do not think the light in question was of a paranormal nature. But I cannot figure out what it actually was. Possibly a type of swamp gas that most hauntings are blamed on. It could have been, but we did not investigate further. I will also add that there was no alcohol involved on this day on my part or any of the others.

In the following weeks, a few friends (including Hector) also took a ride to the bridge. This time, my friend Hector decided to be belligerent toward whatever could be lurking in the darkness. At about this same moment, the fog began to roll in swiftly. Disheartened and a touch spooked by the sudden appearance of the fog, Hector returned to the safety of the car, and they quickly retreated. As they drove away, the storyteller told me that the fog seemed to keep up with them. (Note: The storyteller had not partaken of any alcohol, but I can neither confirm nor deny Hector’s involvement with the beverage that night. I will say however that this was the last time Hector was aggressive toward a ghostly legend.)

For me, the question of whether or not Sarah Jane haunts the lowly road between Groves and Port Neches is still unanswered, but with this area’s history, there are other possible players in the saga. North of the road, there were six Indian burial mounds, all standing 20 ft high, 60 ft wide, and 100 yards long. (Note: All the mounds were destroyed by the year 1900 for various reasons.) Indians have a rich history in this area and their set of own legends to boot.

(See Legend of Kisselpoo.)

https://www.rediscoveringsetx.com/2012/08/31/legend-of-kisselpoo/

Therefore, in closing, if one ever finds oneself traveling down the dark and winding Sarah Jane Road, I would refrain from yelling out profanities because you never know who or what might be listening.

Halloween on 19th st in Port Arthur

When I was growing up, October was special to me. Not only is it my birth month, but it was also a time of great joy. CavOILcade was still something to look forward to, and toward the end of the month we would always anticipate trick-or-treating down 19th Street with keen enthusiasm.

I vaguely remember my sisters telling ghost stories in the living room. (Does anyone remember the man with the golden arm?) Just when the spooky part would happen, Tiger, our cat, would jump up onto the air-conditioning window unit outside and scare the hell out of us. I loved that cat!

Trick-or-treating was special. We would walk down 19th Street to the train bridge, knocking on doors and waiting excitedly for our treats. Of course, not everyone enjoyed this time. There was that fly-by-night church (if I recall correctly, it was called the Church of Port Arthur) where some kid who looked to be 10 years old yelled at us that we were all going to hell. I promptly responded, “And a fun time we will have!” He didn’t respond. I guess that was the only thing he had been taught to say.

For the most part I did have a good time haunting 19th Street in my cheap Casper costume. I will say though that that damned rubber band on the bargain-basement mask never lasted the whole night, but it made it as far as the house where candy was consumed with great relish. I guess in all honesty I wasn’t a friendly ghost. Just ask the 10 year old at the Church of Port Arthur.

I also remember this was the time when there were stories of some candy being tainted with horrible things, such as razor blades. My father was first to make sure that the candy was safe and edible. Of course he took it upon himself to eat each candy where the wrapper had been slightly disturbed. Even at a young age I could figure this ploy out.

Halloween was special while I was growing up. We had fun in somewhat dark times, but all in all, it was a joyful time in my life, and now I would like to commemorate those who made this time a hoot! Even that poor 10 year old. I hope that in his later years he found greater happiness than that derived from yelling at children who were looking for candy.

Mark Wiess, Not Brownies, Told Stilwell Where to Build

By Judith Linsley:

https://www.sfasu.edu/heritagecenter/9328.asp

CavOILcade: https://cavoilcade.com/

John W. Gates:  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Warne_Gates