I’ve had quite a few days off work these past few weeks. I mentioned last week that I couldn’t attend the Wings Over Houston airshow because I was having an ongoing issue with my landing gear. It’s nothing major; I just have a problem walking on uneven ground and long distances. This is a problem at Ellington field, and I knew there was no way I could get around without a golf cart. (Shout out to Magnolia Cemetery for providing golf carts for our tour two weeks ago because I was in the same predicament.)
This week I’ve been going through my books, etc., as part of a fall clean. There are a few books that I’ve purchased at estate sales just to save them, and Friday I decided to donate a few to the Tyrrell Historical Library and our own Jefferson County Historical Commission’s library. The American Heritage books found a good home at Tyrrell library, while the East Texas Historical Journal I purchased years ago went to the JCHC. There are a lot of good articles in these publications, and I copied the good stuff because that’s what you do when doing research. You are a researcher first and not an investor. Copies are best, although I cherish my autographed copy of the Story of Beaumont by Florence Stratton.
It’s that spooky time of year again. I did see the video and Beaumont Enterprise article of Tessa Noble’s journey down Bragg Road. That road is definitely spooky, and there is a light, but what it is I don’t know. Back in the 1980s, I investigated what, but my findings were inconclusive, as you can see in the article below, where I wrote about my experiences.
My last venture into the spooky realm might have been eerie, but Bragg Road has always been much more so, mainly because I have seen the light, so to speak. In the late 80s, a few friends and I frequented the sandy eight-mile road, which runs between Highways FM 787 and FM 1293 near the town of Saratoga. Located in the heart of the Big Thicket, one could definitely lose oneself in the pitch blackness of the forest. Except for the single light that mysteriously shines on occasion. But what is this all about? Let’s delve into the history of this lonely road.
In 1902, the Santa Fe railroad cut a line through the dense thicket between Saratoga and Bragg. These tracks were needed for hauling oil from the Saratoga oilfields, along with logs and cattle. For a long time, just one trip per day to Beaumont and back seemed to be enough to progress this wilderness into civilization. However, perhaps inevitably, the wilderness won, and the city of Bragg is all but forgotten.
In 1934, the tracks were removed, leaving behind a sandy road, which was used mostly by hunters who inadvertently kept the thicket from reclaiming it. It was around this time that some began seeing a strange light. (Note: In the book, Tales from the Big Thicket by Francis E. Abernethy, there was one sighting of the light even before the tracks were removed.)
So, what is behind this strange light that has been seen for nearly 80-plus years? The most common story is that a railroad man was decapitated in a train wreck, so now he holds a lantern high while he looks for his head. Other explanations include a Mexican cemetery where a foreman, rather than pay his road crew, killed them, and kept the money. They were swiftly buried. Now, their restless spirits haunt the road.
Whatever the source, there is a light on that darkened stretch. Skeptics will tell you that it is a reflection from car lights, but that would not explain the earlier sightings when there were few cars traveling down or near the road. Furthermore, the old Model T’s headlights wouldn’t have shined brightly enough. Another possibility is swamp gas. I could entertain this theory because of an investigation I was part of 25 years ago.
In the late 80s, I made numerous trips to Bragg Road. The first was a day trip, and my friends Bryan and Hector tagged along. I only mention this because, after being unsuccessful in identifying the road, we stopped at a store in Saratoga where Hector asked a lady where Bragg Road was. She explained how to get there and asked why we were looking for the road. Without pause, Hector explained we were going to a friend’s house that was located on the road. The lady grinned and wished us well. We found the road and traveled down all eight miles without ever seeing a house or any sign of life. We had a good laugh over this.
My second trip down Bragg Road was a night-time journey alone. On that trip, I saw nothing, only the blackness of the thicket. Fortunately, my next jaunt into the forest with friends paid off, and we saw the light. When standing on the tracks, it looked like an oncoming train. However, much as we tried, we could never get close to it. The light would flicker and then disappear.
On another occasion, Paul Newman (note: not the actor turned racecar driver turned salad-dressing king) and I undertook an investigation to find out just what the light was. We started by removing all evidence of tire tracks at the entrance to the sandy road, followed by all three turnarounds. We figured that if we saw a light, then we would have some idea if it were from a vehicle traveling down the road or something else. As the night progressed, we saw the light several times, but only one vehicle, other than ours, passed down the road. We checked each turnaround and found only one set of tracks. Our investigation ended without a clear answer as to the source of the light, or if it were indeed paranormal. However, we concluded that the light, at the very least, was not from a vehicle.
Usually, when I go down that road, I see the light, except on nights when there is a full moon. Although the light seems to be far off, I have talked to people who know people who have seen the light close up. Sadly, I have never personally met anyone who has done so, and I have not been privileged to witness it in close proximity. So, please take the last statement as is.
If you’re ever along the FM 787 or FM 1293 and want a thrill, just turn onto that dark sandy road. You may just see that ghostly train headlight coming toward you. And what a sight it will be.
Tessa Noble’s experience:
A brand-new historical marker from the Texas Historical Commission will be dedicated next Saturday November 9 at 2240 Calder Ave in Beaumont. Some might know this address as the Chambers House Museum. You would be right! My favorite historic house in Beaumont is getting state recognition, as it should. The Chambers House began my journey into Southeast Texas history (SETX) in 2012 and love the family’s history. Thanks to the Jefferson County Historical Commission and the Beaumont Heritage Society for this. The dedication ceremony will take place from 10 a.m. to 11 a.m. Hope to see you there!
Seventy years ago today, Godzilla ゴジラ` first appeared on the big screen. Thanks to director Ishirō Honda and special effects master Eiji Tsuburaya, this franchise would span the globe for seven decades. The story of the King of the Monsters has changed through the years, but there has always been a constant flow of movies from the Toho Co., Ltd. In Japan, they produced thirty-three epic films, and as a fan of Kaijū (Strange Beast) movies, I tend to look upon these movies with fond memories.
As a child, I grew up watching Captain Kangaroo, The Electric Company, and Sesame Street (Shout out to Bunny Rabbit, Morgan Freeman, and Oscar the Grouch!), but Ultraman was my go-to. Yes, the monsters in both the Godzilla films and Ultraman were in rubber suits, and there was a lot of tin foil worn, but this was something that I couldn’t get enough of. Today, I still consider the Toho Co. films to be better than Hollywood’s take on Godzilla. Of course, the newer films have CGI, and to the eye, they are way better, but…
Godzilla was never a friend to humanity. Mothra was, but we will discuss this at a later date. From the first film in 1954, Godzilla came to destroy humanity as it knew it. Probably the best movie of the franchise was released last year: Godzilla Minus One ゴジラ-1.0マイナスワ told the origins of how the monster came to be and the postwar trauma of a country that was lied to by the government and suffered the realities of its actions. Godzilla was the boogie man ready to strike, per se, and a constant reminder to those who lived through postwar Japan and watched the early films.
Happy Godzilla Day!
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