Category Archives: Florence Stratton

Thoughts and Ramblings: It Sucks Getting Old; Donating History; Legend of Bragg Road; Chambers House is Getting a Historical Marker; Godzilla

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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:

https://www.beaumontenterprise.com/entertainment/article/discover-haunted-saratoga-light-texas-s-bragg-road-19873849.php?fbclid=IwY2xjawGSbq5leHRuA2FlbQIxMQABHQhWc84Q6A6bwnqx3WQVy7xQEJz9JGkehCDorGFSRUAbBIK05GUYdEFtfA_aem_Q4H9-9QKe8gmkmaG2k0rww

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!

Thoughts and Ramblings: Baseball; Tapeworms, Mrs. Sol Elisha, and Memorial Day

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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.

As we remember, so shall we honor.

Until next week!

          Susie Spindletop’s Weekly Letter :

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Dear Della:

      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.

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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?

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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.

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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.

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When Edna Akers moved into her new home, the girls gave her a book shower, How about a ham shower for me?

Yours for more and bigger showers,                                             SUSIE.

                                             So wrote Susie, May 19, 1929

                                             Until next week!

About Florence Stratton, aka Susie Spindletop:

A brief History of Florence Stratton part1
A brief History of Florence Stratton part2

Thoughts and Ramblings; Eclipse; An Exit Plan; Scarlet O’Hara’s Younger Sister, and the Museum of the Gulf Coast are Awesome; 2024 Hurricane Forecast, and More on the 50th Annual Galveston Historical Homes Tour .

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I hope everyone got a peek at the solar eclipse on Monday. It was cloudy here, so there was a filter effect, and you could actually get a photo or two from a regular camera. I took a few cell phone photos. I’m not that into photographing the sun. In contrast, I will go to great lengths to get a shot of a lunar eclipse. I have a few on my Flickr page. I’ll leave the link to it at the bottom of the blog.

For the past 12 months, I’ve been going through some things I’ve collected over the years, and I feel that some of this stuff needs a home now. Other things, such as the regional history books, need an exit plan—my exit plan, to be blunt. I have a considerable number of books on the history of Southeast Texas (SETX), and although most of them do not have monetary value, the references they contain are priceless for researchers, and they eventually will need homes.

My research on SETX history and my twelve years of researching Florence Stratton are in good hands. This data shouldn’t be lost because it is currently held by multiple people and a few organizations. History should be available to everyone; it should not be locked up! For the most part, this blog and its Facebook page have sought to uncover little-known SETX stories and facts. I’ve tried to show the glory of these stories because I think that they are as good as any well-promoted celebrity in our area who has a billboard dedicated to them stating “X lives in our museum.”

On a side note, I know a celebrity who doesn’t live in a museum, although part of her is in a genie lamp interred in one. That would be Scarlet O’Hara’s younger sister, and she is as awesome as the museum. I’ll leave the links at the bottom of the blog, and I will state that the Museum of the Gulf Coast is a top-notch museum, which you must visit!

Not to cause alarm, but those weather people are getting a bit giddy. No, not the ghost-hunting weather people in our area, which I wrote about in October, but those folks who think that weather forecasting should always be dramatic. Hell, they even name snowstorms now! Apparently, we are supposed to run out of names for tropical storms during this season. If that’s the case, then I hope they add phi, slama, and jama from the Latin alphabet (a couple of these characters may or may not be in the Latin alphabet). A friend at the University of Houston suggested that I recommend these names. Sometimes, I question her input concerning facts.

Honestly, I do believe that if I ever see Jim Cantore in my area, I will run like hell. He has a bit more cred than anyone at WeatherNation. I only know about this channel because I had Dish during Hurricane Laura, and they were reporting “from Lake Charles, Texas.” It’s not that I put the Weather Channel on a pedestal, but WeatherNation is its Dollar Tree version, if you see what I mean.

The 50th anniversary of the Galveston Historic Homes Tour is a few weeks away, and I acknowledge that I am a bit dizzy because of this tour. I kind of know where some of the ghosts are hiding, but they will not be on the tour, and as volunteers, we do not talk about such things. If you want to talk about such things, you can hit me up while I’m standing in the line on Saturday, May 4, as I will be taking the tour. Alternatively, you can ask the expert, Kathleen Maca, and take one of her tours. Whether it’s a Galveston cemetery tour or learning about ghosts on the strand, she is the best when it comes to Galveston history and those stories you can’t find anywhere else. I’ll leave a link to her tour schedule.

Today, I smelled summer, or at least I smelled May. The ligustrums are beginning to bloom, which is lovely for me but a death knell for those of you with allergies. I refuse to quote Lynyrd Skynyrd, but “Ooh, that smell!” Growing up, I loved the smell of ligustrums in the morning, at noon, and during the night. Unfortunately, one of my siblings is not too keen on this hedge, and she’s a step away from the ER if she goes near it. I’ll just state that I love ligustrums, but it’s bad when you invite people over for a garden party and the heads of half of your peeps explode.

Most people know that I don’t have garden parties, and if I did, I would have cetirizine as an appetizer.

Since it’s the 50th anniversary of the Galveston Historic Homes Tour, I will insert a few additions to this blog from the early days. Looking back, I’ve blogged, promoted, and taken the tour since 2012. I love the tour, and I treasure the Candy Lady, whom I volunteer with. I will also state that the homes are haunted. As far as the Galveston Historical Foundation goes, I’ll give them a positive nod and say that they have rid themselves of the parasites who used to run what was a dog-and-pony show. The tour is now a decent event to visit and volunteer for. I hope to see you on the tour on May 4 and at the 1871 Frederick and Minna Martini Cottage on 1217 Market Street on Cinco De Mayo!

Rediscoveringsetx Flickr: https://www.flickr.com/photos/25032584@N05/albums

Museum of the Gulf Coast: https://www.museumofthegulfcoast.org/

Evelyn Keyes:

Tales From Hallowed Ground: Evelyn Keyes

2024 Hurricane Forecast:

https://weather.com/storms/hurricane/news/2024-04-04-hurricane-season-outlook-april

44th Historic Homes Tour (Flickr photos):  https://flic.kr/s/aHsmj557xC

39th Historic Homes Tour:

39th Annual Galveston Historic Homes Tour

Thoughts and Ramblings: Middle Passage Marker; 50th Anniversary Historic Homes Tour; So Said Susie on Easter Sunday

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There’s a new marker in Martin J. Popeye Holmes Park in front of the sub-courthouse. It was installed and dedicated last Saturday by the African American Cultural Society and the Middle Passage Ceremonies and Port Markers Project. The marker states that its purpose is to “Commemorating the Lives of African Ancestors Who Perished During the Middle Passage and Those Who Survived and Were Transported Through Sabine Pass, Texas” (1817–1837).

Seeing the wording of the marker makes more sense to me now because I heard in November that the organizations wanted to put up a marker in Port Arthur. It makes sense that it was a passage through Sabine Pass because, at that time, there was no Port Arthur, nor any other town or port existing on the northern banks of Lake Sabine. The township of Aurora came later, but it was wiped out by the hurricane of 1886.

To my knowledge, slave traders, such as Jean Lafitte, usually used the land where the city of Prairie View (Bridge City) would develop, and around Deweyville, on the Sabine River. For those not in the know, yes, Jean Lafitte was a slave trader. I guess that changes your search for his treasure—I digress. Note, I’m not a fan of anything French, especially if they’re running slave ships for the Spaniards—my twenty-four percent Spanish ancestry digresses as well.

According to their Facebook page, the Middle Passage Ceremonies and Port Markers Project was supposed to dedicate this marker on December 1, but I’m sure things happen, like markers not being ready at the foundry. I’m not in the know, but it’s up and in a good place to see it. I will add a link to the Port Arthur News article written by Mary Meaux. I also want to add this quote by Gail Pellum, president of the African American Culture Society: “You can’t let [history] go. If you don’t learn from it, you will repeat it and it will not be good on either side.”

As someone interested in many histories, this is the truest quote that you will hear. This is why it is important to remember all histories and learn from the past, as there are those who will try to repeat it.

The Galveston Historical Foundation finally released the addresses of this year’s 50th Historic Homes Tour. I, for one, am ecstatic to see a home on the tour that I volunteered at in 2018. It was the cover house that year, and according to the owner, it’s haunted, but don’t tell the GHF because they don’t like people talking about that—or so I was told a few years ago. It was also the house where the neighbor’s cat used to hang out on Sunday mornings in the nice Catholic church (which looks like a mosque) and then look for dinner. That year, he hung out in the front yard and dined on a bird that he’d caught. I can’t say it was much fun for the lines of people waiting to enter the house. I saw him the following year on the tour, as there was a house on the tour about a block away. He certainly got around and loved the attention.

All the houses look great, and I’m ready to tour these gems. I am also ready to volunteer! I will be at the 1871 Frederick and Minna Martini Cottage at 1217 Market Street on the first Sunday, so stop by! I hope to see you there. The Galveston Historical Foundation is always looking for volunteers, so if you think you might be interested in volunteering for this tour or other projects they have going on, I’ll leave a link at the bottom of this blog.

It’s Easter Sunday, and I hope you and your peeps are doing well. As a closer, I’ll let Susie Spindletop finish the blog, as she knows she has to carry me sometimes. Who does that better? Well, Susie, of course!

                                                   March 28, 1932

OLD-TIME Easter in Beaumont meant seeing Mrs. Messenger drive in from Rosedale with her buggy filled with dogwood, honeysuckle and palmettoes to trim St. Mark’s church. One year Mrs. Messenger created a sensation by managing to get a calla lilly to bloom in time for Easter.

Dr. Messenger was the rector who held the service here one Sunday and in Orange the next. He swelled his salary by raising fine fruit.

                                *                                       *                                    *

NOW, Della, did you ever hear of live chickens being party favors? I didn’t either until I learned that Elizabeth Tyrrell gave them away at her Easter party. Ann Page Carey named hers Susie. Thank you, Ann Page.

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Did I tell you that I hear that Lois Cunningham has bought the C. F Graham senior house corner of McFaddin and Fifth? Ruth and I.D. Polk are living there now, but some day I predict Mrs. Cunningham and Lois will move in.

When I first came to Beaumont it was the A.L. Williams home.

                                          March 28, 1937

Easter gives us one diversion. Instead of arguing over which came first, the hen or the egg—we can switch off to the rabbit and the egg!

                                   *                            *                            *

Every Easter brings forth a different egg. Just a few years ago everybody speculated on what the minister’s wife was going to wear Sunday, or what tie Mr. Flapjacks would sport. Then came the day of movie stars and they do some strutting for they don’t have to depend on papa or hubby to open up diplomatic relations with the milliner and dress maker.

Take Constance Worth featured in “China passage” falls for sport effect with a little Juliet cap of bright colored raffia instead of sports hat with her simple silk, which is belted in braided Raffia.

Remembering the late news from Ethiopia with Ras this and Ras that we should change raffia to raf.

Della, I had to stop here to keep all these dress names from driving me to the tung nut house.

 *                         *                             *

Today, Easter will be exactly 12 hours and 23 minutes long. You spend 12 hours dolling up to show off 23 minutes.

SUSIE.

Port Arthur News: Middle Passage Marker

Middle Passage Marker in Port Arthur commemorates ancestors, provides history of local slave trade

Jean Lafitte:

https://www.battlefields.org/learn/biographies/jean-lafitte

50th Historic Homes Tour:

Galveston Historic Homes Tour

Galveston Historical Foundation Volunteer Opportunities:

GHF Volunteer Opportunities

Florence Stratton (Susie Spindletop):

It’s International Women’s Day; Nachthexen; Boudica; The Trung Sisters; Jane Long; Catherine Magill Dorman

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It’s International Women’s Day, so I can cross borders with my regional blog. (I don’t make the rules!) Florence Stratton, the Beaumont newspaper journalist who wrote for both the Enterprise and the Journal, crossed borders in 1920 with her best friend Willie Cooper-Hobby and her husband, Texas Governor W. P. Hobby. They went to Mexico to see Álvaro Obregón Salido being sworn in as the country’s nuevo presidente. Florence had a knack for mingling, but it was done on Willie’s tab at first, or should I say on that of Sam Bronson Cooper, Willie’s father. He was a congressman, which is why his daughter Willie and her friend Florence went to Washington DC to do socialite things, such as going to a party at the White House in 1908. I should also state that thanks to Sam Cooper, Beaumont has a deep-water port. I’ll leave a link in Sunday’s blog.

Nachthexen

During World War II, the Night Witches emerged as a formidable force in the Soviet Union’s 588th Night Bomber Regiment. Made up entirely of women, this courageous regiment struck fear into the hearts of its Nazi adversaries. Operating obsolete biplanes under the cover of darkness, they executed daring bombing raids, relentlessly harassing German troops on the eastern front. Flying low to avoid detection, they faced constant danger from enemy fire. Despite the odds, the Night Witches displayed unparalleled bravery and resilience, and their stealthy, lethal attacks earned them their nickname. Their extraordinary feats continue to inspire awe and admiration, and they highlight the indomitable spirit of women in wartime. I will also add that Yevdokiya Yakovlevna Rachkevich traced the regiment’s path during the war and managed to locate the remains of some of the women who were listed as missing in action so that they could receive proper burials.

Boudica

Boudica, the Celtic warrior queen of the Iceni tribe, remains a symbol of rebellion and defiance against Roman oppression during the first century in Britain. After the brutal annexation of her kingdom and the mistreatment of her family, Boudica led a fierce uprising against Roman forces. With her rallying cry for freedom, she united various tribes in a formidable resistance, wreaking havoc on Roman settlements and armies. Despite facing overwhelming odds, Boudica struck fear into the hearts of her enemies with leadership and determination. Although her rebellion was eventually crushed, her legacy endures as a symbol of courage and resistance against tyranny. Don’t ever dis this miss!

The Trung Sisters

Trưng Trắc and Trưng Nhị are legendary figures in Vietnamese history. They are revered for their bravery and leadership during the first century. During the Chinese domination of their country, these sisters ignited a widespread rebellion and united Vietnamese clans against their oppressors. Fearless in battle, these charismatic leaders led their army to numerous victories, reclaiming territory and inspiring hope among their people. Even though they were eventually defeated, they are still remembered as symbols of Vietnamese independence and female empowerment. The Trung sisters’ unwavering spirit continues to inspire generations, reminding the world of the power of determination and unity in the face of adversity.

Jane Long

A pioneer and heroine of early Texas, Jane Long embodied resilience and courage during the tumultuous nineteenth century. Jane arrived in Texas in 1819 with her husband James Long, and she faced the challenges of frontier life with determination. Following her husband’s death and the outbreak of the Texas Revolution, Jane found herself a widow with children in a hostile land. However, she refused to succumb to despair, becoming a symbol of strength and self-reliance. Her ingenuity and resourcefulness—she delivered her own child in a difficult situation—epitomized the pioneer spirit. Jane Long’s legacy is integral to Texas history, and it showcases the indomitable spirit of its early settlers.

Catherine Magill Dorman

Kate arrived in Southeast Texas in 1851. Most historians believe that she lived in Sabine as early as 1847; however, the census records of her home state of Georgia show that both Kate and her husband, Arthur Magill, were still living there as late as 1850.

In 1852, Kate and her husband built the Catfish Hotel, a two-story dwelling located about three hundred yards from Fort Griffin. The hotel housed around two dozen permanent residents, along with the standard passing trade, which comprised merchants and seamen.

The Catfish had a wharf where steamers would dock regularly to indulge in the fare at the hotel’s popular eatery. During the Civil War, one patron, a certain William Berry Duncan (confederate officer, Liberty County sheriff, and cattleman), wrote that he made frequent visits to the hotel, sometimes leaving his post at Grigsby’s Bluff to dine and enjoy what he called “some tolerable good music.”

On November 2, 1859, tragedy struck. Arthur Magill, by then the chief engineer on the T. J. Smith, a Neches River mail packet, was killed when its boiler exploded. This left Kate alone to care for their two young daughters. Kate would later sue Captain H. C. Smith, the owner of the T. J. Smith, for her deceased husband’s wages. This would be one of many legal confrontations between the two.

H. C. Smith wasn’t the only thorn in Kate’s side. One day, a woman nicknamed Dutch Margaret entered the Catfish Hotel while Kate was serving meals. Dutch Margaret proceeded to vilify and yell obscenities at Kate in front of all the diners. Kate immediately retaliated with her own set of obscenities before resuming her duties. Unbeknownst to Kate, three of her friends met Dutch Margaret on the street and caned her with a parasol (an umbrella).

Dutch Margaret filed a lawsuit on the grounds that she had suffered a miscarriage from the caning. The plaintiff’s attorney, H. C. Pedigo, questioned the legality of a juror named Will J. Collins and the claim that he lived in Jefferson County. This resulted in the first survey of the West Jefferson County line. The case was postponed until Mr. Collins’s legitimacy as a county resident was verified, and it was eventually thrown out. Three months later, Dutch Margaret gave birth to a son.

In 1860, Kate married a widowed friend of her deceased husband. His name was Captain John Dorman, and he was the master of the Neches River cotton steamer Doctor Massie.

In July 1862, the yellow fever epidemic hit Sabine after a vessel ran the blockade put in place by the Federals. At least one thousand people fled the area afraid of what was known as yellow jack. The fever killed a hundred people in Sabine and Beaumont, forty of whom were Confederate soldiers.

With the tenants of the Catfish Hotel fleeing and nearly everyone else in Sabine escaping due to the dreaded disease, Kate stood strong. With no regard for her health, she, along with her two friends Sarah Vosburg and Sarah Ann King, turned the hotel into a makeshift hospital to care for the sick and the dying.

In October of that same year, fifty Federal troops came ashore in Sabine with a howitzer. They were on their way to burn the Confederate cavalry barracks. While marching through Sabine, they confiscated Captain Dorman’s horse and cart in order to mount the howitzer on it.

Witnessing this, Kate’s Irish temper boiled. Without thinking about the consequences, she began shaking her fist in the air and scolding the Federal invaders, telling them she hoped the Confederate boys would kill every last one of them. She added that if she had twenty-five men, she could take out the Federals and their cannon herself.

After the Federals burned down the Confederate barracks and stable, they marched through Sabine again. They returned Captain Dorman’s horse and cart with a word of warning—if he did not keep his “damn wife’s mouth shut,” they would hang him. Also, if she did not apologize to them, they would burn down the hotel. Kate replied that she would see them in hell first and that they could set fire to the building if they wanted to.

A week later, the Federals sent another patrol ashore. They burned a quarter of the town, including a sawmill and some residences, but they left the Catfish Hotel untouched.

All the stories above—some local, some international—show women’s will and determination to succeed.

Thoughts and Ramblings: Texaco History with Elton Gish; Talking Port Arthur in H-E-B; Sarah Bringing Out My Tora (Triggered); a Few Words on Florence

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Last week, a couple of people asked me about books written on Texaco, and I immediately thought of Elton Gish. Elton authored Texaco’s Port Arthur Works: A Legacy of Spindletop and Sour Lake. Elton worked for Texaco for decades, and he became interested in its history early when he noticed old photos hanging on the walls of its offices. One day, he asked if he could have an aerial photo of the refinery; eventually, he was given an 8 x 10 photo and was hooked on the company’s history ever since. I have an hour of audio of him speaking at one of the Jefferson County Historical Commission (JCHC)/Certified Local Government meetings in 2016. I’ll get into that briefly, but first I want to go down the Texaco books road.

I forgot the year, but I found another book on Texaco at an estate sale (another shout-out to Heather at Ready, Set, Sale). I found both the paperback and hardback versions. The book was The Texaco Story: The First Fifty Years 1902–1952 by Marquis James. The hardcover version had a letter attached to it, signed by the chairman of the board and the president of the Texas Company. I don’t translate scribble, and the names are not significant to me, so I will skip the who’s who of Texaco’s grand pooh-bahs. However, I do believe that the letter was important to both the receiver and the company at the time.

Both books have some great photos from long ago, and I will also throw in an awesome box set of postcards I have from 2001 from the Texaco Inc. historical collection (again, Heather rocks!). I could, and did, spend hours looking at these photos and postcards.

The Elton Gish audio file from 2016 brought back many memories. I had forgotten about his journey at Texaco, and the other speakers at the meeting were also fabulous. Sarah Bellian, a JCHC member and the then curator at the Museum of the Gulf Coast, definitely added some color to the history at the meeting. Sarah is currently the curator at the Pacific Fleet Submarine Museum in Honolulu, Hawaii (more on this later). Elton’s presentation at the meeting in question was nothing less than superb. He brought many Texaco product containers, cans, and boxes from throughout the company’s history. He even donned a Texaco uniform and hat! My only regret is that I didn’t make a video of the meeting because he had a PowerPoint presentation with his talk. I do have a few photos of it, which I will post.

I ran into a good friend at H-E-B this week. I won’t go all in—like Toodlum, a.k.a. Martha Ferguson, did in the ’90s about Adam Troy Rodriguez—but I will state that there is no one else I will stand next to in the cheese section in front of the meat aisle for over 30 minutes talking about Port Arthur history. The fajita potato at his restaurant, Mi Ranchito in Groves, Texas, was all I needed back then. (Pie Face’s jambalaya was also pretty good at the time.) I got to know his family, and I loved all of them. So, I guess I’m having a Toodlum moment. It may be controversial, but I will go ahead and say that Troy’s dirty rice is the best. I don’t care what your grandmother cooks (unless her name was Mrs. Domec and she made crab cakes when I was five years old—heaven!).

Last week, I asked if anyone would be interested in volunteering for a cleanup project. Thanks to those who responded. This project is in the works, so it may take some time to dot the i’s and cross the t’s, but I will keep you informed. When the ball gets rolling, we will do a piece on it here.

I have a few audio files from the past that I want to revisit next week. One includes my uncle. I did an oral history about when he lived in Beauxart Gardens in the ’30s. I also want to listen to my friend Millie’s oral history of when she lived in Port Arthur during World War II. I have many things to do, but not the time to do them, but I’ll try.

I mentioned earlier that Sarah is now in Hawaii, at the Pacific Fleet Submarine Museum. In April of 2020, while everyone was locked down and masked up, I received a message and two photos of a letter printed with the letterhead of the Twentieth Century-Fox Film Corporation. The second page contained a plethora of events that happened during the attack on Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941. I will say that Sarah knew of my excessive interest in the movie Tora! Tora! Tora!, and that day she threw this old mediocre dog the most significant bone from his childhood. Courtesy of the Pacific Fleet Submarine Museum at Pearl Harbor (USS Bowfin)! Everyone knows I’m obsessed with this movie and World War II history. To have a crumb of insight into what was going on at the time and the film’s preparations was gold for me. There will be a day that I will go all Yukari Akiyama 秋山 優花里 in on a blog about this movie, along with the original Midway. Heck, Les Nessman (Richard Sanders) was in it before he made history by reporting on the infamous turkey drop on WKRP in Cincinnati. I will do a whole blog on this stuff and publish it as a Sunday Extra Edition, and no one will read it because it doesn’t mention Beaumont or Port Arthur, but I will not care because it’s Tora! Tora! Tora!.

Eighty-six years ago tonight, SETX lost a friend—Florence Stratton died at Touro Infirmary in New Orleans. I’ll post the tribute to her at 6:30 this evening, but I did want to get into a few things first. I’ve been doing this blog since May 2012. Along the way, I’ve learned many things and researched many people, but Florence is the one person I’ve continuously investigated. I’ve spent an enormous amount of time and money trying to bring her story to light. Yes, there are articles written about her, and their authors did a good job with what information they had at the time. In my work, I wanted to uncover her story, which is hard to find because she was always in the background. Despite all the Susie Spindletop Weekly Letters, she offered little insight into her life. The letters mostly promoted her friends and readers, as she knew people would be interested in them. This is why there were 200 people inside her small house at 1929 McFaddin Avenue for her funeral. It is also why the funeral procession to Magnolia Cemetery was a mile long.

Thirteen years of digging into her family’s and friends’ history has been a treat, and I will continue to dig. I’ve noticed that more people, especially women, are becoming interested in her story, and I’m glad to see this because she was there in 1918, in the background, doing her part to try to get women the right to vote. They succeeded, but to my knowledge, she never wrote about her role in this struggle in her weekly letters. (Her weekly letters began on February 28, 1926, so eight years later, but it was still a special achievement.) I just hope that I have allies so that when I’m gone, someone will continue digging into the life of Florence Stratton (a.k.a. Susie Spindletop). And I think I do. I hope I’ve given them a good starting point. Florence Vor! Full speed ahead!

Until next week, I hope we can put the life preservers away while driving to H-E-B. I’m about ready for a hot drought.

Farewell To A Valued Friend:

THE DEATH of Miss Florence Stratton brings genuine sorrow to a numerous company. It is with a feeling of the greatest personal loss that those of us who had been closely associated with her through the years in newspaper work mourn her passing. And all of us who knew her well feel quite certain that when she entered that corridor of eternal darkness she did so unafraid, her head held high and her spirit uncowed.

First as a public school teacher and then as a newspaper woman, her whole life from youth to death was busy and useful. She loved her work, found no diversion that equaled it in pleasure and satisfaction,and to it devoted her talents and energy to the full. On her last assignment when she suffered a slight stroke she stood by her guns until her chore was completed, then left the office never to return. Into her work she put the sympathy and sentiment that marked her character. She was always a womanly woman, concerned primarily with the interests of women, and always a gentlewoman in the broad and best sense of the word. In the course of her long and honorable service she made and kept innumerable friends, by all of whom she will be tenderly remembered, and the still larger circle who knew her through her work will not soon forget…

                                       Bill Beaumont

Beaumont Journal January 29, 1938

Elton Gish—Texaco History:

https://www.texacohistory.com/

Martha ‘Toodlums’ Ferguson:

https://www.rediscoveringsetx.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/07/1498881_499869243458550_1847275268_o.jpg

U.S.S. Bowfin; https://www.bowfin.org

Tora! Tora! Tora! The Movie:

https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0066473/

Tribute to Florence Stratton:

Tribute to Florence Stratton

Thoughts and Ramblings: New Year, New Plan

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The New Year is a time when some people try to change their lives for the better. Some try to get fit, while others focus on getting their life in order. Here, under the oaks on Ye Olde Block Formosan Farm, we think it’s time to revisit some of what we collected over the past twelve years. We also think that some of our treasures need a good home, so those items will be sent to a better place as we see fit. Stay tuned.

Last week, we sent a few Beaumont directories (1978–1984) to the Tyrrell Historical Library for safekeeping. This was a no-brainer, but I do have some small collections that may not fit on a larger scale. A few years back, I did a few estate sales. Shout-out to Ready, Set, Sell Estate Sales (thanks Heather!). We found a lot of interesting things that should be preserved in SETX history. One in particular was the Norma Davis World War II scrapbook. This is where I found out about Taro Kishi penning an article in the Beaumont Enterprise about wanting to serve his country. As he was Japanese American in the 1940s, there was definitely a problem with this for the powers that be, and he was denied the chance to serve. Eventually, the 442nd Regimental Combat Team was formed with Japanese Americans, but unfortunately without Taro, and it fought in the Italian campaign. They fought proud and true. Their motto was Go for Broke!, and they did!

I also learned about Kichimatsu Kishi, whom I put on the pedestal of those who had many successes and failures in life; he was the one with the most common sense. Kichimatsu and his family lived as American citizens, but after Pearl Harbor, he knew that anti-Japanese sentiment would peak. So, that Monday, he turned himself in to the FBI in Port Arthur. I guess that’s what you do when you have no idea what just happened, but you know how people will react. He spent two months in an internment camp but was released after his hearing because, according to his son Taro, he answered all the questions correctly.

One of the questions the authorities asked Kichimatsu was the following: “If the Emperor ordered you to bomb the oil refinery in Port Arthur, would you do it?”

Kichimatsu replied thus: “First, I am a farmer and businessman and know nothing about explosives. Suppose I was adopted into another family and my biological parent ordered me to harm my adopted family. I could not do so.”

He was a better man than me—I hate politicians at all levels—but he had no choice except to participate in their dog and pony show. It backfired, though, and it made way for the family to return to normality.

Another treasure I found at an estate sale was an almost complete collection of World War II Time Life Books. I have twenty-seven of the thirty-nine that were published. I think that was the total of the series.

Speaking of books, we have acquired many regional SETX history books over the years. I really don’t want to add up how much we spent on purchasing these treasures, but some of the money went to local museums. A few favorites we purchased locally were the Centennial History books from Port Arthur and Nederland, a few pictorial-history books from Hardin County, and some from Chambers County. There are many others that need to be cataloged and listed for their preservation.

Of course, we took the eBay route on a couple of occasions and visited a few bookstores. Some of these were local. All five Florence Stratton books were purchased online, along with the great find of the original edition of The White Plume in the Bunker’s Monthly magazine, published in 1928. I will also admit that an autographed Arthur Stilwell book was purchased by accident. You know the scenario. You were shopping online, and it was left in the cart, but then a month later you wanted to purchase Willie Cooper Hobby’s memorial book, which you had only seen at the LBJ library and in Woodville. Yes, the Arthur Stilwell book is autographed, but as most of you know, I’m not a fan of Mr. All Hat and No Cattle. Truth be told, I have a few other books written by him, and they are of little use to me in researching history.

My Beaumont books are many—the Walker sisters (Judy and Ellen), their father (John H. Walker), and a copy of the 1939 American Guide Series book for Beaumont. Thanks to a friend, I also have an American Guide Series book for Port Arthur from 1940. All these volumes offer a wealth of information, and they are an inspiration for me.

A couple of prized possessions from 1946 and 1947 are two phone books from Port Arthur, which were given to me by my late friend Jerry Burnett. Last week, on our Facebook page, there were many people who wanted to prank call their ancestors. Before you dial, just remember Yukon!

As I dig deeper into my collection, I see the Betty Maggio Port Arthur Collection (1979). It states “fine art for correspondence” on the stationary, and I believe this is magnificent art! I have a couple of buttons from the Amalgamated Association of Street and Electrical Railway Employees, Division 241 May 1918 and Division 1031 February 1936. I also have a Beaumont City bus token that was given to me by Beaumont History Bits. I’ll have to ask the mayor, Roy West, whether it is still valid.

I could go on and on about these treasures, and I will throughout the year. Today, though, I will end with one that was given to me by a family friend, Millie Rougeau, a few years back. She was the oral-history source for my article “Life in Jefferson County during World War II,” which was published in May 2013. Millie gave me her family’s World War II ration book, with stamps. I’ve posted a few photos of it through the years. She passed in 2023, and I thank her for trusting me with this treasure. I will find it a home.

Audio and video recordings of family and friends (oral histories) are a hell of a lot better than photos because you can still hear people’s voices.

Until next week.

Life in Jefferson County during World War II

Thoughts and Ramblings: A Look Back

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It has been a most intriguing year for me, to say the least. We found the “Elks Love Nest,” which was given away in a raffle in December 1926. The house still stands in 2023.

We also found Beaumont’s “daredevil,” Louis Sacker, eating horseshoes and nails in 1926 while doing other strongman stuff. Grrr! (These are the types of stories that appear when you search in old newspapers.)

Eunice Stephens, Florence Stratton’s niece, was proven right about the discovery of a town called Florence. Yes, I ate crow at dismissing this because Florence, Texas, was established in 1857 in Williamson County, but a fellow researcher (thanks Kate) found an article referring to a train stop called Florence Switch in Hardin County. The depot/stop had no post office but lasted until at least 1912. I nicked a 1912 train stop map from the internet as proof. Sometimes we can be a bit dodgy, but it was the original map and I just wanted proof of the location of Florence Switch. I’ll pay $150 for a signed book by Florence Stratton and $150 to walk around the U.S.S. Texas in drydock, but I do have my limits.

I was honored to speak to the Daughters of the American Revolution, Captain William Sanders Chapter, in Port Arthur in February. And, heads up, I will be doing the same this February.

In February, I also visited the U.S.S. Texas at Gulf Copper in Galveston. I was five minutes late but managed to drive from the ferry to the shipyard parking lot in those five minutes (you do the math and the wind speeds—sorry/not sorry). On my visit, I noticed that most people there were not from Beaumont, but they opined about Beaumont being a drive-thru city and that they would hate to see the ship moored there. I had assumed it would be moored in Galveston, but for some reason, they didn’t mention it after Beaumont and Baytown were taken off the list. However, it will be moored near the Elissa.

In March and April, I participated in a ground-penetrating radar (GPR) survey at the Sabine Pass Cemeteries. Our goal was to find the mass grave of yellow fever victims from the mid-1860s, but due to the clay soil and lack of permission to access the known site, our efforts didn’t yield much. This investigation is ongoing!

In April, I visited the Tallship Festival in Galveston. Touring the four ships, plus one modern ship, was fantastic, and I managed to do it in an hour and a half. My main love at this festival was the U.S.S. Thomas Jefferson. This modern National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) ship is a federally operated hydrographic vessel out of Norfolk, Virginia. It does ocean mapping and is a vital tool for scanning shipping areas after a hurricane or any other problem that could endanger the maritime sector. The ship is here to scan the waters and make sure they are clear of debris and hazards. It was here for Hurricane Delta in 2020, and it did its thing for Hurricane Maria in 2017.

This year was Port Arthur’s 125th anniversary, and there were many efforts to tell the story. My favorite was the online map of historical markers. Les McMahen did an excellent job on this!

The 49th Galveston Historic Homes Tour was one to remember for me, at least for me. As some of you know, I take the tour on the first day and then volunteer with the candy lady Bev from Liberty County on Sunday. I stayed at a friend’s Airbnb this year, so I didn’t have to drive from Jefferson County to Galveston via Winnie. Between waiting for the ferry and that drive, it usually drives you insane. Whatever the insanity, Mama Theresa’s Pizza is there, and this is my dinner waiting on the ferry! Hope to see you at the 50th in May. I hear there’s something exciting planned!

The drought hit us hard this year. It was worse than in 2011. If you remember, that was the year that many forest fires threatened Plantersville. There was a lot of damage between Houston and Austin that you can still see today. Well, this year was more of a look at how low the river has become “and is that a ship?” While we heard about a few incidents from the news media, many boats have sunk along the Neches. If you take the Ivy Bill Tour along the Neches, they’ll point them out to you! That crew is impressive!

In May, two veterans interred at Evergreen Cemetery received headstones. The new headstones were for Sergeant George Shaw, who died in France during the Great War (WWI), and Jerry Lloyd, a Buffalo soldier who fought in the Indian wars. The replacement headstone for George Shaw was necessary because the original one erroneously stated that he was a private. Thanks to the research conducted by a member of our Jefferson County Historical Commission, a headstone with the correct information was sent, as Sergeant Shaw deserves. The situation with Jerry Lloyd’s headstone was a bit different; as far as we know, he never received one. If there was a regular one marking his grave, it had disappeared. Research confirms that he was buried in Evergreen Cemetery, but we’re unaware of his specific location.

In September, fallen Deputy John E. Hutcheson received a headstone in a ceremony at Magnolia Cemetery. Thanks to Operation Blue Remembrance (OBR) for making this happen and paying for it. OBR is a nonprofit organization from Baytown, approved by the state and the IRS as a 501(c)(3) organization on June 2, 2020. Its primary focus is “assisting the law enforcement community in any way” they can and visiting the graves of fallen officers in Texas and a few other states. OBR’s motto is Nemo Oblitus, which is Latin for “No One Forgotten.” The organization stepped in because neither the family nor the county had purchased a headstone for Deputy Hutcheson when he was buried in Magnolia Cemetery.

The 3rd Annual Historic Magnolia Cemetery Tour was well received, with record attendance this year. The Texas Historical Commission even included us in its Project Spotlight publication. This is basically their way of giving county historical commissions throughout the state a shout-out for what they are doing to preserve history. This is excellent because a lot of people involved in the tour work tirelessly to preserve various aspects of our county’s history. The stories from the tour usually stem from their own research, and they do a wonderful job. See you next year for the fourth annual tour!

So, what’s in store for 2024? I have no idea, but I’m sure it will be full of shenanigans, history, and anime references that no one gets, but that’s okay. I do know that no one here will be participating in “dry January.” Cheers!

Thoughts and Ramblings: Susie Spindletop Edition II

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It’s been a busy week here, Under the Oakes on Ye Olde Block Farm. So I’ll be back next week with more nonsense and shenanigans. In the meantime, Susie is here to guide you through some SETX life in 1931.

                              Susie Spindletop’s Weekly Letter Snipetts 1931

Dear Della:

Right at the start I want to express my appreciation for your being present at the opening of the fair. Your husband wasn’t much to look at but he counted as one and that’s something.

Your children were very attractive at the beginning but with lolly pops, taffy candy and the results of a bad cold all mixed in one they would hardly have added anything to the art exhibition an hour later. Be that as it may, you started right by coming early so you can decide on where to spend your time looking things over during the remaining days of the fair. I’ve heard that the old bachelors will be quartered in what was formerly the livestock pens.

 *           *           *

Della: I’ve got a camel’s hair coat.

Della’s husband: Where’d you kill the camel?

                                              *           *           *

Good thing Thanksgiving is coming soon for the yallerlegged chickens have disappeared from this section. The Methodists have been here a few days in conference about what I was not informed.

And as usual, I had to make a break. Our former resident Dr. Mills, was here, and I congratulated him on becoming a circuit rider.

“Excuse me, sister,” said he, “I’m presiding elder.”

“Pardon me, elder,” said I,”I didn’t know you were that old.”

He hasn’t seen me since because I always see him first.

                                           November 8, 1931

Just because I’m fondly anticipating the day when I will be 21, the stork left his perch with the first blast of winter and made me wrong again.

Last week, I told you Mr. and Mrs. Joe Broussard had 21 grandchildren. I’ll admit that I was a little careless in not counting them myself, but some women forget to even powder their nose.

Honestly, I have never done anything to excite the enmity of Ruth and I.D. Polk, but they are responsible for my predicament. A son was born to them October 29, making a grand total of 22. That’s where I get out. I said total of 21 and not grand total, which, of course, would be 22

                                                November 1, 1931

Believe it or not, Della, but I helped to organize the Col. George Moffett chapter, Daughters of the American Revolution, here 25 years ago. Or rather, I was present when it happened.

About all I can remember about it is that it happened at the home of Mrs. Rush Norvell, located where the Woodhead place now is. The chapter’ll be celebrating its silver jubilee this week at Mrs. Norvell’s. I do remember something was the matter with Mrs. Norvell’s fireplace, so the meeting was held in the dining room. The Manse at Staunton, Virginia, where Woodrow Wilson lived in the museum known as the little White House. Here is a sideboard that belonged to Col. George Moffett. “Tis a replica of the one at Mount Vernon.”

                                                   *                  *                 *

In trouble again. Mr. E.D. Leach writes from Ceres, New York, to say, “You are all wrong, LaSalle’s bones are reposing in Forest Lawn Memorial Park. That can be easily established. Why would anybody want to be found dead at the Country club? That isn’t what it’s for?”

I don’t like to get into an argument but when I had the explorer buried at the Country club don’t feel like digging up his bones and interring them somewhere else.

I’m now notifying Mr. Leach that La Salle was never in New York. He has in mind Peter Stuyvesant, the fella who bought Manhattan Island for $25

                                                             October 4, 1931

Della:

I’m convinced that Joe Lederer is a hayseed pure and simple. Last year he was in Chicago, went out to the stock yards when they were feeding the cattle, and immediately took to his bed with hay fever.

This season, he remained in Beaumont but somehow got a waft of new mown hay and immediately began to sneeze. Joe says hay fever is nothing to sneeze at but he just can’t help it.

  *                *                 *

Then I know a milliner who says the handling of feathers gives her the hay fever. It seems to me that this would be feather fever.

                                                      *                  *                *

That may be the reason the judge pined so much when he saw Maude Miller raking the new mown hay. He had hay fever and didn’t know it. It might have been!

                                                    September 27, 1931

“Maud Muller” is a poem from 1856 written by John Greenleaf Whittier (1807–1892)

Dear Della:

Now, I’m in trouble over a little mesquite steer which caused my friend, Mr. Patterson of Junction, the creator of mesquite animals, to get into a trinity of trouble. He, armed with a trusty Colts, the dog armed with a vicious growl and the steer armed with vicious horns clashed in the stillness of that delightfull west Texas atmosphere. Now I feel I can realize the cautious creep of a man who thinks his home has been invaded, is still being invaded, and powder liable to be burned at any time. But let him tell the story.

My Dear Susie:

I am returning you, under separate cover, the mesquite steer with the wide, white horns, which you so kindly presented to me some weeks ago, and which rested with my choicer curios beside a rosewood musicbox. I thank you for it most sincerely, my friend.

It would today still be in its place, save for an incident fraught with terror for me and mine. Say what you want, my friend, the black details of this incident shall remain with us, to haunt us through the night, for many a month. I hasten first, however, to say that you were innocent of any thought that the facts I am about to transcribe here would occur. How could you possibly know… So, of course, I hold you blameless, but nevertheless these things did occur.

My wife and I, she upon the divan and I in my great grandfather’s comfy chair, had been listening to late night offerings on the radio. The music was soft charming. The living room was darkened save for a low brass lamp reminiscent of our old homes in the kerosene days. Outside, in the utter darkness of the avenue, a cricket chirped, not unpleasingly, in the damp depths of the old ligustrum. The last not of a song faded and the light was switched off.

The first peculiar thing I noticed was a strange sharp bark, and a low trouble growl from my little dog, followed by a terrifying yelp, and then, strangest to us of all, a complete stillness on her part. Our room, you know lies removed by the den, hallway, and the dining room from the living room… I had been thinking of Jacob’s supernatural story of , “The Monkey’s Paw,” a terrifying tale. Suddenly without a wisp of warning, came the sound of a furious commotion from the living room. I set down the fact, unabashed, that I was frozen paralyzed. I make no attempt to fictionize these facts. More after the fashion of a steel robot than a man my hand found my Colts and, guided. I think now, more by instinct, than by my own faculties, I made my way—I hardly know how—to the front of the house. Or, rather, I got part way. In a strange, sort of orange, red light, I saw the little mesquite animal grown to enormous size. The red nostrils were aflame with wrath. The horns were lowered, though they rose above the tops of my chairs…And then, and, then he came at me…and I felt something grasp me tightly…Then in a shudder I saw it all. The rest of the night I refrained from sleeping on my back.

Foolish am I , perhaps, but a thing like this is deep seated, and I ask you kindly to take back your steer. J.P.W.

                                                           *                 *                 *

I can appreciate his feelings for once upon a time I had an alley cat take possession of the house, the roof,the yard and all streets, and alleys leading thereto. But I had to fire a scream instead of a bullet from a trusted revolver.

                                                           *                 *                *

Now I think just for that I’ll give Mr. Patterson another job. The city zoo has adopted two lion cubs or the cubs have adopted the city, only time will tell. Anyway I’m sending him a picture of them and see if there’re any mesquite branches that look like them, after the said mesquite branch has passed through his artistic fingers.

                                                          *                *                   *

The trouble is he may make a lion so realistic that it will roar in the early morning hours and the trusty Colts revolver will be brought into play.

                                                         *                *                   *

And I have another job for him which cannot be executed until I take a long vacation. I will send him a picture of your husband for reproduction and let some one say that he got the inspiration from Noah’s Ark. Must arrange it so things will blow over somewhat I return.

                                                 September 20, 1931

Della, you often hear people say they have gotten to the end of the road. Well that’s m Good-bye

                  Susie

                                                 September 13, 1931

A Brief History of Florence Stratton Part 1:

A brief History of Florence Stratton part1

A Brief History of Florence Stratton Part 2:

A brief History of Florence Stratton part2

Maud Muller:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Maud_Muller#:~:text=Throughout%20the%20rest%20of%20their,%22