Category Archives: Places

“Thoughts and Ramblings: Susie Spindletop’s Weekly Letter; Magnolia Cemetery Tour; Ellwood, California; Was Mothra at the Battle of Los Angeles? Ancient Astronaut Theorists, It’s Your Call!”

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It’s a new year and time to set my goals for my research and this blog. One of my main goals this year is to digitize all the Susie Spindletop’s Weekly Letters. I have most of them, and I should be able to obtain the others with the help of a newspaper archive and the Sam Houston Regional Library & Research Center. I will add that all my research is stored at the Jefferson County Historical Commission.

The second goal is the Historic Magnolia Cemetery Tour—I want to talk about the origins of where we came from and where we are. In 2013 and 2014, the Liberty County Historical Commission (LCHC) created a superb program to raise funds for its work. They went all out on history and even dressed in period clothing. To me, this was spectacular, so I wanted to bring a history-based tour like that one here. I got my chance to bring history alive in 2015 with the help of Judy Linsley and the McFaddin-Ward House. We did a cemetery tour for the docents of the McFaddin-Ward House. It wasn’t like the LCHC  program, but it was a start. It was me and Judy, who knew a lot more than I did, taking a tour of the cemetery and telling stories of interest to the residents. Afterward, Judy and I did a couple more cemetery tours for the Beaumont Heritage Society.

At first, the Beaumont Heritage Society didn’t want to do a “happy hour” in a cemetery, but after not finding any other place to hold it (I assume), they changed their minds and went ahead with it. I guess it was a success for them because about thirty-five people signed up for membership of the society. It’s amazing how money changes your perspective. We did the second tour in 2016, and it went well, but after Hurricane Harvey happened, we stopped the event. At the time, Magnolia Cemetery was not in a good state. There were many problems, and management is correcting many issues that shouldn’t have happened in the first place. It is getting better.

In 2021, Kelli Maness, Magnolia Cemetery Board President, reached out to me to bring back the tour. I saw they had a new board and were making a significant effort to turn things around, so I agreed. We planned the event and it went great. For those who have taken the tour, we did a Thursday evening from five to seven, and a Saturday morning from ten to two. Our attendance was excellent on Thursday, to the surprise of a friend who thought no one would come out. Saturday was also good, and we achieved our goal of promoting Beaumont and SETX history.

In 2022 things were no different, except for the love the Beaumont Enterprise andKBMT showed us when promoting the tour. I’ll also give kudos to the folks at KFDM, who promoted the Magnolia Cemetery lecture at the McFaddin-Ward House Museum. The tour went well and we are planning the third Historic Magnolia Cemetery Tour for October. This will not be an October ghost tour but a history one. We have grown from two people presenting SETX history on a walking tour to ten to eleven presenters stationed throughout the cemetery. The great thing about this is that the presenters are either researchers who have studied the people they talk about or relatives who are proud to tell their families’ stories. We don’t give 3 x 5 index cards and tell someone to speak for four hours. (Sorry Galveston Historical Foundation—I know you changed your evil ways but I only volunteer with the Candy Lady.) We want the history of our area to be known through past residents, and so many good people volunteer their time and research to help out. I am grateful to everyone who helps out because no money is collected from the printed program, tour, water, or snacks during the event. This is education for the public, and you’re welcome because it’s free. I want to thank everyone who gives their time and knowledge to make the tour possible.

I also want to thank Kelli Maness for caring enough to provide the guys with the proper equipment to tend to the cemetery grounds. She is also the one who is trying to save Magnolia Cemetery, which is a not-for-profit organization. Her work will not go unnoticed.

This week I did a bad thing. I changed the channel from DISH scapes to the History Channel. And boy, they were on a marathon to throw in all kinds of ancient astronaut theories. Some of the Sumerian gobbledygook—I can see the point. But then they mentioned the Battle of Los Angeles (1942), and that’s when the expletives came out. I know a bit about this time, and I want to use the good people of the Port Arthur News as references because the Los Angeles Times from 1942 is not digitized, as far as I can tell. Hmm. Aliens? I think not, but I will reference a John Belushi movie later.

On the night of February 24 and the morning of the 25, 1942, all hell broke loose in the sky over Los Angeles, California. Antiaircraft positions opened fire, and they hit nothing. No, I’m not going to pin the gunners as storm troopers from a galaxy far, far away, but when you shoot at ghosts, the bullets fall to the ground, and it rains metal over a panicked civilian population. The total number of deaths was five; three car crashes and two heart attacks. So, what the hell happened that night must be explained by what happened the evening before. I knew nothing about this story until I heard it mentioned on Dan Carlin’s podcast. Dan Carlin is not a historian; he is a diehard history researcher who gives his opinions on certain subjects with added factual content. He grew up around Ellwood, California, and this is where the story begins.

On February 23, President Roosevelt prepared to make one of his fireside chats that all the US would listen to at the time. In the meantime, the Japanese ordered their submarine I-17 to fire upon a refinery in Ellwood, California. Its mission was to attack the facility, but there was not much damage. The main issue was that a foreign power attacked US soil. Something that hadn’t happened since the War of 1812 and the Battle of Baltimore. The submarine was huge. Some accounts compared it to a cruiser or a destroyer, but since it had only one 14 cm/40 11th Year Type naval gun firing at the shoreline, people quickly figured out that there was no mass invasion of the Western United States. Actually, the whole point of the action was to mentally screw with the civilians along the California coast. And it worked. They were scared, and then February 24 happened.

The Battle of Los Angeles was covered across the nation; I added a few headlines and articles from the Port Arthur News. I’ll also add that in one of the articles, L. E. MacDonald, a clerk at the West Los Angeles police station, was quoted as saying,

“As I watched the searchlights, anti-aircraft fire broke out. I saw a plane that seemed to be up at least 20,000 feet. It looked like a butterfly.”

A butterfly? Could it be that L. E. MacDonald mistook a plane for something even more ominous from Japanese lore? Could that “butterfly” actually have been a 怪獣 kaijū awakened from its sleep in the 1950s by nuclear testing? Could it be the creature that goes by the name of モスラ Mothra? If so, how did it time travel to 1942? I have no idea, but since I brought it up, maybe the ancient astronaut theorists will run with this new possible finding. Hell, it’s at least worth an episode.

No more History Channel for a while. All this talk of Ellwood, California, makes me want to rewatch that classic 1941 movie, which is loosely based on the events above. John Belushi was an ace in this movie, but Slim Pickens was the best.

Until next time, Aliens or モスラ Mothra?

“Thoughts and Ramblings: Praise the Lard and Pass the Tamales; Mi Ranchito; Selena; Toodlum; Ol’ 503”

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Ol’ No. 503

It may be because I’m hungry, but all I’m thinking about right now is early eateries, which I enjoyed. I’ve already rehashed this, so I won’t go into my love for Pie Face, Fish Net, Guadalajara, or Monceaux’s Drive-In. However, I will state that you can put a cheeseburger and three greasy onion rings in a white box, but it’s not the same as the original. So, there’s your Gulfway Drive memory for today; you can share it with your Facebook friends. And I will add that those three greasy onion rings were divine. Only the Lard knows how they were prepared.

Speaking of the Lard, it’s tamale season, and I’m happy about that. Growing up, Christmas dinner was never a thing. We went to parties, and that’s where I got my love for olives, but a proper tea cup-sipping meal was never on the menu. However, as you evolve as a human being and marry into a Hispanic family, you quickly figure out that Mexican food is not the Patio TV dinner on which I grew up. You know those aluminum trays with the three tacos, beans, and rice? Tamales are divine but a lot of work. Because of this experience, I know what real Mexican food is, yet I always have a can of Hormel tamales in the cupboard. They are part of my hurricane rations and go with no other type of food, except maybe Wolf Brand chili, but my stepchildren rightfully judge me on this.

Thinking back, I remember that my friend Adam Troy Rodriguez, the owner/operator of Mi Ranchito in Groves back in the 1990s, made an immaculate fajita potato, which I indulged in. Still, I want to tell a couple of truths. The first one has to do with when Selena Quintanilla Pérez died on March 31, 1995. I went to his restaurant expecting a fajita potato, but I discovered that Yolanda Saldívar had murdered la Reyna de Tejano. We both were distraught. I remember the weather that evening was dark and thunderous, almost like it was here in SETX when Jack Kennedy was terminated near a grassy knoll, back in the ‘60s. The second one is I was and am a fan of Tejano. Eventually, I hope that Yolanda rots in hell for what she did, and if hell doesn’t exist, I’m hopeful that she ends up serving eternity inside the ghost of St. James School in Port Arthur. Shout-out to Sister Mary Perpetua—I digress.

I will admit that Mr. Rodriguez makes the best dirty rice. Haters can line up and shill their granny’s stuff, but Adam Troy Rodriguez is the best dirty rice chef and a fajita potato extraordinaire. My condolences to the chefs of other eateries that think they bring the baked potato to new heights. And I’m not the only one to rave about him. Toodlum, a.k.a. Martha Ferguson, rambled on about him in one of her articles in the Port Arthur News back in the ‘90s.

Speaking of Toodlum, I want to dive deeply into her articles this winter to uncover any nuggets of history that she graced us with. For those who didn’t know Martha Ferguson, she was famous in Port Arthur for being Martha. She was the ultimate cheerleader of sorts for the city, and she dearly loved the Ol’ No. 503 Kansas City Southern Engine, which is located in Bryan Park on Gulfway Drive. She wanted very much to have this engine restored and was chair of the Save Ol’ No. 503 Committee back in 1985. Today, the 503 hasn’t been restored. A few years ago, there was a movement to relocate it because the city wanted to scrap it. As I really don’t have all the facts, I’ll just say that the engine wasn’t scrapped and was indeed moved—about one hundred feet. I’ll leave a link at the bottom of this blog to a video the company made while moving it. Years from now, when alien archaeologists come across this video, I’m sure they’ll have the same reaction I had. (This sentence has been left out because it contained nothing but profanity.) One hundred feet?

Well, in case you missed it, here’s my “Food for Thought in Port Arthur” post from 2013.

Bon appétit for now!

Growing up in Port Arthur in the 1970s did have its finer points to some degree. As a kid I had no idea what Bernis Sadler (then the mayor) was up to nor did I care. My main concern was whether or not Monceaux Drive In had those delectable and greasy onion rings with my cheeseburger deluxe served in a cardboard pie box. Truth be told, there is nothing that comes close. Similarly, onion rings are unbeatable one ! (Baby Boomers will remember Monceaux’s for the root-beer among other things.)

Over the course of two decades, I have discovered many eateries in my hometown, and there were many. One that comes to mind is a little takeout place called Hartman’s, which was located on Bluebonnet Avenue. If you loved home-style cooking, then this was a gem. I can remember walking in and feeling as if I was in someone’s house, except for the screen door attached to the kitchen from which an elderly man emerged with your plate lunch after you had ordered it from a very nice elderly lady.

These two people were delightful. As far as I could tell, these were the Hartman’s, and one could believe this except for their heavy Cajun accents. One thing that sticks out in my mind is that, when I would call ahead, the lady would ask what I wanted. My answer, of course, was the Étouffée, but there were many things besides the main course. “So what are the sides?”

“Well, we got lima beans, string beans, pinto beans, red beans, white beans, and (it always ended with) black-eyed peas.”

Whatever the sides, this was something to treasure. Speaking of treasure, I also remember a place next to Roy’s Food Center on Lewis Drive called the Brisket Room. The chip beef sandwiches were the best barbeque—or at least they were until I found Billy Joe’s in Port Neches.

Port Arthur seemed to always promote itself as the friendliest city by the sea. Well, Port Arthur is not by the sea, it’s by a lake, but I will give credit to the seafood. There were three restaurants that I enjoyed. The first and foremost was Leo and Willie’s. There was no place better in the 80s—except on Thursdays. On Thursdays I would order a seafood platter from the Texas Fish Net Restaurant. There was no one who had better catfish than the Fish Net!

And let us not forget about the Farm Royale on Memorial. Back in the day, most knew this place to be an upper-class eatery, and they weren’t mistaken. Other eateries offering decent seafood (technically I do not know if they are in Port Arthur, but they are worth mentioning) are Domingue’s on the Neches (under the Rainbow Bridge) and of course, Esther’s. Yes, I do know the latter is in Groves, Texas, but it was just a great place to eat back when.

Finally, sometimes we craved Mexican food, and there was no better place at the time to treat ourselves than under the train bridge at Taco Rey, or my favorite, Guadalajara on 9th Avenue. Both had pretty good Tex-Mex food. Nowadays Taco Rey can be found in Nederland, and Guadalajara still has a restaurant in Orange Texas.

Please forgive this minor indulgence because this blog really has no historic value other than me remembering those greasy onion rings, chip beef sandwiches, plate lunches, catfish, and tacos from places and times long since passed.

Food for Thought in Port Arthur Texas (70’s- 80’s)

Selena:  

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Selena

St. James school photos:   

https://flic.kr/s/aHsjHbBt2P

Ol’ No. 503 video:

Thoughts and Ramblings: Pearl Harbor Meant the Age of No Candy; Audie Murphy; Cecil Bordages; The Gates Memorial Library; Interurban; Bill Quick.

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The eighty-first anniversary of Pearl Harbor was this week, and all those I’ve talked with, who were children at the time of the attack, have similar memories. Most didn’t know where Pearl Harbor was and didn’t understand what was happening, but later, when the rationing of sugar and candy began, as children, this really hit home. The older folks, from age fifteen to people in their thirties, who understood what had happened, signed up for service soon after the attack. And yes, many fifteen-plus-year-olds attempted to serve their country. Some even made it to the theaters of war. Audie Murphy was sixteen when he infiltrated the US Army with the help of his older sister, who falsified documents for him. I guess the US Army should be glad that they got duped because no other soldier was decorated more than that little underweight sixteen-year-old.

Audie Murphy

During the Great War, a fifteen-year-old from Beaumont named Cecil Bordages was attending a private school in New York but decided to enlist to serve his country in 1918. Being large for his age, Cecil looked older than he was, so he was accepted into the Mounted Service Field Artillery 162nd Ammunition Train Twenty-Seventh Division; I would assume he then went off to France with Company F 102nd Ammunition Train. His actual age was discovered, and the army was ready to send him back, but his mother basically told them not to bother, as he would just go back to his unit if they did. He served a year and made it back to the United States. Based on some of the Beaumont Enterprise articles I’ve read, he lived a good and fruitful life with many mentions of helping others. I even saw an article that said he helped the Empty Stocking Fund.

A couple of other anniversaries that occurred in December were the opening of the Gates Memorial Library in Port Arthur and the inauguration of the interurban. The Gates library opened to the public on December 1, 1917, but wasn’t dedicated until May 18, 1918. The library, a gift of Mrs. Dellora Gates to Port Arthur, was in memory of her husband John “Bet-a-Million” Gates and her son Charles. The dedication coincided with another event called “Gates Day.” This event began in 1912 to pay tribute to the late Mr. Gates on his birthday for his contributions to Port Arthur. Gates died in Paris on August 9, 1911. The annual celebration took place each May 18 until 1921, when the Gates family requested its end.

I’ve mentioned John “Bet-a-Million” Gates before, and I stand by the fact that if he hadn’t been here, nothing in Port Arthur would have been built. Arthur Stilwell was all hat, no cattle, and a bit of a loon. But I digress.

December 15 will mark the 109th anniversary of the opening of regular service on the interurban line between Beaumont and Port Arthur. Yes, the Texas Historical Marker in front of the building that used to be its starting point says August 16, but all evidence states otherwise. Would I dare talk smack about the Texas Historical Commission? Of course I would, because it’s wrong. As the final piece of evidence, I’ll throw in a photo of a plaque in which William D. “Bill” Quick’s name is at the bottom, which gives the same info. So, what is an interurban you might ask, and who is Bill Quick?

First, the interurban was an electric train that serve Jefferson County residents from December 15, 1913, to August 15, 1932. The tracks extended from Austin Avenue in Port Arthur to Orleans Street in Beaumont. The train would make nineteen trips per day with an early start at 5:45 a.m. and a midnight finish. Tickets cost ninety cents for a roundtrip or fifty cents one-way and were prorated for the ten stops between the two cities. Stops along the way included South Park, Spindletop, Nederland, Rice Farm, and Griffing/Pear Ridge.

I’ve always found the fact that our county had an electric train in 1913 fascinating. Even more intriguing is how someone in Jefferson County could make ice in August in the 1900s. I’m not a scientist, so I don’t know how that’s possible; I’ll leave it to you engineers who run the great ice Illuminati.

William D. Quick was a historian who lived in Nederland. I never met him, but I guarantee you that every time I do some research, he is in my head, guiding me to try to be as accurate as possible. I attended my first Jefferson County Historical Commission meeting a year to the day that Bill passed. He influenced many people in his life as a researcher/historian, and I talked to many of them in the last ten years. I was honored and excited to be able to go through his research at the Sam Houston Research Center in Liberty. He was very thorough in his work, and I often draw on his example. I was told that when doing research, you should have at least three sources. Bill didn’t go for hearsay; he wanted facts, not content with publishing books.

Bill Quick’s interest in history was vast; he particularly loved Sabine Pass, the beach, and the Sabine lighthouse. Hell, I believe he owned the latter at one point. There is so much information on the Sabine lighthouse in his research at the Sam Center—it’s a researcher’s dream. I’ve used a couple of articles he had in his notes that I’ve never seen anywhere else. One is the 1932 article on the abandoned Lewis Cemetery; the other talks about when Magnolia Cemetery used to have barge funerals because it was too wet and muddy to get to the site. Although I never met Mr. Quick, I follow what he brought to historical research. No one is perfect, and I usually suck at dates and details, but I do want my research to be accurate for others to use. I like to think that Bill Quick is still guiding those of us who care about our history.

Well, that’s it for this week. If you’re in a giving mood, please donate to the Empty Stocking Fund.

https://www.paypal.com/donate/?hosted_button_id=X94T5X2AMU82S

Life in Jefferson County in World War II: https://www.rediscoveringsetx.com/2013/05/25/life-in-jefferson-county-during-world-war-ii/

Audie Murphy: 

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Audie_Murphy

John “Bet-a-Million” Gates: 

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Warne_Gates

The Interurban:

Interurban Railway
100th Anniversay of the Interurban

Sabine Lighthouse:

Sabine Lighthouse

Thoughts and Ramblings: don’t go to Bobby Boucher’s house for Thanksgiving: Iron Chef and the great turkey battle; seventy-ninth anniversary of the Battle of Tarawa; Murray Anderson; Welsh calculus; Susie Spindletop’s my closer.

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I hope everyone had a Thanksgiving of plenty and a decent nap afterward while someone in your household watched some foosball. Bobby Boucher’s mother would not be happy with this situation, but then again, I wouldn’t want to have dinner at her cabin. I’ve seen some of her slithering dishes, and nutria nourishment is not something I would wish to partake in either.

Here under the oaks at Ye Olde Block Farm, it’s been an annual event to begin preparing Thursday’s feast on Wednesday, starting at 1 p.m. It’s almost a cosplay of the original Iron Chef series from the ‘90s. But here it’s the “great turkey battle,” and not some other weird stuff Mrs. Boucher would probably like. There is a difference between Iron Chef America and the original show. I remember a friend who tried to watch the Japanese version in the 2000s. Unfortunately, he saw the “great piglet battle.” If you’ve seen the show, then you know they highlight an ingredient. Chop, chop the piglets. They weren’t alive, like the “great sturgeon battle,” but it took him a week to recover from seeing that one. The dinner turned out well, and I’m glad it’s over. As far as my friend is concerned, he knows to stay out of my kitchen.

This week was the seventy-ninth anniversary of the Battle of Tarawa. Port Arthur native Hugo DeBretagne gave his life on D-day three of Operation Galvanic. It was the final day of the battle, and only his comrades know what happened; I couldn’t find any specific information in the war diaries released in 2012. I know nine marines were killed that day, compared to the 1,000 that perished in the first two days of fighting. This wasn’t the first battle that Hugo had been in. I assume he was in the Guadalcanal campaign with the Second Marines (I want to look further into this). I do know that his brother was. Thankfully, James DeBretagne made it out of WWII alive, but not without receiving the Purple Heart.

Both Hugo and his brother James weren’t the only ones who had a tie to this area and fought in the Battle of Tarawa. Murry Anderson, born in Whitney, Texas, grew up on his family’s farm in Deport, near Paris (also Texas). On the Tyler Knows Everything podcast, Murray said he “was doing a man’s work at the farm at age six.” Whether cutting or picking cotton, milking the cows each morning, or picking the corn, it was a rough life during the Depression. When he was seventeen, his father died in the spring of 1942, and the farm became financially unviable. He moved with his mother and his sisters to Dallas. He had six sisters (four got married and lived in Dallas).

Murray’s dream was to fly planes for the Navy, but he didn’t pass the examination. So, he joined the Marine Corps hoping to fly in their corps. The day he was to depart for boot camp, he got a telegram from Washington stating that there had been a mistake in the grading of the exam and that he had passed. He was to report to Hensley Field Naval Air Station in Dallas for flight training. He contacted the Marine Corps about the mistake and was told, “Sorry, but you are in the Marine Corps.” I guess this is why their slogan is “The few, the proud.”

Murray Anderson moved to Beaumont in 1958 and wrote a book about his time in the Marine Corps. The Unrelenting Test of War is an excellent recounting of the history of what he and his fellow marines faced. It is also a gem for understanding what people actually felt and went through back then. I’ll also give a massive shout-out to Tyler Troutman for his interview with Murray in 2020. He has many other stories on the podcast, including how Murray met his wife.

Murray Anderson passed in June of this year, so I want to include the podcast to tell the story in his own words. Our veterans from that era are dying, and every story should be told. Thanks to all who collect the oral histories of these men and women, because I hope that someone in the future will have enough sense to learn the hell this generation endured. Many people complain about their lives and how hard it is nowadays. I see boomers, Generation Xers, millennials, and Generation Zers crying about one thing or another, but try living through the Depression as a child and then fighting a two-front war that didn’t really affect your family, even though you went through a lot of crap that they would never experience and wouldn’t understand. This was the greatest generation, and don’t ever let some boomer tell you otherwise, unless it’s a Vietnam vet, because they got the shaft from the other boomers. Change my mind!

Well, I have to cut this week’s ramble short because I’m currently doing Welsh calculus before Tuesday’s match with the Three Lions. I’ll leave you with an excerpt from “Susie Spindletop’s Weekly Letter” dated November 27, 1927, because Susie was always a strong closer.

Dear Della-

Thanksgiving has come and gone, as you may have noticed, and now for the greatest convention week of the year. I refer to that season commonly known as Christmas when folks do exactly what they are supposed to do because they are supposed to do it. As currently conducted the Yuletide period could not be more stereotyped were it the work of a luncheon club. It is very cut and dried.

But there, there! I mustn’t be dampish. I may believe that persons give presents they have no right to give, and grind their teeth while doing so; I may believe that thousands of stupid cards are sent out every year, with engraved sentiments mailed out to a long-list of friends; I may believe that every household, with very, very few exceptions, labors earnestly and usually unsuccessfully to retain that old timey spirit, but it is rather unbecoming for me to say so isn’t it?

One thing is gloriously beautiful- about Christmas as ever, Della, and that is the steadfast illusions of the children. Anything we can do to continue this charming deceit is effort well spent. Any invention we can supply that will make old Santa invade a snowless country with reindeer and sleigh is an invention which though one of the most impossible frauds ever imposed on an unsuspecting and trustful juvenile, ought to be continued.

And that reminds me of a commercialized Christmas story told in newspaper circles. Seems that an ambitious automobile agent in a southern city wanted to advertise old Nick as coming to town in a limousine Eight, or whatever make of car it was he represented. He had a commercial artist draw up a picture showing Santa at the steering wheel, just lickety splitting into town. He took the ad to the local daily. And the daily would not accept it.

“No, sir,” said the advertising manager, shaking his head, “that won’t go with the kiddies. You may have the best car in the world, but Santa isn’t supposed to know it. He still travels behind reindeer in this paper.

So said Susie November 27, 1927

Iron Chef: Suckling Pig Battle Chen vs Stelvio

222 – The Costliest Day in US Marine History – WW2:

The Unrelenting Test of War by Murray Anderson

Tyler Knows Everything podcast: https://youtu.be/JN-z-QB9TOg

Thoughts and Ramblings: Houston Traffic Sucks, Buc-ee’s BBQ Sucks; That Time When the Beaumont Heritage Society Killed Off Papa; Stingy Jack; Carving Turnips; Quit Shooting the Signage on Bragg Road; Loyd Auerbach; Kathleen Maca

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Chambers House
Chambers House Museum

On Monday, I drove to Houston, and the weather was perfect. I can imagine unicorns and butterflies frolicking together in perfect harmony, but you people in Houston are a different breed. I will ask how you can strategically shut down all the major highways during morning rush hour when there is nothing in your way. At least there is I-99; it’s out of the way, but I cringe when I have to drive to the other side of Houston. By the way, I will go ahead and say that Buc-ee’s BBQ sucks. Sorry/not sorry, but it’s the best place to go to the bathroom, and the banana bread is good.

Ruth and Florence Chambers

Back in 2015, the Beaumont Heritage Society did its annual Florence Chambers birthday celebration. Florence was born in 1912 and lived in the same house her whole life. As I’ve said before, this house/museum is my favorite because it’s a house that we could live in without millions of dollars. The story of the two sisters—Ruth and Florence—is an excellent historical view of women succeeding in life at a time when most said they couldn’t function unless they were married. Visit the museum, take the tour, and enjoy their story.

That year, the actor who played Homer Chambers (Papa) couldn’t attend the event, so they decided to reenact the funeral of Papa Chambers. Broussard’s Funeral Home provided the casket, and the event went well. I even have a photo of the ghostly images of a few women walking in the background in a time-lapse. I saw at the time that the picture looked ghostly, and I even asked a friend who knew the Chambers sisters to look at it. I said, “Hey, this could be the Chambers sisters,” but she shut me down immediately, responding, “Not in those heels!” Reenactor problems, but gold to me. Everyone did a great job that night, as they do every year.

Well, it’s the second week of October, which means it’s time to carve turnips! Back in the old country, there were no pumpkins to carve, so turnips were initially used. I’ve been doing this for a few years now, and those turnips are a bit hard to cut, but we will prevail. I’m not an artist, but the finished product is usually placed in my office and the living room for everyone to enjoy, but I see a trend of people not visiting during this time. I guess a house that smells like turnips is an acquired taste.

The origin of pumpkin carving for Halloween began in Ireland with the legend of Stingy Jack. Jack was not a good man; not only did he screw up his life, but he also screwed up his afterlife. Hearing the story of Stingy Jack and his worthless life, I put him in either the Senate or Congress. It’s pretty bad when even the devil feels for you. I’ll leave a link below to the story and a video as well. The video is well done—it’s by an independent film producer named Gary Andrews.

Last week, I spoke of my article about the Legend of Sarah Jane that blew up in the past. My article about Bragg Road was no different. Although it didn’t surpass the views of the first one, I saw that people were interested in this lore. Before getting into the story, I would like to make a plea to whoever is using the nice signage for target practice: please point your shotgun somewhere else, because we don’t need that kind of stuff.

Bragg Road is different from Sarah Jane Road because there may be something there. As I said in the blog, I did see the light, but not close, as most people seem to tell me happened to their acquaintances. I have yet to talk to someone who has seen the light in front of them or hovering over their car. It’s always a cousin, friend, or neighbor. That don’t work for me, so it is ongoing research on what it might have been.

I’ll leave a link to the article at the bottom of the page, but this was kind of the first time that we tried to do a logical paranormal investigation. It was the 1980s, and no Ghost Adventures TV show existed. (And that was a good thing!) What did exist was Loyd Auerbach’s book ESP, Hauntings and Poltergeists: A Parapsychologist’s Guide Handbook. So, we tried to document who, how, and what was traveling down that night’s eight-mile stretch. I will say that Paul Newman (not the actor/salad dressing king) did an excellent job of figuring out if the light we saw was a vehicle traveling down the road by brushing the tire tracks off the road. So, we knew just how many cars had passed. But the conclusion was a light that looked like an oncoming train. It never got close to us. It’s still a mystery. If you have a story and you’re not related to West End Wanda, then email me at rediscoveringsetx@gmail.com.

One thing I will always promote is the cemetery tours on Broadway in Galveston. Author Kathleen Maca does these tours, and she literally wrote the books on the cemetery. I’m excited for our upcoming tour of Magnolia Cemetery on the 20th and 22nd, and if you get a chance, the historical knowledge of Kathleen on the residents of the cemeteries on Broadway is a treasure that you shouldn’t miss. She also has ghost tours on the strand. I’ll leave her info below.

Until next week, stay safe and out of Houston.

Adiós

Heritage Haunted Happy Hour:

https://flic.kr/s/aHsknrEXWN

Stingy Jack   

Loyd Auerbach:

https://www.parapsych.org/users/profparanormal/profile.aspx

Legend of Bragg Road:

https://www.rediscoveringsetx.com/2012/10/30/legend-of-bragg-road-saratoga-light/

Kathleen Maca:

http://kathleenmaca.com/

http://kathleenmaca.com/index.php/book-signings/

Thoughts and Ramblings: The Great Pumpkin; the Church of Port Arthur; the Legend of Sarah Jane Road; Evelyn Keyes was not happy; and the Historic Magnolia Cemetery Tour.

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October is here, and Fall is upon us. I’m not going to talk about Pumpkin Spice, but I may mention The Great Pumpkin if triggered because Linus was always the smart one of the bunch, although Marcie would have probably made a good researcher—I digress.

According to Celtic/European legends, the veil begins to thin from the two worlds at this time of year, but as a child growing up in Port Arthur, I just wanted candy. Everything was good for the most part, but when I was trick-or-treating as a child, I had to make explicit gestures to a kid at the Church of Port Arthur on 19th street because he was trolling his “You are going to hell because your parents won’t let me have candy” scenario. Story below!

It’s also that time of year when newspaper reporters come out of the woodwork and search for a few of us to play on Halloween-themed articles. I get it, but I don’t envy them for having a deadline. I post weekly, but as I’ve stated before, I don’t make money from this blog, so sometimes you’re not getting much. There are a few haunts, stories, and legends that I will get into this month, so tag your favorite one, new-to-this-area person on the local news beat, and possibly launch your career, with my info. Good luck and Godspeed, new journalist.

Back in 2012, when this blog began, I did an article on the Legend of Sarah Jane Road, and it blew up. At the time, I was getting a few hits a day, but the website was new, and a regional history blog is as niche as it gets. Well, one day, for some reason, people began to share the article throughout the world. In twenty-four hours, it had reached nearly 12,000 views from Russia and Malaysia to South America. It wasn’t a great article, but many SETX ex-residents worldwide remembered their own version of this story. That’s fine with me, but I stand with Mr. Block on the fact that the Port Arthur News reporter doing his theme at Sarah Jane Block’s expense is fiction. Speaking of Mr. Block, I’ll link to the article and his website because he did a few spooky/entertaining stories around this time of the year.

Evelyn Keyes

Last week I brought up Bessie Reid and her story of Kisselpoo. When researching Mrs. Bruce Reid (as Florence Stratton always referred to her in her weekly letter), I stopped by the Museum of the Gulf Coast to get copies of the information that Sarah, the curator at the time, had on Mrs. Reid. While we waited for the printer to finish, I noticed that some of the exhibits had been moved from the first to the second floor. I also noticed that the Evelyn Keyes exhibition was now on the second floor. So, knowing that Evelyn died in 2008 and that the Aladdin lamp in the exhibit contains some of her ashes, I asked, “How does Evelyn like her new home?”. The printer immediately jammed. I don’t know if Scarlet’s sister jammed that printer, but I assume she was not pleased. I’ll add that Evelyn Keyes left Port Arthur at age three when her father died, but she stayed in touch, unlike other celebrities that y’all put on a pedestal, so she’s alright in my book.

The Historic Magnolia Cemetery Tour is planned and ready. The dates are Thursday, October 20th, from 4:30 p.m. to 6:30 p.m. and Saturday, October 22nd,  from 10 a.m. to 2 p.m. The tour is free and will feature some old and new names. This tour is a history tour of the deceased residents of Beaumont. There will be ten speakers on Thursday and nine on Saturday, so come out and listen to the history of the cemetery residents.

Until next week, slán go fóill.

                                     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.

Legend of Sarah Jane Road:

https://www.rediscoveringsetx.com/2012/10/23/legend-of-sarah-jane-road/

W.T. Block:

http://www.wtblock.com/Default.htm

http://wtblock.org/spooky.htm

Evelyn Keyes:

https://www.rediscoveringsetx.com/2014/04/06/tales-from-hallowed-ground-evelyn-keyes/

Bessie Reid and the story of Kisselpoo; Sorry for ruining your childhood stories; Iron Eyes Cody was Italian; Gremlins in the courthouse; Old Roy

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Bessie Reid wrote the Legend of Kisselpoo in 1923. It was published in the Port Arthur News on July 1st. The story was epic because it was derived from Indian legends found from New Mexico to Louisiana. With Florence Stratton, Reid also published a textbook called When the Storm God Rides in 1936, but this book does not concern the history of SETX except for one link. I’ll add the story and then get in the weeds of our area.

It is when that orb sheds its full light across the lake that the story has its greatest attraction. Then the tale-tellers declare, in the silvery path across the twinkling water, sometimes can be seen a canoe bearing a boy and girl in strange clothing, paddling up the shimmering moon way.

The tribe of Kisselpoo, so runs the ancient story, lived by the lake; and she, the only child of the chieftain, had been born when the moon was full and was under the protection of the moon goddess. When Kisselpoo was fifteen years old, tales of her beauty and ability had traveled far, and many braves from other tribes came to woo her. The one whom the leaders favored was head of several groups whose land adjoined to the north; and, although he was older than her father and already had many wives, arrangements were made for their marriage.

When nuptial preparations were far advanced, a stranger, whose home was seven sleeps distant toward the setting sun, arrived in the village. He was tall and straight as the pines, and for gifts he brought arm bands of a shining metal, set with stones like rainbows and like the blue of the skies. Kisselpoo loved him, but her wedding was set for the time when the moon would be at its brightest. That night as the luminous disc rose over the horizon, she waited in her finery for other maidens of the village to come to her father’s lodge and lead her to the elderly northern chief.

Instead, she heard the westerner’s deep voice softly speak her name, and with him she fled through reeds and grass to the lake where a canoe lay waiting. Swiftly they glided out on the water; but already the princess had been missed, and pursuit, led by the chieftain from the north and medicine men of her own tribe, was close. Her father did not participate in the chase, for he had dreamed a dream in which the moon goddess appeared to him and urged him to let his daughter wed the Indian from the west.

The medicine men called down the wrath of their gods, and a storm came up, ruffling the lake and upsetting the canoe, so that the eloping pair was last seen in the path of moonlight. Thereupon, the moon goddess, angered, called upon her kinsman, the storm god from the tropics, who rode in on a devastating hurricane. When at last the waves retreated into the Gulf, there was nothing left of the village or its inhabitants. The moon goddess decreed that the Lake of the River of Cypress Trees, for allowing itself to yield to the medicine men’s commands, should slowly disappear and all the streams that feed it bear down silt and mud to fill it.

For many moons after the great storm, the waters of the lake were clouded with mud, and its sandy bottom was covered with silt. The fish that were once abundant were now only a few. The sandy shores of the lake were stained, and shorebirds that once nested in the reeds and fished the shallow flats were gone. However, the spirit of the young lovers has remained with the lake that Kisselpoo loved so dearly. The moon goddess has shown forgiveness, and the lake is free of the curse that could have destroyed it. One can only assume that Kisselpoo had asked her protector, the moon goddess, to restore the beauty of the place of her birth. Now a swift current from the River of Cypress Trees is sweeping away the silt, and a fine sand shall again cover the lake floor.

With each new moon, the water becomes clearer, and great schools of fish have returned to the lake. Beautiful shorebirds and waterfowl have also returned to the sandy shores, along the salt marshes where alligators and furbearing animals abound. Meanwhile on a night when the full moon is rising, to those who have the power to see such things, appears the canoe with its two occupants who shall watch over Lake Sabine and protect its beauty until the last full moon.

One thing that this story mentions is when the god Hurrican devastates the area. In an article entitled Southeast Texas Indian Homeland, W. T. Block says that the demise of the Nacazil tribe in this area might have been caused by the Great Hurricane of 1780. I don’t know if this is factually true, but it would fit into Bessie Reid’s take on the story (if she even knew that a hurricane had hit the Texas gulf coast at that time). Unfortunately, W. T. Block’s notes are not present, and I have no way to confirm this, but it did make a great story!

I’m no expert on indigenous peoples, but I do see that a few are embracing their Karankawa ancestry. I wish them well and hope they don’t invite me to lunch.

Now that I’ve ruined a few people’s childhood stories of the beautiful Kisselpoo, who didn’t exist, I would like to take it further. Do you remember that Indian in the 1970s commercial crying because West-End Wanda was throwing her Burger Chef wrappers out the window of her 1970 Ford Pinto? He was Italian—but I digress.

Jefferson County Courthouse 2012

On Wednesday, I attended a Jefferson County Historical Commission meeting. The gremlins were in full force around the elevators and possibly in the County Clerk’s office as well. Our usual quorum was met, plus some familiar faces to everyone’s delight. After the meeting, while taking the suspect elevator that made a few members late, I glanced at the panel and remembered that the courthouse is thirteen stories, and at one time, the county jail took up five of them. I toured the floors early in my journey in SETX history and will leave links to both the article and the photos at the bottom of this blog.

At our after-meeting (the one in the parking lot, because we were kicked out when they closed the building—as usual), I brought up a memory of working in a shipyard, which I try to forget, but it did make me think of my neighbor Roy in Port Arthur. He taught me many things in life and was a godsend and an excellent source of information. He worked in the shipyards in New Orleans during WWII, and he talked about it frequently with me because he knew I enjoyed his rambles. He grew up in Leesville, Louisiana, and is one of the few people who have influenced my life. He was special to me, and I loved every minute of his rants about Port Arthur, growing up in Leesville, being a union carpenter, and having to wear a sidearm on his belt in the 1960s to build his brother-in-law’s house because the union was on strike for whatever reason. Politics aside, this was wrong. I’ll leave a link at the bottom of this page.

Well, that’s it for this week, but October is on its way. Enjoy your family, neighbors, and friends. Alla prossima! Happy fall y’all.

SOUTHEAST TEXAS INDIAN HOMELAND:

THE BURIAL MOUNDS OF OLD PORT NECHES

By W. T. Block:

http://www.wtblock.com/wtblockjr/indian.htm

Iron Eyes Cody:

https://walkoffame.com/iron-eyes-cody/

Jefferson County Courthouse Jail:

Article:

https://www.rediscoveringsetx.com/2012/09/27/jefferson-county-courthouse-jail/

Photos:

https://flic.kr/s/aHBqjA8nZx

Remembering Roy:  

https://www.rediscoveringsetx.com/2012/07/24/remembering-roy/

Thoughts and Ramblings: Bull and Snake issues; Martha Mack; Bishop Byrne Shamrocks; Raymond Meyer; Gary Kubiak; Honoring what little Irish heritage I have; the Historic Magnolia Cemetery Tour part deux.

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After beginning my work week by ticking off both a bull and a five-foot rat snake on Monday, I think I’ve done alright so far. Thankfully, it wasn’t a Brahman bull, otherwise I wouldn’t be alive to write this. The rat snake was pretty annoyed that I woke him up, but I had a weapon; with his side eye, he saw some guy on a forklift coming for him. Note to self: rat snakes move pretty darn fast! I’ll have to start bringing my katana sword to work, but then the bull would probably laugh at me. Oh well, he’s not that swift anyway, or knowledgeable of anything except not wanting to move out of the way when I need him to. Maybe fireworks are a better option.

Well, I did some proper research this week. Some of it will be on the 2nd Annual Historic Magnolia Cemetery Tour in October. It involves the origins of Martha Mack (McFaddin) and the Martha Mack Cemetery located between what is now Marina Drive and the end of Elm St. This research is ongoing. I’ll have more material in October. Martha was born in Tennessee around 1842—a census states that she was thirty-eight in 1880. She worked as a laundress for the McFaddins. The cemetery was on land deeded to her by W. P. H. McFaddin.

Martha had five children, but Roxie Patillo and Basheba Simpson Plummer were the only ones I could find a bit more information on. According to the 1880 census, their father was Henry E. Simpson, Jefferson County clerk. If anyone has information on the Patillo or Simpson family, then I’m “all ears,” as Ross Perot, a businessman and 1992 Texas presidential candidate, said after he screwed up some of y’all’s high school football expectations. No Pass, No Play was brutal for people who cared.

Speaking of high school football, what was the last high school from Port Arthur to win a state title? Bishop Byrne Shamrocks 1952. Don’t give me that crap that they didn’t play anyone. They beat your Bum Phillips 34-13 at Nederland, and French High 26-0. Of course, they did it with Raymond Meyer. (Visit the Museum of the Gulf Coast for more on him.)

My father was on that team (#17), and he told me stories of Ray. Legend has it that they would chain him up to the entrance of the visiting teams’ locker room like a junkyard dog for effect. It worked that year. He would have gone pro, but he blew out his knee training for the 49ers. He and his dad went into the barber business and used to cut my hair. That was the nicest Goliath I’ve ever been around.

Also, a shout-out to Bobby Barras, who was also on that team. My father, Bobby, and I went to Rice Stadium in 1977 for the State Finals, where Bishop Byrne appeared again. They played St. Pius; Gary Kubiak, of Denver Bronco fame, was on that team. I know him as a quarterback who ignored his coach’s call for a field goal in his college days. The coach let him do his thing and, well, they lost. That sums up his playing days. I guess he may have had a better coaching role, but I don’t follow Danny White (Dallas Cowboy)-grade QBs. Anyway, the Green Machine lost 21-13, so to drown our sorrows, we went to Luby’s to indulge in tea and water-filled cups of vegetables. I ordered two or three versions of potatoes, which intrigued Bobby. He asked me why I was eating different kinds of potatoes. My reply was clear: “Because I’m honoring the little Irish heritage I have.” I don’t think he talked to me anymore. Thinking back, I wasn’t a good kid—but I digress.

The dates have been set for this year’s Historic Magnolia Cemetery Tour. They are on Thursday, October 20th, from 4:30 p.m. to 6:30 p.m., and Saturday, October 22nd, from 10 a.m. to 2 p.m. It’s free to all who want to learn not only Beaumont history but also SETX history. There will be some new stories and some old ones. We like our volunteers, who research their topics to shine. My only regret is that I can’t take the tour because I’m on it.

All who volunteer on this tour do a great job to represent the history of our area, while adding their own stories to it. I hope to see you there, and I especially hope you enjoy it. Ciao, for now.

Raymond Meyer:

https://www.museumofthegulfcoast.org/raymond-meyer

Thoughts and Ramblings: Don Larson; The Babe; Sydalise Fredeman; Bob Hope; Park Plaza Cinema; Joyeux Noel; Johnny Janot; Felix the cat gets the shaft.

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A few years back, I purchased some photos from an estate sale. They were taken by Don Larson, who worked at The Port Arthur News, in the early 1980s. I didn’t spend much on them, but to me, they are iconic. The first photo is from the Babe Zaharias Historical Marker dedication on 7th street in Port Arthur. (Yes, Babe was from Port Arthur, but Beaumont tries to claim her all for itself.) In my opinion, Babe was big enough for the universe to claim her.

In the photo, the lady trying to hold on to her hat is Sydalise Fredeman, who saved the Pompeiian Villa from Port Arthur’s gauntlet of destruction of its history. Back in the 1960s, both Port Arthur and Beaumont didn’t care about their history, so they decided to destroy many structures within their city limits. Still, Mrs. Fredeman took no crap in Port Arthur and saved this treasure along with the Port Arthur Historical Society. (At the time, she was the Port Arthur Historical Society)

Also in this photo are Bob Hope and Bum Phillips, and I’m almost sure that Wayne Newton is in there somewhere. The second photo is the groundbreaking of Bob Hope School/Hughen School. Of course, neither Bob nor Wayne are manning the shovel, but that’s alright when your philanthropy gives kids a much-needed boost.

Apropos of Hughen School, I remember Mr. Le (the last name might be misspelled because, at age 10, I wasn’t J. Edgar Hoover informed yet). He was my neighbor in the 1970s and ‘80s. He was a very nice man who always laughed and was just a great adult to us mongrels in the neighborhood. He rode his bike to work each morning; if I was on my bike, it would be a race. He had two sons who were good to us mongrels, but when mom found out her two kids were mongrels, usually each week, dad did the disciplining. I don’t know all their family history, but I know that Mr. Le was a captain in the South Vietnamese Army before relocating here. They were great people, and I am glad to have known them.

Another photo is of the Park Plaza Cinema sign. This is special to me because I believe I saw the first Star Wars movie there 12 times. (Of course, multiple viewings were had by not getting up and leaving after the movie ended.) Smokey and the Bandit was another one that I enjoyed while learning sign language from Sally Field in the movie. Jackie Gleason was the man.

The other day I watched again a movie called Joyeux Noel. It is loosely based on the Christmas truce during World War I. It had a great message: “Why the hell are we fighting out here in the trenches when we could be home with the wife and our newborn? Instead we are here, stuck in the mud with Felix the cat.” It’s a good movie and I’m sure that if you rent it or buy it on Amazon there are subtitles. But if you watch it on YouTube, someone from France has uploaded it and there are no subtitles. No problem, my Scottish is good (the movie says British, but this was a Scottish regiment, and the Scotts would tell you the same.) I can understand German passively because of an interest in German music and some French because I took a class in high school—but that was a long time ago, so my French sucks. There are many poignant moments throughout the movie, but I was really irritated when the French spoke. I can’t give a reason for it, but I got annoyed when the commander spoke.

This wasn’t a problem when I would listen to Johnny Janot’s Cajun Bandstand on Sunday mornings on KLVI in the 1980s. He was the best. That dog of his really got him into trouble. I don’t understand why Johnny named his dog Sex anyway. Please click on the link below, where Johnny tells the story himself.

And speaking of Johnny, before I get to my point, he had a song called the Woodpecker Song, and in my short-lived musical life, we did a cover of it, but metaled it up a bit. Cajun Metal, who thought.

The thing that really irritated me was not in the movie, but it’s connected to it. In a scene where all the soldiers begin to come out of the trenches and trade chocolate and alcohol, Felix the cat shows up. The German soldier acknowledges him as Felix, but the French soldiers insist that his name is Nestor. There is nothing more to this scene. But in real life, this story is based on a trial and verdict by a French commander/general. After the truce, someone in charge decided to put Felix on trial for treason. Not to get into the weeds per se, but cats were good pets in the trenches during the great war. Mud, toxic gases, and rats were a big part of soldiers’ suffering in those trenches.

Felix, the cat, was a cat. He cared nothing about Germany or France fighting a war. He ate well until this French commander learned that he was playing both sides. Felix was thus executed for treason. (This really happened! Link below.)

Well, that’s it for this week. If you see me around town, don’t speak to me in French because I may scratch you if you do, but you could try singing. French singers are great. I bid you Meow (that’s cat speak for “bonjour”). Au revoir.

Johnny Janot:

Felix the cat:

https://www.wearethemighty.com/mighty-history/cats-wwi-trench-companion/#:~:text=One%20cat%20by%20the%20name,friends%20long%20after%20the%20war.

Thoughts and Ramblings: I saw Ozzy Osbourne in Beaumont and lived to tell the story; the Chambers House; Florence Stratton and Catherina Stengele.

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My taste in music has changed over 50+ years. I will say that I can listen to most things. In the 1970s, it was probably anything that my sisters listened to. Yeah, some Cliff Richard devil woman or Paul Revere and the Raiders. I remember a few things: taking a record player outside and listening to it while sitting in a lot, next to an ash tree that was struck by lightning twice within a year. History tells us that is odd, but that’s what happened. Not me sitting in a lot, but lightning striking a tree twice.

Blizzard of Oz

The first concert I attended was an English guy that had a band with a great guitarist named Randy Rhoads. He was a bit naughty and had a severe drug problem. In his stupor, he apparently enjoyed eating doves at the record label meetings. One time, one of his fans threw him a bat on stage, so in his element, he partook of this fowl delicacy. The publicity was enormous, but I’m sure that those rabies shots in the torso hurt. It was a great concert. There is footage of Randy Rhoads doing a sound check and an interview with the singer, Ozzy Osbourne, on YouTube. I’ll put the links for both videos below.

Randy died a month later in a plane crash, which I’ve always thought was a significant loss to music. Yes, Eddie Van Halen was doing similar things on the guitar, but Randy was classically trained and probably would have ventured further if he had had the chance. As far as Ozzy is concerned, he is still alive and remains healthy, while every other bandmate he has had is dying of some disease. I guess he’s well preserved.

Chambers House Museum

I started my journey through SETX history in 2012, and it’s been a treasure trove of information. I guess it started by clicking on a Chambers House Museum link on my computer. I will say that the Chambers House has always been my favorite museum in Beaumont, not because of the glorious richness in it, but for the simplicity it brings. This is the house where your grandma could have lived—not mine, because she was happy on 18th street in Port Arthur, near her church. But I’m sure that her five boys and one girl would have loved the room of a two-story house. Instead, they had to deal with a 600-sq. ft., two-bedroom one bath priced on Zillow at whoever knows nowadays. There are many unique sites to see there; if you know the stories, it’s even better.

Florence Stratton

I bring up the Chambers House because I need to shout out to Ginny, who used to work there. She was the one who introduced me to Florence Stratton in 2012, and boy, what an adventure it’s been. Florence intrigued me, so I spent ten years researching her. This is why I only post my Thoughts and Ramblings on Sunday mornings—as a tribute to her, because her Susie Spindletop Weekly Letter hit the pages of the Sunday Enterprise from February 28, 1926, to January 23, 1938. I’ve spent many hours (and dollars) researching her, and I can say that it’s been worth it for history on different fronts.

Another person who has intrigued me is Catherine Jeanette Stengele. I learned of her story from a friend while photographing headstones in Magnolia Cemetery. According to him, Catherina was a seamstress who saved all her money and who, upon her death, had paid for an impressive mausoleum as her final resting place. I found this story odd because a lowly seamstress would never make enough to afford a mausoleum that covers 12 plots. So, the research began.

Early Beaumont was home to an entrepreneur in the form of the Dutch-born youthful Miss Stengele. According to her naturalization form, she arrived in this country in 1884, spent a few years in Baltimore learning the millinery business, and then moved to Beaumont in the late 1880s. The form also shows that she was born on February 28, 1856, and not 1866, as stated on her mausoleum. (I suppose that some people need to hold on to their youth even in death.)

Miss Stengele was certainly competent in the world of business. As a single woman in the 1890s, she made a good living with her millinery business and other ventures in the financial and real estate sectors. She had the help of lawyers for living trust claims and property claims, which also seemed to work well for her. Miss Stengele was so successful in finance that she placed an ad in the Beaumont Journal in May 1899 stating that she was “Going to quit the business! I am going to quit the millinery business, and from the date will sell my entire stock at very low prices.”

Catherina Jeanette Stengele seemed to be a natural when it came to finance and the lending market. So much so that she quit her day job, so to speak. Her investments would even finance a return trip to Europe in 1901. See the article in the Beaumont Enterprise dated January 6, 1900.

You may notice the name Stengele Building highlighted in yellow above the article. Miss Stengele also owned a three-story brick building at 345 Pearl Street in Beaumont, which had housed her millinery shop as well as several of her tenants.

Although the records from 1900 until her death in 1909 tell the tale of a successful businesswoman, not every investment she made went according to plan. For instance, around 1905–1906, court proceedings show the bankruptcy of a rice farm in Langhorne in which she held a $20,000 stake.

In April 1909, Miss Stengele left Beaumont for Los Angeles because of an illness. An article from the Houston Post dated September 16, 1909, states that she “underwent two surgeries for appendicitis during the summer.” Unfortunately, Miss Catherina Jeanette Stengele passed away the day before the article was printed, on September 15, 1909.

I found a few articles from the Beaumont Journal that reviewed the highlights of her life and the aftermath of her death, but her will is undoubtedly of considerable interest. According to hearsay, she was at odds with one of her brothers and left him nothing, though technically that’s not true. Browsing through her will, I found that she did leave a detailed list of her heirs and her final wishes. Her wish for the St. Catherine of the Wheel statue was originally included in the first draft of her will in 1908, but the mausoleum was only added in May 1909. She had many family members, both locally and in Holland, to whom she bequeathed her wealth. Her assets were around $120,000. That’s the equivalent of $3.1 million today. Not too bad for a lowly seamstress—or should I say, a milliner?

Well, that’s it for this week, tot ziens!

Chambers House Museum: https://chambershouse.org/

Florence Stratton:

https://www.rediscoveringsetx.com/2017/03/21/a-brief-history-of-florence-stratton-part1/

https://www.rediscoveringsetx.com/2017/03/28/a-brief-history-of-florence-stratton-part2/