Today is the day, and I will post information all day on our experiences on the tour.
#ICYMI Here is what to expect on this tour and the dos and don’t’s. Hope to see you along the way!
When taking a historic homes tour, you should have a plan.
1. Each ticket is valid for one visit to every house on both weekends. If you can go both weekends, taking the tour with family and friends is a great experience. However, if you only have one weekend or even only one day, then it is better to take the tour with no more than three people. Long lines can be an obstacle. One year I took the opening-day tour solo, and there was a point when I passed in front of 14 people because they only had enough room for one more person in the group.
2. Some of the houses are in the same neighborhood, so have a plan to park centrally. You will be able to walk to multiple places without wasting time looking for a parking spot for the various destinations.
3. NO HEELS! I should have put this up top. This is the one thing I’ve never understood. Why would someone wear heels on a home tour that involves walking upstairs and on lovely restored floors? If you do wear heels, you’ll end up walking through some stranger’s house shoeless. There was an instance when a homeowner had their beautiful restored floor damaged by someone who chose not to wear comfortable shoes. The money raised by the tour paid for the floor to be restored once more.
4. Booties! Speaking of shoes, it is always inevitable to have one house on the tour that doesn’t want you, prancing around in heels or people walking on their newly restored floors. I get it, restoration is expensive! But then why have your home on the tour? Anyway, I digress. This will undoubtedly slow down the number of people taking the tour. So, there may be some waiting time.
5. It may be better to visit popular homes, such as the cover house, at the opening, during lunchtime, or close to the last tour (six in the afternoon). I’ve found that these times have fewer lines.
6. Volunteers. Most of the people checking your ticket, selling you the excellent wares that the Galveston Historical Foundation (GHF) has to offer, and who are stationed throughout the property are all volunteers. This means they are not getting paid. The white shirt-black pants army is there to keep the tour rolling and help you visit these beautiful homes. I say this because when you find yourself in a line, know that most of these people are doing the best they can to give you a great experience. Concerning the historical knowledge of these places, I am looking forward to seeing what the GHF will offer its volunteers. One year, I volunteered to be a docent on the front porch and all I got was a 3 x 5 index card of information. I will admit that it has finally gotten better!
7. Visit the Old City Cemetery! The wildflowers are lovely and a great photo opportunity for photographers.
8. Make sure to look for the cemetery tours hosted by Kathleen Maca. They sell out fast! The reason is that she is a great storyteller and has written several books on Broadway’s prominent cemetery.
Lately, I’ve been spending time and money on my Audible account. I’ve downloaded audiobook after audiobook—mostly World War II biographies but with a few lighter reads on plagues, pestilences, and musicians. I’m still recovering from the bio of Dave Mustaine (Megadeth’s front man) on life on heroin, hating Metallica, and edging on the Northern Irish into a riot. It’s a good read, but I’m still detoxing from the amount of heavy drug use it contained. And I won’t even get into Nikki Sixx’s book The Dirt!
I finished two books this week, and I highly recommend both. The first is called Watching Darkness Fall by David McKean. It describes the situation in Europe leading up to WWII and the four American diplomats who witnessed it firsthand. I’ll admit that this book brings out my hatred for Joe Kennedy almost as much as my views on MacArthur and Roosevelt. Maybe I’ll get into that one day, but I want to discuss the next read.
The second book was Brothers in Arms by Kareem Abdul-Jabbar (yes, that Kareem Abdul-Jabbar) and Anthony Walton. The subtitle reads The Epic Story of the 761st Tank Battalion, WWII’s Forgotten Heroes. The 761st was the first Black mechanized battalion in the army and the first of its kind to see action in WWII. The book follows the struggles, tribulations, and racial discrimination of these soldiers from their training in Louisiana and Texas to being hand-picked by General George S. Patton to fight in his Third Army. And fight they did. They went up against elite Panzer divisions and endured a casualty rate of 40 percent. In the end, they broke the Siegfreid Line, advanced through many German cities, and liberated the concentration camp in Gunskirchen, Austria. In the movie Patton, you will see a tank division advancing across the Rhine River. That was the 761st, but for some reason, some idiot decided to use white actors instead of giving an accurate account of these fighting men. I’ll leave a link to a documentary that provides a complete picture of the 761st below.
The 49th Annual Galveston Historic Homes Tour begins next week, and I want to give a few details about what to expect for the first two weekends of this May event. There are ten houses/properties on the tour (the 1920 City National Bank building is not a house, but it was on previous tours; I hope to see it fully restored). No word on the booty call. Last year there were five houses where you needed to wear booties, and that took a lot of time. Not knowing more about the properties where I will not be volunteering could be a problem, so stay tuned. My house is small and has only one story, so it should be fine.
When taking a historic homes tour, you should have a plan because the ticket is only good for the first two weekends in May. The ticket costs $45. Since 2012, my plan has been to take the tour on the first Saturday and then volunteer on the first Sunday with the Candy Lady. I will post my views during Saturday’s tour and hopefully guide you in visiting the different properties. With that said, I will now offer my guidance to my friend Wanda because she is not the sharpest tool in the shed.
Each ticket is valid for one visit to every house on both weekends. If you can go both weekends, taking the tour with family and friends is a great experience. However, if you only have one weekend or even only one day, then it is better to take the tour with no more than three people. Long lines can be an obstacle. One year I took the opening-day tour solo, and there was a point when I passed in front of 14 people because they only had enough room for one more person in the group.
Some of the houses are in the same neighborhood, so have a plan to park centrally. You will be able to walk to multiple places without wasting time looking for a parking spot for the various destinations.
NO HEELS! I should have put this up top. This is the one thing I’ve never understood. Why would someone wear heels on a home tour that involves walking upstairs and on lovely restored floors? If you do wear heels, you’ll end up walking through some stranger’s house shoeless. There was an instance when a homeowner had their beautiful restored floor damaged by someone who chose not to wear comfortable shoes. The money raised by the tour paid for the floor to be restored once more.
Booties! Speaking of shoes, it is always inevitable to have one house on the tour that doesn’t want you, Wanda, prancing around in heels or people walking on their newly restored floors. I get it, restoration is expensive! But then why have your home on the tour? Anyway, I digress. This will undoubtedly slow down the number of people taking the tour. So, there may be some waiting time.
It may be better to visit popular homes, such as the cover house, at the opening, during lunchtime, or close to the last tour (six in the afternoon). I’ve found that these times have fewer lines.
Volunteers. Most of the people checking your ticket, selling you the excellent wares that the Galveston Historical Foundation (GHF) has to offer, and who are stationed throughout the property are all volunteers. This means they are not getting paid. The white shirt-black pants army is there to keep the tour rolling and help you visit these beautiful homes. I say this because when you find yourself in a line, know that most of these people are doing the best they can to give you a great experience. Concerning the historical knowledge of these places, I am looking forward to seeing what the GHF will offer its volunteers. One year, I volunteered to be a docent on the front porch and all I got was a 3 x 5 index card of information. I will admit that it has finally gotten better!
Visit the Old City Cemetery! The wildflowers are lovely and a great photo opportunity for photographers.
Make sure to look for the cemetery tours hosted by Kathleen Maca. They sell out fast! The reason is that she is a great storyteller and has written several books on Broadway’s prominent cemetery.
Until next week, I believe shiplap will be in our future, and if you complain about seeing shiplap, then you shouldn’t have paid $45 for a historic homes tour—but I digress.
I hit a milestone of sorts. This week is the first anniversary of “Thoughts and Ramblings” and my return from a two-year hiatus. I am genuinely amazed at this milestone—not because of the content (we all know some of it was a bit thin on occasion), but because I made it through a whole year without missing a week. This is how the blog was supposed to be when it began. However, back then, it was hard to stick to this routine because I wanted to do thorough research on each subject, and there is not a snowball’s chance in hell that can happen in a week. The houses and events that I covered fit into this type of schedule, but they also took time away from research. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed most of the events, but there is a reason I’m on the historical commission and not in a historical society: I am not social! But covering those things was fun.
Vuylsteke House
In the blog’s early years, I wanted to promote our area’s historic homes and museums. I felt that there was not much promotion out there for the smaller venues, and people in our area would rather travel 500 miles to look at a giant ball of string than walk across the street to one of our local museums. And let’s be honest, who has heard of the Vuylsteke House? I grew up in Port Arthur and never heard of it because nobody promoted it. Luckily, Sydalise Fredeman saved the Pompeiian Villa, which I eventually toured in second grade. It was another forty years until I visited it again. During that visit, the docent mentioned that I should also tour the Vuylsteke House. There was not a lot of promotion back then. Some kind of information should’ve been out there, but it wasn’t in 2012. In 2023, there is a lot more promotion of these houses and museums, and I’m happy that people are getting the word out. It’s not perfect, but they are learning.
Although not weekly, I did post some finished and ongoing stories throughout the years. I enjoyed every bit of the hours and money spent learning and uncovering the history and lore of our SETX. A few topics that triggered me at the time (and still do) are the interurban train, the Sabine Lighthouse, the Rowleys, the Chambers House Museum, Florence Stratton (of course), Hugo DeBretagne, Marine Scout Bomber Squadron 931 (VMSB-931), Magnolia Cemetery, Jeanette Catherina Stengele, Miss Jack McDonough, Wong Shu, and two people for whom I have the utmost respect: Kichimatsu Kishi (the Kishi colony) and William D. Quick, a researcher whom I never met. All their stories can be found on my blog: www.rediscoveringsetx.com.
On April 11, 2022, I posted my first “Thoughts and Ramblings.” It was basically a memorial to Florence, Bill Quick, and Jerry Burnett. Jerry was my insurance agent/go-to interurban train person. We would spend hours talking about trains and Port Arthur’s history. He died in October of 2021, and I still miss him.
From that post onward, the blog changed to a much easier format that talks about what I’m researching and what was happening at the time. This allowed me to post some weekly interesting stories and give updates on ongoing projects. I could also ramble on and mention some of my beloved nonsense, including Tankery, anime, and the Mari Lwyd. Do not be mistaken, they were strategically placed six to eight months in advance because 秋山 優花里 Akiyama Yukari, 紺野木綿季 Yuuki Konno, and the Mari Lwyd are dear to me. I will admit that Yukari is one of my spirit animals. I have four. The other three are Oscar the Grouch, Margaret Hamilton, and Bunny Rabbit from the Captain Kangaroo show. As a kid growing up without a Leave It to Beaver family, my inspiration came from the first three, but Yukari triggered my triggerness. “Panzer Vor!”
I finished the book about the history of yellow fever that was recommended to me by two friends. With all these GPR surveys lately, I thought I should get up to date on this disease. It is an excellent read if you are into this type of history. Still, if you have a weak stomach, you might want to skip this read because it describes exactly what happened to all the victims and the brave doctors, scientists, and volunteers who dealt with this epidemic. The only happy ending is that they found what spread the disease, and thanks to their sacrifice, you aren’t dying of yellow fever in 2023. This was a different epidemic compared to the Spanish flu or COVID-19. The book is The American Plague by Molly Caldwell Crosby. Again, this is a must-read if you are into this type of history. Also, for those who have read it, we know—the band Toto was wrong. We don’t miss the rains down in Africa because that’s how it all started!
Well, the Tall Ships Galveston Festival took place this weekend, and I was there on Saturday. I may have an evening edition on that today. It depends on whether I have one of those Mama Teresa’s Flying Pizza slumbers while I wait for the ferry. Shout-out to Mama Teresa. That is my go-to place while waiting to board the ferry. Hurricane Ike destroyed the restaurant at Crystal Beach, but Mama Teresa’s pizza is still flying in Galveston!
Speaking of Galveston, we are three weeks away from the 49th Annual Historic Homes Tour, and I will be putting out a list of what not to do on the tour. It’s for Wanda only because she seems to always get this wrong. No high heels—there will be booties—and remember the long lines in the sun! Everyone else knows this, but she always seems to forget.
Last week, I mentioned that Florence and Willie Cooper were best friends. Their story goes possibly back to childhood. Florence’s father, Asa E. Stratton, served as a Texas legislator from January 1883 to May 1884. I have no idea why it wasn’t a full term because I haven’t researched this, but it’s another subject that I’d like to pursue. Willie’s father, Sam Bronson Cooper, also served as a Texas legislator at the time (1880–1884). Let’s add William Hobby from Moscow, Texas, into the mix, and we have a threesome of influential SETX individuals from both local and Texas history.
Willie Cooper
It is important to note that all three had ties to Beaumont in the 1900s; slowly, all three would end up here. Florence would take a teaching job in 1903; William Hobby would acquire the Beaumont Enterprise in 1907, and Willie would be elected Queen of the Elks in November 1901, beating Miss Eddie Ogden by 2,216 to 643 votes. However, there may have been shenanigans in the vote count, or at least that’s how the Beaumont Enterprise article tells the story. I don’t really know when the Cooper family first came to Beaumont, but they were a positive force for the city.
Speaking of a positive force and the Elks, I discovered an exciting raffle in the pages of the Beaumont Enterprise of 1926. It was a fantastic giveaway of a newly built home with all the amenities. It even came with a brand-new Chevrolet Coach worth $645. All this could be yours for a one-dollar raffle ticket, and oh, by the way, you needed to be newlyweds because the property was promoted as the “Elks Love Nest.” I remind you of this because it was 1926, and there was no shacking up in the Oaks Addition.
The response was amazing, and many purchased tickets. The Elks even kept the raffle going after the deadline to ensure that some folks who were sailors would be here for the draw. It’s kind of hilarious that they kept putting off the draw because they kept selling more tickets. I don’t know where the money went eventually, but the Elks were masters of promotion. The Elks are still a thing, and if you know one, I wonder if they keep track of their history. P. F. Armstrong ended up winning the love nest in December of 1926, and the house is still there. However, I don’t know the whereabouts of the Chevrolet Coach.
photo credit: Portal of Texas
As I drove to HEB yesterday in an impending rain storm, I could only wish that Howard’s Food Store in Port Arthur was still open. Not because of Just Part of the Store (JPOTS) and their great prepared food, but because Howard Hatfield had a covered parking lot that was a treasure. I have no idea what you Beaumonteers had (probably Piggly Wiggly), but we all went to Howard’s back in the day. And, of course, we would also grab a greasy burger at Judice’s on Seventh Street. I will say that Monceaux’s was the best; Judice’s came in second because I don’t remember them having greasy onion rings. Otherwise, it would have been a tie! Yes, my blood pressure is high, but I do take statins!
I’ve talked before about the World War I monument in Triangle Park, in front of the old Beaumont Enterprise building. There is a movement that wants to relocate it to Magnolia Cemetery. Currently, they are talking to the city authorities and finding the right people to speak to because let’s face it, this monument was forgotten long ago. At the last Magnolia Cemetery tour, we asked those who came out if they knew of the monument, and probably 95 percent didn’t. So, I ask you now: Have you ever heard of it? This is why it needs to be moved somewhere other than an easement on Main Street right across the giant fire hydrant where it stands today. I do not hate Disney’s giant fire hydrant; I want this monument to be in a better place.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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:
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.
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.
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.
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