Category Archives: Places

Sabine Lighthouse

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I can point to one site in particular that originally sparked my love for local history over 20 years ago. In fact, when I rediscovered it in 2009, it brought back a lot of memories. It was the reason that I started writing again and began my journey to rediscover our past. What is this place you ask? Well, actually, it’s technically not in SETX.

 

Just southeast of the Sabine Pass Battleground, stands a weathered and abandoned but still majestic-looking brick lighthouse that has seen and been a part of our history for many years. Even though it resides in Southwest Louisiana, I believe its roots justify honoring this historic site for both states.

 

I first saw this landmark back in the late 80s while fishing with a couple of friends. I was then—and still am to this day—in awe of this structure. But alas, it’s yet another part of history that’s yelling out to be saved. Unfortunately, the attempts to purchase and restore the site have not panned out, as it all comes down to money. And I’m certain it would take far more than would be available.

 

So how did this landmark come to be? Well, on March 3, 1849, Congress appropriated $7500 for a lighthouse to be built at Sabine Pass, but naval commander Henry Adams investigated the site and felt there was no need for it. So all of the money, less $116.80, was put back into the surplus fund.

Local citizens strongly disagreed and continued, with the help of politicians, to petition Congress for a lighthouse. Finally, four years later, Congress appropriated $30,000 for a lighthouse to be built after a different surveyor suggested that one be built on the east side of the pass. The land was obtained, and work began in the latter half of 1855.

 

The 80-foot-tall brick lighthouse went into service in late spring or early summer of 1857 but would cease operations a little over four years later with the start of the civil war.

 

During the war, the Union army used the lighthouse to spy on the progress of the Confederates, who were constructing Fort Griffin at Sabine. Unfortunately, they lost their prized looking post in April of 1863, five months before the Battle of Sabine Pass, when the lighthouse was seized by a small group of Confederates.

 

Oh, how different history would have been if the Union soldiers had kept the lighthouse. With their knowledge of the fort, including the fact that it had no protective back wall, one can only imagine that the Battle of Sabine Pass would have been nothing more than a skirmish after 6000 Union soldiers flanked the 50 Davis guards and Lt. Richard Dowling. Sure, they still would have to have dealt with Kate Dorman (see Kate Dorman post), but even Kate probably couldn’t have handled all those Federals by herself.

The lighthouse returned to service on December 23, 1865, after the end of the war, and its beacon would continue to shine for more than 87 years. There would be many trials and tribulations within this time, especially of the tropical kind.

 

In October 1886, a strong tropical cyclone ravaged Southeast Texas and Southwest Louisiana (see The Destructive Side of History post), destroying the keeper’s house adjacent to the lighthouse. Some have said that the surge was 10 feet high while others say 20. But whatever the actual height, it left total devastation in its wake and 150 dead in Sabine Pass—except for the lighthouse across the Pass.

 

There would be other storms that raged upon this land, but the structure has stood sound throughout. It took  the winds of progress to seal its fate. On the morning of May 21, 1952, the light dimmed for the last time, ending a part of our history forever.

 

Today it sits in hazardous decay. Unsafe to enter, but from afar, it still holds the majestic glow that I have come to love. I hope that one day she will be saved, but it will be a long and hard journey before her light shines again.

 

Elisha O. Brewer Cemetery

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Not many people know about the grave off Amoco Road just south of Beaumont. I never knew of it until it was pointed out to me while I was working at Oiltanking Beaumont (formerly Amoco). After looking over the cracked stone, I knew there was a story there, but what story, I did not know.

That night I did an internet search for Elisha Brewer, the name on the headstone, and found an article written by W. T. Block, which was first published in the Beaumont Enterprise on November 13, 1999. It told the story of Elisha O. Brewer, who, after visiting the deathly ill mayor of Beaumont, Columbus Caswell, had been un-harnessing his wagon when his horse had kicked him in the groin. Elisha died a short time later. He was 31.

Elisha Brewer was the grandson of Christian Hillebrandt, a cattle baron, who was the namesake of Hillebrandt Bayou. His wife Mary was the granddaughter of John Sparks, the first settler and founder of the Sparks settlement (Aurora), which was the precursor to the city of Port Arthur.

It is unclear why Elisha O. Brewer had been buried in what would have been his backyard 129 years ago. Possibly it was out of haste or necessity, but whatever the reason, we can assume from the words on his gravestone that he was deeply missed.

“Since thou canst no longer stay

To cheer me thy love

I hope to meet with thee again

In yon bright world above.”

Elisha O. Brewer

February 2, 1852 – August 5, 1883

The grave is located less than a hundred yards from Amoco Road, and the small fence surrounding the hallowed site can be seen from Highway 347. Although it is technically on Oiltanking Beaumont’s property, it is not located in a fenced or restricted area. With that said, I do make a point of driving past the grave and up to the guard shack and explaining to security why I’m there and what I am doing.

 

Legend of Bragg Road (Saratoga Light)

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Bragg Road

My last venture into the spooky realm might have been eerie, but Bragg Road has always been much more so, mainly because I have seen the light, so to speak. In the late 80s, a few friends and I frequented the sandy eight-mile road, which runs between Highways FM 787 and FM 1293 near the town of Saratoga.

Located in the heart of the Big Thicket, one could definitely lose oneself in the pitch blackness of the forest. Except for the single light that mysteriously shines on occasion. But what is this all about? Let’s delve into the history of this lonely road.

In 1902 the Santa Fe railroad cut a line through the dense thicket between Saratoga and Bragg. These tracks were needed for hauling oil from the Saratoga oilfields, along with logs and cattle. For a long time, just one trip per day to Beaumont and back seemed to be enough to progress this wilderness into civilization. However, perhaps inevitably, the wilderness won and the city of Bragg is all but forgotten.

In 1934, the tracks were removed leaving behind a sandy road, which was used mostly by hunters who inadvertently kept the thicket from reclaiming it. It was around this time that some began seeing a strange light. (Note: In the book Tales from the Big Thicket by Francis E. Abernethy, there was one sighting of the light even before the tracks were removed.)

So what is behind this strange light that has been seen for nearly 80-plus years? The foremost story is that a railroad man was decapitated in a train wreck, so now he holds a lantern high while he looks for his head.

Other explanations include the Mexican cemetery where a foreman, rather than pay his road crew, killed them and kept the money. They were swiftly buried. Now their restless spirits haunt the road.

Whatever the source, there is a light on that darkened stretch. Skeptics will tell you that it is a reflection from car lights, but that would not explain the earlier sightings when there were few cars traveling down or near the road. Furthermore the old Model T’s headlights wouldn’t have shined brightly enough.

Another possibility is swamp gas. I could entertain this theory because of an investigation I was a part of 25 years ago.

In the late 80s, I made numerous trips to Bragg Road. The first was a day trip, and my friends Bryan and Hector tagged along. I only mention this because, after unsuccessfully identifying the road, we stopped at a store in Saratoga where Hector asked a lady where Bragg Road was. She explained to him how to get there and asked why we were looking for it. Without pause Hector explained we were going to a friend’s house that was located on the road. The woman grinned and wished us well. We did find the road and traveled down all eight miles never seeing a house or any sign of life. We had a good laugh over this.

My second trip down Bragg Road was a night-time journey done solo, but I saw nothing, only the blackness of the thicket. Fortunately my next jaunt into the forest did pay off. A few friends and I did see the light. It looked like an oncoming train if you were standing on the tracks. Try as we may, we could never get close to it. The light would flicker and then disappear.

On one occasion Paul Newman and I (Note: Not the actor turned racecar driver turned salad-dressing king) did an investigation to find out just what the light was. We started by removing all evidence of tire tracks at the entrance to the sandy road, followed by all three turnarounds. We figured that if we saw a light then we would have some idea if it was from a vehicle traveling down the road or something else.

As the night progressed, we saw the light several times, but only one vehicle, other than ours, passed down the road. We checked each turnaround and found only one set of tracks. Our investigation ended without a clear answer as to the cause of the light, or if it was indeed paranormal. We did conclude however that the light, at the very least, was not from a vehicle.

Usually when I go down that road, I see the light, except on full moonlit nights. Although the light seems to be far off, I have talked to people who know people who have seen the light close up, but sadly I have never personally met anyone who has done so, nor have I been privileged to witness it in close proximity. So please take the last statement as is.

So if you’re ever along FM 787 or FM 1293 and want a thrill, just turn onto that dark sandy road. You may just see that ghostly train headlight coming toward you. And what a sight it will be.

Legend of Sarah Jane Road

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Most people who have grown up in the mid and south Jefferson County have heard at least one version of the legend of Sarah Jane and the lowly road that it’s attached to. I remember riding the darkened road myself many times in the 1980s. I even fished from the bridge during a dark and foggy night. So, what did I see? (He paused to entice the reader before modestly stating that the author saw nothing of substance.) We will however delve into that a bit later.
So who was Sarah Jane, and what are the legends surrounding this ghost road? In one version, on a moonlit night, you may see her ghostly apparition searching the marsh and thicket for her baby who drowned in the murky waters of the Neches River.
Other versions include Sarah Jane as a lady pirate (or Lafitte’s girlfriend). In a further account, she was attacked by a group of bandits, so she placed her child in some weeds near the bridge. When it was safe, she returned for the child—but it was gone. It somehow got into the canal and disappeared.
The story I know is as follows: Sarah Jane was crossing the bridge of the canal when she accidently dropped her baby in the water. Try as she did, she could not save her child, and it drowned. Distraught about losing her child, Sarah Jane hung herself from a huge oak tree further up the road from the bridge.
There are many renditions of this story, but whichever version I read, I inevitably uncover a big problem with the historical accuracy. I am not saying that something isn’t afoot along the Neches—I just don’t think it was with Sarah Jane. Union soldiers were never in Grigsby’s Bluff (Port Neches), which another version implies. In this report, Sarah Jane hears there are Union soldiers making their way toward her cabin, so she puts her baby in a wicker basket under a wooden bridge before fleeing the area. Later, when she returns, the basket and the baby are gone. (Please note that this area, in the past, present, and future has been, is, and will be known to have alligators frequenting its waterways. To put anything remotely fleshy in a waterway is therefore not advisable.)
In an article by Carl Cunningham Jr. in the Mid County Chronicle dated October 28, 1998, the author asserts in an interview with W. T. Block (whose family owned a lot of the land in this area) that a reporter from the Port Arthur News made the connection to his mother’s name (Sarah Jane Block) and the dark spooky road, and so the legend began.
As I said, I spent many a night on both the road and the bridge but never saw anything of substance—except for one night. Three friends and I had decided to drive down Sarah Jane Road to see what we could see, or at least scare the hell out of the couple making out on the parked motorcycle we encountered while driving with the headlights off. (Thank you, Bryan, for warning them of our impending appearance with your rendition and re-enactment of the laugh from the movie “Gremlins.”)
Just before our encounter with the Harley lovebirds, I looked into the trees and noticed a faint ball of light shooting across the tree line. I immediately asked another friend Hector if he’d seen it.
“Uh yeah,” he had said nervously.
Replaying the scene in my mind, I do not think the light in question was of a paranormal nature. But I cannot figure out what it actually was. Possibly a type of swamp gas that most hauntings are blamed on. It could have been, but we did not investigate further. I will also add that there was no alcohol involved on this day on my part or any of the others.
In the following weeks, a few friends (including Hector) also took a ride to the bridge. This time, my friend Hector decided to be belligerent toward whatever could be lurking in the darkness. At about this same moment, the fog began to roll in swiftly. Disheartened and a touch spooked by the sudden appearance of the fog, Hector returned to the safety of the car, and they quickly retreated. As they drove away, the storyteller told me that the fog seemed to keep up with them. (Note: The storyteller had not partaken of any alcohol, but I can neither confirm nor deny Hector’s involvement with the beverage that night. I will say however that this was the last time Hector was aggressive toward a ghostly legend.)
For me, the question of whether or not Sarah Jane haunts the lowly road between Groves and Port Neches is still unanswered, but with this area’s history, there are other possible players in the saga. North of the road, there were six Indian burial mounds, all standing 20 ft high, 60 ft wide, and 100 yards long. (Note: All the mounds were destroyed by the year 1900 for various reasons.) Indians have a rich history in this area and their set of own legends to boot.

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

Jefferson County Courthouse Jail

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There are times when you think your day couldn’t get any better, but then it does—even if it means you end up in jail!

After the Jefferson County Historical Commission’s meeting, I was fortunate to be able to take a tour of the upper realm of the Jefferson County Courthouse. Excited about having the chance to photograph the landscape of Beaumont, I hadn’t a clue what would I would find once I got there. My historical knowledge about the Courthouse was  little-to-none, and I was amazed to find out that the upper floors were once Beaumont’s jail. So armed with a guide, who was very knowledgeable about the building’s history and its many secrets, I proceeded up the stairs of history.

 

Built in 1931 at a cost of one million dollars, the Jefferson County Courthouse is one of the tallest courthouses  in the state (13 stories high). The top five floors were used as the county’s jail from 1931 right up until the early 80s. Nowadays, the upper floors are used for storage, but the past is still very much present. The original graffiti and murals are still visible alongside the rusting iron bars, peeling paint, and 80-year-old cells.

I found the experience of exploring the upper floors of the Courthouse both exciting and surreal. This place wasn’t for the meek: it was a prison. The stories of what the prisoners threw out the windows at times would match those from any zoo. (Let’s just say that the canopy, which was in front of the Courthouse for all those years, was there for a reason.)

 

There are no set tours but, if you ever have a chance to explore the Courthouse, by all means do it. It is a place with an amazing history and is a SETX treasure.

 

 

 

 

 

The article that I have added below is from the Beaumont Enterprise 1931. I do not know who the author is, but I found this article to be most amusing.

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Exclusive Apartments Open About November 1

 Beaumont’s newest and most exclusive apartment house, “Bar Harbor,” is nearing completion and tenants are expected to move in about November 1. The building itself, which will cost approximately $1,000,000, is conceded to be one of the best in the state.

Located within a block of the harbor, the windows of the apartments, which are located on the eighth to thirteenth floors, give a remarkable view of the city and surrounding territory and their height insures a constant breeze. Because of this and the proximity to the river it is conceded that tenants who take leases on space in the building will seldom suffer from the heat which sometimes descends upon the city.

Electric Refrigerator

   Every conceivable convenience has been provided. Electric refrigeration is not only provided in the kitchen, but ice water is available in each room. Many windows give plenty of light and ventilation. Steam heat warms the building in winter and hot water is on tap at all times. Elevator service is offered 24 hours a day and caretakers are on hand at times to look after the needs of the tenants.

Home cooking is not essential for the lucky tenants as a table d’hote restaurant service is provided by the management for those who wish their meals sent in.

Unique in Beaumont

   The apartment house, because of the many luxuries, and advantages it offers, is to be unique in Beaumont. Apartments will be let by lease only and there is a clause in the contract which absolutely prohibits lease breaking. No children or pets will be allowed in the building.

Persons interested in taking an apartment in “Bar Harbor” are advised to get in touch with the custodian, W.W. Covington, at the sheriff’s office.

Airy and Well Lighted

   Yes, dear readers, this new and modern apartment building is none other than the new Jefferson county jail located atop the million dollar courthouse. But what a glorified jail it is! No dark, dingy, buggy, and unsanitary hole, but six stories of airy, well-lighted cells, adequately barred it is true, but also provided with clean, light painted walls, hot, cold, and ice water at all times, shower baths, snowy white toilets and wash basins. The furniture is built in and indestructible.

Steel bunks built in, steel dining benches, and benches with the tables so built that they make a comfortable backrest when the prisoner wishes to turn around and lean back, are furnishings provided for the guests of the county.