Category Archives: Thoughts and Ramblings

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: transferring prisoners on a cemetery tour on Veterans Day; cemetery symbolism; Brandon and Skipwith may have been a thing; Woodmen of the World; International Concatenated Order of Hoo-Hoo; Yma o Hyd

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Blue skies and tailwinds

This is the last time on Thoughts and Ramblings that I’ll mention what happened last week, but I wanted to include the faces of the people and a few words. I will digress more on this subject on Mondays if needed. Every time I came upon the B-17 Texas Raiders at the airshows, the crew was out there greeting the visitors with a smile and their history lessons. When I first went inside the old girl as a child, I was mesmerized by the plane. A fortress indeed. After many years and crew changes, the guys’ attitude remained the same. They always put the history of the B-17 Texas Raiders front and center. At every airshow I attended, those who manned the Texas Raiders were cutting it up with the kids who showed up for their first event. Even today, that’s something that impacts children. I know the airshow will go on, but that B-17 with only one wheel trying to land during the Tora Airshow will never happen again, and there’s history to that (link below); unfortunately, though, those guys are no longer here to explain its significance to you. We lost six great men on Saturday, and here are their names and faces.

https://warbirdsnews.com/warbird-articles/texas-raiders-one-wheel-tribute.html

Terry Barker, Craig Hutain, Kevin “K5” Michels, Dan Ragan, Leonard “Len” Root, and Curt Rowe.

Without any knowledge of what happened, I’ll add that Craig Hutain was usually the guy in the P-40 that chased the zeros during the Tora shows. He had been flying since he was ten years old (that’s not a typo). As you can imagine, with over fifty years of flying experience, he was an expert. Here, under the oaks on Ye Olde Block’s farm, they will all be remembered. Please keep the families of these men in your prayers.

Blue skies and tailwinds.

Thoughts and Ramblings: transferring prisoners on a cemetery tour on Veterans Day; cemetery symbolism; Brandon and Skipwith may have been a thing; Woodmen of the World; International Concatenated Order of Hoo-Hoo; Yma o Hyd

On Veterans Day, we did a Magnolia Cemetery tour for those who signed up for the McFaddin-Ward House and Museum lecture series. It went really well. Those walking tours are good because you can discuss history in a different setting compared to when someone is stationed at their spot. I love our Historic Magnolia Cemetery Tour, but unfortunately, I’ve never taken it because I’m too busy at my station. Still, I did have spies out with digital recorders, and I must say (again) that I love our presenters!

Inside the Norvell Mausoleum

That day, the tour was originally meant to consist of two tours that would last an hour each, scheduled at different times, with Judy Linsley and I as the guides. But things got crossed in the timey-wimey email universe. In the end, though, we did it. We decided that the short tour could be split into two areas. One covered the hill and the original plots of the cemetery, while the other included its lower portion.  Since Judy knows the hill better than me, she would take her group up there and talk for thirty minutes while I took my group around the lower part and talked about those residents. It worked out well because if you want to know about those on the hill, Judy is the one to listen to. I know my people and stories around the office and the flagpole. We agreed that we would do a prisoner exchange at the thirty-minute mark in the middle of the tour area, at the Keith plot where Tom the Tramp is interred. Yes, it was my idea to transfer the people on the tour between the two of us. I thought that by listening to guides who know their subject, the visitors would have a better experience. It was also me who called it a prisoner exchange. This is how my mind works, so consider it if you want me to speak at your event. Thanks to all who participated. I assume you enjoyed the tour because you were a great crew.

One thing that I brought up on the tour was the cemetery’s symbolism and some fraternal features. A funerary urn, for example, represents immortality. If there’s a drape over the urn, it symbolizes the veil between life and death. A broken obelisk or column means a life that ended prematurely. One obelisk on the hill was put there to memorialize Brandon Chaison, who died aged twenty-one when he was thrown off his horse. Family tradition holds that he and Skipwith McFaddin, W. P. H. McFaddin’s daughter from his first wife, were in love. I will also add that one of my favorite names is Skipwith. The other two are Seawillow and Fannie. My stepdaughters are thankful that I was not around in the naming department, but they might make a fantastic Brady Bunch reboot if anyone’s interested. I threw that out to you for free. Sorry if you’re named Marcia, Jan, or Cindy, but those names rock!

Woodmen of the World

When you scan over the many acres of headstones in Magnolia or any old cemetery, you may see ones that look like tree stumps. They are the product of the Woodmen of the World, an insurance company back in the day. The company is still around, but I believe they’re not as prominent as used to be. The Woodmen of the World derived from the Modern Woodmen of America, a fraternal group founded in 1883. The Woodmen advertised themselves as an organization for the “Jew and Gentile, Catholic and Protestant, the agnostic and atheist.” In other words, they didn’t care who you were; they just wanted your money.

In Magnolia Cemetery, you can find many different fraternal groups. The Odd Fellows are a prominent one; they even have their own section. I’m always wondering if today we could bring back to SETX some sort of fraternal order, such as the International Concatenated Order of Hoo-Hoo, Inc. They are still active but have too many restrictive rules that I don’t agree with. However, I’m game for using a Cheshire cat as a mascot. Anyway, this order was founded in Arkansas in 1892 during a layover by some guys from the timber and lumber industry whose train had broken down. I’m sure debauchery ensued, and we had another order that today lives on as a webpage. They were big back then until the depression hit. Who knows what the actual order is up to now? Illuminati stuff probably, because their symbol is a cat, and cats want to take over the world. Please tell this to the Dogtober people in Beaumont; Catvember is all they ask for, but I digress.

The World Cup begins today in Qatar, and I was just informed that no beer will be sold in the stadiums. I blame FIFA for this; my condolences to the English, the Germans, and the Welsh for this tragedy.

Until next week, cheers mate! Gott ein Bier! Yma o Hyd (we’re still here, and to hell with everyone else, because we’re Cymru!).

Craig Hutain flying the P40:

One Wheel Tribute by Kevin Michels:

https://warbirdsnews.com/warbird-articles/texas-raiders-one-wheel-tribute.html

Gravestone symbols:

http://wolfememorial.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/11/GRAVESTONE-SYMBOLS-and-THEIR-MEANINGS.pdf

Woodmen of the World:

https://www.woodmenlife.org/about/history/

Odd Fellows:

Home

International Concatenated Order of Hoo-Hoo, Incorporated:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Concatenated_Order_of_Hoo-Hoo

Dogtoberfest:

Home 2023

Yma o Hyd:

Thoughts and Ramblings: Me, Krampus, and der Belsnickel will be up to nothing; World War I memorial; the Beaumont Boys; Minor’s cross

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My calendar is done until February, so Krampus, der Belsnickel, and I will enjoy nothing at all until then. Actually, I am looking forward to bringing up a Welsh character called the Mari Lwyd, but that’s in December, so no more Welshness until then. However, I will say that it’s a guy dressed in a sackcloth with a horse skull on top that knocks on your door and incites a rap battle for your food and alcohol! I love the Welsh! Stay tuned.

At both the lecture and the cemetery tour, we discussed the movement/committee that wants to move the World War I memorial from Triangle Park to Magnolia Cemetery. I’m sure you’re wondering where this park is located, and I’m also certain that you didn’t know there was a memorial dedicated to the Beaumont Boys who died in World War I. Well, the current location is on Main street, in front of the old Beaumont Enterprise building, across the street from the Fire Museum of Texas. Triangle Park may be the smallest park in Texas because it’s triangle-shaped with only the monument and a bunch of aggressive jasmine as greenery. Truth be told, the memorial used to be in Keith Park, located at the present-day site of the Julie Rogers Theatre, which was built as the original city hall in 1927.

The memorial was a project of a community of Beaumonters who wished to honor those who died in the Great War, whether in battle or during the Spanish flu pandemic. The Beaumont Journal led the fundraising, which consisted of donations of no more than $5 per person, so that as many people as possible could donate to the memorial. Initially, the monument was supposed to have the names of all the Beaumont Boys who perished inscribed on it, but this never happened. Though if these fine folks/extraordinary researchers get their way, it will finally happen. I’m excited about this, and so are the people at Magnolia Cemetery. So, if you know anyone pulling the strings at the City of Beaumont, you may mention this project. All help is appreciated!

Twenty-four Beaumont Boys were brought back home after the war. Twenty-two of them are interred in Magnolia, and two are down the road in Evergreen Cemetery. George Carroll Smart, the first Beaumont Boy to make the ultimate sacrifice, is buried near the flag pole in his family’s plot. Shortly after his death, George’s sister received a letter from Captain T. C. Reid, Commander of the Thirty-eighth Infantry, with details of his death.

“Private Smart died as is only a good soldier’s privilege, namely: facing and fighting bravely our enemies. Private Smart has always shown himself to be a very good soldier, always obeying orders readily and in every way earning the highest esteem of his officers and fellow soldiers; his comrades are to this day mourning the loss of a dear friend and good soldier who gave up his life gladly and bravely while fighting for humanity and liberty.

His grave is located on Moulins Hill, overlooking the river Marne. Our local chaplain placed a cross with his name and number on it and offered a very appropriate prayer over his grave, and I think nearly every officer and man in the company paid his last respect to him before leaving that area. Please accept my deepest sympathy in your bereavement.”

A sad way to learn of your loved one’s death, but George did come home, which somehow brought closure to the family. Others did not get that luxury. Their loved ones still lie somewhere in Europe, never to return.

A few years ago, I was photographing headstones in Magnolia and came upon an old cross with the words “That I Gave, That I Have.” I didn’t learn the meaning of these words until last week when I was in the same area. I was searching for the Minor family plot to see if one of the Beaumont Boys, Farrell Dabney Minor, was ever brought back. As I noticed the cross again, I saw a Daughters of the Texas Revolution medallion on it, so I checked the name. The cross is for Eleanor Minor. Her husband, Farrell Dabney, and she lie side by side. There was no trace of their son Farrell Dabney Minor Jr. Eleanor gave everything she had for the war effort, but he never returned.

Until next week, welcome home, boys.

Thoughts and Ramblings: Not Talking Turkey; Don’t Hit Me with Them Negative Waves; Hans Keiling; Gen Xers; Wings over Houston; Miss Rachel; Lecture Time.

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Wings Over Houston 2022

November is here, and we’re not going to talk turkey all month; you’re welcome. October is a trigger month for me, and I brought up many things that are not technically SETX history, but I guess you get what you pay for on my site. But really, who else would bring up an anime character on a SETX regional history blog? Especially when your target audience is people aged 35–112. I acknowledge that I may not be the brightest star in the sky. Truth be told, I had been waiting six months to bring up Yuuki! And I may not be finished. If there’s ever a time when we can bring up the history of tanks and tankery in general, I will definitely bring up Yukari Akiyama 秋山 優花里 from the Girls und Panzer series. She was a true historian of tanks. Hell, she was a fan of Sergeant Oddball. So, if you disagree, “don’t hit me with them negative waves so early in the morning. Think the bridge will be there and it will be there. It’s a mother, beautiful bridge, and it’s gonna be there. Ok?”

Well, let’s bring up tanks for a moment. If anyone knows the story of who owns the tank that used to be at the Beaumont airport on Highway 90, I would love to hear it, and a ride would be nice.

On Wednesday, I was at Magnolia Cemetery playing hooky from work because that’s what you do when you get fed up, but I’m self-employed, so. Oh well. I was looking for someone’s loved one, who died in 1917. I was also there to meet a friend to talk about the twenty-two World War I veterans brought back and interred in Magnolia. But in my search, I also found another veteran who fought in World War II. I remembered his name and story from a Port Arthur News article in the Jefferson County Historical Commission files.

Hans Max Keiling immigrated from Germany in 1956. His story should be a movie, as he is one of those immigrants who loved this county for its freedom. I wish I had heard how he got here in his own words, but I will use newspaper articles and a friend’s recollection of his speech at the dedication of the World War II prisoner of war camp in China, Texas.

Hans was from Frankfurt an der Oder, a German town on the Oder river, near the Polish border. He was drafted into the German army and became a master sergeant and a tank commander at twenty-three. He never served in the S.S. In his newspaper article, he stated he only fought the Russians and never faced the Americans. From what I know of the Russian front, it was a nightmare of logistics during which everyone waited for Der Failüre to see how many soldiers would die to hold at all costs some land they shouldn’t have taken in the first place. Keiling did his duty, but when the Germans surrendered, he ended up in Russian hands and was put in a labor camp near Stalingrad, where he spent three and a half years working in a coal mine fourteen hours a day.

From here. I’ll quote the rest of the article, but I find his message of freedom and democracy in many stories of people who were just trying to live their life until some %&*%!& politician screwed it up. (It doesn’t matter which side of the wall you’re on. Don’t hit me with your candidate because if they have a party agenda, they’re the same.)

In 1948, some of the prisoners of war who had special training were sent to East Germany to train “police forces.” Keiling said he had to choose between staying in the coal mines, where he could perish any day, and going to East Germany. He chose the latter, signing an agreement under pressure from the KGB.

Keiling became a special weapons training officer at the “police academy,” but soon “found out this training had nothing to do with police work.” Germany was secretly working to establish a new army, although prohibited from doing so under its terms of surrender.

Nevertheless, Keiling said, he had no choice in the matter. One night in 1950, while walking to the post office, he was kidnapped by two KGB officers and was jailed for six months, receiving monthly “hearings,” then sentenced to 10 years in a slave labor camp.

He was sent to the coal mines in Vorkuta, Siberia, 80 miles above the Artic Circle. Each day, he marched three miles from the barracks to the coal mine, with the temperature usually hovering over at 45 degrees below zero. He was released when Stalin died in March, 1953, but remained in custody of the Russians. He escaped to West Berlin while being transported back to East Germany.

In 1954 he settled in West Germany, where he met the niece of Bruno Shulz, the man who founded Gulfport Shipyard in Port Arthur.

Keiling was finally able to emigrate from Germany in 1956. He moved to Texas and worked for Shulz, managing a trailer park he owned in Kerrville and working on his ranch in Comfort. It was in Texas that Keiling learned to speak English, in part from television. Keiling worked for Schulz until his death in 1981.

He moved to Port Arthur, worked as a security guard until 1984, moved to Temple and moved back to Port Arthur last year.

He has returned to work with the same security company, Maritime Guard.

The good-humored but politically outspoken Keiling said he is proud to be an American.

And uses his freedom of speech in what he considers a struggle against the threat of governmental dictatorship.

“In America, people do not know how fast you can lose your freedom,” he said.

Okay, people, just breathe. Your avocado toast is secure! No. On second thought, I’m not going to blame my favorite kiddos, who seem to have no sense of direction. I belong to Generation X and have many quarrels with those who came before me and those who were born after me. We are the disgruntled. I also have a few issues with my kind. As I stated last week, I don’t do Facebook because I have no interest in hearing most people’s “opinions” on things that don’t concern them. However, I did look at the Wings over Houston page this past weekend, and boy was there a bunch of whiners! I went Saturday because I watched the weather report. Yes, it was cloudy, but all my favorites can fly under the clouds. The pyrotechnics crew was also rockin’ for the Tora, Tora, Tora crowd. I will say that everyone did a good job. Sorry to some that the weather ruined your plans on Friday and Saturday, but Sunday was perfect for your jets. On Saturday there was a lot of crap about the Blue Angels flying under the clouds. Again, if you paid extra to be there on Saturday, you should have been aware of the weather, which the weather is nature’s beast. Hell, my photos were taken that Saturday near the port-a-potty, behind the fence of the photographers’ pit. I guess I remain a master strategist. But that damn loudspeaker was always in the way. The photos are not perfect, but you’re welcome!

An odd thing happened when I was searching the vendors to buy a hat. I have caps, but my Lamar Cardinals hat looks pretty much like the American flag on the moon. It’s become crispy from the sun. My other one is a Houston Texans hat that I would wear to work were it not for the fact that people would keep asking me about the team. This is a problem because I have no allegiance to them. I don’t hate them; I just don’t care. To quote Mr. T, “I have no time for jibber-jabber.”

As I purchased my hat, an older gentleman who looked eerily like Jim “PeeWee” Martin, who passed this year, began to explain to me what the Commemorative Air Force hat meant and the Canadian Jet Snowbirds on it. I told him about my experiences at the airshow. Whether it was at the Jefferson County Airport in the 1980s or ‘90s or at Ellington Field, these shows sparked something in me that I hold dear. These were the days when pilots didn’t have computers running the navigation. They were young and went to war for their countries. In the end, many lost their lives to be patriots on both sides; they ended up as cannon fodder.

Photo Credit: www.facebook.com/people/Jim-Pee-Wee-Martin-G506/100044537315053/

I told this man that if it has a propeller, I am interested; sorry for not caring about jets. I’m not against the Blue Angels, Sammie Hagar, or even the Blue Devils, because I don’t follow Duke basketball, but something about the planes from that era inspires me. And they had them this year! As Miss Rachel would say, “Good job” Wings over Houston! If you know about Miss Rachel, then you know! Godsend. I’ll leave a link at the bottom of the page for new parents or grandparents.

Well, the McFaddin-Ward House Museum lecture is on Thursday, November 10, at 6:30 p.m.; if you’re interested, please come. Crossing fingers that I don’t have a General Patton moment like when he talked in front of the Ladies Auxiliary.

Bis zum nächsten Mal, auf Wiedersehen.

Wings Over Houston Photos:  

https://flic.kr/s/aHBqjAd6qu

Jim “Pee-Wee” Martin:

Obit:

https://www.military.com/daily-news/2022/09/13/d-day-veteran-of-101st-airborne-jim-pee-wee-martin-dies-101.html

Facebook Page:

https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100044537315053

Blue Angels and Sammy Hagar:

Miss Rachel:  

https://www.youtube.com/c/SongsforLittlesToddlerLearningVideos

McFaddin-Ward House:  

Magnolia Cemetery: 1847 to the Present – Where the History of Beaumont Lives

Thoughts and Ramblings: 2nd Annual Historic Magnolia Cemetery Tour; McFaddin-Ward House Museum Lecture Series; Wanda of the North End was a good person; Wanda of the West End hates Smurfs and Bette Midler; Welshyness and the Three Lions; Bigfoot may have scared a child, but he has no TWIC card or ISTC badge to be on the land near Oak Bluff Cemetery.

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Photo Credit: Port Arthur News 10.31.1984

Our 2nd Annual Historic Magnolia Cemetery Tour was this week, and I would like to thank everyone who came out and supported us. It’s always a free event, and we strive to improve it. We have a lot of great people volunteering their time to bring out the history of both Beaumont and Southeast Texas, and we are blessed to have them.

Art of Unliving Beaumont Enterprise

If you missed the event but want to take the tour, then you are in luck. In November, we will be part of the McFaddin-Ward House Museum’s lecture series. Our lecture is on Thursday, November 10, at 6:30 p.m. Two hour-long tours will be conducted on Friday, November 11. These will be walking tours, and they will cover the same ground as the ones held in October. You will need to sign up for the tours with McFaddin-Ward House; check their website for further details. I always enjoy the walking tours because we can cover more history.

On Halloween of 1985, Port Arthur News staff writer Cynthia Cook ran a story about a Beaumont Witch that she fictitiously named Wanda. Don’t worry; this Wanda was from the North End, and who I did correspond with. At the time, her other sister from the West End was too busy griping about those “Blue Devil” Smurfs taking over the children‘s souls while they watched the cartoon to notice me. All I will say is that it never ends well for Wanda of the West End.

It was a decent article, but the historical claims made by the reporter were sketchy at best. Even so, Wanda was a good person. I wrote to her because, in the article, she called herself a White Witch, which translates to healer in the old country. If you were to apply the term nowadays, she would be classified as more of an Appalachian Granny Magic Witch. Yes, that is a thing. To be precise, I thought of her as being more in the New Age movement and not as a witch per se. She was very positive and yearned to help however she could.

At that point in life, I was into English history and obsessed with a book by Elizabeth Goudge called The White Witch, published in 1958. I tried to write a few of my own, not very good, stories. These were historical fiction from a place I’d never visited. Nonetheless, I was determined. I told her of my interest in English/Welsh history, and she referred me to a book by Evangeline Walton called The Song of Rhiannon. This was part of a four-book epic based on the Mabinogion. The Mabinogion, based on old oral legends, was written between 1050 and 1225 by Christian monks. It was translated into English by Charlotte Guest in 1838, although William Owen Pughe did translate a few stories in journals in 1795, 1821, and 1829. These were the stories left over after the Arthurian legends we know today as the story of King Arthur.

Some of you may recognize Rhiannon from Stevie Nick’s song. Yes, this is the same story, but Rhiannon wasn’t a witch. She was a goddess in the Welsh pantheon. Who knew that Wales had a pantheon like the Greeks and Romans? (Rant incoming.) Hell, the Welsh can’t even get a different shade of color on a map of the UK, which I know ticks them off. Well, this year is different, because guess who’s in the World Cup? This should be interesting. #Cymru. Sorry for the excess “Welshyness.” (Is that even a word?) I’m sure my editor will be annoyed at me for that, but 40 years of pain supporting the Three Lions (England) has taken its toll.

I learned from Wanda that it doesn’t matter what your story is. Put it out there. And I did, 28 years later, by publishing a book. I will get into that next week. I often wonder what happened to Wanda and hope her life is still positive. As for Wanda from the West End, she is currently up in arms about trying to block Bette Midler from sending curses through her television. Sistas! She never stops.

Up until a few years ago, I would visit Oak Bluff Cemetery in Port Neches, and I always wondered why there were no trespassing signs near the bayou. Then I googled a KBMT News story that happened. Apparently, someone showed up with a camera and took a fuzzy picture of Bigfoot throwing rocks on Refinery land. I will say that that hairy beast has neither a TWIC card nor an ISTC badge. This means that he is unauthorized to be on that property. And yes, he will suffer the consequences. That being said, I do not believe that Bigfoot was throwing rocks at Oak Bluff Cemetery. Though there was that one time when something showed up at the Sabine lighthouse.

There is an article in the Port Arthur News dated October 31, 1984, by staff writer Peggy Slasman. Slasman had interviewed a Port Arthur resident whose father was the Sabine lighthouse keeper in 1905. The story began as the fog rolled over the marsh, and the lighthouse keeper’s 10-year-old daughter stepped out on the porch to enjoy her favorite time of day. Unfortunately, this morning was different. The silence of the early morning was broken by movement in the marsh. She peered out over the railings, wondering what could be lurking near, when suddenly, she saw something so terrible that she screamed and fainted.

Her parents later found and revived the child. Both dismissed their daughter’s story as a figment of her wild imagination, but they couldn’t help but notice her obsession with her tale.

A month later, the lighthouse keeper was hunting in the marsh when he heard movement in the reeds. He crouched down and stared in the direction of the sound. To his dismay, before him stood an eight-foot-tall, hairy, dark, ugly “thing,” which scared the lighthouse keeper so much that he ran toward the safety of the lighthouse, forgetting his loaded rifle in his haste.

The monster was seen by others 12 times that year, but it never harmed anyone. Most Sabine residents believed it to be a bear, which is indeed quite possible, but one can only speculate. That same year, a storm flooded the marsh, and the beast was supposedly drowned or washed out to sea. However, according to Slasman’s article, some say it still lurks in the marsh. I have no idea, but whether it’s Bigfoot or Kisselpoo, those mosquitoes are brutal.

Next week, it’s time to Niitakayama Nobore at Ellington Field in Houston. These people put on a great event. I’ll leave a link to it.

Until next week, keep your cauldrons close, and don’t let Wanda of the West End near it.

Appalachian Granny Magic –

https://www.learnreligions.com/appalachian-folk-magic-4779929

Mabinogion –

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

https://www.historic-uk.com/HistoryUK/HistoryofWales/The-Mabinogion/

http://www.mabinogion.info/rhiannon.htm

Bigfoot –

http://texascryptidhunter.blogspot.com/2013/12/the-port-neches-wood-ape-sighting.html

Thoughts and Ramblings: Historic Magnolia Cemetery Tour; Ye Olde Block Farm; Blackshirt Ghost Hunters; Nobody Cares About Your Orb Photos

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Pipkin School

The Historic Magnolia Cemetery Tour is this week, and almost everything is set. Upon trying to use Facebook to promote it, I encountered a few problems. It’s a cemetery tour, Facebook, and it doesn’t fit into your event list. Food? Gardening? I finally chose Visual Arts because I didn’t want you to think we were trying to get you to do yard work or invite zombies. But I digress. We will have ten presenters on Thursday from 4:30 p.m. to 6:30 p.m. at the cemetery and nine on Saturday from 10 a.m. to 2 p.m. This is a tour to discover the history of some of Beaumont residents and this we have something special that will become a permanent feature. The newest addition to the 75-acre cemetery is the Pipkin section. The land in question was originally the site of the Pipkin Elementary School on Pine Street, where many African American Beaumonters began their education. In 1911, when Millard Elementary School for whites received a new brick structure, the old two-story wooden building was moved to the Pipkin School location on Pine Street. This building was also replaced with a brick structure in the 1920s. In 1974, the City of Beaumont acquired the school and land and demolished the building in 1981. The property was sold to Magnolia Cemetery in 1999. This site is a part of our history that needs to be remembered, and we have an excellent person to share this history with, Lynn Simon.

Here on Ye Olde Block Farm, we do have our share of spookiness and shenanigans. It doesn’t happen often, but it does occur all the same. This land was Martin Block’s farm. He was W. T. Block’s uncle. Martin died in 1945, and the original house burned down in the 1960s. Some of Block’s descendants still live in the neighborhood. We moved here in 2007, and Martin’s granddaughter lived next to us. She was a good source of family history, and my findings from Dean Tevis’s articles about farmers in the 1920s were an excellent addition to her accounts. I even found a photo of the original house that I gave to her and her older cousin, who remembered the structure. I’m glad I could do this before she passed.

We also have live oaks that are four and five feet in diameter. The cousin told me they have been there since at least 1908. These trees are precious to me. I look after them as best as I can. They’ve protected the house during Hurricane Rita, Humberto, Ike, Laura, and Delta.

Mostly, I think that those still here were farmers because they typically show up in the mornings or afternoons. One incident that stands out in my mind is someone sitting on the side of my bed at 5:30 a.m. and making the bed sag. Another time was when I was in my office at around 2 p.m. and heard someone walking in the kitchen. There was someone else here, and they work graveyards, so I assumed that they had woken up and it was coffee time. Thirty seconds later, I stood up and went into the kitchen—no one was there. The other person was still asleep.

This brings me to the third entity that pulls my chain. I don’t know if the original owner of the house (not of Block descent) built it, but he sure did his best to southern engineer things. I think he meant well, but he was not a Jack of all trades, as far as I’m concerned. We did a few renovations and had some things happen. After the first renovation, I was working at a table in the living room, and another person was asleep on the couch. Downton Abbey was playing on the TV, and the lazy boy chair popped open between us. In the fifteen years that we had it, it had never opened by itself. I know I get irked with the past owner for some things, but if he’s still here, he is used to my rants, and I am glad he enjoyed my chair that evening. He also might be just a fan of Downton Abby.

I might get into the second renovation later, where nothing happened because he knew what I would discover. Let’s just say that there were many chosen words that day.

Blackshirt ghost hunters are a different breed. Like I said last week, I am not a professional parapsychologist, nor do I spout that I’m an expert on anything of this nature, but some of the people in this field really go hardcore. Many run around in the dark, taking photos of dust particles while asking questions to an SB-7 spirit box. For those who don’t know, a SB-7 is basically a broken radio that continuously turns the dial to different radio stations. The objective is for a spirit to use this to communicate through the white noise. I have one of these, but it never works for me. It’s about as helpful as the Ghost Radar App I have on my phone, just for giggles. It may have worked a few times, but I don’t put much faith in it. Although there was that time when I was at Magnolia Cemetery cleaning headstones, and it told me to “RUN.” I looked around but didn’t see anything, so I went about my work. Probably just Thomas Langham having a bit of fun. Which I guess the ol’ sheriff is entitled to. (I say this because it was his headstone that I was cleaning.)

 Nowadays, there are many more gadgets on the market that beep and moan but I’m really not interested in that stuff. It’s easier just to sit, watch, and listen. If someone wants to make contact, they will by any means. This happens over and over when you’re doing research. I’ll get into this next week.

Some ghost hunters take their investigations seriously, and others are outright mental. Years ago, a team was doing an investigation inside a trailer located in Orange County. Supposedly they caught an EVP (Electronic Voice Phenomenon) of an Indian saying “ugh” and proudly uploaded it to Youtube. I heard the EVP of the so-called Indian saying “ugh”, but the big question is, why would the ghost of a dead Indian be haunting a trailer? And why do you talk to a spirit in English when they don’t know the language? It’s (explicit language here) to think that the spirit of a dead guy or gal has a Babel fish in their ear. These people get really mad when you call them out. It’s almost like they’re politicians but above the food chain level because I would never say they’re worse.

Well, hopefully I’ve angered someone till next week because I’m tired.

Until next week, ugh!

P.S. Nobody cares about your orb photos!

Historic Magnolia Cemetery Tour:

2nd Annual Historic Magnolia Cemetery Tour

Pipkin School:

https://www.sfasu.edu/heritagecenter/9619.asp

Babel Fish:

https://www.theliteraryreview.org/editors-letter/why-babel-fish/#:~:text=For%20those%20who%20aren’t,you%20stick%20in%20your%20ear.

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/