100 Marceau Road (A Ghost Story)

Heather drove up to the locked iron gate. She felt an eerie chill as she stared at the massive fence surrounding the twenty-acre property. She was supposed to meet Devon, the maintenance man for Sterling Investments. But, as usual, he was late, and his phone was turned off. “This is spooky,” she thought aloud.

“Yes it is.” Jennifer, her daughter sitting next to her was adjusting her ipod and headphones. “Why is Mr. John buying this stuff now? I thought he was just flipping houses.”

“I don’t know. Something about a gambling license and waterway access,” said Heather. “Anyway the housing market isn’t too good right now.”

“Gambling? He’s going to make a casino? Cool!” Jennifer exclaimed animatedly .

Heather glanced at this site and told her daughter. “Nah, I don’t think so. He may want to, but it’s who you know in that business, and I don’t see it going there.”

“Ook sqwiwwel!” Heather’s two-year-old son shouted from the backseat as he pointed out the window toward a squirrel leaping from branch to branch in a nearby tree.

“Yes Jordan,” Jennifer replied, more humoring him than listening.

Heather looked at her watch then dug into her purse, retrieving the keys to the property. Devon or no Devon, she had to look at the house, so she stepped out of the car, walked to the gate, and unlocked it.

“Hey! Come here and help,” Heather said to her daughter, while trying to slide the gate open.

Jennifer, unhappy, rolled her eyes but helped her mother all the same.

“Damn, this thing is heavy,” puffed Heather, trying to heave the gate forward.

“You’re telling me?” said Jennifer, pushing as hard as she could.

With both putting their full weight behind it, the rusty gate finally gave way and began opening inward, which was a relief, especially to Jennifer. Although she felt kind of excited by this eerie new place, she wasn’t in the mood for actual labor.

With the gate open, Heather and her daughter rushed back to the car then drove along the winding drive that took them to the main house. They got out of the car along with Jordan, who had unbuckled his safety seat even before the car had stopped.

“Wow!” Jennifer exclaimed looking at the extraordinary, massive house. “This is huge. How’d he find this?”

Heather, chasing down Jordan, replied, “It’s been vacant for years. He got it real cheap. The previous owner was an old woman who died owing a lot of money. After her death, the bank tried to take the property back, but the woman had a sister who kept it in the legal system for years, I think. No one could touch or remove anything in the house. It was a mess. Finally the sister died, and her children just wanted to be through with it. No telling the last time a living person was in there.”

Jennifer looked around the grounds, taking in the colossal structure. The grounds were definitely not manicured as a house of this size would be if it were in its prime, but that didn’t get in the way of Jennifer having thoughts about the grace and beauty of the old property. “I can’t believe he bought this. Are you sure it didn’t cost him a fortune?” she asked, peering at the second-story windows.

“Actually he got it dirt cheap,” replied Heather. “For some reason the bank had just had enough and wanted to let it go. I’m sure it was a drain considering their investment was already lost. Don’t know why they didn’t just spend a little more and divide the land up. Heck, even if the house is unlivable, with all the land here, they could have subdivided it and sold the lots.”

Still looking up at the second floor, Jennifer noticed a balcony with French doors. Although the noon sun was in her eyes, she squinted in the hope of getting a better view, but without luck. She turned her head away and began scanning the rest of the building, stopping at the bay windows on the east side of the house.

She was startled to see what appeared to be a face staring back at her through the window. Speechless, she turned to her mother, before looking at the window again. Her second look revealed nothing but an empty space.

“Are you sure Devon isn’t here?” Jennifer asked her mother, her mind struggling to make sense of what she had just seen.

“No, his truck isn’t here. If he was here, the gate would have been wide open, and he’d be at the front complaining about all the work he would have to do.”  Heather grabbed Jordan’s hand and knelt down beside him, “Why do you ask?”

Jennifer shook her head, “Oh, no reason. I just thought he would have been here already.” She avoiding mentioning what she thought she had just seen for fear of ridicule.

“Jordan, settle down!” Heather pointed her finger at her son and clasped his wrist. Jordan stood in front of her grinning. Non-stop giggling ensued. “Behave! I mean it, Jordan.”

Jordan, still with a mischievous grin on his face, made an attempt to calm himself, but the excitement of the new place caused his eyes to wander. Jennifer walked up to the massive old wooden front door and grasped the handle, trying to open it without any success. “Mom it’s locked,” she said, pulling the handle.

“No kidding,” Heather replied as she tossed the keys to her daughter.

Jennifer reached up and caught the keys mid-air, all the while giving her mother an odd look, then tried again to open the door. The jostling of keys continued till finally Jennifer found the right one. She then turned the key and unlocked the door.

As Jennifer opened the door, a loud creak echoed across the threshold and into a tall-ceiling entryway. Heather, holding Jordan’s hand, followed quickly into the old house, out of the sweltering mid-morning heat. Jennifer reached for the light switch and quickly found out that the electric company hadn’t turned the power on yet.

“Darn, looks like we’ll be looking around in the dark,” she said as she flicked the light switch a few times.

“I’m sure they’ll be here today,” Heather guessed.

Although the electricity was off, the high ceilings and stone foundations made the dwelling much cooler than the ninety-plus degrees of the early September mid-morning swelter. They walked through the house, astounded by the architecture but also puzzled by the fact that the antique furnishings were still in place, and the wall paintings were hung as if someone still lived there.

“Are you sure no one is living here?” Jennifer asked, admiring all furnishings. “This stuff is old.”

“And expensive,” Heather added. She was in awe of the décor. “I think he could double his money back in just the sale of the antiques.”

Jennifer moved into the living room. The drapes were drawn, and the room was nearly pitch-black aside from a few strands of light shining out from under them. She walked nervously to the front windows and tugged at the drawstrings to pull the heavy drapes open. As she pulled, the room filled with light, enough to ease the spookiness. Heather ambled into the room, marveling at yet more antiques. One in particular caught her eye. It was an old grandfather clock, which stood against the back wall, opposite the windows.

“This is nice,” she said, moving closer.

Jennifer, having now opened the drapes fully, glanced at her mother’s find. “Yes it is—and it’s moving,” she said as she noticed the pendulum swaying back and forth.

“What!” Heather exclaimed. “How the heck is that possible?” She looked down at the swaying pendulum. “I thought you had to wind these things up or something” She took in the monotonous tick-tock of the clock.

“Are you sure no one has been in here?” Jennifer was becoming a bit apprehensive.

“No, no one has been here. Anyway, I have more to do than sit and wonder how ticking clocks work, okay?”

Jennifer could tell that her mother had a lot on her mind, but from the snappish tone, she knew her mother was also feeling a bit unnerved. “Sorry.” She offered an innocent grin.

“It’s alright,” Heather smiled, “Now let’s look around the other rooms.”

Jennifer walked out of the living room. Something about the clock had given her the creeps, and she felt it better to look around other parts of the house—preferably the well-lit parts. Heather, on the other hand, browsed through a few trinkets, which lay dusty and dormant on a shelf on the back wall, still amazed at how all of the furnishings were still in place after so many years.

Heather’s browsing was cut short by a sudden feeling of uneasiness. She looked around. “Jordan! Jordan, where are you?”

Jordan was nowhere to be seen. As usual when left unattended, he had wandered off into another part of the house. Heather left the living room and walked into the entryway near the huge staircase. “Jordan! Where are you?” she shouted again, but there was not even a snicker from him.

Jennifer made her way down from atop the staircase. “He’s not up here,” she said trotting quickly down the stairs, “but he’s here somewhere.”

Heather walked down the hall calling Jordan’s name. Finally, as she neared the library, she heard his voice, “Uh-huh. Uh-huh.” Oddly, it sounded as if Jordan was talking with someone.

“Jordan?” Heather strode into the library. She saw Jordan standing near a bookshelf, but as expected, there was no one else. “Jordan! Get over here!” she demanded, “What are you doing?”

Jordan turned to Heather and smiled with his devilish grin, “Uni!” he replied. “Like uni!”

“What . . .? Never mind, I don’t have time for charades,” Heather said distractedly, pulling the half-opened curtains of the double window to the sides.

Jennifer entered the library and was astonished to see the endless shelves of books. “This is mind-blowing!” she blurted out in awe.

“Yes, and all so very old.” Heather brushed her fingers through the dust on a nearby shelf.

“I’m sure Mr. John doesn’t know what all he’s bought,” Jennifer said, scanning the thousands of books. She was in heaven. There wasn’t a time in her young life that she didn’t have a book in hand. Jennifer loved to read and could finish an entire book in one sitting. Her eyes glistened with excitement at all the choices in front of her (that is, if her mother would let her borrow one.)

“What the hell is this?” Heather asked, peeking into a wooden cabinet in the corner of the room.

Jennifer turned her head and saw her mother reaching into the top of the cabinet. There was something sticking out the side. To her it looked like a handle with which to wind something up.

“Wow, wish we had power so that we could hear this.” Heather adjusted the arm of the newly-found record player.

Jennifer quickly walked over and began turning the crank on the side of the cabinet. “Okay, now try it,” she said, watching her mother with amusement.

Heather put the needle down onto the record, and instantly, the room was filled with music. She stood flabbergasted. How could a 14-year-old in 2010 actually know what it was, never mind how to start a record player? “How the hell did you know to do that?”

Jennifer looked at her mother, a little petulant—like a standard teenager looks at an adult. “I watch Pawn Stars, it’s not that hard to figure out. Anyway, didn’t you have one of these?”

Heather glared at her daughter. If looks could kill, then she would have one less mouth to feed. “No I didn’t! Well, yes, I did, but you plugged it into the wall. It wasn’t like this.”

Jennifer grinned. She knew she had struck a chord, but to her it was all in good fun. “Hey, it’s The Little Rascals!” she said as they listened.

Heather turned to her daughter, even more astonished, and gave her an odd stare. Jennifer returned it with intensity, “They’re on Hulu.”

“Okay, whatever,” Heather said as she continued to browse through the shelves.

Jennifer, also searching through the many books, began to feel anxious. “Would it be alright if I borrowed one of these books?” she asked. “Do you think Mr. John would mind?”

Heather, still browsing, nodded, “No, he wouldn’t mind. Look for an interesting one. I can bring it back when you’re through.”

Jennifer’s eyes lit up, “Yes!” she yelled excitedly.

As Jennifer searched, a book fell to the floor, startling them both. They figured that, with all their shuffling around the book shelves, it must have maneuvered too close to the edge. Jennifer, eyeing the book, reached down to pick it up. She spent a few moments looking it over, then closed it and acknowledged that this was the one.

“I want to borrow this book,” Jennifer said, grinning from ear to ear.

“What is it about?” Heather asked, glancing at it.

“I don’t know. It’s not a book really. I think it’s a sort of diary or something”

“A diary?”

“Well that’s what it looks like. It might be interesting to see what happened here long ago.”

Heather nodded and continued with her inventory. Jennifer placed the book on a coffee table where she would not forget it.

Jordan, it seemed, was always searching for something new. He walked up to the fireplace and gazed at the portrait above it. He grinned and giggled excitedly. “Uni!” he gurgled, pointing at the portrait. But he was ignored by both his mother and sister.

After taking a mental inventory of the library, Heather proceeded across the hall to the kitchen, dragging Jordan along with her. Jennifer, feeling the urge to explore alone, walked back up the stairs, anxious to look around the other parts of the house.

Suddenly the outside kitchen door began to rattle, startling Heather. She turned and saw Devon in the window, attempting to unlock the door, but he was having trouble.

“Dammit!” Heather exclaimed, trying to calm her trembling.

As Heather stood near the window, visibly shaken, the door opened, and Devon sauntered in, along with his helper Trace. “Hello, hello, hello,” he said with a half-smoked cigarette dangling from his lips.

Heather peered at Devon wickedly. “You’re late dammit!”

Devon’s eyes opened wide as he threw his hands up in the air, “Sorry! It’s a long drive, and I had a helluva time trying to find this place.”

Irritated, more for being startled than for Devon’s tardiness, Heather returned to browsing, “Whatever. By the way, they still haven’t turned the power on.”

“Yes they have,” Devon grinned, flicking the light switch on. “See?”

With the bulb now illuminated, Heather became more annoyed with Devon. “Well, we checked the living room and the study, and the lights didn’t work, okay,” she growled.

“Calm down,” Devon continued grinning inanely, “you just had to flick the main switch on. I just turned it on before I opened the door. Problem solved.”

“Great. Now I think it best to change the locks before we do anything else here. This is different from the other houses. There are still a lot of things here, and we need to make sure it’s secure. Mr. Sterling’s orders.”

Devon made a face but nodded in agreement, “Okay. Will do.” He turned to Trace and instructed him to go back to the truck and retrieve some new locks. “We’ll start with this one here. Had a helluva time trying to open the damn thing.”

“That’s fine as long as they’re all changed. I don’t want things here falling into someone’s pockets,” Heather said snidely, but regretted the comment as soon as it had left her lips.

Devon nodded and walked out the door, his grin now faded. Heather sighed. She had known Devon for about three years, and in this time, although lazy, he was trustworthy for the most part. Devon’s checkered past was well-known to all. He wasn’t proud of doing time in Louisiana’s State correctional facility, and it haunted him.

An hour had passed, and Heather had combed the first floor and parts of the second, but now she returned to the living room, anxious to leave. Jennifer, exhilarated but also growing weary, walked out of the library with her book in hand, ready for a quiet trip back home.

“Hey Mr. Devon,” Jennifer smiled politely as she passed Devon and Trace near the front door.

“Hey,” Devon grinned as he continued putting the new lock on the front door.

“Well, are we ready?” Heather looked at Jennifer while grasping the hand of a tired and agitated Jordan, whose nap was now severely overdue.

“Sure.” Jennifer waited for her mother to exit the living room.

As Heather guided a sniffling Jordan from the living room and out the front door, she turned to Devon, “So now that the locks are changed, I think John wants you to see what might need to be fixed around the house if you have time. There’s nothing major that needs to be done at the moment so it’s at your discretion.”

“Yeah, I got time to look around this afternoon,” Devon replied as he let Jennifer and Heather pass out the door to the driveway.

“Great,” Heather said smiling, “Then I’ll leave it in your capable hands. He’ll be here tomorrow afternoon to do a walk-through. I’ll be here around three if you want to be here.”

“Well, if you want to be able to get in the house, you might want these.” Devon held up the new keys.

Heather looked at Devon with a wide grin, “Thanks.” She walked up to him and grabbed the keys from his hand.

Devon chuckled, “You three have a safe trip home.”

“Thanks Mr. Devon, you too,” Jennifer replied as she opened the passenger door of her mother’s car.

Devon winked at Jennifer playfully, then turned to finish replacing the final lock. Heather, now carrying Jordan, opened the back door of the car and placed him in the child seat. Heather had no problem securing him because, after all the excitement he’d had, Jordan was ready for a nap. With herself strapped in the car, Heather started the engine, waved goodbye to Devon and Trace, then made her way down the long drive and out the gate toward home.

Devon finished changing the lock and then proceeded to do a walk-through as Mr. Sterling had requested. He first entered the living room, but saw nothing that needed repair, only old dusty antiques, and a musty carpet that could definitely use steam cleaning.

Hell, this whole house could use a good scrubbing, he thought, seeing the film of dust layering its contents.

Next Devon, with Trace not far behind, walked into the library. Again he saw nothing particularly wrong with the room—the lights worked, there was no rotten wood, and the paint wasn’t faded—so he thought it best to move on. Trace, on the other hand, began to look in drawers and other spaces to satisfy his curiosity. As he opened one drawer, he was astonished to find a silver flask.

“Hey. What’s this?” he asked, holding up the flask and shaking it, a smile on his face.

“Let me see.” Devon took it from Trace. His eyes lit up as he held the flask. “Wow, good find,” Devon said as he looked at Trace.

“Yeah, shame there’s no alcohol in it,” Trace laughed.

Trace wasn’t the smartest of helpers, or human beings for that matter. He had seen enough spaghetti westerns to figure out what the flask was used for, but didn’t think beyond television to consider what it was made from.

“Yes it is,” Devon replied, laughing politely at Trace but not with him.

Devon raised the flask and inspected it thoroughly. He was surprised that something like this hadn’t been pocketed by someone in all the years the house had been vacant. It was definitely old and, as far as he could tell, it was solid silver.

Hell, this thing’s probably worth a fortune, he thought. Even just the silver, never mind someone craving antiques.

Devon’s mind wandered. Something like this could sure pay some bills. Especially that truck payment which was two months behind.

“Well, what do you think?” Trace asked, “I think it’s cool. Can I keep it?”

Devon, still gazing at the flask replied instantly, “No! We aren’t allowed to take things off site no matter how obscure. Company policy.”

“Damn, and I wanted that too,” Trace muttered, then walked out the door.

Devon’s heart raced. He knew something like this would lift him out of debt easily. His life after incarceration had been hard, but he had done well to get himself back on his feet. Should he throw his well-earned progress into the garbage can for a quick fix? Devon placed the flask back where Trace had found it. Solid silver or pure gold, nothing was worth going back to that hell hole.

About an hour had passed in the time Devon had roamed the upper two floors. He had sent Trace back to the truck for a few things, but he still hadn’t returned. Slightly irritated, Devon walked to the window to see if Trace was still near the truck, smoking perhaps, but he saw nothing.

“Shit,” Devon muttered, and stormed through the hallway and to the top of the stairs. “Trace! You in here?” he yelled.

“Yeah!”

Devon watched as Trace quickly exited the library and ran up the stairs. “What the hell you doing in there?” He was aggravated.

“Forgot my cell phone,” Trace replied with a grin, knowing he had taken too much time. “I left it on the table. Sorry about that.”

Devon shook his head and barked out a few orders. He walked down the stairs and out the back door for a smoke.

Trace walked into a bedroom, paying no attention to his surroundings. He grasped the silver flask, which was hidden in the back of his trousers and fondled it absentmindedly. He knew no one would miss this trinket. Heck, it was old and worthless, he thought, but I’ll get a good laugh out of it. Even if it’s worth something, John Sterling already has a pile of money. Must be nice, those types of people who don’t do shit to earn their money.

Trace slipped the flask into the back of his trousers and walked into the bathroom to inspect the plumbing. After a few flushes and seeing no sign of leaks, he moved on. As he walked by the dresser, he noticed a dusty film covering the surface and the mirror. Then something else caught his eye. It was as if someone had scribbled something in the dust with their fingers. Trace stopped in his tracks, both puzzled and curious to see what graffiti someone had created. Wash me probably, he thought to himself with a faint smirk.

Trace walked up to the dresser and could now see what was written. “Thief?” he said out loud.

Trace became a bit unsettled as he pondered the origin of the freshly drawn words. It couldn’t have been Devon because he’d have called him out for taking something. Maybe it was the young girl making a joke to tick Devon off, but that seemed unlikely. Nothing really made sense.

Trace turned away and walked into the hall. Whoever put that there, it didn’t concern him. His only real concern was that the time was ticking closer to four-thirty. Quitting time. And he was definitely ready to leave.

“Hey! Are we closing up for today?” Trace shouted so Devon could hear him on the ground floor.

“Yeah, get your stuff!” replied Devon walking out of the kitchen and heading for the stairs. He felt regenerated after a much-needed smoke.

“Cool,” Trace said, grinning as he walked toward the stairs.

As Trace reached the top stair, he felt a sudden and forceful shove in his back. It was as if someone had deliberately pushed him. He plummeted down the stairs. Trace hit his head multiple times on the way down, which left him unconscious.

Devon, walking toward the staircase, saw Trace falling down the stairs and immediately ran to him to see if he was alright.

“Shit!” Devon was shocked. “Trace?”

Devon ran up to where Trace lay. Thankfully he was still breathing, but Devon knew there was a possibility that he could have broken his neck.

Devon retrieved his cell phone from his pocket and called 911, explaining the situation and the address. All he could do was wait for help and hope they would arrive in time.

About fifteen minutes later, Devon heard sirens. He rushed to the door, opened it, and led the paramedics inside. By this time, Trace had somewhat regained consciousness, but was disoriented and couldn’t move. His vision, although blurred, allowed his eyes to wander around the room, trying to piece together what had happened to him. He looked at the top of the stairs where he could vaguely make out a dark shape. It  resembled a human form and seemed to be looking down at him. He then quickly lost consciousness again.

“We need to get him out of here,” Janis, one of the paramedics, said to the other with a hint of anxiety in her tone.

“Sooner the better,” Jason replied, “Let’s secure his neck and then lift him onto the stretcher.”

After Trace was placed gently on the stretcher and secured in the ambulance, Devon watched them drive away. He had notified Mr. Sterling about the accident while the paramedics worked on him. As far as he could tell, there was no immediate family or girlfriend to contact. Trace was a nomad, he rarely stayed in one place too long, and Devon was amazed that he had stayed the month and a half that he did.

Devon walked back into the house to gather his things before leaving. As he walked to the kitchen, he noticed something lying on the floor at the base of the stairs.

“What the hell?” he thought out loud as he peered down at the silver flask lying at the base of the stairs.

With all the ruckus, the flask had been overlooked by everyone. It lay in the corner, at the base of the stairs. Devon shook his head, picked up the flask, and returned it to its rightful place in the drawer, then walked to the kitchen and left out the back door. He felt he probably needed to go to the hospital to check on Trace, but as bad as he seemed, Devon was truly unconcerned for Trace’s wellbeing, especially now that he knew Trace couldn’t be trusted. To have a thief in his employ would not set well with John Sterling—or anyone else at the firm. Devon also knew that, if anything else were ever taken, all eyes would turn directly to him.

“Yep, and why wouldn’t they look at me?” Devon said to himself. “Hell, I’d look at me too. It ain’t fair, but fair goes out the window when you get caught.”

Devon retrieved a cigarette from his pocket as he walked to his truck. He lit the cigarette and inhaled, holding the smoke in for a few seconds longer than normal. Then he slowly exhaled. A few more puffs and his overactive mind seemed to calm considerably.

“Well hell,” he said, getting into his truck, “guess I need to at least make an appearance.”

Devon started the truck and drove away. His thoughts were still conflicted, but he thought it best to head to the hospital. He was certain Barbara, Mr. Sterling’s number two, was already en route with insurance information in hand. The last thing this company wanted was a lawsuit, and with the discovery of the flask, Devon needed to tell someone just in case other things turned up missing.

Finding History Through 80 Year Old Pages

 

Susie Spindltop's Weekly Letter's 1926-1931

 

For the past year or so, I have spent countless hours browsing through the microfilms of the Sunday editions of the Beaumont Enterprise. My main reason for spending so much time doing this has been to research the life and times of Florence Stratton, and I have determined that most of the “historically accurate” information about her is wrong. I found this out by going through census records, city directories, and yes, her weekly letter, which was published from February 1926 to January 1938. It is interesting to note how much you can learn a lot about the culture and happenings of a society through its gossip column.f3

I figured that if I wanted to learn more about someone then I would have to go to the source, and “Susie Spindletop’s Weekly Letter” was where Florence revealed a few tidbits of information about her private life. So off I went to the Tyrrell Historical Library to copy each issue of those Sunday articles. Currently, I have all the copies from 1926 to 1931. I still need those from 1932 to 1937, which will probably take approximately six months to collect and assimilate.

edhotel1While spending these countless hours reading through the Sunday Enterprise, I found out about other aspects of our history that are equally entertaining. In the late 1920s and early 1930s, after the second Spindletop oil boom, there was an enormous amount of construction taking place in the area. Indeed, most of the buildings standing today are from this time as evidenced when you drive the streets in the neighborhood near the courthouse: you will see many of Beaumont’s old buildings with a date from this era stamped on the upper frontage. (Note: There are many buildings in Port Arthur dated the same way.)6187_384311335014342_945480920_n

9533121351_f53b802117_oIt was interesting to come across articles about the construction of the then-new Edson Hotel circa 1929 and to read that the Phelan Mansion was to be ready by Christmas 1928. The Enterprise is full of Sunday articles highlighting the growth and expansion of Beaumont’s adolescent years.

I have also come to enjoy Dean Tevis’ articles on the SETX farmers of that time. I found mention of one farmer in particular, Martin Block (the great uncle of historian W. T. Block), particularly insightful since I live next door to where his house once stood here in Port Neches.

martin blockEach week brings a new beginning and a time stamp in our history. For instance, do you know that the McFaddin’s land is to be cut in two by a little waterway, to be built in 1928, called the Intercoastal?  How about the new County courthouse’s five-floor jailhouse (1931)? The more you delve into these papers, the more you lose track of time.

During these years, Beaumont was definitely a happening place. And thanks to Spindletop’s second boom, this area would not feel the full brunt of the Great Depression like so many other parts of the United States. SETX was growing and working, even into the mid to late 1930s.

So as you drive around Beaumont, especially near the river, take time to appreciate some of the restored 80-plus-year-old landmarks. They are truly treasures that are worthy of investigation.

 http://www.flickr.com/photos/25032584@N05/sets/72157635822955784/

 

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Dick Dowling Days 2013 Preview

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With the sesquicentennial of the battle of Sabine Pass only a day away, it is interesting to note that Dick Dowling Days turns 50 this year. And boy, what an action-packed series of events are lined up! Dick Dowling Days began as a tribute to honor Lt. Richard W. Dowling and his band of 40-plus Irishmen who, incredibly, repelled an invasion of 5,000 Federals on September 8th, 1863. It also memorializes the fallen Union marines and sailors who perished in the battle.

September 7 and 8 will be the biggest in Dick Dowling Days history with over 350 reenactors, both military and civilian. Numerous cannons and cavalry will be on guard for the planned scenarios. It will also be a great time to maneuver through the camps and get a taste of how life was in the 1860s. Dick Dowling Days is a family affair so kids of all ages are welcome.

Some of the highlights that I’m looking forward to, which are also the usual crowd favorites, are the scenarios:

–       The court martial and execution of Lt. Elijah Allen was a real event, which I only learned about at last year’s Dick Dowling Days. Lt. Allen was tried and convicted in 1864 for deserting his post in High Island and inciting his command to do the same.

 

DSC01406–       Kate Dorman is one lady whom I have come to admire since I first encountered her in April 2012. The feisty Catfish Hotel owner will be well represented at Dick Dowling Days 2013. Her scenario, confronting a Union officer while he tries to confiscate her horse and cart is a must-see.

The main highlight however is the memorial service. Representative James White and author and historian Edward Cotham will speak to honor those who perished in the battle. The Lone Star Pipe band will be on hand, as will the Order of the Confederate Rose, to give the floral tribute. A rifle and artillery salute will follow.

Another highlight of Dick Dowling Days 2013 is Jed Marum. He will be performing on both Saturday and Sunday. Jed is a talented Celtic/folk/Bluegrass musician whose music I believe everyone will enjoy. You can see more of his work at http://www.youtube.com/user/jedmarum .

Admission and parking is free. Parking will be at the Sabine Pass High School with a free bus service to and from the battleground. The gates will open to the public at 9 a.m. on both Saturday and Sunday.

 

A brief history of the battle:DSC01641

One sultry September day in 1863, a decisive victory was had by a small but well-drilled band of Irish volunteers commanded by Lt. Richard William Dowling. Union forces had planned a surprise attack by using their four gunboats as an advance party to take Fort Griffin and secure a landing site for their 18 transport ships, which carried an invading force of 5,000 men. But the Union’s secret plan quickly unraveled, and Dowling’s men were well aware of the Federal threat before it materialized.

On the afternoon of September 8, 1863, Union forces began their attack with a barrage of artillery fire on the fort. Later, it was intended that the Union gunboat Sachem would make its way up the Louisiana side of the channel in the hope of drawing fire from all of Fort Griffin’s guns while the Clifton, one of the Union’s main ships, would sneak up through the Texas side of the channel in an attempt to take out the fort’s artillery. But Dowling’s gunners immediately disabled the Sachem by sending a shot into her boiler. With the Sachem’s threat dealt with, Dowling turned the guns toward the oncoming Clifton. A shot through the wheelhouse disabled the steering of the Clifton and sent her aground. After a brief onslaught of canon fire, the Clifton surrendered. Seeing the two gunboats taken out so quickly, the invading force opted to retreat rather than to lose more men and guns. In the end Dowling’s men took 350 prisoners and had no casualties. The Union forces lost 50 men, with scores wounded.

DSC01428SCHEDULE of EVENTS

Saturday 9-7-13
9:00 Gates open to the public
10:00 Court Martial & Execution
11:00 150th Anniversary Memorial Ceremony
2:00 Battle: Union Attack & Occupation of Sabine City
3:00 Jed Marum in Concert

Sunday 9-8-13
9:00 Gates open to the public
9:00 Church Service
10:00 Court Martial & Execution
11:00 Jed Marum in Concert
2:00 Battle: Union attack on the Garrison at Sabine City

 

Rediscovering SETX Going Forward

 

My absence from posting weekly blogs these past few months is not without cause. A few of you know I have finished my book, Blood of the Innocent, which is a fictional story that takes place here in Southeast Texas in 1875. I hope to release it in May this year. It is partially historic fiction. I say partially because, due to the nature of the story, I did not want to include actual people from early Beaumont history.

I have also been doing research about the historian, journalist, and author, Florence Stratton (1881–1938). Her contribution to this area is second to none, and I believe she deserves to be honored with a historical marker depicting her achievements. I have therefore started the process. It has been difficult to find accurate information about her in the months since I started this journey (I truly believe Florence likes her secrets), but as of this posting, I believe I have an accurate timeline of her life.

Accuracy resonates with me because I started this blog to share our rich history as precisely as possible, but that is hard to do on a weekly basis. Research needs to done on each subject, but even in-depth research can be wrong when a historic source is incorrect. Understandably, people make mistakes, but I want to provide as accurate an account as I can in my postings.

As my research is ongoing, I constantly discover more and more history from this area that few, including myself, have never heard of. This is what I feel is a priority to include on this blog. I do not call myself a historian. That is a label for people like Bill Quick (whose papers I have been honored to go through these past two Saturdays at the Sam Houston Regional Library), W. T. Block, Judith Linsley, and others who have documented our past.

As this blog goes forward, I want to promote more places, such as houses, museums, etc., by offering access for people to visit and learn about our past. I do have a few people whose history I want to delve into in the future. I will do this as accurately as possible.

I will say this however: my time spent in these places has been nothing less than awesome, and I am enjoying the ride.

Paul

La Maison Beausoleil Museum

 

La Maison BeausoleilLately I have spent every non-working minute doing research for an upcoming project, which I will elaborate on at a later date. This can be very fun and interesting, but spending hours upon hours peering into a computer screen and/or microfilm at the historical library does tend to be tedious and time-consuming. That is why, today, I decided I’d had enough. It was time to take a break. So, with camera in hand, I headed out the door toward the river. 

As I drove down Grigsby Avenue, near the old jail, I noticed that the windows of the old cabin in Port Neches Park were open. Of course, I had to investigate, so I immediately began my exploration.Grigsby's Bluff Jail

Truth be told, I have wanted to tour this small 200-year-old museum for a long time, but I was either unable to make it to the park at the time the volunteer was there or the house was closed up. To be fair, the owners of these obscure little historic homes are not able to have either a paid or unpaid docent available a lot of the time. It is the same with other larger places, such as the Vuylsteke Home, White Haven (Port Arthur), or the smaller T.J. Chambers House (Anahuac). It is not feasible to keep someone there permanently, and volunteers are becoming few and far between, so most times you must call ahead to tour.DSC04233

Le Maison Beausoleil (the House of Beautiful Sunshine) was built around 1810 in St. Martin Parish, Louisiana. It was donated by the descendants of the original owner, Joseph Broussard Dit Beausoleil, and transported via barge to its current site in Port Neches Park. The cabin/museum was restored and opened to the public in 1988 by Les Acadiens du Texas, a club promoting the rich culture and heritage of the Acadien (Cajun) people.

Loom @ La Maison BeausoleilThe first thing that sticks out amongst the many artifacts is the loom and spinning wheel. Other items of interest were the musical instruments, miniature replica houses, and the old family Bible.DSC04208

Overall, Les Acadiens du Texas does a good job of promoting their heritage with this museum. I just hope that it will be open more regularly on weekends for all to enjoy.

DSC04222This is the touring information, but I would definitely call ahead to confirm anyhow: Le Maison Beausoleil is open Saturday and Sunday from 1–5pm. Other times can be arranged for bus tours and special occasions by calling 409-722-3014, 409—722-5650, 409-729-0341, or 409-832-6733. There is no admission charge.

Gladys City

Gladys City

You’ve passed it countless times on Cardinal Drive while heading to your destination, but just like the Wallisville museums, you are missing a goldmine of treasures. This is most definitely the place where you can see how life was in SETX at the turn of the 20th century. Each building is from a different sector of our history. And worth the small fee charged to aid the upkeep of this fine place.

When you arrive for the tour, you are first shown a brief film on the origins of Spindletop and how Gladys City was formed. After that you can take a self-guided tour through the different buildings at your own pace. The countless artifacts and old trinkets that the curators have acquired are amazing. As I found myself browsing through them all, I couldn’t help but think back to my old neighbor, Roy, because I had seen a lot of the tools displayed here in his shop.DSC00264

My particular favorites in Gladys City are the general store, the photograph shop, and the printing shop. There are countless photos from this period that I could—and did—spend hours looking over.

After your tour, I would highly recommend having a look through the gift shop. Whether it’s the abundance of local books from local authors or the countless jars of jams and preserves, there’s something for everyone. My personal favorite is the fig preserve.

DSC00268Gladys City, I believe, is a great teaching tool to educate both young and old about what it was like to live at the turn of the 20th century. Oil was the new path to riches back then, and many came here seeking just that. There are many stories, both told and untold, from this era, and I hope to delve into them at a later time.

 

Gladys City is located o the Lamar University campus at 5550  University Drive, Beaumont, Texas 77705

Note All pricing and touring information was taken from Spindletops website which can be found below.

http://www.spindletop.org/

Admission prices

Adults $5
Seniors 60+ $3
Children Ages 6-12 $2
Children 5 & younger Free
Lamar University students, faculty, staff, retirees and alumni are admitted free, w/valid ID.
Active military, including Reserves & National Guard, their spouses and dependents receive free admission from Memorial Day through Labor Day as part of the Blue Star Museums program sponsored by the National Endowment for the Arts.

Touring Information:

Gladys City is available for special guided tours for groups of 10 or more Tuesday through Friday at 10 a.m. and 1 p.m. Groups of 10 or more visiting on Saturday or Sunday may receive the special tour rate for a self-guided tour. Tours usually last one hour to 90 minutes.

Special rates for adult groups are $3 each for Adults, $2 each for Adults 60+. Much of the museum complex is wheelchair accessible and benches are provided on the porches of several buildings.

For youth tours, including public and private schools, home school groups, and scout troops, during the regular school year (September-May), admission is free for all youth and one chaperone for every ten students is free. Additional chaperones pay the regular adult tour admission fee of $3. Admission for youth tours during the summer (June-August) is $1 per person, including youth and adults.

Gladys City can accommodate up to 150 children in one tour. It is requested that large groups have at least one chaperone for every ten children.

Past and Present: Historians are a Precious Resource

 

No one can argue that Southeast Texas doesn’t have a rich and diverse history although, if you would ask most people around here, they would probably tell you that everything started with Spindletop. Well, we know better. We know this because of a certain few individuals who took the time—sometimes their whole lives—to document and explore our past. It is these people whom I hold in the highest regard.

In my journey to discover Southeast Texas history, I have been fortunate to find many articles, books, and other sources of information that have aided my research. From our first historian, Florence Stratton, to W.T. Block, Bill Quick, Judith Walker Linsley, Ellen Walker Rienstra, Edward T. Cotham, Martha “Toodlum” Ferguson, Yvonne Sutherlin, and the many others whose works I have yet to explore.

These people have taken the time and done the legwork to valiantly give us a true picture of what has gone before. Indeed, our history is not just the battles in Sabine Pass or the discovery of oil south of Beaumont. And these people have weaved their way through our history to bring us the stories that I love to discover. 

When I think of Sabine Pass, Kate Dorman is the first person who comes to mind. It is people like her who bring a real sense of history to our area. When I think of Richard W. Dowling, I see someone who accomplished many things in his short life away from the battlefield. The list of participants in our past goes on and on. Many had very interesting lives, which would have been forgotten were not for those few who keep our heritage alive. Beyond the glamour of historic recognition, most of these people lived their lives away from the history books, and we are fortunate to still be able to learn about them.

In doing research, some of my favorite portals to our history are of course the old books and articles from a time long since passed, such as The Story of Beaumont by Florence Stratton (1925), the Beaumont American Guide series (1930s), and of course, Susie Spindletop’s Weekly Letter (1920s and 30s), all of which you can find at the Tyrrell Historical Library.

One thing that I find fascinating when reading these insights is the absence of the present’s take on history. The past is still fresh, and you can tell this from the writings. Also, I will add that you can learn a lot about how people thought by reading a gossip column written 80-plus years ago.

Another source of information that I have been blessed to encounter is the Jefferson County Historical Commission’s treasures from current members and those members who have passed on. It was there that I began to see the bigger picture of what we face: sadly we are losing our historians. When these people are gone, so goes the knowledge of our past. This is why it is so important to document it, write it, photograph it, in any way you can. It is our heritage, our past, and we owe future historians this courtesy.

I treasure those who have taken the time to investigate my area’s past. Hopefully I can humbly add to their contributions in some way. They were, and are, my mentors, people who I wish I had known. If it weren’t for them, our historical knowledge would be nonexistent.

 

 

 

 

Preserving History

A few weeks back, I visited Broussard’s Cemetery, which is located on Labelle Road in west Jefferson County. There are few words that I can type here to adequately describe the condition of this sacred place, but I will try to do so.

At first sight, you would never know that there is a cemetery in front of you. The multiple years of abandonment have permitted the overgrowth of brush, vines, and trees to flourish. I actually had to use a few commercial trimmers to cut a trail through to the first grave. So who’s at fault, and where are the keepers of these plots of history?

Actually there are none. In my opinion, blame cannot lay at any particular person’s feet since this place is very old. It’s a sad fact of history that is becoming more and more frequent. Whether they are cemeteries, old abandoned sites, houses, or even simply a lack of interest in our past, a lot of our history is disappearing.

But all hope isn’t lost. There are organizations, commissions, and societies that do wonderful work in maintaining our history. There is a plethora of people behind the scenes who volunteer their time and finances toward specific purposes. Some people even dedicate a lifetime to their cause, and they are to be commended. Any help to these organizations, whether monetary or by way of voluntary effort, would no doubt be gladly appreciated.

So what is to become of Broussard’s Cemetery? There are passionate people who I believe will bring the needed care and attention to this historic site. But it all comes down to individuals with enough enthusiasm and a sufficient work ethic to take the time to correct this travesty. Because in the end, that’s what it takes: hard work and dedication to a cause.

If you would like to learn more about the Southeast Texas organizations that work to preserve our heritage or would like to donate your time, here are a few that would be most appreciative:

Jefferson County Historical Commission :

http://www.co.jefferson.tx.us/historical_commission/links.htm

Chambers County Historical Commission:

http://www.cchcnews.com/

Galveston County Historical Commission:

http://www.co.galveston.tx.us/Museum/historical_commission.asp

Orange County:

http://www.hcwilliams.com/

Beaumont Heritage Society:

http://www.beaumontheritage.org/

Galveston Historical Foundation:

http://www.galvestonhistory.org/

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Florence Stratton

Dear Della:

I know it’s been ages since your friend Susie has written to you, and I know she is deeply missed. I never met Susie personally, but I do know of her fondness for you and her knack for always knowing what you and your neighbors were up to. She shared many things with you each Sunday morning, something which I have only recently come to learn.

Della, I have read some of the open letters that Susie wrote to you over a period of 11 years on the pages of the Beaumont Enterprise. It’s obvious that Susie cared for everyone. But of course she did. You know she created “The Journal Empty Stocking Fund” to help poor people around the time of Christmas each year and “The Journal Milk and Ice Fund” because, as she put it, “even in the summer poor people are still poor.”

Thinking back, I can only imagine how hard it was for people during that time. Poverty was certainly color blind, and “Great” was a word used in sorrow. But you survived. You always will.

Yes I know that the Beaumont Journal is long gone, but the Beaumont Enterprise is still hanging on and its Empty Stocking Fund is still helping out citizens of this fine town, even today. It’s thanks to Susie that the poor are still being helped.

————–

Della, I did find out something about Susie. Did you know she wrote books? Susie published them under the name Florence Stratton. One of her books, The Story of Beaumont, published in 1925, has found a home in my office.

————–

After reading her column and books, I can see why you and your neighbors liked her so. Susie was one of a kind. My only regret in this scenario is that I wasn’t around in 1920s and 1930s Beaumont to talk with her. But I get that way when thinking about all my favorite people of Southeast Texas history. Although I must confess Susie is at the top of my list.

————-

Guess what Della, I passed by Susie’s beloved house today. I couldn’t help but think that ol’ Susie is still watching out for her little house. And you know what, it’s still secluded behind those tall hedges. Just the way she wanted it.

Paul

 

 

Note: This article has been edited with updated information as of 08/10/2013

Florence Stratton was born in Brazoria, Texas, in 1881. Her parents moved to Montgomery, Alabama, when she was a child. She attended Troy Formal College in Troy, Alabama, and even became valedictorian. (Note: In W. T. Block’s article about Florence, he wrote that she had graduated from Gray Normal College. I found out that Troy Formal College is now Troy University. I did not find any mention of Gray Normal College.)

In 1903, Florence moved to Beaumont, where she lived with her sister, and subsequently became a member of the faculty at Miss Austin’s private school.

In 1907 Florence had begun her journalism career at the Beaumont Journal as society editor. Thirteen years later, she would join the Beaumont Enterprise in the same capacity.

Earlier I mentioned that Florence had published a few books. There were five to be exact. The first was a compilation of O. Henry’s writings when he worked as a news scribe in Houston. She compiled them and wrote the foreword. It was called O. Henry’s Postscripts and was published in 1923.

In 1925, she would publish another compilation book entitled Recipes of Famous Women. The Story of Beaumont would also be published that same year. This book was written from her interviews with early Beaumonters.

Two more books would follow, The White Plume, O. Henry’s own short story, published in 1931, and When the Storm God Rides, published in 1936, compiled by Bessie M. Reid and retold by Florence Stratton.

Florence started her popular column called “Susie Spindletop’s Weekly Letter” in 1926 in which she would write to her fictional friend Della about the happenings in and around Beaumont society.

Note #1: Just as Susie was Florence’s alter ego, Della was a fictitious character representing the people of Beaumont. Susie/Florence always had a way of enticing her readers.

Note #2: After spending a rainy Saturday morning at the Tyrrell Historical Library looking through the archives at Susie/Florence’s writing, I was amazed just how much you can learn about early SETX history through a gossip column.

In 1930, Florence built her home out of the bricks from the old Jefferson County Courthouse at 1929 McFaddin (located across the street from the McFaddin-Ward house). Even today, the hedges are still present just as she had them oh-so-many years ago.

Sadly, on January 28th 1938, Florence died following surgery at a New Orleans hospital. The deat certificate states the cause of death as “Arterio Sclerotic heart disease.”

Florence Stratton was the first real published historian of our area. Her ceaseless energy and desire to bring the news of the day to Beaumonters was always her top priority. Through her work we can see just how life was in the early days. I’m sure Della would agree.

 

Note: I wish to thank the Tyrrell Historical Library and the Beaumont Enterprise for making available their wealth of information about this fine lady. I also wish to thank Ginny from the Chambers House Museum (http://www.chambershouse.org/) for introducing me to the life and times of the wonderful Florence Stratton.

 

 

Neches River Adventures Tour

Not all history comes from a mill or is constructed with bricks and mortar. Southeast Texas is known for many things, and its wildlife, waterways, and plant life is high on the tourism list. Whether it’s the hunting, fishing, birding, or camping, many are drawn to this area by its beauty and recreational perks.

One activity, which has eluded me since hearing about it in April, is the Neches River Adventure Tour, conducted by Cardinal Tours. (No fault to these fine folk. I just couldn’t get away from work to take this fantastic tour until now.) The tour leaves Riverfront Park every Saturday morning at 10 (except holiday weekends), and finally this week, I was able to climb aboard.

The two-hour tour on the Neches River first takes you under the train bridge—to take a peek at the port of Beaumont—before heading up the river, under the Purple Heart Memorial Bridge, and through a bayou filled with cypress trees, wildlife, Spanish moss, jumping mullets, and the like.

 On this day, there were no alligators, but there were wasps (note the photo), jumping mullets, turtles, and an elusive heron that was determined not to have his photo taken.

When taking a tour like this, things change from day to day or week to week. It is a different adventure each time you board this vessel, but what doesn’t change is the wisdom and knowledge of its crew. I cannot stress enough the value of having two guides so well-versed and knowledgeable about the river. Their passion for the preservation of this area’s natural wonders shows, and I too think it must be protected.

Whether you are a year old or 100, there is plenty to enjoy on this tour. The comfort factor is also a plus: you will not be sitting in the sun. The open boat is fully covered, and yes, they even have a restroom. The boat is equipped with life vests and meets all the safety requirements of the Coast Guard.

It is best to make reservations well in advance. This tour has become very popular, and the company is getting out-of-town groups as well as tourists from around the world. The cost of this tour is $15 per person, or $10 if you’re a senior or a child under 12. Children aged three and under ride free.

 

Neches River Adventures also is available for charters, professional development workshops, and student outdoor labs. For additional information, call (409) 651-5326 or visit their website:

http://nechesriveradventures.org/