TEXAS RANGER DISPATCH Magazine

Transcription

The
Issue16, Spring 2005
Texas Ranger Dispatch
™
Magazine of the Texas Ranger Hall of Fame and Museum
Official museum, hall of fame, and repository of the Texas Rangers Law Enforcement Agency
Issue 16, Spring 2005
Silk Pajamas (A Red Arnold Story) .....................................Bob Arnold
John James Dix: Texas Ranger during the Cortina Campaign.....Dan Manning
The Texas Rangers & the London, Texas, School Disaster.....Robert Nieman
Bob Goss........................................................................Robert Nieman
Jay Womack.................................................................Robert Nieman
Rangers in the Field: TRAF Board Meeting.......................Robert Nieman
A Woman in the Great Outdoors; Custer and Me (bk. reviews)...Robert Nieman
John B. Jones...............................................................Chuck Parsons
The Texas Rangers & the Mexican Revolution, 1910-1920.....Chuck Parsons
Ask The Dispatch..........................................................................Staff
Smith & Wesson's No. 2 “Old Army”...................................David Stroud
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Christina Stopka, Archivist, Texas Ranger Research Center
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Silk Pajamas
(A Red Arnold Story)
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Texas Ranger Red Arnold
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By Robert Arnold
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In the early fall of 1961, Jack O’Brien, the chief of police
at Texarkana, Texas, gave Red Arnold a call asking for
the Ranger’s help in breaking up a prostitution ring in
town. Texas Rangers don’t typically get involved with local prostitution, even
though they helped out often in the Texarkana area during the mid to late
1960s. Red told Jack that he would help him out where he could. Glenn Elliott
had just made the Rangers, so Red asked him to work undercover because he
knew that Glenn would not be well known in Texarkana.
Red met Glenn at a local motel in Texarkana late one
afternoon, and both checked into a room. Glenn
changed into farm clothing, which included a pair of
faded jeans, a thin cotton shirt, and a pair of scuffed,
brown loafers. A sweat-stained ball cap from the
Windom, Texas, feed store and an old, metal suitcase
completed his outfit. Glenn looked like a farmer that
had come to the city for a visit.
Texas Ranger Glenn Elliott
Red drove Glenn to the Texarkana bus depot about the time that the bus was
arriving from the west. Not wanting them to be seen together, Red let Glenn
out on the back street that ran behind the depot, and Glenn walked in through
a rear door. To those that were inside, they would have thought that he had
just gotten off the bus from Windom. Glenn went to the nearest phone booth
and called a local cab.
When the cab arrived, Glenn got in the back seat and instructed the driver to
take him to the motel that he and Red had previously checked into. Upon
arriving, Glenn asked the driver to wait for him while he went inside. He
pretended to check in at the desk and then came back outside and had the
driver bring the suitcase up to the room. Once there, Glenn offered the driver
a drink of bourbon and told him that his cousin had recently come to
Texarkana and was able to hook up with one of the local girls at a certain
house in town. Glenn wanted to do the same. He described the house where
the girl worked, one located on the outskirts of town on Highway 59. He then
instructed the driver to come back promptly at seven o’clock to pick him up
so he could get a ride to the house. A sizable tip and the drink of bourbon
impressed the driver, who told Glenn that he would be back at seven.
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Right on time, the cab driver appeared at the motel, picked Glenn up, and
drove to the targeted house, which was a large, frame dwelling with a café in
front. They both got out. The driver introduced Glenn to the guy that was
working the café cash register, vouched for him, and then left. The man at the
register directed Glenn to the rear of the café, which opened into a large living
area. Glenn was then introduced to the madam, who was sitting in one of the
comfortable chairs. Glenn repeated the story that he had previously told to
the cab driver, and the madam called out one of the girls. As Glenn and the
girl exchanged pleasant conversation, he had the girl as well as the madam
quickly at ease. He told them that his cousin had said that he could choose
from several girls. He asked to see the ones that were not working.
The madam complied, and in a few minutes, six or seven girls appeared in the
living room. After a few minutes of talking price, Glenn paid the madam with
marked money. He then told the madam and the girls that he was Texas
Ranger, showed his badge, and arrested them all for prostitution.
Glenn sat the women down in the living room and then called the police
department on the home phone. He asked the dispatcher to contact Red and
the police chief (who were supposedly waiting for his call) and ask them to
come to the house and assist him in the arrests. He was told by the
dispatcher that the chief and Red had responded to a local convenience store
robbery where the store clerk had been shot, and they couldn’t come to help
until the investigation had been completed. Glenn went back to the girls and
informed them that the place was closed for the night and they should just
relax until the police wagon arrived. Red and Chief O’Brien showed up a
couple of hours later.
By the time that Glenn and Red finished with wrapping up the case at the
police station it was past midnight. They returned to their hotel for a short
night’s sleep. As they were preparing for bed, Red noticed that Glenn was
removing a pair of pajamas from his suitcase. Red asked him what he was
doing, and Glenn responded that he was getting ready to go to bed. Red
didn’t say much to Glenn, but a few days later at Company B Headquarters in
Dallas, Red kiddingly told everyone that he wasn’t too sure about the newest
Ranger because he wore pajamas to bed. Glenn took the good natured ribbing
from the other Rangers well, as all new Rangers did.
A couple of weeks later, annual training for the Rangers began. All Rangers
were required to attend, and the week-long sessions were spread across
several weeks so that all the Rangers across the state would not be in training
at the same time. Red and Glenn were selected to attend together, and they
went down to Austin in Red’s car.
When Red and Glenn arrived, they went up to their quarters, in which four
Rangers were assigned to a room. After the first night session, they went
back to their room to get ready for bed. They were accompanied by their
roommates, Company D’s Captain Alfred Y. Allee and Charlie Miller, two
Ranger veterans who could make the hardest criminal melt with just a look.
As Red and Glenn sat near each other in idle conversation, Glenn glanced
across the room at the captain and Charlie. He gave Red a nudge with his
elbow and nodded his head across the room. Red looked over and saw the
two Rangers removing silk pajamas from their suitcases. Red looked back at
Glenn, shook his head, and never said another word about Rangers wearing
pajamas.
Capt. A.Y. Allee
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John James Dix:
Texas Ranger During the Cortina
Campaign
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By Dan R. Manning
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John James Dix was born on March
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27, 1826, in Dixboro, a town founded
by his father near Ann Arbor in
Michigan Territory. At the age of
seven, he came to Texas with his
family, traveling down the Mississippi
River and across the Gulf of Mexico
during the winter of 1833 and 1834.
They settled in Stephen F. Austin’s
colony a few miles west of Washington
on the Brazos River.(1)
Contact the Editor
John Dix, the family head, was a participant in the 1835 Battle of Concepcion
Mission at San Antonio de Bexar during the early stages of the Texas War for
Independence from Mexico. After a month of volunteer service, the elder Dix
gained a furlough and returned to work his land near Coles Settlement in
Washington County.(2) The family fled before Santa Anna’s Army in the
“Runaway Scrape,” but they began raising crops again following the Battle of
San Jacinto.
When he was nineteen, John James Dix signed on to help trail herd one
thousand head of oxen from Washington County to Henry L. Kinney’s ranch
headquarters (later to become Corpus Christi) on the Gulf of Mexico.(3)
General Zachary Taylor, commander of the U.S. Army of Observation
stationed on the beach, was gathering heavy draft animals in anticipation of
transporting supplies and equipment to the southern tip of Texas. Taylor’s
purpose was to define and defend the contested border at the Rio Grande,
which had become the United States boundary line when Texas joined the
Union. His military advancement into the region was in opposition to Mexico’s
illegal claim of all land northward to the Nueces River.
After spending several months as a sutler selling merchandise to members of
Taylor’s army encamped at the mouth of the Nueces River, Dix and a few
friends drifted along behind the soldiers when they marched south to the Rio
Grande. Several officers in this Army of Occupation—some destined to die in
battle or become famous through deeds of valor—befriended the young
entrepreneur, who also sought excitement and fortune.(4)
Dix, an excellent rider, carried dispatches on horseback for the Army. One
message of particular importance was entrusted to the young courier. It came
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from Taylor at Fort Brown, and Dix delivered it to Major John Munroe,
headquartered on Point Isabel, prior to the Battle of Palo Alto. In the message,
Taylor related the capture of his scouts, Captain Seth B. Thornton and
Lieutenant William Joseph Hardee. This critically offensive act would provide
an opportunity for Taylor to force the fight.(5) He quickly engaged the Mexican
Army, winning two major battles during May of 1846.
Dix left the war zone, returning to Washington County. A year later, he rode
from home back toward Fort Brown, retracing a 350-mile route through
Corpus Christi and down Padre Island to Brazos Santiago Island. During this
time period, he began to record his thoughts and daily activities in a journal.
Joining in a partnership to establish another profitable sutler business, Dix
began purchasing a variety of bulk commodities from ships and wagon trains.
His wares were sorted and then apportioned for resale to regular soldiers and
volunteers at the war’s central staging ground.
Men, livestock, and equipment were being funneled toward Mexico from the
mouth of the Rio Grande. Steamboats formed an upriver supply line to
Taylor’s army while oceangoing ships under sail or powered by steam
provided similar support down the Gulf coastline toward Vera Cruz. This is
where General Winfield Scott’s force pushed inland toward Mexico City.
Dix was eventually employed in the U.S. Quartermaster Department on Brazos
Santiago Island. Transferal of men and materiel from ocean-going vessels
onto shallow-draft river craft became his daily routine. He later supervised
construction of a wharf and volunteered, when time permitted, to ride on
mounted scouting parties in search of stolen military property.(6)
Following the signing of the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo, Dix was placed in
charge of a herd of one thousand horses and mules coming out of Mexico. He
worked alongside Juan Nepomuceno “Cheno” Cortina on the trail drive from
Brownsville to a dispersal point at Nacogdoches in East Texas.
Matamoros businessman Samuel A. Belden had been influential in
recommending Dix to Major William Warren Chapman, U.S. Army
quartermaster at Fort Brown, as a person capable of getting the herd through
in good shape. Belden assured Chapman that Dix possessed business sense
and could manage animals, also confirming that he was familiar with the
Spanish language as well as habits of Mexicans.(7)
Sixty Mexican horsemen began driving the herd over a 450-mile-long route.
Dix supervised half the drovers while the rest followed orders from Cortina.
The responsibility of getting all of the loose-herded government livestock to
the intended destination, however, had been entrusted to Dix.(8)
Juan Cortina was born in Camargo, Mexico, on
May 16, 1824. His Spanish ancestors had been
early-day Tejanos, operating large ranches
between the Nueces River and the Rio Grande.
Cortina fought on the side of Mexico against
Taylor during the initial battles of the MexicanAmerican War.(9) As was to become a lifelong
survival tactic, he easily shifted allegiance when
fortunes of war provided an opportunity to side
with the victorious American army.
Soon after peace had been declared, Dix took a
job to help disperse surplus livestock. Along the
trail from Fort Brown to Nacogdoches, several altercations had occurred
between Anglo teamsters and Mexican drovers, who had been ordered to
keep the herd intact. Dix barely saved the neck of one muleskinner by
breaking Cortina’s chokehold during a fight over misappropriated livestock.
Cortina and a few loyal followers became disgusted with the situation and
failed to complete the trip.(10) Dix, however, saw his duty through to its end,
delivering the herd with a shorthanded crew. He arrived back at Fort Brown on
December 8, 1848. After collecting his wages from Major Chapman, Dix was
discharged.(11) He and Cortina would not cross trails again for another
decade.
On July 13, 1859, Cortina was in Brownsville attending court. He saw City
Marshal Bob Shears attempt the arrest of a drunken horse thief. When Cortina
recognized Tomas Cabrera, a former employee, being pistol-whipped by
Shears, he mounted his horse and rode near the altercation. Verbally
protesting the marshal’s harsh treatment, he offered to remove the offender
from Brownsville’s streets.
For his trouble, Cortina was cursed by the lawman and told to mind his own
business. Marshall Shears angrily swung a pistol, getting off a quick shot at
the horse thief. The bullet barely missed its intended target, instead
penetrating Cortina’s saddle. Enraged, Cortina drew his own six-shooter and
triggered a snapshot from horseback but failed to hit the marshal. However,
the next slug brought Shears down with a severe shoulder wound. Liberated
prisoner Cabrera was taken up behind Cortina. Doubled up on the horse, they
rode out of town to a nearby ranch refuge.(12)
Two and a half months later, a small, armed group approached Brownsville.
They rampaged through the streets at 3:00 a.m. yelling praises to a brave
leader, threatening death to citizens, and pledging allegiance to their mother
country: “Viva Cheno Cortina! Mueran los gringos! Viva Mexico!”
The city was taken by surprise. The invaders set up headquarters at nearby
Fort Brown, and the Cortinistas began searching for specific men in order to
avenge past wrongs with quick executions. Marked enemy Bob Shears
narrowly escaped. However, several died from gunshots, including a jailor.
During the chaos, all Mexican prisoners were released. Eventually a rescue
party arrived from Matamoros, directly across the Rio Grande. Two of
Cortina’s relatives thus brought about a peaceful conclusion.(13)
In a letter to her mother in Germany, Maria, wife of Nueces County District
Surveyor Felix von Blucher, related:
A Mexican, but a Texas citizen, named Nepomuceno Cortina, of
one of the richest and best educated families of Brownsville, has
taken up with a band of good-for-nothings, and they attacked
Brownsville to take private revenge upon persons who opposed
him. But, as is usual in such cases, innocent victims fell, and the
affair turned into a siege, with all the consequent misery.(14)
Attempting to quell the violence, Governor Hardin Richard Runnels pressed
John Salmon Ford into state’s service. A veteran of the Mexican-American
War and countless Indian battles, “Old Rip” Ford was called on to muster a
volunteer mounted unit for the purpose of quieting insurrectionists on the Rio
Grande. Ford moved southward, recruiting men qualified by experience to
form a group of Rangers. His intention was to overcome the enemy, by force if
necessary. These men arrived at the southern tip of Texas in December of
1859.
A concentrated effort was made to pressure Cortina into a fight by Ford’s
Texas Rangers and U.S. Army troopers led by Major Samuel P. Heintzelman.
During the final days of December, the rebel army was encountered 90 miles
up the Rio Grande near Ringgold Barracks. Ford’s men captured a pair of
cannons, previously taken from a Brownsville home guard unit. During the
skirmish, Cortina escaped across the river. He left sixty dead Mexicans on the
field, but immediately began recruiting new followers who believed in the
cause of reclaiming stolen property: the land of their ancestors. They soon
posed yet another threat to the citizens of Brownsville.(15)
Unfortunately, although in compliance with former instructions from the
governor, William G. Tobin overthrew Ford during an intra-company election
of officers. Old Rip abruptly announced intentions of retiring from the field.
Having been mustered in for no particular length of service, he was free to go.
Others, similarly relieved of duty, joined up with him as he set a course
toward Brownsville looking for a fight. They were certain that Cortina moved
in the same direction along the opposite side of the Rio Grande.(16)
Seeking information on recent developments, newly elected governor Sam
Houston commissioned a pair of investigators for the purpose. They
authoritatively discharged Tobin for being “utterly incompetent to command
in the field.”(17) Ford subsequently received an appointment as captain, with
his ranging unit coming under the direction of Major Heintzelman.
It is not certain when Dix and Ford first become acquainted. Both attended
Kinney’s infamous Corpus Christi Fair in 1852, and each chased hostile
Indians in the Nueces Strip. Nevertheless, upon learning of Ford’s call for
volunteers when atrocities occurred near Brownsville, Dix rode to join the
group of defenders—against his wife’s wishes.(18)
Dix would have reasoned that his attributes could be beneficial to the
campaign. He was familiar with the country, possessed a fair knowledge of
Mexican customs, and spoke the language. Dix had also been personally
acquainted with Cheno Cortina ten years earlier. Considering these
qualifications, he might have concluded that a peaceful end to the difficulties
was a possibility, provided that both sides were cooperative.
On the other hand, Dix had also gained experience that might prove useful
during armed conflict, if forced. As a mustanger, Indian fighter, and rancher,
he had developed into an excellent rider and skilled marksman. He could also
live off of the land. All of these were Ranger prerequisites.
Ford had been in the field for a month when Dix arrived with others from the
Nueces Valley. They signed up for twelve months “unless discharged sooner
by order of the Governor.” Ford was captain of Company A, Matt Nolan
became its 1st lieutenant, while Dix and William D. Howell were made 2nd
lieutenants. Company B had as its captain John Littleton, with John N.
Paschal as 1st lieutenant, and Arthur Pugh and Bennett Jordan were 2nd
lieutenants.(19) Over the next four months of duty with the Rio Grande
Squadron of Texas Rangers, Dix would be called forward by Ford to render
specific services as a sharpshooter, guide, and interpreter.
Dix’s first campaign came about as the steamboat Ranchero awaited safe
passage downriver from Ringgold Barracks. It became known to Cortina that
$300,000 in gold coins was aboard the vessel, making a tempting target. For a
protective measure, U.S. Army Lieutenant Loomis L. Langdon affixed on deck
the two cannons Ford’s men had previously captured from the Cortinistas. In
October of 1859, Cortina’s men had taken the pair of four-pounders from a
group of unorganized militiamen before running them back toward
Brownsville and Matamoros.
Three hundred rebels under Cortina’s control were stationed between
Matamoros and Ringgold Barracks, anxious to highjack the Ranchero on an
eventual downstream journey. The point chosen for relieving the steamer of
her valuables was a bend in the Rio Grande known as La Bolsa, the purse.
On February 4, 1860, Cortina’s men opened fire toward the passing
steamboat. Lieutenant Langdon’s gunnery crew commenced pelting the
shoreline attackers, sheltered by houses, fences, and timber. Ford decided
that his Rangers must cross the Rio Grande to effectively confront Cortina.
Tobin, although relieved of duty, formed a detachment with Peter Tomlinson
and eight others to scout ahead. Ford followed on their heels with thirty men.
Tobin moved back toward Ford, claiming that Cortina had left the scene. Ford
disagreed when he sighted several Mexicans hiding near a group of distant
houses. He quickly maneuvered his Rangers to a riverbank position. With
caution to conserve ammunition, Old Rip encouraged them to shoot to kill.
A courier sent by Ford ordered the steamboat’s cannons to fire into Cortina’s
left side, causing Mexican cavalrymen to vacate the field. Rangers gained an
opportunity to thrust forward from their riverbank protection, fiercely
engaging the enemy at close quarters. Ford ordered a charge. His men ran
forward on foot, producing a barrage of small-arms fire.
As befitted a brave commander, the Mexican leader was last to leave the field
of battle. Ford recognized Cheno Cortina defiantly facing the oncoming
Rangers, emptying a six-shooter at them as his frightened men, in full retreat,
failed to recognize and support the challenge.
Three Texas Rangers were positioned near Ford. He ordered them to shoot
Cortina. Lieutenant Dix, Lieutenant William Howard, and Private George
Morris fired several rounds, but were unable to down him. In defense of his
selected riflemen, Ford granted that fading light made their target nearly
obscure. Possibly aided with powerful field glasses, he was able to see in the
dimness as bullets in succession struck the cantle of Cortina’s saddle, cut a
lock from his hair, severed a bridle rein, pierced his horse’s ear, and hit the
rider’s belt. Once more Cortina had escaped unharmed.
Ford was victorious after one hour and fifteen minutes of heavy fighting.
Sorrowfully, Texas Ranger Fountain B. Woodruff lay dead, and three or four of
his comrades were slightly wounded. Cortina lost twenty-nine men on the
battlefield, while forty others suffered from wounds.(20)
Later in life, Dix recalled the incident to have taken place two days earlier than
stated in Ford’s memoirs. According to Dix, “an encounter of arms” occurred
on February 2, 1860, between his company and “the bandits of Cortina, when
they had halted a steamboat on the Rio Grande River, from Rio Grande City to
Fort Brown (Brownsville), for the purpose of robbing and would have certainly
accomplished their purpose if our troop had not been on hand to prevent
it.”(21)
A conference was held between Ford and U.S. Army officers. It was concluded
that in order to protect the Ranchero, Texas Rangers would cross the Rio
Grande, form a mounted guard, and continue alongside down the opposite
shoreline. Accordingly, regulars were to remain abreast of the steamer,
guarding it from the Texas bank.
The steamer once more proceeded downstream but ran aground near Las
Palmas during a norther (a cold, wet wind from the north). A prefect of police
from Matamoros appeared, demanding a reason for the Texas Rangers’
presence in Mexico. Ford explained that they were protecting the steamer
Ranchero. The Mexican official assured a safe passage, denying the presence
of Cortina. Ford asked the prefect about six hundred men he had seen in the
forefront, and was unconvinced when told they were Mexican regulars.
Rangers slept restlessly on foreign soil even as the storm began
to calm overnight. A meeting was arranged the following
morning. During its course, Ford and the Mexican official traded
remarks. Above all else, Ford cautioned the possible event of
warfare between the United States and Mexico. He finally agreed
to return to Texas when safe passage for the steamer was
guaranteed. Assured of compliance with this request, Ford recrossed the Rio Grande. Unhindered, the Ranchero would arrive
on February 8.
Texas Rangers remained in the field to thwart activities of the
rebel force and were still intent on capturing Cortina. On March
2, Dix returned from a scouting mission to report activities he
had observed and offensive measures taken. As he met with
Ford, he saw his leader was suffering from an injury. The
previous day, he had been hurt by his horse falling on him
during a training exercise and was still spitting up blood.(22) Dix
presented his written account:
Head Quarters Rio Grande Squadron
Camp Aqua Negra March 2nd 1860
Capt
I have the honor to report that on the 2nd inst according to your
orders I made a reconnaissance up the river [Rio Grande], and
upon finding suspicious signs in a bend of the stream above a
ranche called La Blanca I determined to watch the point. After
dark we came upon a man arrived, surrounded him, and ordered
him to halt, to stop or throw down his arms, and let me know
who he was all of which he refused to do, and endeavored to fire
upon us, upon which attempt he was shot dead and left.
Believing that he was not alone the next morning I returned and
found a party of men engaged in removing him under cover of
armed men on the South Bank of the river, and not wishing to
expose my men unnecessarily to more than double our numbers
I proceeded on to Edingburg [Edinburg]. I found nothing of much
importance save some sign of Horsemen that were making into
the Capote Bend which I was unable to explore. I found that the
Steam-boat had passed safely, (23) and I returned to this place
meeting Lieut Pue [Texas Ranger 2nd Lt. Arthur Pugh, a
participant in the Battle at La Bolsa Bend on 4 Feb 1860] on his
way up. I learnt that the authorities on the other side [Mexican
officials] had ceased making any exertions to arrest Cortinas or
ascertain his whereabouts.
Capt John S. Ford I have the honor to be
Comdt. Squadron T.R. Your obdt Servt
John J. Dix [signed]
2nd Lt. Capt Ford’s Comp
Texas Rangers (24)
Cortina was rumored to have been in several locations throughout the month
of March. Ford received orders to once more cross the Rio Grande. This time,
he advanced toward La Mesa, whereby a quick victory was won.
After the battle, Dix served as translator during a peace conference between
Ford and the Mexican commanding officer. Ford told him that Texas Rangers
had been authorized to enter Mexico in pursuit of Cortina. During the heated
conversation, Ford was challenged to a fight, whereupon he told the Mexican
colonel to order up his 600-man army for another round against the two
companies of Rangers. The Mexican officer declined. Dix then translated
Ford’s caution to change his tone “or prepare to decide matters on the
instant.”
Following a few more words, the conference ended. Americans were allowed
to remain on foreign soil, recognized as a peacekeeping force. Rangers
stayed a couple of days to punctuate their authorized mission and were
provided yet another opportunity to catch Cortina. He was sighted again,
requiring an extended tour of duty on foreign soil.
Several incidents occurred to force Ford’s men into armed action. Unreliable
information began to cause them to distrust Mexican informants and guides.
Ford once more turned to Dix for assistance. Leading Rangers at a trot, Dix
urged them forward at a steady pace along pathways back toward their Agua
Negra campsite. In his official report of March 24, 1860, Ford calculated that a
distance of nearly 140 miles had been traveled in 48 hours.(25)
Another attempt was made to corner Cortina at Reynosa. Many Mexican
recruits were gathering from the surrounding countryside in the main plaza.
Ford was convinced that 400 Cortinistas were within the city, and he
separated his force into three separate groups. These detachments, armed
with Sharps rifles, traveled along parallel streets of the town. Captains Ford
and Littleton led their individual units while Lieutenants Dix and Nolan shared
command of the third.
Mounted Rangers threaded between buildings, steadily approaching the
plaza. Threats from armed Mexicans were shouted from rooftop positions
along the dangerous route. Ford’s men returned the calls by threatening in
Spanish, “Fire on us if you dare!”
Rangers dropped a few weapons in hopes of starting the fight with an
“accidental” rifle shot. They boldly entered the town square as Ford appeared
at the head of his reunited companies. A relieved Mexican cried out with
assurance, “It is Old Ford! He has not come to rob us.” The situation was
immediately defused. Ford requested Dix’s interpretive services once more
during a conference, which concluded peacefully.(26)
U.S. Army Lieutenant Robert Edward Lee, brevetted a colonel, arrived in the
area with orders from the War Department in Washington D.C. to intervene in
the dispute by way of peaceful measures or to proceed forcefully if necessary.
Lee had been in northern Texas fighting Comanche, but new orders were
issued for him to settle the borderland controversy. He arrived in San Antonio
on February 19, 1860, prior to entering the disputed territory near the Rio
Grande.(27)
Major Heintzelman made a lengthy report to Lee, stating that Cortina had been
murdering, robbing, and burning from Brownsville to Rio Grande City, laying
waste to 120 miles of country over the past five months. During the campaign,
fifteen Americans and eighty friendly Mexicans had been killed, while
damages were tallied at $336,879. Lee departed for the ravaged region on
March 15.(28)
Ford met Lee at the Army’s campsite a mile above Edinburg. During the
evening meal, Old Rip was taken to task for improper actions performed while
entering Reynosa. Lee suggested that a courier should have been sent into
town to apprise Mexican officials of Ford’s intent. The veteran Texas Ranger,
quite aware of proper protocol, declined to offer excuses. In later years, he
recalled Lee had impressed him with a dignified manner, superior intellect,
and control of his emotions.(29)
Lee, headquartered at Ringgold Barracks, corresponded with the governor of
Tamaulipas, Mexico. His stern words contained ominous overtones:
I have been instructed by the Secretary of War, of the United States, to notify
the authorities of Mexico on the Rio Grande frontier that they must break up
and disperse the bands of banditti which have been concerned in the these
depredations and have sought protection within the Mexican territory.(30)
Lee moved to Edinburg, at times known as Hidalgo, where a directive was
sent to civil and military authorities in Reynosa. Orders were issued to
Mexican military officers, requiring them to “break up, pursue, arrest, and
punish any and every band of men whom the fractious Cortinas might attempt
to collect.” Mexicans, seeking restitution, issued a complaint against Ford
and his Texas Rangers. Lee claimed any action taken had been by way of
following his request of “preserving the peace between the two countries.”(31)
Interchanges followed between Mexican officials and Robert E. Lee, whereby
Captain Albert G. Brackett acted as Lee’s interpreter. Ford was confident with
the services rendered by Dix, being the “trusted translator of Mexican official
documents” during the peacemaking conference.(32) Eventually, all parties
agreed to make a concentrated effort toward avoiding all-out warfare.
In his report to U.S. Army Adjutant General Samuel Cooper in Washington D.
C., Lee stated that most of the ranches along the river between Fort Brown
and Rio Grande City had been abandoned or destroyed. Those spared by
Cortina had been burned by the Texans. Lee explained that George McKnight,
commissioner of Texas, was withdrawing the two companies of Texas
Rangers from the frontier.(33)
On May 6, Lee departed for San Antonio, assured of a peaceful conclusion to
the Cortina troubles. The rebel leader, in accordance with his many
successful escapes, had found another safe haven: the Burgos Mountain
region of Mexico. His altercations and interactions with Ford and Dix would,
however, resume at a future time.
Lieutenant Dix was discharged from service on May 17, 1860.(34) It is likely
that he traveled directly home to Live Oak County from the lower Rio Grande
and, by so doing, did not participate in a questionable disarming of the Rio
Grande Squadron.
Ford was informed after the fact that several of his men re-obtained their
issued weapons from the rear of a wagon where they had been checked in to
Agent McKnight, an overly suspicious mustering officer who tempted trickery.
Ford was confident that if any such sleight-of-hand exchange had come to the
attention of his officers, they would have blocked it.(35)
As recalled by Ford in later years, a period of peace, order, and security
briefly prevailed on the Rio Grande following the Cortina rebellion. However, it
was soon interrupted by the American Civil War.(36)
When Texas seceded from the Union, U.S. troops exited the Rio Grande
region to join the fight back East, thus leaving the border unprotected. Ford
and Dix were called back into service at that time to help defend the Rio
Grande boundary line. They would remain in Texas throughout the conflict.
As officers of the Confederacy, both men were present at the last battle of the
Civil War. At Palmito Ranch, near Brownsville, on May 13, 1865, Ford’s
soldiers, unaware that peace had been declared, were victorious against
Union troops. A little over a month had passed since Lee’s surrender to Grant
at Appomattox Court House in Virginia.
Dan R. Manning
Notes
1. Dan R. Manning, “The Rancho Ramireña Journal of John James Dix, a
Texian,” Southwestern Historical Quarterly (Austin: The Texas State Historical
Association, 1994, hereafter cited as Manning, “The Rancho Ramireña
Journal,” SWHQ) Vol. XCVII, No. 1, 81, 82.
2. Ibid.
3. John James Dix, unpublished, hand-written autobiographical sketch, 1907,
John James Dix collection (Archives Division, Texas State Library, Austin;
hereafter cited as Dix collection, Austin).
4. Hand-copied newspaper interview featuring John James Dix, attributed to
Corpus Christi Caller (undated), Corpus Christi, Texas, Dix file in Corpus
Christi Public Library.
5. Ibid. Also, James Longstreet, From Manassas to Appomattox, Memories of
the Civil War in America (New York: Da Capo Press, copyright by J.B.
Lippincott Co., 1895, republication in 1992), 23.
6. Dan R. Manning, “The Mexican War Journal of John James Dix: a Texian,”
Military History of the West (Denton: University of North Texas, 1993), Vol. 23,
No. 1, 46-74.
7. Samuel A. Belden to Major W.W. Chapman, July 12, 1848, Sam Lanham
collection, Fredericksburg, Texas.
8. John Salmon Ford, “The Memoirs of John Salmon Ford,” (handwritten
document in Barker History Center, University of Texas, Austin, typescript in
Archives Division, Texas State Library, Austin, hereafter cited as Ford,
“Memoirs”), Vol. IV, 787.
9. Jerry D. Thompson, Juan Cortina and the Texas-Mexico Frontier 1859-1877
(El Paso: The University of Texas at El Paso, Texas Western Press, 1994), 5.
10. Ford, “Memoirs,” 787, 788.
11. John James Dix, typescript application for Mexican-American War
pension, May, 1907; hereafter cited as Dix, Mexican-American War pension
application, Dan R. Manning collection, Fair Grove, Mo.
12. Carlos E. Cortez (ed.), The Mexican-American, Juan N. Cortina, Two
Interpretations (New York: Arno Press, 1974), 42.
13. Brian Robertson, Wild Horse Desert, The Heritage of South Texas
(Edinburg, Texas: New Santander Press, 1985), 101, 102.
14. Maria von Blucher, Bruce S. Cheeseman (ed.), Maria von Blucher’s Corpus
Christi Letters from the South Texas Frontier, 1849-1879 (College Station:
Texas A & M University Press, 2002), 117.
15. John Salmon Ford, Stephen B. Oates (ed.), Rip Ford’s Texas (Austin:
University of Texas Press, 1963; hereafter cited as Ford, Rip Ford’s Texas),
270-275.
16. Ibid., 276, 277.
17. Richard H. Taylor to Sam Houston, Jan. 16, 1860, as quoted in W.J.
Hughes, Rebellious Ranger, Rip Ford and the Old Southwest (Norman:
University of Oklahoma Press, 1964; hereafter cited as Hughes, Rebellious
Ranger), 167, 168.
18. Manning, “The Rancho Ramireña Journal,” SWHQ, 97, 98.
19. Hughes, Rebellious Ranger, 169.
21. Dix, Mexican-American War pension application.
22. Hughes, Rebellious Ranger, 173.
23. Dix refers to a trip upriver by the Ranchero later than the hazardous
downstream voyage with the gold shipment aboard her. The Ranchero put in
at Ford’s camp on March 15, and then continued down the Rio Grande toward
Brownsville on the 19th with guards marching along the Mexican bank. Ibid.,
175.
24. Dix to Ford, March 2, 1860, Sam Houston Papers 1824–1862, Box 301-31,
Folder 44 (Archives Division, Texas State Library, Austin).
25. Ford, Rip Ford’s Texas, 298.
26. Ibid., 301.
27. Frederick Wilkins, Defending the Borders, The Texas Rangers 1848-1861
(Austin: State House Press,
2001), 132.
28. John H. Jenkins (ed.), Robert E. Lee on the Rio Grande, The
Correspondence of Robert E. Lee on the Texas Border, 1860 (Austin: Jenkins
Publishing Co., 1988; hereafter cited as Jenkins (ed.), Robert E. Lee on the Rio
Grande, 7, 8.
30. Jenkins (ed.), Robert E. Lee on the Rio Grande, 17, 18.
31. Ibid., 14, 15.
33. Jenkins (ed.), Robert E. Lee on the Rio Grande, 17, 18.
34. Ranger muster roll, Texas State Archives, Austin.
36. Ibid., 308.
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Front of the New London School Before Explosion, 1937
The Texas Rangers
and the
New London, Texas, School Disaster:
The Day a Generation Died
by Robert Nieman
Ruins of the Front of the New London School, march 18, 1937
In 2000, the Texas Ranger Hall of Fame
and Museum received the personal papers
of former Ranger Bob Goss. The collection
was received from the estate of his friend
Jim Clark and documented Goss' law
enforcement career. The bond between
Goss and Clark was a love of firearms.
Goss is considered by many Rangers to be
the greatest pistol shot who ever wore a
Ranger badge, and Clark was a master
gunsmith and champion pistol shot.
Goss' papers revealed that one tragic case
http://www.texasranger.org/dispatch/16/pages/New_London/London_School.htm (1 of 14) [4/30/2009 11:27:50 PM]
stayed with him until the day he died—the
1937 explosion of the London, Texas,
public school. Three hundred children and
adults died, and it remains the largest
single school disaster in U.S. history.
Ranger Bob Goss in the Kilgore Oil Field
Texas Ranger Hardy Purvis
Goss, along with Rangers Hardy Purvis
and Leo Bishop, was at the explosion
site on March 18 and 19, 1937. This is
not really a very long period of time,
but
obviously
it was
lengthy
enough
to have
made a
lasting
impression
on Goss,
a Ranger
who saw more than his share of violence.
Texas Ranger
Leo Bishop
Bob Goss was raised around Honey Grove,
Texas, near the Red River. In 1924, he joined the
Rangers and served in most of the oil
boomtowns during that period. He came to
Kilgore in 1931, shortly after the more celebrated Lone Wolf Gonzaullas had
arrived. Unlike Gonzaullas, who left the area in 1934, he stayed in Kilgore until
his death in 1978. During that time, he served as a Ranger and as Kilgore chief
of police.
Ronny Gaudet of the New London Museum and I interviewed Edwin Rasco, a
National Guardsman who had been at New London when martial law was
declared after the explosion. Rasco casually mentioned that he had also been
in the Guard when martial law was declared in the oil fields in the early 1930s.
We wanted to know more.
Rasco began by relating incidents occurring during the oil field boom. Times
were so hectic that Guardsmen were stationed all over the oil fields in small
detachments, and a Texas Ranger was assigned to assist several of the units.
Rasco’s detachment was camped at Wright City, and the Texas Ranger in the
area was a man who had an incredible ability with a pistol—Bob Goss.
Rasco, several other Guardsman, and Goss were sitting around a campfire on
what Rasco described as an incredibly dark night. Naturally, the talk turned to
Goss’s shooting ability. He was known to be able to shoot playing cards,
sitting on edge, in two by bending over and firing through his legs while
holding his pistol upside down! Not surprisingly, there were a few “doubting
Thomases” among the Guardsmen who could not—or would not—believe that
Goss, or anyone, was that good.
Finally, Goss had enough. He told one of the more vocal critics to take his
cigarette and stick it in the bark of a nearby tree. He proposed to shoot the fire
out of the cigarette—black night or not. This was too good to believe. The
Guardsman jumped up and carried his smoke to set on a branch. Before he
could lodge the cigarette securely in the tree, a shot rang out and the end of
the cigarette disappeared.
There stood the soldier—probably needing to answer the call of nature—with
half a cigarette still clutched between his fingers. To the men gathered around
the campfire, this was about the funniest thing ever. The soldier did not join in
their laughter.
Rasco also related another story about Goss, and this one was not funny. In
the days of proration (allotment), oil production was limited in order to stop
the glut on the market. In some places, this was forcing the price of a barrel of
oil down to four cents a barrel, and a few men—known as “hot-oilers”—
pumped more oil than was allotted. One day, the Guardsmen and Goss were
chasing a “hot-oiler” through the woods, and it looked like he was about to
get away. Finally, Goss yelled for the man to stop or he would shoot. The “hotoiler” continued to run, however. Goss promptly drew his deadly pistol and
fired one shot straight into the back of the fleeing felon’s head.
In his later years, Goss told his friend Wes Whatley that he had served as a
machine gunner in France during World War I and that he had killed eighteen
men as a Texas Ranger and as Kilgore’s police chief. When Goss died at Laird
Hospital in Kilgore, Texas, Ranger Glenn Elliott escorted his body to Honey
Grove for burial. He said about Goss: “He was double-tough.”
Yes, Goss was “double-tough,” but his scrapbook says that he was touched
very deeply by the tragedy of the London School explosion. Perhaps the
following story relates why.
The 1930s will be forever remembered as the decade of the Great Depression.
All over America—indeed all over the world—people were starving. Few could
get jobs, and once-proud men stood on street corners begging money in
desperate attempts to support their families. Conditions in the Dust Bowl
destroyed farms and ranches, and destitution ruled supreme everywhere.
Everywhere, that is, except in the tiny East Texas community of Kilgore. While
the rest of the world swam in a sea of poverty, Kilgore sat in a sea of oil. And
oil meant money—lots of money—and money meant jobs.
On October 3, 1930, Texas wildcatter Marion “Dad” Joiner brought in the
Daisy Bradford Number Three oil well south of Kilgore. On December 27,
thirteen miles north of the Joiner find, the Lou Della Crim Number One came
roaring in. Still farther north, Longview’s Barney Skipper brought in the
Lathrop Number One on January 26, 1931. These three wells made the East
Texas Oil Field the largest ever discovered in North America at that time. It
was forty-five miles long, north to south, and at its widest, it was twelve miles
wide, east to west. The colossal field was truly the “Great Black Giant.”[1]
As a result of the rich discoveries, the population of the sleepy village of
Kilgore exploded from 800 to 8,000 in twenty-four hours.[2] Towns such as
Arp, Gladewater, Henderson, Longview, Overton, and Tyler also experienced
growth. Others, like Joinerville, did not even exist before East Texas struck
black gold. But they existed now, and they were blowing out the seams. Not
only were towns gushing forth population explosions like never seen before,
but the wells themselves were also unbelievable. The Daisy Bradford came in
at 6,800 barrels a day, the Lou Della Crim at 22,000, and the Lathrop at 18,000.
Just think: these were considered only fair to average wells. Within a oneblock area inside Kilgore, there were twenty-four producing wells, thus
earning the nickname, “the world’s richest acre.” Land that had sold for as
little as fifty cents to one dollar an acre before the boom now leased for five
and six thousand dollars an acre for those lucky enough to find land not
already taken.
Not all this new prosperity was good news, however. Before the oil boom,
most of these towns were unincorporated and so small they didn’t even have
the need for a post office.[3] The new influx of people, therefore, created
immediate troubles. One major predicament for all the tiny communities in the
oil fields was incorporating the children into the schools.
The small town of London was one of these areas experiencing growing
pains. At the beginning of the boom, it had a small, four-room school that
housed four teachers and about one hundred students. By 1932, London
proclaimed itself as the richest school district in the world and, as such, the
community decided to build a new, state-of-the-art school. No expense was
spared in its construction. No expense, that is, except in the heating system.
To save money, gas steam was substituted for a central steam-heating
system. Gas systems were in use throughout the United States, but they
required lines to be run under the school. These gas lines would prove fatal.
By the 1936-1937 school year, it seemed that nothing could dim the bright
lights of the London School. No school anywhere in the country could boast
of better teachers or a finer physical plant. Its manual training shop was the
best that money could buy. The football stadium was the first illuminated field
in East Texas, and the band had custom-tailored, gabardine uniforms.[4]
Reminded that the students were still-growing boys and girls and they would
be lucky to get more than one year’s service out of the uniforms, critics were
told not to worry. If new uniforms had to be purchased each year, new ones
would be bought. Indeed, things could not have looked better for the proud
London Wildcats.
Then came Thursday, March 18, 1937. The community was looking forward to
a long weekend as there would be no school on Friday because of an
interscholastic meet in nearby Henderson. It started out to be an enjoyable
day, but at 3:17 p.m.,[5] everything changed forever.
Thirteen minutes before school was to be dismissed for the week, shop
teacher Lemmie Butler decided he had just enough time to check out “Old
Sparky,”[6] a damaged shop sander that he had repaired. One of his students,
John Dial,[7] saw Mr. Butler flip a switch that sent 220 volts of power surging
to the sander. There was a spark, a flash—and the school was gone.
No one will ever know for sure, but the best estimate is approximately 315
students, faculty, and visitors were killed.[8] In the blink of an eye, the world
was focused on the little community and its devastated school.
One question, then and now, dominates any discussion of the London School
Disaster. How could this have happened? No expense had been spared in
building the school. After all, was this not the richest rural school district in
the world? Barely three years old, the London School was the pride of East
Texas. What went so terribly wrong?
Besides the fatal decision of cutting costs with the gas system, the killing
agent itself was the odorless, tasteless, natural gas. Early in the day, the main
two-inch feeder line in the crawl space under the building had broken, filling
the basement with deadly methane gas. When Butler threw the power switch,
the immediate result was countless tons of debris and more than 300 lifeless
bodies.
Rear of the New London School After the Explosion
All night and into the following day, rescue workers removed the dead while
praying they would find the living. By noon Friday, all that could be done was
done. Slowly, painfully, the job of identifying and burying the dead began. By
midday Sunday, all the bodies were prepared for burial. All, that is, except
one. The corpse of a young girl was at the American Legion Hall in nearby
Overton, mangled so badly that no one could identify her.
By process of elimination, logic dictated that the body must be Wanda Louise
Emberling. But A. P. Emberling knew that the girl in the American Legion Hall
was not his daughter. Ever since the explosion, Wanda's father, like countless
other parents, had gone from morgue to morgue and hospital to hospital
throughout the oil field, looking for his little girl. Mr. Emberling was forced to
do so alone because his wife Mildred had an even more tormenting task: she
was keeping a deathwatch over their son George. The top of the young boy's
head had been practically torn off in the explosion, and death would come as
surely as the morning sun.
Wanda Emberling
Notices were posted throughout the area, asking people to come by the
American Legion Hall to try to identify the young lady. All day Saturday,
people filed by, took a quick glimpse at the horribly mutilated body, and
rushed from the ghastly scene. Oscar Worrell[9] was among them. However,
something familiar about the lifeless body forced him to return for another
look. As before, he could not bear to look for more than a moment before
rushing from the room, but he felt sure he knew the girl’s identity. He had to
go back one more time to confirm it. This time, he asked to look at her left
foot.
There it was: a scar under the left big toe. This was identical to one under
Dale May York’s toe. In the pre-television days of the 1920s, children—
especially farm children—occupied themselves the best way they could. Dale
May had been no exception. While playing with a garden hoe, she had slipped
and severely cut the underside of her left big toe, leaving a large, clear scar.
There was now no doubt in Worrell’s mind as to the identity of this poor child.
Being a cousin of the family, he had known Dale May all her life. He told
officials the girl’s name.
“Impossible,” the officials said.
“No, there can be no doubt. The young lady is Dale May,” he replied.
“No,” Worrell was again told, “this could not be possible!”
The problem was that Dale May had already been identified and prepared for
burial.
Dale May, the daughter of Jessie and Luna York, was born January 1, 1927,
[10] in Genoa, Arkansas. She had two older half-brothers, J. T. and Grady
York. Four years after she was born, a brother, Doug, arrived. Dale, a peculiar
first name for a girl, was named after the doctor who delivered her, Dr. Dale.
Her middle name came from her mother’s brother-in-law Bill May, in whose
home Luna had lived in her early twenties. Dale May spent seven of her ten
years on earth in several locations in Arkansas and Rusk County, Texas. On
March 19, 1934,[11] Jessie and Luna moved their family to a farm they had
bought in the Pleasant Hill community near New London. Jessie, a farmer,
was one of the few men in the area who did not work in the oil field.
Jessie and Luna York
In 1934, children were not required to attend any certain school, but like most
of the other children in her neighborhood, Dale May attended the one closest
to her home, Farmer’s Institute. When the 1936-37 school year began, the
Yorks were unaware that Farmer’s Institute had been consolidated into the
London system. Therefore, on the first day of school, Dale May and her best
friend Mary Lois King walked to school, as they usually did. When it was time
for the girls to have returned home and they had not, Mrs. York and Mrs. King
began to worry. Shortly thereafter, Dale May and Mary Lois arrived and told
their mothers that a school bus had picked up all the kids at Farmer’s Institute
and taken them to London School.
Mary Lois King
After investigating and finding out that London School and Farmer’s Institute
had been consolidated, Luna asked the girls how they liked the new school.
The answer was swift: they did not. It was such a big place that the girls had
been lost all day, and they wanted to go back to Farmer’s Institute. Assuring
Dale May that the problem was not as large as it appeared, Luna told her to
take a piece of red crayon and mark the door of her homeroom. That way, she
would not have to worry about being lost. The next day, Dale May came home
and told her mother that she had followed her instructions and had found her
way. (In the cleanup after the explosion, that doorsill was found. Dale May’s
homeroom teacher Ann Wright showed the Yorks the red crayon mark, which
was still visible.[12]
Dale May adapted promptly to her new surroundings and quickly excelled in
her studies. She was exceptionally pretty, and it was not long before she had
a boyfriend, fellow fifth-grader Preston Crim.
Dale May York
At the time of the explosion, Dale May's older brother J.T. was at his home in
New London. Hearing the blast, he ran from his house to the ruins that had
once been the school and miraculously found his sister’s body almost
immediately. He knew his father, like other alarmed parents, would be on the
scene shortly. He decided he would stand vigilantly over Dale May until then.
While J. T. stood guard over his sister, Luna and her neighbor Ora King were
at the York home in the Pleasant Hill community. They had heard the
explosion and assumed that it was another boiler exploding, a common
occurrence in the oil fields. Ironically, Luna said to Ora, “Well, some poor old
mother’s heart’s broken over something”[13] She just didn’t know at the time
that her own heart would soon be devastated. Soon, another neighbor, Mrs.
Will McClellan, arrived and told the suddenly alarmed ladies that it was not a
boiler they heard: it was the school.
Dale May's father Jessie was frantic to get to the school, but he had a
problem: he did not have any gas for the family car. (Not everyone had gotten
rich off the Great Black Giant.) Faced with no other choice, the desperate
father ran from his house to the main road connecting New London and
Henderson. There he was able to catch a ride.
After seeing that Dale May had been correctly identified, tagged, picked up,
and sent to Crim’s Funeral Home in Henderson, J. T. headed for his father's
house. Along the way, J. T. and Mr. York unknowingly passed one another.
Mr. York, after searching the ruins and not being able to find Dale May,
returned home.[14]
While Jessie and J. T. were crossing paths, Ora King, Mary Lois’ mother,
came running into the York’s yard. She reported that she had just come from
the home of young Preston Crim, where Preston’s father told her that the
school had blown up. Ora told Luna that they had to go back to the Crim’s. If
Preston was home, Mrs. King felt sure that Mary Lois and Dale May had to be
all right. Grabbing up six-year-old Doug, Mrs. York and Mrs. King set out.
Arriving at their destination, Ora and Luna were met by both Mr. and Mrs.
Crim. Yes, their son Preston was home, but he had told them that Dale May
was dead. Ora asked if she could see Preston. “[N]o, Mrs. York, he’s in no
shape. . . . He and Dale May were sweethearts . . . . He always said he was
going to marry her.”[15]
When J. T. arrived at the York home, he found neither his father nor
stepmother Luna at home, so he raced back to the school. Shortly thereafter,
both Mr. and Mrs. York arrived home. Not knowing that J.T. had found Dale
May, they headed for the makeshift morgue at the American Legion Hall in
Overton. Years later, Luna told Doug’s wife Cloe, “I never in all of my life
seen . . . some with their heads off, some with their legs broke off, some with
their feet gone. Oh, I never in my life. You’d have to raise the sheet. You see,
they had sheets and put over ‘em. Bloody and . . . .”[16] The Yorks had
probably looked at their own daughter and did not recognize her.
Later Jessie and Luna found J. T., and he told them that he had sent Dale May
to Crim’s Funeral Home in Henderson. All the Yorks immediately left to see
their daughter and sister. Arriving at Crim's, they asked for Dale May, but were
refused because the body was too horribly mutilated to be observed. A
schoolmate, Walter Freeman, who was sitting beside Dale May, reported that a
large slab of concrete had crashed down on her.[17]
Not to be put off, Mrs. York insisted that she be allowed to see the body of her
daughter. Again, she was turned down. She begged, but to no avail. Patiently,
the funeral director explained that Mr. York could look, but Mrs. York could
not. He told them that he could not have women fainting, as he felt they would
surely do if they were allowed to see the smashed bodies that once had been
their children. Since his wife was not allowed, Jessie declined to look. From
that moment on, Mrs. York insisted that was not her baby Dale May resting in
the casket.[18]
J.T. York at the Grave of His Sister, 1937
But time waits for no one, not even bereaved families. On Saturday, March 20,
the Yorks, like dozens of other families, prepared to bury their child. At least
the weather was cooperating. Dale May, her cousin Hazel Pearson, her best
friend Mary Lois King, and seven other children’s caskets were lined up
outside the west wall of the Pleasant Hill Baptist Church. Their funerals were
presided over by the Reverend John Buster Welsh.[19]
While the preacher was delivering his service, Bill May Jr., Dale May’s cousin,
came over to his aunt and said, “Aunt Luna, that is not Dale May.”
Mrs. York sadly replied, “[H]oney, I know it’s not Dale.”
Later, as she left the graveside, Luna said, “Ya’ll can believe it [if you want,
but] . . . it is not.”[20]
As earlier stated, Luna had once lived with her sister and her husband Bill
May Sr. By 1937, the Mays were living in Winnfield, Texas, and were only able
to get together with the Yorks once or twice a year. The Christmas before the
explosion, the Mays were visiting the Yorks in Pleasant Hill. Billy Jr., Dale
May, Doug, and some other kids were playing outside. Doug became angry at
Dale May because he thought his big sister was paying more attention to Billy
Jr. than to him. Angrily, he threw a rock at Dale May, hitting her in the mouth
and chipping a tooth.[21]
Somehow Billy Jr. knew that was not his cousin in the
coffin.[22] Unfortunately, everyone else—including Dale
May’s father—thought it was Dale May and would not
listen to Luna’s pleas. The Yorks buried the little girl
who all but Luna and Billy Jr. thought was their loved
one.
The late Billy May, Jr.
Meanwhile, back in Overton, Felton Waggoner, the
junior high school principal of the destroyed London School, was asked if he
could identify the one remaining unknown body. Entering the room, the first
thing he saw was a little brown coat beside the sheet-covered body. [23]
Dale May York lies at the American Legion Hall in Overton, Texas.
The "little brown coat" is visible.
The first words out of Principal Waggoner's mouth were, “Does that coat
belong to that body under the sheet?” He was assured that it did. Without
ever looking at the body, Waggoner said, “Then that girl is Dale May York.”
He was told that this was impossible. Once again, Waggoner asked, “Does
that coat belong to that body?” Yes, but it could not possibly be Dale May
York; she had already been identified and buried. Exasperated, Waggoner
slammed his fist into the palm of his hand and said, “If that coat belongs to
that body, then it is Dale May York!”
Asked how he could be so sure, Waggoner explained that Dale May had been
absent for two weeks with pneumonia and had just returned to school that
week.[24] Before she could get into any classes, Mr. Waggoner had to issue
her a pass. He distinctively remembered Dale May's little brown coat. He
knew, without doubt, that if that coat belonged to the little girl under the
sheet, it could only be Dale May York.
The awful truth began to settle on the community, one that had already
experienced far too many awful truths. Everyone seemed to say, “Oh, please,
don't let that be Wanda Louise Emberling in Dale May York’s grave. We've
seen too much already.” There was only one way to find out for sure: Dale
May's grave had to be opened. The court was petitioned and exhumation
orders obtained.
On Sunday, the Emberlings, the Yorks, and Oscelo J. Reed of the Child
Welfare and Health Bureau of Southwestern States arrived at Dale May’s
grave. Both the Emberlings were mentally and physically exhausted. Having
sat up with George for days, Mrs. Emberling was no longer able to stand and
was on a stretcher.[25] Though equally spent, Mr. Emberling was still on his
feet.
Mrs. York had been given a shot of sedative to soothe her nerves before
going to the cemetery.[26] Throughout the exhumation, she prayed
repeatedly, “Please Lord, don’t let me faint. Please Lord, don’t let me
faint.”[27] Later, Mrs. York said that the Lord watched over her throughout the
ordeal—she remained on her feet.
Once the grave was opened, Mrs. Emberling, unable to bring herself to look
into the casket, asked Mr. Reed to look. She asked him if the toenails on the
body were colored in red crayon. She asked because, the night before the
explosion, Wanda had invited friends over for the night. Playing “make-up,”
she had taken red crayons and painted her toenails. Mr. Reed sadly told Mrs.
Emberling that indeed that was the case.[28] Mrs. Emberling immediately
collapsed in a dead faint.[29] There could be no doubt that it was her daughter.
Wanda Louise Emberling’s casket was exhumed. A new grave was prepared
near the main entrance gate, and the little body was re-interred. Later that
night, Wanda Louise was joined in death by her brother George, who had
finally succumbed to his injuries. Once more, the Emberlings made the
terribly lonely trip to Pleasant Hill Cemetery to lay George beside his sister.
One mystery was solved, but another remained. How could the mix-up in
bodies have happened? J. T. York had positively identified his sister at the
school grounds, had stayed with her, and had seen to it that she was correctly
identified, tagged, and placed in a hearse that he thought was going to Crim’s
Funeral Home in Henderson. In all the confusion, however, she had gone to
the American Legion building in Overton, not to Henderson. Also, the name
tag was lost somewhere in the transfer.
Now that they knew for sure that the girl in the grave was not Dale May, there
could be no doubt about the body at the American Legion building in Overton.
Once more, Jessie and Luna traveled to Overton, and this time, Mrs. York was
not denied the chance to look at her daughter. The Yorks personally made
positive identification.
Imagine, if you can, the pain the Yorks suffered. Mrs. York, who had been
convinced all along that it was not her daughter who had been buried, had to
once again lay Dale May in the ground. The parents had already gone through
the trauma of one burial; now they had to do it again. This time, however, Mrs.
York insisted on a different grave site than the one that had been occupied by
Wanda Louise Emberling.[30] A new grave was prepared, ironically only a few
plots from Wanda Louise. In the case of the Emberlings, two children were
laid to rest. It is said that time heals all wounds. Whoever said that is wrong.
Parents are not supposed to bury their children. That wound never heals.
Later, the Yorks had another funeral for Dale May. This one was private and
with no fanfare. Several years had passed, and Mr. and Mrs. York had finally
come to grips with the death of their beloved ten-year old; it was time to put
her completely to rest. One solemn day, the family gathered for this final act
of remembrance to their daughter and sister. From a trunk of family
mementos, Mr. and Mrs. York took the shredded, bloody clothes that their
daughter had been wearing that fatal afternoon and joined the rest of the
family who were gathered in the same backyard that Dale May had known so
well. A small hole was hollowed out, and Dale May’s clothes were placed in
the grave.[31]
If you are ever close to the Pleasant Hill Cemetery, located on Texas State
Highway FM 323 midway between New London and Henderson, stop for a
short visit. It will be a moving experience, and one you will never forget.
Immediately after passing through the main entrance gate to the cemetery, the
graves of George and Wanda Louise Emberling are on the left. A few feet
directly south is the resting place of Dale May York.
This has been but two out of
more than three hundred
stories of the London School
explosion, each tragic in its
own way. Atop hundreds of
graves in the Pleasant Hill
Cemetery, there are
tombstones with a common
notation: “Died March 18,
1937; Victim of London.”
Many have pictures of
children mounted on them.
One is of a frail young lady,
forever ten years old: Dale
May York.
The ancient Greeks have a
saying, “No one truly dies
until no one remembers their
name.” Hopefully, Dale May
York and the hundreds who
perished with her that terrible
Thursday afternoon will never
truly die.
Doug York--Dale May's
brother.
Notes
1. James A. Clark and Michael T. Halbouty, The Last Boom, (Austin, Texas:
Shearer Publishing, 1972), 109.
2. From a movie shown in the East Texas Oil Field Museum in Kilgore, Texas.
3. In 1938, when the community needed a post office, the name "London"
could not be used as there was already a post office in a West Texas
community named London. Therefore, the name "New London" was adopted.
The tragedy is known to the world as the New London School Explosion, but
as former students assert, the school’s nickname was the "London
Wildcats"—not the New London Wildcats.
4. Interview with John Fuhr at his home in Denton, Texas, on July 15, 1994.
Fuhr was a member of the New London High School Band.
5. Interview with Loyd Richardson, Henderson, Texas, in Mr. Richardson’s
home in Henderson, Texas, on November 9, 1994. Richardson’s brother Roy
worked during the night searching the wreckage for survivors. One piece of
debris that he removed was a clock. It was stopped at 3:17 p.m.
6. Interview with Jack Strickland in Overton, Texas, on April 7, 1994.
Strickland was in Mr. Butler’s shop at the time of the explosion. He
remembered the nickname the students had given to the sander.
7. Michael Toon, The New London School Disaster, master of arts thesis,
Stephen F. Austin State University, 1977.
8. Mollie Ward, a survivor, has extensively researched this subject and
confirms that this is only an approximation. The exact number of dead will
probably never be known.
9. Interview with Doug York, brother of Dale May York, March 19, 1994. York
told me that Oscar Worrell first identified his sister.
10. Ibid.
11. Sometime before her death on June 5, 1988, Dale May’s mother, Luna, was
visiting with her son Doug. Unknown to her, her daughter-in-law Cloe had
turned on a cassette recorder. I am thankful to Doug and Cloe York for giving
me a copy of this tape. During Cloe’s recording, Luna made the statement that
she and Jessie had moved to the Pleasant Hill community on March 19, 1934.
12. Ibid.
13. Ibid.
14. Interview with Doug York.
15. Cloe York’s interview with Luna York.
16. Ibid.
20. Interview with Bill May Jr., first cousin of Dale May York, January 15, 1995,
at Shepherd, Texas.
21. Ibid.
22. In both my interview with Doug York and Cloe York’s interview with Luna
York.
23. From an interview with Mr. Waggoner at his home in West Monroe,
Louisiana, on March 26, 1994.
25. Michael Toon’s master’s thesis, Stephen F. Austin State University, July
1977.
27. Ibid.
28. Ibid.
29. Ibid.
30. Today, Dale May/Wanda Louise’s grave is occupied by Perry Lee Cox. In
many ways, Perry’s story is equally as tragic as that of the two little girls.
31. This story was related to me by Doug York.
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20th Century Shining Star:
Bob Goss
by Robert Nieman
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Picture made in March 1931 in downtown Kilgore.
Bob Goss stands between Captain Tom Hickman and T.L. Heard.
March 8, 1978, marked the passing of a true Texas legend—Kilgore’s Bob
Goss. During most of the 1920s, 30s, and 40s, Goss was a Texas Ranger.
Largely forgotten today, he is well remembered by anyone who was in the oil
fields of Texas in the early part of this century. He was best known as
“Shadow” Goss because it was he who covered the famous Lone Wolf
Gonzaullas’ backside. Given a choice, there were many who would have
preferred to have Goss beside them going into danger than the more
celebrated Lone Wolf.
Goss was born on July 28, 1898, in Honey Grove, Texas. It was on his parents’
farm along the banks of the Red River that he grew to manhood. In 1921, he
married Juanita Brown, also from Honey Grove. Bob and Juanita had only one
child, a daughter named Leola who died in infancy.
During these maturing years, Goss acquired a love of firearms and acquired
the deadly ability to use them. Many who knew him quoted him as often
saying, “You’re not serious about shooting until you’ve fired at least a million
rounds.” These same people said that a million rounds would not begin to
cover the actual shots.
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Wes Whatley, himself an NRA and U.S. Army champion pistol shot, was a
close friend of Goss and spent many an afternoon on the pistol range
between Longview and Kilgore with the old Ranger. He did Goss’ reloading
and kept a very detailed record of the number of bullets he prepared for the
expert shootist. Between the years 1958 and 1965, when Goss was in his 60s,
Whatley reloaded 140,850 rounds for him!
Like most Rangers of this era, Goss was in and out of the force numerous
times. He first joined on June 23, 1924. For the next twenty-plus years, he
served in every oil boomtown in Texas. During those days, he earned his welldeserved reputation as the deadliest gun in the Rangers.
When not in the oil patch, Goss and Gonzaullas
worked throughout East Texas. In Sherman, they
helped restore order when that city experienced its
lethal race riot in May 1930.
Bob Goss (L) and M.T. Gonzaullas (R)
In 1931, Texas and Oklahoma jointly built a new bridge
over the Red River at Denison. Regrettably, a privatelyowned toll bridge had recently been completed
alongside the new bridge. The owners of the Toll
Bridge Company asserted that the Texas Highway
Commission had promised reimbursement for their
bridge. When no money came forth, the company’s
owners went to court and secured an injunction preventing the opening of the
free bridge.
The result was the so-called Bridge War. Following the orders of the court’s
injunction, Texas installed barricades at the Texas end of the bridge.
Oklahoma’s colorful governor, “Alfalfa Bill” Murray, maintained that since the
injunction was against the state of Texas, it did not apply to Oklahoma. He
ordered the bridge opened and sent in the Oklahoma National Guard to
enforce his decree. In response, Texas ordered Rangers J. P. Huddleston, W.
H. Kirby, M. T. “Lone Wolf” Gonzaullas, and Bob Goss to insure the bridge
remained closed. It did.
While there may have been hard feelings between the politicians, there was
none between the Rangers and the National Guardsmen. The Rangers had
little to do, so to help pass the time, they put in a lot of time with target
practice, and the Guardsmen enjoyed watching the activities. One day,
Adjutant-General Bill Sterling asked Goss set up some playing cards, take
his .45, and shoot the marks out of the cards. Tiring of such easy shooting,
Goss then shot the cards in half. It wasn’t long until he became bored with
this, too, and started shooting the cards in half holding his pistol upside
down! Sterling told the onlookers, “Bob is a new man we are breaking in as a
Ranger.”
In 1934 through 1936, Goss left the Rangers and served as Kilgore’s chief of
police. Later in his career, he worked many years for the Texas Game Fish
and Oyster Commission.
Maybe he isn’t well known today, but in the Texas oil patches during the
1920s and 30s, few didn’t know the name of Bob Goss, Texas Ranger.
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21st Century Shining Star:
Jay Womack
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By Robert Nieman
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Jay Womack was born in Magee,
Mississippi, on March 17, 1964. His mother,
Rebecca, is a retired schoolteacher and his
father, Captain Johnnie Womack, is a
retired Mississippi Highway Patrolman. The
rest of his immediate family is also in law
enforcement in one capacity or another. A
younger brother works for the Office of
Inspector General for the state of
Mississippi. Sadly, his older brother
recently passed away. At the time of his death, he was a major in the Madison
County (Canton), Mississippi, Sheriff’s Office.
Jay graduated from Magee High School in 1982 and the University of
Southern Mississippi in 1985. With his family background in Mississippi law
enforcement, he was disappointed that the Mississippi Department of Public
Safety was not hiring in 1985. However, the Dallas (Texas) Police Department
had visited Southern Mississippi’s campus during Jay’s senior year, and he
applied for entrance into that organization and was accepted.
In April 1986, Jay began training at the Dallas Police Academy. After
graduation, he was assigned to the Dallas PD’s Southeast Patrol Station
covering South Dallas, Pleasant Grove, and southeast Oakcliff.
After two years, Jay applied for and was accepted into the Texas Department
of Public Safety. In January 1988, he was a recruit in Class A-88 at the DPS
training academy in Austin. His class graduated in May, and he was assigned
to Terrell (near Dallas) as a Highway Patrolman. He remained there until
August 1989, when he transferred to the East Texas city of Marshall. In
August 1992, he promoted to sergeant investigator in the DPS’ Narcotics
Service and was stationed on the Gulf Coast in Texas City. In 1993, he
transferred to Dallas.
In 1995, while still in Dallas, Jay had the opportunity to become a special
agent with the Federal Drug Enforcement Administration. He was stationed
first in Dallas, then in New York City. During the 1996 Olympics, he was
temporarily assigned to Atlanta, Georgia. New York City didn’t appeal to Jay,
nor did the federal bureaucracy. He applied for reinstatement with the Texas
DPS, and his application was approved. Jay was once again a member of the
Texas Department of Public Safety in November 1999, assigned to Houston.
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In all truthfulness, Jay never had a lifelong dream or goal to be a Texas
Ranger. Once he went to work as a Highway Patrolman, however, he started
meeting Rangers and liked what he saw. The cases they worked appealed to
him, and he appreciated the responsible and professional way they conducted
themselves. Added to this was the esteem which everyone in Texas—
especially members of the Texas Department of Public Safety—held for the
Texas Rangers.
It wasn’t long before Jay became very interested in becoming a Ranger
himself. He applied for and was accepted into the organization on November
1, 1999. He was stationed in Houston and quickly gained a well-earned
reputation as a working Ranger. When Texarkana’s Ranger Howard Dunham
retired in April 2003, Jay jumped at the chance to return to East Texas.
Before leaving Houston, Jay had an obligation to meet—one that he
welcomed with open arms. A few days before assuming his new duty station
in Texarkana, Jay married Janet, a flight attendant with Continental Airlines.
Jay has worked for three different law enforcement agencies and has met
people from all over the United States. He is quick to point out that he has
received the best training anyone could ever hope for and has met many of
the best investigators in the country. He is ever conscious of the reputation
he enjoys as a Ranger, saying;
I am aware that the status we enjoy is a reputation from those
who were Rangers ahead of us. I think it is the responsibility of
those of us who are currently and also just entering the Rangers
to continue to help maintain that reputation. I want to express my
gratitude to those individuals who support the Texas Rangers
day in and day out. There are too many to mention, but we as
Rangers and retired Rangers know who they are. To them, I am
truly grateful.
It is easy to see why we are proud to feature Jay Womack as our 21st Century
Shining Star.
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Rangers in the Field
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Texas Ranger Association Foundation Board of Directors 2005
Front: Joe York, Charlie Rankin, Randy Watson, Steve Sikes, Gary Crawford,
Captain Richard Sweaney, Marvin Smith, Captain Barry Caver.
Second Row: Constance White Bob Dabney, Benny Vanecek, Charles
Chamberlain, Captain Bob Mitchell, Senior Ranger Captain Earl Pearson,
TRAF Chairman Joel Jackson, Billy Crawford, Jimmy Hasslocher, Sonny
Spradlin, Bob Bustin.
Third Row: Captain Clete Buckaloo, Chuck Maddox, Captain Jack Dean, Vern
Foreman, Lee Kidd, Bubba Hudson, Glenn Elliott, Gray cWhorter, Rusty
Howell, Joe Kay, Lewis Epps, Captain Gary de los Santos.
Back: Ben Choate, Jack Lane, Bobby Nieman, Tom Lacy, Frank Deaderick,
Tony Hill, Captain Randy Prince, Captain Kirby Dendy, Assistant Senior
Ranger Captain Ray Coffman, Captain Jim Miller.
In February, the Texas Ranger Association Foundation held its winter board
meeting at the Stockyard Hotel in Fort Worth. Honored guests included all
current Texas Ranger captains and actor Barry Corbin. Mr. Corbin will be the
keynote speaker this year at the annual Texas Ranger reunion. The Texas
Ranger Hall of Fame and Museum in Waco is proud to host this yearly reunion
of current and retired Rangers and their many friends and supporters.
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The Foundation is a major contributor to the Texas Ranger Dispatch and we
thank them—and all our sponsors—without whose help the Dispatch would
be impossible to publish.
Senior Captain Earl Pearson
Captain Robert Mitchell, Retired
Captain James Wright, Retired
Captain Jim Miller, Company"A", Houston
Texas Ranger Association Foundation Chairman Joel Jackson
Retired Captain Jack Dean and Glenn Elliott
Actor Barry Corbin with Dispatch Managing Editor Robert Nieman
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Custer and Me:
A Historian’s Memoir
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A Woman in the
Great Outdoors:
Adventures in the
National Park Service
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Custer and Me: A Historian’s
Memoir. Robert Utley. Norman, Oklahoma: University
of Oklahoma Press, 2004. ISBN 0-8061-3638-3. 237
pages with numerous photos. $37.95
A Woman in the Great Outdoors: Adventures in the National Park Service.
Melody Webb. Albuquerque, New Mexico: University of New Mexico Press,
2003. ISBN 0-8263-3175-0. 263 pages with 8 pages of photos. $26.37.
I must make a confession: I am honored to call husband and wife Bob Utley
and Melody Webb close friends. Having said this, if they had not graced me
with their memoirs, I would never have read these books. What terrible losses
that would have been to me.
This couple’s intents may have been simply to write their memories, but they
accomplished much, much more. These are important books. For anyone who
loves history in general and American history in particular, these works can
only be described as “must haves.” As an added bonus, they are good reads.
I cannot help but believe that neither Bob nor Melody appreciate what a great
contribution to history they have made. Both give behind-the-scenes insights
into worlds that many take for granted.
Custer and Me
Anyone who has ever read Western history or watched the History Channel
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knows Bob Utley. This former chief historian of the U.S. Park Service is world
renowned and has countless published books and papers on his resume. Few
memoirs are as honest and forthright as Custer and Me.
Those who say that movies do not influence the directions of people’s lives
would have a difficult time convincing Bob Utley of that. In the beginning of
Custer and Me, he depicts Errol Flynn, the ultimate movie swashbuckler,
charging across the silver screen in a Lafayette, Indiana, theater as General
George Armstrong Custer in They Died with Their Boots On and forever
changing one young boy in the audience—Bob Utley, future historian in the
making.
As a teenager, Utley manages to scrape together enough money to purchase
a bus ticket to the Custer National Battlefield in Montana. One visit is all it
takes; he is hooked on the Little Bighorn Battlefield. For the next six
summers, he serves as a park ranger, explaining the battle to eager visitors.
Thankfully for the world of history, Bob Utley is meant for bigger and greater
things. As the pages of this book roll by, he describes how, as a lowly Army
second lieutenant with a growing reputation, he finds himself in the Pentagon
as a historian for the Joint Chiefs of Staff. After leaving the Army and earning
a master’s degree from the University of Indiana, he returns to the Park
Service.
In the years that follow, Utley’s achievements are staggering to the
imagination. In a lifetime filled with more honors than most could ever hope to
achieve, he serves as chief historian of the National Park Service, deputy
director of the Advisory Council on Historic Preservation, and the head of the
Office of Archeology and Historic Preservation. In between, he writes
numerous books and papers, helps found and direct the Western History
Association, receives more awards than is possible to list, and receives three
honorary doctorates from the University of Indiana, University of New Mexico,
and Purdue University. He also serves with extraordinary pride as an
Eldorado (New Mexico) volunteer firefighter.
A Woman in the Great Outdoors:
Adventures in the National Park Service
Dr. Melody Webb is a great historian in her own right, with many papers and
books to her credit. During a distinguished career in the National Park
Service, she served as the superintendent of the Lyndon Johnson National
Historical Park in Stonewall/Johnson City, Texas, and later as assistant
superintendent of Grand Teton National Park, Wyoming.
Webb gives an astute and intriguing look at the national parks. The
differences in the operation and camaraderie that exists between small parks
(LBJ) and large ones (Grand Teton) is startling. She describes the incredible
comradeship and “let’s get the job done” attitude of the small staffs and
crews she works with and supervises from Alaska to Santa Fe to Texas. Her
transfer to Grand Teton is different, to say the least.
Webb frankly discusses the disillusionment she feels for the precious time
she is forced to spend being a referee between the staff and crew there—and
the bureaucrats. Shedoes not dodge the politics that plague our national
parks. I was disappointed and surprised at the extent of the political
maneuvering involved.
After you finish these books, you will never again be able to look at park
rangers as merely interpreters of what we are looking at. They are dedicated
professionals of the highest quality and deserve our deepest respect and
gratitude.
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19th Century Shining Star:
Major John B. Jones
By Chuck Parsons
If ever the adage "the right man in the right place" was appropriate, it was
when Texas looked for someone to lead the Frontier Battalion and found John
B. Jones. He was a quiet, unassuming, taciturn man who was the
personification of quality leadership. The state of Texas could not have found
anyone better for the position of leading six companies of seventy-five men
each. Jones’ work area was virtually half the state—from the Red River to the
Rio Grande and, for a period of time, as far west as El Paso.
Jones was born December 22, 1834, in the Fairfield District of South Carolina,
the son of Henry and Nancy (Robertson) Jones. When he was four years old,
the family moved to Texas, settling in Travis County. In 1842, they moved to
Matagorda County and, from there, to Navarro County. Jones had an aboveaverage education, receiving his lessons in the Mount Zion Institute in
Winnsboro, South Carolina.[1] The proof of his effective schooling is revealed
in his reports and letters written as major of the Frontier Battalion.
Jones began farming and stock raising, and he continued this work until the
Civil War broke out. He entered as a private in the 8th Texas Cavalry (Terry's
Texas Cavalry) and rose to captain. Within months, he was promoted to
adjutant of the 15th Texas Infantry of Joseph W. Speight. In 1863, he was
appointed adjutant general of a brigade, with the rank of captain. In 1864, he
was recommended for promotion to be major, but the war ended prior to his
receiving the higher rank.
At the conclusion of the war, Jones believed there was a future in South
America, and he traveled there intending to establish a colony for former
Confederates. After two years looking for a suitable place to establish such a
colony, Jones lost his enthusiasm for the project and returned to Texas.
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In 1868, Jones was elected to the Texas state legislature as a representative
of Ellis, Hill, Kaufman and Navarro Counties. This was Reconstruction,
however, and the Radical Republicans, then in power, prevented Jones from
taking his seat. All was not lost, though, as he now established a ranch in
Navarro County where he bred and raised horses. At the same time, he
became deeply involved in the Masons and was appointed grand high priest
of the Grand Chapter of Royal Arch Masons in 1872. Two years later, he was
called upon to serve Texas.[2]
In 1874, Richard Coke was the new governor of the Lone Star state, replacing
E. J. Davis. Under Davis, the State Police force had accomplished some good
work but, at the same time, there were too many bad apples in the
organization. As a result, the average Texan found the force unsatisfactory,
and many became desperadoes, actually fighting the State Police. Under the
Davis regime, such men as John Wesley Hardin, Bill Longley, the Horrells,
and the Taylors were branded as outlaws. They continued under the regime of
the new governor, Richard Coke.
Coke established a new force to establish law and order in the state. It was
termed the Frontier Battalion. Coke's thoughts leading him to ultimately select
Jones to head this force is not recorded, but Jones’ oath of office is
preserved. On May 19, 1874, he wrote out this oath, witnessed by Samuel P.
Frost, notary public of the county of Navarro:
I Jno. B. Jones do solemnly swear that I will bear true allegiance
to the State of Texas, and that I will Serve her honestly and
faithfully against all enemies or opposers whatsoever, and
observe & obey the orders of the Governor of the state, and the
orders of the officers appointed over me according to an Act of
the Legislature for raising a Battalion for frontier protection
approved April 10 1874. [Signed] Jno. B. Jones.[3]
Jones began his Ranger career earning $125.00 per month. His first pay
voucher from May 2 through August 31, 1874, came to $495.82.[4]
In the beginning, the Frontier Battalion was to be composed of six companies
consisting of a captain, lieutenants, sergeants, corporals, and privates. When
mustered to the utmost, there were seventy-five privates in each company.
Under Major Jones, this force proved to be so effective that, in less than a
year, the numbers were drastically lowered. This was also due to the
legislature reducing the amount of monies for the force.
Jones wasted no time in obtaining reliable men to captain the companies,
which were designated A, B, C, D, E and F. The captains and their companies
were:
Captain John R. Waller - Company A
George W. Stephens - Company B
E. F. Ikard - Company C
Cicero R. Perry - Company D (which ultimately became the most
famous of
the companies)
William J. Maltby - Company E
Hiram Mitchel - Company F
The orders to these early Rangers were initially to "proceed at once to [the]
organization of their company calling to their aid the Lieutenants assigned to
them." Curiously, some adjustments had to be made early as Mitchel was
quickly replaced by Neal Coldwell.[5]
The companies were stationed along an imaginary line from near the Red
River in the north to the Nueces River in the south. Jones did not set himself
up in his office and allow his captains and lieutenants to "run the frontier."
Rather, he quickly joined a company and traveled up and down the frontier
line, establishing the discipline he expected in the companies as well as
learning firsthand the quality of men under his command. Most importantly,
for the morale of the force, he shared in the same dangers his men
experienced. Like McNelly of the Special State Troops, Jones was a true
leader of men; he led them into action where warranted, never ordering them
to go where he would not himself go.
Early in this portion of his career, Jones proved his ability as a leader and a
fighter. It was on July 12 in Jack County that Jones and a group of some three
dozen Rangers—mostly young men totally inexperienced in fighting—
survived the charges of some 150 Kiowa and Comanche warriors led by Lone
Wolf. The Indians were armed mainly with breech-loading rifles, and all were
well mounted. Major Jones stood on the line throughout the engagement,
showing no fear. How many warriors were killed or wounded by the Rangers
is unknown, but the loss suffered by the Rangers was two killed: Privates D.
W. H. Bailey and William A. Glass, and two wounded: Lee Corn and George
Moore. Thirteen of the Ranger horses were either killed or wounded. This
engagement proved to all Texans that Major Jones was an effective leader
and was not afraid to share the same hardships and dangers as his men.[6]
As the Indian menace was gradually reduced—due to the effectiveness of the
Frontier Battalion—more and more energy was spent in ridding the state of
private wars or "family feuds." In 1875, the troubles in Mason County reached
an intolerable point. This conflict was essentially an ethnic feud between
German and American settlers, mingled with rustlers from both sides. Jones
reached Mason on September 29, the day following the murder of county
brand inspector, Daniel Hoerster. Jones found it "impossible to get consistent
or reliable account of the troubles and [have] to report that very few of the
Americans whom I have met yet manifest any disposition to assist in the
arrest of the perpetrators of yesterdays deed [of killing Hoerster]."[7] At least
fifteen men were killed during the feud, and the situation was not settled until
Captain Ira Long and his men were brought in. Even then, the dying embers
occasionally flared up again.
The busiest year for Major Jones was certainly that of 1877. In April, he
engineered the Kimble County Roundup, during which some forty men were
arrested when Rangers of several companies invaded the county and took
into custody every man who could not give a good account of himself. All the
men that Jones had papers for were arrested, with the exception of only a
handful. The good citizens had been overpowered by outlaws, but after Jones'
work, they lived in a peaceful county.[8]
Another feud of the Hill Country which demanded Jones' energies was a
cattle-rustling war. This conflict had the Horrell brothers and their associates
on one side and John P. C. "Pink" Higgins and his cronies on the opposite
position. The primary violence took place in Lampasas County, a mere
hundred miles from the state capital itself. It began with the accusation by
Higgins that the Horrells were stealing his cattle. Several men were killed by
an ambush and also during a street fight in Lampasas on the courthouse
square. Major Jones managed to convince members of both parties that
peace was preferable to continuing the feud. On the night of July 28, 1877,
Jones ordered Sergeant N. O. Reynolds out to arrest the Horrells, which he
did in spite of a driving rainstorm and being outnumbered. Reynolds took the
Horrells into custody while Major Jones brought in Pink Higgins and several
of his followers. For all practical purposes, this feud was stopped, with both
parties signing a document promising to respect the other.[9]
The only real disappointment for Major Jones involved his detachment of
Rangers in far West Texas. This occurred in the 1877 conflict over the salt
beds, a dispute which has become known as the El Paso Salt War. A number
of men had been killed, and a detachment of Rangers had actually
surrendered. Major Jones was ordered there to bring peace to the troubled
area before further blood was shed.[10]
Perhaps the most glorious experience for Major Jones was his breaking up of
the Sam Bass gang of train and bank robbers. This group, then composed of
Bass, Sebe Barnes, Jim Murphy (a traitor to the gang), and Frank Jackson,
intended to rob the bank at Round Rock, Williamson County, on July 19, 1878.
Murphy managed to get word to Major Jones of the plan. Although Jones was
then in Austin, he and several Rangers hurried to Round Rock just when
gunfire erupted on the street. This altercation was thanks to two deputies
attempting to arrest two "strangers" for wearing pistols within the town's
limits. The strangers were Bass and Barnes. Major Jones, along with Rangers
Richard C. Ware and George Herold, turned out in the street to fight the
outlaws. Ware killed Barnes with a shot in the head, and Bass was severely
wounded by a bullet from George Herold. Jones' bullets certainly added to the
smoke, noise, and confusion, but apparently his shots went wide of their
mark. Frank Jackson managed to get Bass out of town, where his trail was
temporarily lost due to the incoming darkness. The next day, a squad under
Sergeant Charles L. Nevill found the dying Bass and brought him back to
Round Rock. There he died on his birthday, July 21, 1878. He was twentyseven years old.[11]
This successful mission resulted in Jones being appointed adjutant general
by Governor O. M. Roberts. It was certainly a worthy honor for him. Jones had
personally faced the Kiowa and Comanche at Lost Valley, trailed outlaws in
Mason County, and arranged peace treaties in Lampasas County. He was sent
to El Paso to settle the troubles there, and then exchanged shots with the
Bass gang in the dusty street of Round Rock. No man could have done more
for the state unless he gave his life in the line of duty.
When he was well past middle age, Major John B. Jones allowed himself to be
captured by a lady, Mrs. Annie Henderson Anderson. The wedding took place
at the bride's home on the evening of Tuesday, February 25, 1879, with the
Reverend Charles C. Chaplin, pastor of Austin's First Baptist Church,
officiating. Jones inherited a ready-made family. Annie’s children by her first
marriage included seven sons and daughters ranging in age from eight to
twenty-one years of age. The 1880 Travis County census reveals Adjutant
General of the State Troops Major Jones was forty-five years old; his wife,
forty-one. The nine-member family had four servants to care for the
household.[12]
This marriage was short-lived, however. On Tuesday, July 19, 1881, Major
John B. Jones "departed this life after a long and painful illness." One
obituary stated Jones "was distinguished for his gentlemanly, unassuming
address, and he possessed to a marked degree all the attributes that ennoble
and ornament the life of a true man."[13]
Grave of John B. Jones
No other figure of the Frontier Battalion ever managed to attain the high
respect and near reverence that Major Jones did. He was indeed the right man
in the right place.
Notes
1. "General John B. Jones." Austin Daily Statesman, July 20, 1881. A lengthy
obituary providing a succinct biography of Jones.
2. Ibid. and Biographical Souvenir of the State of Texas. No author given.
Chicago: F. A. Battey & Company, 1889, 469-70. and Galveston Daily News,
July 20, 1881.
3. Original, hand-written oath preserved in Jones' service record file. Texas
State Archives, Austin.
4. Ibid.
5. Details of the beginnings of the Frontier Battalion are found in the Adjutant
General Papers, Texas State Archives.
6. The best overall account of the Lost Valley engagement remains The
Buffalo War: The History of the Red River Indian Uprising of 1874 by James L.
Haley, reprint by State House Press, Austin, 1998.
7. Major Jones’ correspondence to Adjutant General William Steele,
September 30, 1874. Original in Texas State Archives.
8. The Kimble County roundup is described in Robert M. Utley's Lone Star
Justice: The First Century of the Texas Rangers. New York: Oxford University
Press, 2002, 179-80.
9. See The Bloody Legacy of Pink Higgins by Bill O'Neal. Austin: Eakin Press,
1999.
10. The best history of this episode remains the “El Paso Salt War” chapter in
Ten Texas Feuds by C. L. Sonnichsen. Albuquerque: University of New
Mexico Press, 1971, 108-56. Reprint of 1957 edition.
11. See Rick Miller's Sam Bass and Gang. Austin: State House Press, 1999.
12. Travis County, Texas, census, enumerated June 3, 1880, by Thomas A.
Taylor. pp. 253 A & B.
13. Austin Daily Statesman, July 20, 1881.
For Further Reading
Hatley, Allen G. Bringing the Law to Texas: Crime and Violence in Nineteenth
Century Texas. LaGrange: Centex Press, 2002.
Jones, Billy Mac. "John B. Jones" in Rangers of Texas by Roger Conger et al.
Waco: Texian Press, 1969.
Morris, John Miller. A Private in the Texas Rangers: A. T. Miller of Company B,
Frontier Battalion. College Station: Texas A & M University Press, 2001.
Robinson, Charles M. III. The Men Who Wear the Star: The Story of the Texas
Rangers. New York: Random House, 2000.
Utley, Robert M. Lone Star Justice: The First Century of the Texas Rangers.
New York: Oxford University Press, 2002.
Wilkins, Frederick. The Law Comes to Texas: The Texas Rangers, 1870-1901.
Austin: State House Press, 1999.
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The Texas Rangers and the
Mexican Revolution:
the Bloodiest Decade, 1910-1920
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By Charles H. Harris III and Louis R. Sadler
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Review by Chuck Parsons
The Texas Rangers and the Mexican Revolution:
The Bloodiest Decade, 1910-1920. By Charles H.
Harris III and Louis R. Sadler. Albuquerque, NM:
University of New Mexico Press, 2004. xiv+673
pages. 4 maps. 48 photos. Appendix. End notes.
Selected Bibliography. Index. $37.50 cloth. ISBN
0-8263-3483-0.
The 1910-1920 period of Texas Ranger history has been basically neglected—
for reasons that are not clear—but it remains one of the most fascinating. The
second decade of the 20th century held much turmoil, both within the history
of the Rangers as well as in border history. Extensive rustling continued,
distrust and hatred between Anglos and Hispanics persisted, and the Rangers
were practically eliminated due to politics, animosity and distrust developed
in the beginnings of World War I. These are only a few of the conflicts that
emerged along the border.
This era has been touched upon by previous Ranger historians, but not nearly
as extensively as authors Harris and Sadler have done here. Dr. Walter
Prescott Webb, for example, devoted only some forty pages to the entire
period. Now we have a broad, highly researched, and well-written study. It is a
work that will prove to be the standard for decades to come.
For those potential readers who may think this is "just another Ranger book,"
they will find the reverse to be true. This is definitely not a Texas Ranger
whitewash. There are numerous groups of forces discussed herein, and none
of them wear white hats, which is one argument that is frequently raised in
discussing the weaknesses of The Texas Rangers by Webb.
One might wonder how two relatively unknown writers could produce such a
book. Charles H. Harris III and Louis R. Sadler are both emeritus history
professors at New Mexico State University, Las Cruces. They both have
published extensively in the field, their articles appearing in such prestigious
periodicals as the Southwestern Historical Quarterly, the Hispanic American
Historical Review, the Americas: A Quarterly Review of Inter-American
Cultural History and the Military Review. Their research took them to such
diverse places as the Texas Ranger Hall of Fame and Museum in Waco, the
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Huntington Library of California, the Kansas State Historical Society, various
Federal records centers, Brownsville and Laredo, Mexico City archival
departments, and many other archival sources as well. The key word
describing their research is "exhaustive."
Harris and Sadler begin their extensive narrative with a brief history of the
Texas Rangers, summing up the 180-year existence of the organization with a
single chapter focusing mainly on the post-Civil War period. Interwoven in
this introductory section is a brief consideration of the happenings in Mexico,
the seizure of power in 1876 by General Porfirio Diaz, and the "lowering of the
U.S. military guard. . . .” The "control" of Diaz in 1910 and the many changes—
and conflicts—that came in the ensuing decade form the basis of this study.
For many of us, the most glamorous of the various periods of Ranger history
remains the 1870s, that time when such giants as John B. Jones, C.R. Perry,
Dan W. Roberts, and James B. Gillett served with such distinction. Captain
Perry's Company D, when mustered in during May of 1874, could boast of
seventy-five men! How surprising to learn that, following the era of the "Four
Great Captains" (John R. Hughes, John H. Rogers, William J. McDonald, and
John A. Brooks), there were but four companies: A, B, C, and D, and they
contained a total of twenty-five men! Each of the four companies was made
up of a captain, one sergeant, and the remainder privates. Funding the Ranger
force was difficult in the 1870s, and that continued to be a struggle well into
the 20th century as well.
There were other problems besides funding. It was during this decade, more
than any other time in Ranger history, that political forces worked for their
own advantages and used the Rangers rather than allow them to do their
prime function: enforce the law. A prime example is revealed in the antics of
Governor Tom Campbell. His policy was to utilize the Rangers to enforce
gambling laws and local-option liquor laws—whether local officials requested
their assistance or not. In short, Campbell believed he could use the Rangers
purely as a personal tool. Of course, his competitor and soon-to-be Governor
Oscar Colquitt assured future voters that when he was elected, he would not
use Rangers to usurp the power of the local sheriff and "trample under foot
the rights of people . . . under the constitution."
Dealing with political bosses was only one problem of the decade, however.
More deadly was the responsibility of protecting Texas ranchers from not only
Texas rustlers but also raiding parties and smugglers from across the Rio
Grande. From Brownsville to El Paso was a huge area of wild and rugged
land, and it was a physical impossibility for a mere handful of even the most
dedicated law officers to defend realistically. The Rangers fought rustlers and
sometimes lost. A prime example is bandit Chico Cano's successful ambush
of Customs Inspector and ex-Ranger Joe Sitter, Ranger Eugene Hulen, exRanger Charles Craighead, and three of Captain Fox's Rangers of Company B.
Sitter and Hulen were killed, and their bodies were badly mutilated. In spite of
their best efforts, neither the Rangers nor any other arm of the law ever
caught up with Chico Cano. The old bandit died in 1943.
There were the revolutionary forces to contend with as well. Rangers were to
enforce the neutrality laws, prevent revolutionary figures from using the U.S.
soil to plan their coup d'etats, occasionally assist in recovering kidnapped
individuals, enforce anti-gambling laws, and occasionally interfere with a
husband beating his wife.
Whereas the 1890s had their period of the "Four Great Captains," the 19101920 decade had captains who have become infamous in Ranger history. One
of the most well-known photographs from this period shows Ranger Captain
Monroe Fox and two others on horseback with their lariats around the bodies
of four dead Mexican bandits. The Rangers received considerable criticism
not only for their seemingly common practice of executing Mexicans prisoners
—guilty of a crime or not—but also for their disrespect for the dead. The
critics conveniently overlooked the fact that the bandits had even less respect
for their victims, frequently using rocks and rifle butts to mutilate Anglo
victims. Respect for the dead was uncommon among the fighting men of the
border during this period.
Harris and Sadler present a multitude of names and a plethora of facts about
both the problems on the Texas side of the river and also the revolutions on
the Mexican side of the water. Fortunately, we do not get lost in the litany of
facts and the depiction of violent incidents.
These two authors provide exciting reading. Their descriptions of the
confrontation between elderly rancher James B. McAllen and eight bandits is
one example. The octet called at McAllen's house and called him to the door.
His unidentified housekeeper, a senora refugee from the Revolution, realized
that the men meant to kill her employer. She roused McAllen from his
afternoon nap, gave him a shot of whiskey, handed him a loaded shotgun, and
informed him he would have to fight for his life. The front of the house had
four windows covered by thick, green, wooden shutters. McAllen fired
through one of the blinds with both barrels of his ten-gauge shotgun, loaded
with buckshot. The blast killed not only the leader of the raiders but his horse
as well. For twenty minutes, gunfire raged between the marauders and
McAllen, who moved from window to window to fire while the housekeeper
loaded his rifles. The rancher managed to kill another bandit and wound three
more. The surviving thieves evidently decided that if McAllen was going to act
that way, then to hell with him. They rode off, firing off a final volley of
bloodcurdling threats. We only wish the identity of the housekeeper had been
preserved for history. She must be considered as brave as McAllen!
In spite of such great prose and the presentation of great historical events
that have been relatively untouched, occasionally the authors err in a
surprising manner. In dealing with the killing of H.F. Boykin by Horace L.
Roberson (described as a "hard-bitten border character, soft-spoken, and with
a short fuse"), the authors write that he "was a man who literally got away
with murder." Roberson may have been all that Harris and Sadler say, but he
stood trial and was found not guilty of murder! Defining him as one who got
away with murder is therefore legally incorrect. In addition, one is left with
quite a false impression of William Davis "Dave" Allison from Harris and
Sadler's description. They write, "David William 'Dave' Allison [sic. William
Davis is correct] was a gunslinger with a colorful past." This is certainly
acceptable, but we are later informed that "Allison despised Mexicans," which
is open to debate. The authors quote George S. Patton Jr., constable of Sierra
Blanca, saying of Allison, "He kills several Mexicans each month." Patton may
have believed what he wrote, but the statement is certainly absurd. The
authors, however, make no comment on it, as if they are accepting it as well.
In spite of these latter comments, this book is a must-read for those who
follow Texas history in general and Texas Ranger and Mexican Revolution
history in particular. The sixty-eight-page appendix listing all Texas Rangers
who served from 1910-1920 is invaluable. It provides the names and dates of
service and will be of great assistance to subsequent Ranger historians as
well as genealogists.
Needless to say, The Texas Rangers and the Mexican Revolution is highly
recommended. It provides excellent reading, is accurate history—less a few
points—and covers the era from not only the Texas Ranger but also the
Mexican Revolution viewpoints.
Dispatch
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My name is Ryan Lamoreaux. I am a student in Highland, Utah. I was assigned
to write a report on the Colt pistol. In doing my research, I have found that, in
comparing many of the different Colts, I have found that I have no idea what
the differences are because I don't really know any of the specific parts of the
gun. Also in doing my research, I have come across the web site http://www.
texasranger.org/dispatch/4/ColtNavy.htm, which has a picture of the gun
taken apart with the parts numbered. I was wondering if there was any way
you could give me a link or send me the picture or anything of that sort with
the key so I can find a way to learn the parts. I have been trying to find
somewhere to give me that information, but so far with no luck, and this
report is due within the next couple of days.
I thank you for your cooperation in the matter and I am very sorry for any
inconveniences that you may have had because of this.
Thank you,
Ryan Lamoreaux
David Stroud answers: Ryan I hope the illustration below gets to you in time
to help with your assignment.
As a part of a family inheritance, I have come into possession of a handgun,
and I don't know anything about it. Could you perhaps help? It is marked with
“Alamo Ranger” on the barrel and made in Spain, with a “T U” stamped in. We
believe it is a .38 caliber but are not sure. Could you please tell me where I
could get more information on this weapon?
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Thank you for your time,
Mrs. William Doyle Jacks
David Stroud, columnist, answers: I'm afraid you have all the information on
the revolver you will be able to find. You might check the Blue Book of Gun
Values, but I believe they only have weapons made in the U.S. I have seen a
gun like the one you described. It was marked, "TEXAS RANGER," and it was
an inexpensive copy of the Colt Single Action. I feel this is what you have, and
I wish I could have been of more help.
Byron Johnson, museum director, answers: From the 1870s to the1930s the
reputation of the Texas Rangers grew in stature. Firearms manufacturers in
Belgium, France, Spain and other countries began to make cheap "knockoffs" of Colt single-action pistols with "Texas Ranger" "Ranger" and other
variations engraved or cast into them. We have seen several pistols as you
describe marked "Alamo Ranger."
All of these pistols are low-grade, many of them junk, and they would be
dangerous to fire. They are common at flea markets, gun shows or at
auctions. As David Stroud indicates, there is very little information about the
manufacturers—or even who they were.
As always, NEVER try to fire an old pistol or rifle without (1) having a qualified
gunsmith examine it and (2) determining whether it was made to use black
powder or modern smokeless ammunition. To do so could cost you a limb or
a life.
I just saw this article. I would like to go on record as objecting to one thing in
this article . . . you may quote me. [From] “19th Century Shining Star: Captain
Daniel Webster Roberts” by Chuck Parsons, [Dispatch 13, Spring 2004].
http://www.texasranger.org/dispatch/13/pages/Roberts.htm.
Trying to subdue the conflicts were such notables as William
Scott Cooley; John Ringo, later of Tombstone fame; Sheriff John
E. Clark, and Roberts.
No one has ever absolutely proven that the sheriff of Mason County, Texas,
was John E. Clark. The middle initial E. has not been proven, and indicating
that his name was John E. Clark, with no concrete proof, eliminates a lot of
other John Clarks that are currently being investigated . . . my ancestor being
one.
Where did Mr. Parsons get this information? I would like to see one scrap of
evidence from Mason County that shows the middle initial “E”. That would
actually help me in my search by eliminating my John Clark, ex-Texas Ranger,
of Mason County.
Warmest regards,
Cheyrl Velten
Chuck Parsons, author, answers: In my article on Captain Dan W. Roberts in
the Spring 2004 issue of the Dispatch, I made the statement that one of the
participants in the Mason County War, or "Hoo Doo War," of Mason County
was the sheriff whom I identified as John E. Clark. This identification was
premature. I have asked the article be corrected . . .
Actually, it is impossible to say definitely who Sheriff John Clark was, whether
he was John E., John R. (as some historians claim), or someone else
altogether different. In brief, Sheriff John Clark remains quite a mystery figure
of the feud.
I fear that my statement which sounds so positive that he was John E. Clark
may discourage others from continuing to research. I do not want that to
happen because, as of now, we do not know the middle initial of John Clark
nor do we know what happened to him after the feud. Hopefully, some lucky
researcher will be able to definitely pin him down.
Chuck Parsons
Are older issues still available? I would like to subscribe, if possible.
Thank You,
Lou Hans
Robert Nieman, editor, answers: All issues of the Dispatch are online; see the
column to the left for links to the index pages. There are no plans in the
immediate future to charge for access to the Dispatch. At the present time, we
do not publish in print form because of the cost.
I absolutely loved your article with pictures on the Rangers’ graves. One
suggestion for those of us that enjoy visiting and photographing old graves,
and are Texas history buffs, is to include the latitude and longitude with each
grave site.
I am a descendent of Governor George Wood (buried in Point Blank, Texas)
and presently live in California, but I still fly my Texas flag on appropriate
days. Anyway, my wife and I enjoy visiting Texas, though time is limited. We
have assembled photos of old graves and grave sites and, if we had
coordinates, it would help because our free time is limited due to the fact that
I work for wages and have to report to Salinas on a regular basis.
Anyway, just a suggestion. Thank you for your great publication and keep up
the good work.
Bill Roberts
Hollister, CA
Thank you for the kind words and suggestions. We plan to start a page on our
web site for historical Ranger sites and Ranger graves and hope to include
GPS data when available.
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Smith and Wesson's No. 2 "Old Army"
by David Stroud
In past issues we have surveyed Colts, Remingtons, and Winchesters.
However, there is another major arms company whose owners made history
across Texas and the Old West with their revolvers.
When forty-four-year-old Horace Smith sat down with twenty-seven-year-old
Daniel Baird Wesson in Springfield, Massachusetts, they were going to
produce a revolver seemingly light-years ahead of its time. No percussion
cap, lead ball, and loose powder would be needed to load their revolvers
because all of that would be contained in a ready-to-fire cartridge fed into the
revolver from a tubular magazine by operating the lever.(1)
The outcome from the two firearm entrepreneurial businessmen was 1,000
Iron Frame Volcanics. The weapon was so called by Scientific American
because ”its rapid-fire sequence had the force of an erupting volcano.” The
Volcanics were produced in Smith and Wesson’s Norwich, Connecticut,
factory. After the company ran into financial trouble, Oliver Winchester
provided much-need funds. The firm was reorganized, renamed Volcanic
Repeating Arms Company, and moved to New Haven, Connecticut. Smith and
Wesson eventually sold their interests to Winchester, and Smith returned to
Springfield while Wesson continued working for the new Winchester
Repeating Arms Company.
While a Winchester employee in 1854, Wesson designed a small, cartridgefiring revolver in .22 short rimfire caliber on a tip-up frame. He showed it to
Smith, and they patented it together. The old partnership was reborn to
produce a revolver known as the Smith & Wesson Model No 1, First Issue
Revolver with 11,671 manufactured between 1857 and 1868.(2) The revolver
went through six minor changes before the Model No. 1 Second Issue began
production in 1860 and continued until 1868, with 117,000 produced. There
were several different finishes: 80% blue, 10% nickel, and 10% half-plate,
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silver, engraved, or another special finish. Only ten were made with eight-inch
barrels. (3)
Once the Civil War began in 1861, Smith & Wesson began producing the
Model No. 2 Revolver in .32 rimfire long caliber. This gun became so popular
with soldiers it was nicknamed the Army, also known by collectors as the Old
Army. It is considered “the most advanced of the United States manufactured
revolvers to see substantial service during the Civil War.”(4) One of the main
reasons for its popularity was that it required only twenty-five seconds to
load. Two minutes and ten seconds were required to do the same with a Colt
revolver.(5) Before production was discontinued in 1874, 77,155 of these
revolvers had found their way into the hands of soldiers, sailors, lawmen, and
outlaws, thereby establishing Smith & Wesson as a major weapons producer.
Ejecting spent cases with the under-the-barrel plunger.
The No. 2 revolver utilized a spur trigger without a guard and a six-shot, nonfluted cylinder. It also offered customers 4”, 5”, 6”, and 8” octagonal barrels
with square butt grips of smooth rosewood. These were usually stamped with
the serial number on the inside of the right grip, which was made of ivory,
carved ivory, pearl, or other material—for a premium—and finished in blue,
nickel, or half-plate. An assembly number was also stamped near the barrel’s
forcing cone, on the cylinder face, and under the grip on the frame. Barrel
markings are “Smith & Wesson Springfield Mass,” while cylinders bear
“Patented April 3, 1855, July 5, 1859 & Dec. 18, 1860” in small, block letters
around the circumference.
Because a special cartridge was required, the U.S. War Department refused to
purchase Smith & Wesson’s Number 2. However, individual demand was so
great that, by 1864, production was two years behind orders.(6)
Tipped up to remove the cylinder.
Some of the more famous owners of the Number 2 were major, future general,
and later President of the United States Rutherford B. Hayes; Civil War
general and future 7th Cavalry Commander George Armstrong Custer; and
legendary gunman Wild Bill Hickok, who reportedly was carrying one of his
Old Army revolvers on him when he was killed by Jack McCall in Deadwood’s
Saloon No. 10 on August 2, 1876.(7) Names of lesser-known officers, soldiers,
and civilians were hand-engraved into countless back straps, ivory grips, or
side panels, but most owners remain lost to history.
However, such is not the case with the Old Army revolvers. For a modest fee
($30), Smith & Wesson historian Roy G. Jinks will provide a letter
documenting a revolver by model and serial number. Case in point is the
author’s Old Army used to illustrate this article, which was provided this
documentation:
We have researched your Smith & Wesson Model 2 Army,
caliber .32 Rim Fire Long, revolver in company records which
indicate that your handgun...was shipped from our factory on
March 10, 1865, and was delivered to J. W. Storrs, New York City,
NY., Smith & Wesson’s sole agent from 1857 to 1869. The
records indicate that the revolver was shipped with a 6 inch
barrel, blue finish, and smooth rosewood grips. This shipment
contained 75 units of this model.(8)
Although I’ll never know who purchased my Old Army from Mr. Storrs in 1865,
at least I know when and where it was shipped. If the Smith and Wesson agent
followed the same procedures as Colt agents, the revolver may well have
been shipped from New York to a hardware dealer in the Lone Star State and
purchased by a Texas Ranger as a backup weapon. That, my Dispatch friends,
is the romance of collecting antique American arms.
Notes
(1) Roy G. Jinks, Smith & Wesson Handguns 2002, 6.
(2) Jinks, 6. and Norm Flayderman, Flayderman’s Guide To Antique American
Firearms and Their Values, 183. The Number 2 ended production in 1874 after
77,155 Army revolvers had been produced. Collectors must be aware that the
four-inch barrel is rare, and the eight-inch barrel is extremely rare. Half-plate
finish is a silver-plated frame with blue cylinder and barrel.
(3) Jinks; Flayderman; and Jim Supica and Richard Nahas, Standard Catalog
of Smith & Wesson, 47. Many may believe the .22 caliber a non-serious
revolver. However, as the Dispatch editor and my friend Robert (Bobby)
Nieman has informed me on many occasions, Texas Rangers swear .22s have
killed more people than any other caliber.
(4) John D. McAulay, Civil War Pistols, 133.
(5) Jinks, 20.
(6) Jinks, 135. In 1864, the price for the revolver was $15.50.
(7) Supica, 47. President Hayes owned serial number 22592, while Hickok’s
numbers were 20615 and 20757.
(8) Historical letter of December 23, 2004. The serial number was purposely
left out of the quote. Letters documenting such features as factory finish, type
of grips, engraving, etc. increase the value of special revolvers, not to
mention the lucky recipient who learns that his Smith & Wesson was specialordered by a noted individual.
Bibliography
Flayderman, Norm. Flayderman’s Guide to Antique American Arms and Their
Values. Krause Publications, 2001.
Historical letter. Smith & Wesson.
Jinks, Roy. “Highlights of Smith & Wesson’s History” in Smith & Wesson
Handguns 2002. Smith & Wesson, 2002.
McAulay, John D. Civil War Pistols. Lincoln, Rhode Island: Andrew Mowbray,
Inc., 1992.
Supica, Jim and Richard Nahas. Standard Catalog of Smith & Wesson, 2d ed.
Krause Publications, 2001.
Dispatch
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Exhibits/Artifacts
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TEXAS RANGER DISPATCH Magazine

Transcription

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