When you think about the “Old West,” what comes to mind?  For a lot of us it conjures images of gunfights, saloon brawls, cowboys, cattle drives, and runaway stage coaches.  Those are all obviously important western elements, but to me, the most fundamental part of the “Old West” is the spirit of rugged individualism.  The image of the lone homesteader or rancher defending their home and property from marauding rustlers or Indians is as much an indelible part of the west as the Colt Peacemaker or the cowboy and his horse.  No where was this spirit more alive than on the King Ranch.

The man who would one day become known as “Captain King, the King of Texas cattle,” was born in New York City in 1825, not exactly the origin one would think of for a future cattle king.  He learned at an early age that he must make his own way in the world, when at a very young age, he was sent from his home and apprenticed to a jeweler.  With no patience for the tedious monotony of the jewelry trade, at the age of eleven, Richard King stowed away on a ship and spent the next decade working on steamboats in the Gulf of Mexico.  It was on these ships that he learned the trade which would allow him to build his fortune.

In 1841, during the Seminole Wars, King served on an army steamboat in Florida, and it was there that he met Mifflin Kenedy, the man who would be his business partner and best friend for the rest of his life.  When Kenedy went to Texas in 1846, he wrote to King and told him that because of the war with Mexico, there was a need for experienced steamboat pilots, so with nothing to lose, he eagerly headed for the Lone Star State.  For the remainder of the war, King piloted steamboats for the U.S. Army, and learned all the ins and outs of navigating the Rio Grande.  This knowledge allowed him to go into business for himself, hauling freight and passengers on the river using an army surplus steamboat he bought after the war.

On a trip to Corpus Christi in 1852, King crossed the Wild Horse Desert, where he saw a vast patch of green grass dotted with trees and fed by the Santa Gertrudis Creek.  He bought 15,500 acres in 1853 for around 2 cents an acre, and the next year, he bought a 53,000 acre tract for around 3 cents an acre, but purchasing the land was the easy part, holding it would prove to be another.   He fought Comanche, Mexican bandits, and droughts.  A lesser man would have given up and found an easier way to make a living, but Richard King had a vision, and he was far too tough and stubborn to give up.  One thing that he had going for him in those early days was that he knew nothing about cattle ranching, so the thought that the odds were against him never entered his mind.

King might not have known anything about cattle, but he knew the experts to learn from, the Mexican Vaqueros, and he hired them to work his cattle.  In 1854, he traveled to a Mexican village and persuaded the men to follow him back to the United States and work at the Santa Gertrudis.  With the men came their wives and children, along with all their livestock and earthly possessions.  The descendants of that same village still work the King Ranch today.  Richard King learned quickly and established not only what became the proven way to operate a cattle outfit, but he built an empire in the process.

In December 1854, King married Henrietta Chamberlain and took his new bride to the Santa Gertrudis.  What her impression was when she first saw the small adobe structure that was to be her home has been lost to history, but I imagine she must have wondered what in the world she had gotten herself in to.  Today, the King Ranch is far from even the smallest city, but in the 1850’s, it was in the middle of a brutal untamed wilderness, and Henrietta was probably one of the first white women to see that untouched land.  Whatever misgivings she might have had, she proved to be tough enough to tame the land, and she made it her home for the next seventy years.

King made a fortune during the Civil War by selling beef and supplies to the Confederate Army, as well as using his ranch as a depot for the South to sell cotton to Europe.  One of the things that allowed King to thrive when so many others did not, is that King demanded payment from the army in gold instead of Confederate dollars.

During the 1870’s, at the start of the Industrial Revolution, the demand for beef in the north reached an all time high, and the King Ranch was poised to fill the need.  This was the time of the great cattle drives, and no ranch moved more cows north than did Richard King.  Over the next ten years, he made yet another fortune filling the need for beef to the northern markets.

Over the years, the King Ranch has been the site of many firsts; one of the first to use the cattle drive, the first to introduce new cattle breeds to Texas, and the first to breed champion thoroughbreds.  Today, the ranch is over 825,00 acres which is larger than the state of Rhode Island and has interests in cattle, farming, gas and oil, and recreational hunting.  The secret to Richard King’s success was being tougher than his circumstances and an unyielding determination to see his vision come to life, but the secret to the ranch’s longevity is a willingness to change with the times when needed, while holding fast to the time-tested principles of the past.  It is this same formula that built this great state that I love.

Thank you for stopping by Under the Lone Star and for your continued support. Now, saddle up, get out there, and enjoy all that the great state of Texas has to offer.

©02/18/2019 Under the Lone Star LLC

Up until the mid-1800’s, the Southern Plains were controlled by bands of nomadic tribes that roamed the Dakotas, Nebraska, Kansas, Oklahoma, and Texas, following the herds of buffalo that were said to be so numerous, you could travel from horizon to horizon on their backs.  These tribes included: the Comanche, Kiowa, Southern Cheyenne, and Arapaho, and together they were masters of all they surveyed for over two hundred and fifty years.

By the 1850’s, the western progression of white settlers was encroaching on the land that had historically belonged to the Plains Indians, leading to violent clashes between the two groups that left many dead on both sides.  The settlers were not only building farms and ranches, but also communities and towns, which the U.S. government saw as the economic engine that was building a great nation.  To promote and protect these settlers, the government established a line of forts along the western frontier with the goal of containing the “Indian problem”.

This solution had the desired results temporarily, but with the outbreak of the Civil War, the U.S. Army abandoned these outposts and the Plains Indians once again re-established their dominance.  After the war, the push west reached a fever pitch, and the outcry for military intervention became louder than ever, forcing the government to act.  Various treaties were attempted, but they all ended in failure, mainly because neither side understood or trusted the other.   The Indian tribes had no concept of the economic forces driving westward expansion and the government didn’t understand that the land wasn’t looked on as a commodity by the Indians, but it, along with the bison that roamed it, was a part of the people.  It wasn’t just a means to an end for them, or even just a way of life, it was their life, and they would never give it up without a fight.

The Medicine Lodge Treaty of 1867 was the most successful of the treaties, but it was doomed to fail just like all the others.  It called for two reservations to be set aside in Indian Territory, one for the Comanche and Kiowa and another for the Southern Cheyenne and Arapaho.  The tribes were promised unlimited rights to hunt within their lands, but what no one counted on was the market for buffalo hides back east.

White buffalo hunters stalked the large herds, shooting the animals day and night, striping the hides and leaving the rest to rot where they dropped.  The Indians watched as the bison, their life’s blood, were decimated, and they realized that if they were to preserve their culture, they had to act.  Renegade bands formed and headed for Texas, determined to take back their land, or die trying.

As conditions on the reservation worsened, discontent among the tribes deepened, and many more braves left Indian Territory for Texas to join the renegade bands.  Among these Indians, was a spiritual leader of the Quahadi band of Comanche, called Isa-Tai, who claimed to have visions of the Indians rising up and driving the White man from Texas.  His medicine was considered to be very strong and many rallied to his side, preferring the war trail to the bleak future they faced on the reservation.

One of those who joined in the fight was Comanche chief Quanah Parker, who vowed to remove all of the buffalo hunters from the Staked Plains.  On June 27, 1874, Isa-Tai, Quanah Parker, and three hundred Indians attacked the Adobe Walls outpost, where 28 buffalo hunters were holed up.  The Indians laid siege to the outpost, trapping the hunters inside.  Although the Indians vastly outnumbered the buffalo hunters, their strength was of little use against the defender’s large caliber buffalo guns and Henry repeating rifles.  At the conclusion of the battle, four of the buffalo hunters were dead, along with at least fifteen Indians.

After the Battle of Adobe Walls, the U.S. government doubled its efforts to return the renegades to the reservations, and the army spent the remainder of 1874 chasing Quanah and his warriors across the Panhandle.  They used a five-pronged attack, converging on the Panhandle from every direction, and catching the Indians in an ever tightening circle, until they had no where to run.  The U.S. army and Plains Indians fought at least twenty engagements during the Red River War, but it all came to an end in June 1875, when Quanah Parker and his band of Quahadi surrendered at Fort Sill.

The Red River War was just one series of battles in the long and tragic clash between the Native Americans and the White man, but the U.S. Army had found a strategy that worked, and they would use it great effect.  The war marked the end of a way of life for the Southern Plains Indians, but it was also the beginning of the end for all tribes who roamed freely across the American West.

I hope you are all having a great start to the new year, and I look forward to sharing many more stories of Texas as we go through 2019.  Now saddle up, get out there, and enjoy all that the great state of Texas has to offer.

©01/15/2019

Merry Christmas, my friends!  Christmas is only a little over a week away, and like everyone else, my family is busy enjoying all of the festivities of the season, as well as making preparations for the “Big Day.”  This is our favorite time of the year, and with four children, there’s always a lot of work to be done, but it’s worth it, because they really do bring home the true meaning of Christmas.

Each year I try to find something Christmas related to write about for the month of December, and this year is no exception.  As a Texan, I grew up with a great love of country music, especially those sung by the many artists from Texas, and Willie Nelson was always at the top of that list.  During Christmas, the country stations would play Christmas music sung by country artists, and I was always intrigued by one of these songs in particular.  Willie Nelson’s song, Pretty Paper, is beautiful and poignant, but with a touch of sadness, and as such, it always stood out to me, especially after I learned the story behind it.  My mother was a huge Willie fan and one year she related how he came up with the idea for this Yuletide classic.

In the early 1960’s, as he was playing the bars and honkytonks of Fort Worth, Willie Nelson found himself in downtown Fort Worth, outside of Leonard’s Department Store. There, in front of the store’s big glass doors, was a man calling out, “pretty paper, pretty paper!”  He was selling pencils, wrapping paper, and ribbons from a custom-made vest he wore, while dragging himself along the sidewalk on his hands and knees.  On this particular day, the man wasn’t having much luck as the people shuffled past him as they walked in and out of Leonard’s, and the sight stuck with Willie.

In 1963, after moving to Nashville, Nelson was walking around his farm when the disabled man in front of Leonard’s crossed his mind.  He sat down to write the song, and twenty minutes later, the song Pretty Paper was born.  “It was an easy song to write,” Willie Nelson said later. “The easy ones write themselves.”  Roy Orbison recorded it in November of 1963, and Willie recorded his own version the following year.  The song, with its beautiful melody and haunting words, has become a Christmas classic.

In 2013, the Fort Worth Star-Telegram revealed that the man’s name was Frankie Brierton, who was born with spinal meningitis and learned to get around on his hands and knees as a child.  According to his daughter, Lillian Compte, he refused all government assistance. “He didn’t want to depend on anybody. He wanted to be on his own and take care of his family. He crawled around on his hands and knees, but we never did without.”  He not only sold his wares in Fort Worth, but also in Dallas and Houston.  Frankie Brierton died in 1974, and by all accounts, he never knew the song that he had inspired, but I know the song, and his story has certainly inspired me.  Now, when I hear Pretty Paper, I’m not only moved by what a beautiful song it is, but also by the man it is based on,; a man who rose above his circumstances to live life on his terms and provide for his family.

I would like to thank each and every one of you for your readership and support.  The success of Under the Lone Star is a real blessing and is due entirely to you.  I wish you all a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.  Now saddle up, get out there, and enjoy all the Christmas joy that the great state of Texas has to offer.

©12/17/2018

November 11^th was Veterans Day, so before I get started with this month’s post, I want to take this opportunity to give a very heartfelt thank you to every man and woman who has served in the United States military.  Your service has kept this nation safe and has protected the freedoms that we hold so dear, and while a simple “thank you,” is quite inadequate in payment of the enormous debt that is owed, it is a start.

In Texas, we are very fortunate to have been represented by so many great heroes, and none have served with more distinction than Audie Murphy.  He rose from humble beginnings to become the most decorated combat soldier of World War II, and eventually embarked on a very successful career as an actor.

Audie Leon Murphy was born on June 20, 1925 in Kingston, Texas, to a family of sharecroppers.  After the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941, Murphy, like so many, felt the call to enlist in the military, but the Army, Navy, and Marines all rejected him for service due to being underweight and underage.  Undeterred, Murphy, with the help of his sister, produced a falsified birth certificate and enlisted in the Army on June 30, 1942.

After shipping out for Europe, Audie quickly became a legend in the Army’s 3^rd Infantry Division.  He fought in nine engagements across the European theatre, was wounded three times, and is credited with over 240 enemy kills.  Murphy is widely considered to be the best combat soldier produced by any branch of the military, rising from the rank of Private to Staff Sergeant, eventually receiving a battle field commission as a 2^nd Lieutenant.  On September 21, 1945, he was released from active duty, having received 33 awards and decorations for conspicuous valor, every one that the United States military has to offer, including the Medal of Honor.

Audie Murphy returned home to a heroes’ welcome, even making the cover of Life Magazine, and it was this cover that caught the eye of movie star James Cagney, who reached out to Murphy and urged him to move to Hollywood and try his hand at acting.  His first starring roll came in 1949, and in a career that spanned 25 years, he made 44 motion pictures, mostly westerns and war films.  His autobiography, To Hell and Back, became a best seller and was turned into a movie, with Murphy portraying himself in the staring role.  It became Universal’s highest grossing film until being surpassed by Jaws in 1975.

Despite all of his success, Murphy never strayed from his Texas roots. He owned several ranches, where he enjoyed the cowboy life and raised thoroughbred race horses.  When not making movies or tending to his livestock, Audie enjoyed gambling and was a great poker player.  It was said he won and lost several fortunes at the poker table and race track.

His role as a hero was not limited to the battlefield and movie screen.  Murphy suffered from insomnia and depression brought on by PTSD, which was little understood then and carried a great deal of stigma.  Instead of remaining silent, he spoke publicly about his struggles, using his own experiences and star status to advocate for Korean and Vietnam vets who were suffering from what was then called “Battle Fatigue.”  He lobbied for research, treatment, and understanding for those suffering from war related trauma.

On May 28, 1971, while on a business trip, Audie Murphy was killed when the plane he was a passenger on crashed into the side of a mountain in Virginia.  On June 7^th he was buried with full military honors at Arlington National Cemetery.  His grave is the second most visited grave site, next to that of President John F. Kennedy.

To learn more about Audie Murphy, visit the Audie Murphy American Cotton Museum in Greenville, Texas.  Much of the museum is dedicated to military veterans, and it houses a nice collection of memorabilia from Murphy’s life.  As always, I appreciate your readership and support, and the success of Under the Lone Star is due to you.  Now, saddle up, get out there, and enjoy all that the great state of Texas has to offer.

©11/12/2018 Under the Lone Star

As a child, I spent a lot of time in the Texas Hill Country, and even today, it is my favorite spot in the world.  The rolling hills and general ruggedness of the region give it a beauty that has always spoken to me on a very deep level.  There is one spot in the Hill Country that has always held a special place in my memory and imagination, it is a place called the Devil’s Backbone.

The Devil’s Backbone is a scenic drive that follows a limestone ridge which runs from Blanco to Wimberley.  It is wonderful drive that encompasses all the beauty that is found in the Hill Country. From the highway and several overlooks, one can look out over deep valleys where the limestone cliffs disappear beneath a canopy of live oak, pecan, and mesquite trees.

There are many who believe that the Devil’s Backbone is haunted, and reports of strange events have persisted for many years.  Most of these stories take place in the heavily wooded areas of the Backbone, where the sun seems to barely reach the deep valley, and where one gets the sense of being alone and totally cutoff from the world beyond.  The area is made up mostly of ranches and hunting cabins, and it is from these remote locations where the hauntings have taken place.

One of the most popular stories, which has been told by numerous people, is the sound of phantom horses, the hooves of which are heard thundering down the lonely trails of the backbone.  Most surmise that these sounds could be the remnants of the Confederate soldiers who mustered at the forts in the area prior to heading out at the start of the Civil War.

Prior to the arrival of the first Spanish settlers in Texas, this land was inhabited by numerous Native American tribes, and it was the much-feared Comanche who controlled the Texas Hill Country up until the early 1860’s.  The Comanche were fierce warriors who had long ago defeated tribes such as the Kiowa, Caddo, and Apache, to become the masters of the Texas Plains.  Many of the ghostly tales from the Devil’s Backbone involve encounters with Native American spirits, likely those of the Comanche.

One such tale is of a hunter who had just climbed down from his tree stand at dusk and was walking back to his hunting cabin.  While walking along the darkened trail, he sensed that he was not alone, and upon looking to his side, he saw a dark-skinned shirtless man less than ten yards from him.  The man was clad in buckskin breeches and wore the war-paint of a Comanche brave.

The Comanche were a deeply spiritual people who had a connection to the land and the animals that shared that land with them.  One of the animals that figured prominently in their beliefs was the wolf; it represented the same stoic fierceness that Comanche warriors held dear.

Perhaps the strangest tale from the Devil’s Backbone is story of three men who were hiking one day when one of them became separated from the others.  As he walked, he came upon a wolf, an animal that is not found in the area these days.  As the man froze with both fear and curiosity, the wolf charged.  As the wolf quickly approached his position, the man was certain he would soon be devoured, but as the predator leapt at him, instead of taking him down, the hiker felt the animal pass right through him.  When the three friends were reunited, he breathlessly told his tale, but not surprisingly his two friends did not believe his story.

Upon returning to their cabin the man began exhibiting strange behavior, including speaking in a low, guttural tone and talking about Indian massacres.  As he became more agitated, and his friends became more concerned, a strong gust of wind suddenly blew open the back door of the cabin.  After a few moments, the wind died down and the man returned to normal but was unable to explain his behavior.

I am not going to proclaim that I believe the Devil’s Backbone is haunted, but as this is October and Halloween is quickly approaching, I’m not going to disagree with those that do.  I will tell you that the area does have a power, the power to awe, to inspire, and to raise one’s spirits with its splendid vistas.  For me, it is the place where I feel most acutely the beauty and power of God.

If you have the opportunity, take a trip to the Texas Hill Country, and while you’re there, be sure to take a drive along the Devil’s backbone.  At the very least you’ll enjoy the view and have chance to take some great pictures, and perhaps you might just catch a glimpse of those long past inhabitants of the Lone Star State.  Now, saddle up, get out there, and enjoy all that the great state of Texas has to offer.

                ©10/14/2018 Under the Lone Star LLC

As of this writing, we are over seventy-three years removed from the end of World War II, but it is still the most significant event of the modern age.  Those that fought for the allies quite literally saved the world, and it was my privilege to have grown up with some of those heroes and to have heard their stories first hand.  In my family, the war was spoken of often and the significance of it was impressed to me at a young age, so it is little wonder that I have always been interested in the history of World War II and the great men who led us to victory.  Men like Patton, McArthur, and Eisenhower played extremely important parts to be sure, but it was Admiral Chester Nimitz that was always my favorite.  When I was eleven years old, my Grandpa Bob took me to the Nimitz Museum in Fredericksburg, Texas, and from then on, I wanted to learn everything I could about the man.

Chester W. Nimitz was born on February 24, 1885.  He grew up with his widowed mother and his paternal grandfather in the steam ship shaped hotel in Fredericksburg, Texas, that was owned by his grandfather.  Chester was very devoted to his grandfather and considered him the greatest man he had ever known.  The older man instilled a sense of discipline in young Chester and he worked equally hard at both his school work and household chores.  Nimitz adhered to this sense of devotion to duty his whole life, and it was undoubtedly what helped him to succeed so completely at most everything he tried.

Nimitz wanted to attend the United States Military Academy at West Point but was offered a chance to attend Annapolis instead.  He studied very hard for the

three-day entrance exam and his hard work paid off when in 1901, at the age of 15, he passed the exam and was accepted into the Naval Academy.  His determination didn’t end with being accepted and he continued to be completely devoted to his studies, graduating seventh in a class of 114.

His career wasn’t without its blemishes though, in 1906 he ran the first ship under his command aground and was court-martialed for placing his ship and crew in danger unnecessarily.  This was one of very few set-backs in an otherwise stellar career, and it was soon forgotten when he received a Silver life-saving medal for jumping overboard to save the life of a fellow sailor who had fallen from the deck of a submarine.

Early in his career, he was sent to Germany to study diesel engines and used his expertise to help design the Navy’s first diesel ship, The Maumee.  During World War I, he served on the staff of the Commander of the U.S. submarine fleet and developed a passion for submarines that would stick with him for the rest of his service.

Nimitz was in Washington D.C. when the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941, and he was handpicked by President Roosevelt from twenty-eight fleet admirals who were his senior, to take over command at Pearl Harbor.  As Commander-in-Chief, Pacific, Admiral Nimitz almost singlehandedly restored the morale and sense of purpose to the Pacific Fleet, and his brilliant tactics at the Battle of Midway, as well as many other naval engagements, paved the way for the island-hopping campaign that eventually pushed the Japanese military all the way back to mainland Japan.

In 1944 Admiral Nimitz was promoted to Fleet Admiral, one of only four at the time, and he was the last Admiral to hold this rank in the United States Navy.  After

the U.S. dropped the atomic bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, Admiral Nimitz oversaw the Japanese surrender on the USS Missouri.

After the War, Nimitz was decorated by more than fourteen countries and worked for the United Nations as a goodwill ambassador.  While other military leaders penned books after the war, touting their own achievements and creating rivalries, Nimitz refused to participate, and instead enjoyed a life of quiet anonymity.  Admiral Chester Nimitz died on February 20, 1966 and was survived by his wife and four children.

I have always been drawn to the unsung heroes, those that let their achievements speak for themselves without feeling the need to blow their own horn, and Chester Nimitz certainly fits that bill.  If you would like to learn more about Admiral Chester Nimitz, there are many books written about him, but for a more in-depth history, I would strongly suggest a trip to the National Museum of the Pacific War in Fredericksburg, Texas.  It is one of the most amazing museums I’ve ever visited and not only tells the story of Chester Nimitz, but also gives the complete history of the war in the Pacific.

Thank you for joining me for another journey through Texas history.  Now saddle up, get out there, and enjoy all that the great state of Texas has to offer.

©09/18/2018  Under the Lone Star LLC

As an avid student of history, I love the tales and folklore that have been handed down for generations.  They are as much a part of history as dates and facts.  Much of what makes up a culture are its oral traditions, those stories past down from one generation to the next over the dinner table or campfire.  Some of my favorite stories are those about lost treasure, and I suppose it’s because of my love of a good mystery.  Today’s post is about the Los Almagres Mine, otherwise known as the San Saba Mine, or more commonly, the Lost Bowie Mine.  The story of this mine, which is purported to contain the largest amount of silver ore ever discovered, is very short on facts and supportable evidence, but long on action and mystery.  But after all, isn’t that what really makes a great tale?

Our story begins in 1753, when an expedition seeking a site for an Apache mission, led to the discovery of Los Almagres Mine in what is now Llano County.  Lt. Juan Galvan, the leader of the expedition, heard from the local Indians about a hill near San Antonio which contained large deposits of mineral-bearing ore.  A group of men from San Antonio was led to the hill by several Apache, but no signs of large silver deposits were discovered, however, reports of the mine spread across the region, and the legend was born.

In 1756, Bernardo de Miranda y Flores led another expedition to locate the mine.  Twenty-three men left San Antonio, and after arriving at Cerro de Almagre, they dug a shaft and reportedly found a tremendous amount of ore, though the samples they brought back for testing yielded no positive results.  Miranda sought funding for a more extensive dig at the site and to set up a presidio, but his efforts proved unsuccessful.

An Apache mission and presidio was established along the San Saba River.  The presidio’s captain, Diego Ortiz Parrilla, in an effort to have his command moved to Los Almagres, had ore samples dug from the mine, which were smelted at the presidio.  Treasure seekers found the slag where the ore had been smelted along the San Saba River and erroneously assumed that was the site of the mine, which gave rise to it being called the San Saba Mine.  The San Saba Mission was attacked and destroyed by hostile Indians in 1758 and the mine was never officially opened, but interest in it continued to grow over the years due to the reports of Miranda and Parrilla.

In 1788, six prospectors were working where they thought the mine was located, when they were attacked by the Apache.  All but one of the prospectors were killed, which ended further expeditions to the area for the next several decades.

Stephen F. Austin included the mine on all the maps he made of South Texas, though this was likely done in an effort to enhance interest in the area and were not intended to be taken as the actual geographic location.  It seems that this ploy worked, because many flocked to the area in hopes of finding riches, but most of the prospecting was done along the San Saba River which was where most maps showed the mine to be located.  James Bowie and his brother Rezin made several forays into the Hill Country, and though they spoke of Los Almagres and helped build the legend of the mine, there is very little evidence that they ever made any real efforts to find it.

In 1909, members of the United States Geological Survey, using Miranda’s journals, dug along the hill in Los Almagres. They determined that the mine was unproductive, and no further efforts were made to remove ore from the site, though many die-hard treasure hunters and romantics refuse to believe that the actual site of the Los Almagres Mine has yet been found.

The pragmatic historian in me thinks that the lost mine was always more legend than fact, but the part of me that revels in the folklore of Texas believes that just maybe there is a fortune in silver somewhere in the Hill Country just waiting to be discovered.  Whatever the truth is, the legend of Los Almagres Mine has given me something I consider to be almost as valuable as treasure, a good plot for a book.  The Lost Bowie Mine is the setting for my novel, Bury Me Along Palmetto Creek, and is the basis for much of the conflict in the story.

Thank you for giving me the opportunity to share some of the history of Texas as well as one of our most enduring mysteries.  Until next time, saddle up, get out there, and enjoy all that the great state of Texas has to offer.

©08/14/2018

My family and I recently took a vacation to the Hill Country and spent a day in San Antonio.  I’m not really a fan of big cities, but San Antonio is a great place to visit, as there are so many historic locations to see there.  Over the years, I’ve probably visited the city at least fifty times, but we still manage to find interesting sites that we have never been to.  Don’t get me wrong, the River Walk and the Alamo are still must-see destinations that I love going back to, but it’s always nice to discover that hidden treasure that has somehow been overlooked.  On this trip that hidden treasure was the Casa Navarro State Historic Site.

Jose Antonio Navarro was a leading citizen and advocate of early Texas.  He was self-educated, becoming an expert in the law of the Mexican colony, and was one of the first supporters of Stephen F. Austin and his plan to colonize the mostly uninhabited land.  During the fight for Texas Independence, he was a soldier, statesman, and voice for the cause, keeping the spark burning during the dark days after the fall of the Alamo and Goliad.  At Washington-On-the-Brazos, he was one of the signers of the Texas Declaration of Independence, and later signed the Constitution of the Republic of Texas.  His work didn’t stop once Texas won its independence, in fact, that was merely where his service began.  He served as a representative for the Republic of Texas and as a State senator after the state was annexed by the United States, helping to draft the state constitution.  Navarro doesn’t get the recognition of a Crockett, Houston, or Bowie (who was his nephew by marriage), but the work that he did was vital to not only independence, but also to the building of everything that Texas became after.

The Casa Navarro State Historic Site is the property that Navarro purchased in 1832 and consists of three structures, one of which was his original home site, and is situated on 1.5 acres.  The site is not only an example of how homes in the mid-nineteenth century were constructed, but it also gives a wonderful insight into a man who gave much to this wonderful state.  Other than the original home, which was built in 1856, there is a two-story building that many believe served as his law office and a store, and another single-story structure called the kitchen, though there is some doubt as to whether that was ever its function.

Navarro lived in the house until  his death in 1871, at which point his daughter began selling off the property and its contents.  In 1962, the site was designated a Texas Historical landmark and was placed on the National Register of Historic Places in 1972.  Today, it is controlled by the Texas Historical Commission, where the houses are open for self-guided tours.  The site is located at the corner of South Laredo and Nueva Streets on the edge of downtown San Antonio and is a must see for anyone interested in the history of Texas and the man who helped build and shape that history.

The Casa Navarro Site is just one of hundreds of examples of sites that are available to explore that will both entertain and educate.  Speaking of entertaining and educating, I hope I’ve done a little of that myself, and until next time, thank you for visiting Under the Lone Star.  Now, saddle up, get out there, and enjoy all that the great state of Texas has to offer.

©07/09/2018 Under the Lone Star

Texas, as much as any state in the Union, embodies the U.S. motto of E Pluribus Unum (out of many, one).  We Texans are a product of many different cultures, among these are; Mexican, Spanish, White, and German.  One of the cultures that is often overlooked, but certainly no less important than the others, is the Native American culture; especially the Comanche.  Their history is our history, their art is our art, and their heroes are our heroes.  No leader embodies the spirit of the Comanche more than the last chief of the Quahadi band, Quanah Parker.

Quanah Parker was born near Wichita Falls, Texas, sometime around 1848.  He was the son of Chief Peta Nocona and Cynthia Ann Parker, whom Nocona captured during a raid on Fort Parker, in North Central Texas.  In 1860, the Texas Rangers raided the Comanche camp, rescuing Cynthia Parker and her daughter Prairie Flower, though by then, they considered the Comanche their family, and had to be taken away by force.

Quanah was known as a cunning and fearless fighter and became a full warrior at age 15.  He joined several different Comanche bands before settling with the Quahadi band, whose hatred of the buffalo hunters that roamed North Texas and the Panhandle, matched his own.

In 1867, the U.S. government began moving the Texas tribes onto the reservations, but Quanah refused to move his people there.  In June 1874, Quanah met with a medicine man named Isa-Tai, who claimed to have the power to make the Comanche impervious to the White man’s bullets.  Together, they gathered an army of seven hundred warriors and attacked a group of buffalo hunters at Adobe Walls.  Though the buffalo hunters numbered less than thirty, they had the new Henry repeating rifles, and inflicted heavy casualties on Quanah and his men, forcing them to retreat.

After the Battle at Adobe Walls, the U.S. government doubled their efforts to bring in the remaining Indians.  Within a year, the Comanche Wars ended with Quanah’s surrender at Fort Sill, Oklahoma.  He settled on a reservation in Southwestern Oklahoma, where he worked as an advocate for his people, interpreting white culture for the Comanche and encouraging them to become educated.  He also became a very successful businessman, even becoming good friends with President Theodore Roosevelt.

While Quanah Parker spent the last thirty-six years of his life living on the reservation, by all accounts, he enjoyed a fuller life than his mother and sister.  They had tried numerous times to rejoin their Comanche family, but were prevented from doing so by their white family.  Cynthia Ann was never able to re-assimilate into the white community.  When Prairie flower died in 1864, Cynthia seemed to give up, and died in 1870.

The stories of white children captured by the Indians almost never had a happy ending, and the tragedy was further complicated by the lack of understanding on both sides.  To the families of those captured, bringing them back home seemed like the most natural thing in the world, and they could not understand why the children were unable to adjust back to their old life.  The Indians, for their part, did not understand why the Whites would not simply leave the children in the life that they had become accustomed to and obviously didn’t want to leave.  Bigotry, hatred, and indifference trumped what was really in the best interest of those involved, though what that might have been would stump even the advanced sensibilities of today’s most well-meaning think tanks.  The children were merely pawns in the larger war that raged across the Texas Plains during the first two-thirds of the nineteenth century.

Quanah Parker died at Fort Sill in 1911 and was buried next to his mother.  His is the story of a man who rose from the most unlikely of circumstances to become one of the greatest leaders of his people.  He fought for what he believed in, and never stopped fighting to achieve a better life for the Comanche.

Thank you for reading and for your support of Under the Lone Star.  Now, saddle up, get out there, and enjoy all that the great state of Texas has to offer.

©06/18/2018 Under the Lone Star