Dac Crossley's Western Blog

Going with Old Ben Milam

“Who’ll go to San Antonio with Old Ben Milam?” Mom posed that question and my brother Walter and I broke into cheers. Late May, school was out and we were ready! San Antonio meant excitement, the Breckenridge Zoo, big city lights, the peacock dancing atop the Majestic Theater.

For Ben Milam it was a dead serious question. Late in the year 1835 San Antonio was besieged by a rag-tag Texas army. Mexican troops under General Cos occupied the little city. Their numbers about equaled the Texans. The Mexicans were trained soldiers, well disciplined, but were short of supplies. The Texans were volunteers sadly lacking in discipline but re-supplied as needed.

Stephen F. Austin, the father of Texas, was a respected leader but lacked military experience. He wasn’t an effective commander. The Texans became disgruntled after a few months of siege. Some packed up and went home. Austin himself decamped for the newly-formed governing body in San Felipe, leaving a fragmented command.

As was the custom at that time, the citizen soldiers took a vote. Attack San Antonio or go home? Leadership was uncertain. Just when it seemed that the army would disperse, up stepped an old Indian trader and impresario.

“Who will go with Old Ben Milam into Bexar?”

(It wasn’t called San Antonio until Texas gained her independence. Right, Mom?).

During several days of bitter fighting, house to house and knife to knife, General Cos yielded. He was given his parole and vowed never to return. Soldiers were allowed to keep their weapons and ten rounds of ammo, for protection against Indians during their return to Mexico.

A few months later a large Mexican army led by El Presidente Santa Anna returned to San Antonio. The Texans fortified the Alamo. You know the rest of the story, right?

I will go to San Antonio again, this summer, for sure. And visit the old places. I can show you the river cypress from which a Mexican sniper killed Old Ben Milam.

Wish I could take Mom along, one more time.

Dac Crossley
May 29, 2012

“Some defeats are only installments to victory.” – Jacob Rils

A Sense of Place

A weekend on Sapelo Island, Georgia. Relax and write at the old Reynolds Mansion. Isolated from the usual, we relished the isolation along with beaches, good food and reliable friends.

Here I am, cruising around in the “Escape from the Alamo” golf cart – notice the steer horns and the images of my book covers on the windshield.

The Reynolds Mansion is a reminder of antebellum opulence,
now faded, a Grand Dame whose ostrich feathers droop a bit. The Island itself carries a long history of seas and storms and wars, slavery and cotton, the Old South.

On the South Georgia coast, several little museums recount the history of two brutal occupations – British and Yankee. The docent spoke of the Civil War as last week’s events. Philip Lee Williams, Georgia’s best writer, says, “You Westerners got over the Civil War. We never have.”

I’d like to write a novel set on a fictional Sapelo Island. I’ve tried it, off and on, for six years now. The sense of place is strong here, almost overpowering. On this visit I’ve come to realize that the mansion itself must be a major character in such a story.

I feel a sense of place on returning to South Texas. More than the familiarity of the images, there’s an awareness that it’s part of my identity, part of me. Do all of us have that one place, that “secret garden?” The Texas of my youth has moved on. So have I. Even so, when my feet connect with the streets of San Antonio, Corpus, Kingsville, I am in my place.

Perhaps, one day, I can express that aura in a tale set on Sapelo Island.

It’s good to be home again.

Dac Crossley
May 15, 2012

“One must learn to be silent just as one must learn to talk.” – Virginia Woolf.

Cinco de Mayo Again

Yes, Bob, I will remember to celebrate Cinco de Mayo, the anniversary of the Battle of Puebla in 1862, when Mexican forces won an unexpected victory over an invading French army.

Of course, the French ultimately won the war and established Maximilian as Emperor of Mexico. It was a clear violation of the Monroe Doctrine, but Abe Lincoln couldn’t help Mexico. He had his hands full at the time. Mexican Patriots led by Benito Juarez ultimately expelled the French. Mexican resolve was strengthened by the Battle of Puebla.

I suppose it’s a international holiday now, a universal celebration of Mexican pride. Here are some international connections:

The triumphant Mexican general at the Battle of Puebla, Ignacio Zaragoza Seguin, was born in Texas in a village now known as Goliad.

I’ll celebrate here in Athens, Georgia, at La Fiesta, a Mexican restaurant owned and operated by a Lebanese family.

I’ll drink a Margarita, a tequila cocktail invented in 1941 and named for Margarita Henkel, daughter of the German Ambassador to Mexico.

I’ll have an appetizer of nachos, a snack created by Ignacio “Nacho” Anaya at the request of a group of ten soldier’s wives at Fort Duncan in Eagle Pass, Texas.

I’ll dine on fajitas, a Tex-Mex dish which originated in the Rio Grande Valley in the 1960’s.

And I’ll chase it all down with one of the good Mexican beers now available all over the US. Perhaps a Corona – “The Beer that Made Milwaukee Jealous.”

Dac Crossley
Cinco de Mayo, 2012

“He was a bold man that first ate an oyster.” – Jonathan Swift.

The Month of May

In Athens, Georgia, May brings finals week and the start of summer sessions at the University. Athens is still a college town and its pulse relaxes when Spring Semester ends. Fewer students, perhaps more serious ones. Less traffic. More room at the Globe bar.

In my day, summer school ran June through August. Now it goes May through July. We fire up again in mid-August. Why the change? No answer…

This is a political summer. The telephone tells all, with calls afternoon and evening, young volunteers from unknown numbers begging your financial support. What can’t be cured – etc.

It has become so nasty. I can understand the frustrations of my conservative friends, in this chaotic and confusing time, reaching for a touchstone of long-cherished beliefs. And my liberal friends, anxious to steer the ship into bold new seas, unaware of the reefs of unintended consequences.

Reach out, my bellicose friends. Try on the huaraches of your adversaries. In truth – one size fits all.

Forgive me. I never blog about politics.

Dac Crossley
May 4, 2012

“Building more dams, more reservoirs that will not fill is like opening more bank accounts when you don’t have any cash-flow.” – Chris Manganiello

World Book Night

This one almost got past me. Yesterday, April 23, was World Book Night. Here in Athens, Georgia, people were giving away books to total strangers. Did it happen in your town? An effort to encourage people to read more?

Book store owner Janet G. (Avid Bookshop) suggests finding people at bus stops. University students are handing books to friends they believe don’t read enough.

Will it work? Maybe I will go downtown and pass out a few copies of Guns Across the Rio.

I read a teacher’s comment – if they can’t read by the Third Grade, you can tattoo a big “D” on their foreheads. For “Dropout.” Atlanta’s dropout rate approaches 50%.

Does each child learn differently? NO, says the teacher. “Pay attention in class. Do homework. Study for the test. That’s how every child learns.” I like her.

And the teacher adds: No 24-hour TV in the bedroom. Read. And parents, set an example at the dinner table. Fight obesity at home. (I hope this isn’t too political…).

My problem was inattention in school. My grandmother Baird taught me how to read when I was seven. My dad had a 20-volume encyclopedia, The Book of Knowledge, with wonderful pictures. That's how I started.

How did you learn to read? Do you remember?

Dac Crossley
April 24, 2012

“A bookstore in one of the only pieces of evidence we have that people are still thinking.” – Jerry Seinfeld.

The Day of San Jacinto

April 21, 1836. Sam Houston’s army of some 800 Texans charged across the sloping plains of San Jacinto (near Houston). They quickly destroyed the Mexican troops led by El Presidente Santa Anna. Texas gained its freedom from Mexico. The fighting lasted but eighteen minutes.

A story once well-known to school children in Texas, the Day of San Jacinto approaches the legend of The Alamo. The rout of the Mexican army. Houston’s wound – left or right ankle? Santa Anna’s attempted escape in disguise, and his accidental capture. Was Emily West the Yellow Rose of Texas?

And the rag-tag Texan army that defeated seasoned Mexican regulars. Here’s Noah Smithwick’s description:

Our only arms were Bowie knives and long single-barreled, muzzle-loading flintlock rifles. Buckskin breeches were the nearest approach to uniform, some being new and soft and yellow, others had become hard and black and shiny. Boots were an unknown quantity; some wore shoes and some moccasins. Here a broad-brimmed sombrero overshadowed the military cap at it’s side; here a beegum beside a coonskin cap with the tail hanging down. A big American horse loomed above a nimble Spanish pony; a half-tame mustang pranced beside a sober, methodical mule. Here a shaggy buffalo robe contrasted with a gaily checkered counterpane.

Is April 21 still a holiday in Texas? Is it still taught in Texas schools? Do the banks still close on that date? (Well, this year it falls on a Saturday, but still…)

Dac Crossley
April 18, 2012

“Some of them were for Independence, some for the Mexican Constitution of 1824, and some were for anything, just so it was a row.” – Private Noah Smithwick

Reflection and Resurrection

The sun shines bright on an Easter morning. The garden calls to me – I can hear it screaming. Will the local nursery be open today?

I’m alone this Easter morn, me and two cats, with just a few wisps of memory. I’ll jiggle the webbing, that electronic contrivance that we all share, T-messages and E-mails and even Ma Bell. Bacon and eggs for breakfast.

Prod the memory forward through the years. By my friend Paul’s example, I’ll call myself middle-aged now. They say that sixty is the new forty. So eighty is what? Let’s settle for that.

Coffee and I’ll creep over to the bookshelf. Not the poetry shelf, not this morning. The shelf of favorites, those special books that left you wanting more; demanding that you open them again. Fourteen of them.

I’ve added a new one to the favorite shelf – The Disappearing Spoon, by Sam Kean. It’s a history of the periodic table of chemical elements, told with wit and fable. Remember the periodic table from high school chemistry? We learned the second row of elements with the mnemonic:

“Nena m’gal sips chlorine.” That’s Ne-Na-Mg-Al-Si-P-S-Cl.

Ha ha. Some things you never forget. Kean’s book takes me back to King High. I will reread it.

I’m tempted to add Stephen Hawking’s A Brief History of Time to the favorite shelf but it wouldn’t be fair. I re-read that one because I hope, some day, to understand it.

Happy Sunday to all. The sun shines bold. Cast a long shadow.

Dac Crossley
April 8, 2012

“Old age is like climbing a mountain. The higher you get, the more breathless you become, but your view becomes much more extensive.” – Ingmar Bergman.

Paper or Plastic?

E-book or the printed word? Yes, we can do both but which suits you better?

I’m back from the Tennessee Mountain Writer’s Conference in Oak Ridge, TN, my old stomping ground of ages past. This time I was on the program, discussing “How To Be a Writer Without a Publisher.” That was my assigned title, anyway.

I shifted gears. The talks preceding mine focused, more or less, on e-books. Easy to publish, easy to download, easy on the eyes, easy on your hand-held reader. So, when I talked I drew a contrast between e-books and the printed page.

Which do you prefer – paper or electrons?

In my talk I emphasized the paper advantage when you market your work. They say writing it is 15 percent of the effort; marketing it is the other 85 percent. I pointed out all the different ways you can market paper. Book signings, fairs, readings at libraries, or (in my case) bars and restaurants. With electrons, you’re pretty much stuck with promotion on Facebook or twitter. The social media.

Plus, there's the satisfaction, that sense of accomplishment when you hold your creation in your own hands. Place it on your favorite bookshelf. You can’t shelve a fistful of electrons.

E-books have advantages – travel, searchable reference volumes – and I use tablet readers, but paper suits me better.

Is this an age thing? How about you?

Dac Crossley
April 4, 2012

“A good storyteller is a person who has a good memory and hopes other people haven’t.” – Irvin S. Cobb

Talking with Velda

Velda Brotherton is an award-winning novelist and columnist, with roots in the west. It's a pleasure to have her visit my blog.

Velda – You’re an accomplished writer in several genres, with some serious awards to your credit. Am I right – you have a love for westerns, western history and romances?

I love westerns and western history. As for romances, that was more a way to get published than anything else. It goes back to the first time I actually met a real New York editor at Western Writers of America Conference. He liked my idea for a book, but after reading it later he wrote and suggested that since my protagonist was a woman, it should be a romance. What to do? I had never even read a romance. Something I probably shouldn't admit. I wanted to keep his attention, so I asked a good friend and fellow writer who was already published in western romances to help me turn this book into a romance. To make a long story short, my love for western history has enabled me to write and have published seven western historical romances.

How has growing up in Arkansas influenced your choice of genre?

Actually, I was born and started school in Arkansas, but I grew up in Wichita, Kansas. A great town with a western history that fascinated me even back then. Add to that a Dad who was born in Texas and who has Cherokee blood flowing through his veins, and I became fascinated with how people dealt with cross-cultures back in the early days. You'll find this theme in several of my books.

How did you decide to become a writer?

I don't know if how is as important as why. Deciding to be a writer, I think is done for us. Gowing up I thought something was wrong with me. I could spend hours alone making up stories in my head, and I'd be so engrossed in those stories it was as if I had lived them. It wasn't until many years later when I became acquainted with other writers that I learned that almost all of them had experienced the same thing.

I began to do some writing as a young mother, but found that with a full time job and raising two children, it might be best if I concentrated on that and left the writing for later. I would write most of the night, then found I couldn't function properly with my job or my children. So I packed it up until the day came when I looked up and found the time. We had moved back to Arkansas, I didn't go to work outside the home, what with gardening, raising lots of animals, canning all summer, it was best I remain on the homestead. My children were grown and busy working on their own lives. The voices returned full blown one rainy Sunday nearly 30 years ago, and I've been writing steadily ever since.
 
“Velda” is an unusual name. Is it an old family name?

No, my mother swears she found it in a baby name book. My middle name is Elizabeth, and it is a family name. Mother's best friend had a baby at the same time as she did, so being young and silly, they named us Velda and Nelda. We live about 15 miles apart now and still laugh at our mother's for doing that. At least there aren't very many with my name.
 
They tell me that women buy most of the books sold today. Should we be writing fiction designed with women in mind?

Probably. Look at all the best selling writers who write about female protagonists. James Patterson, David Morrell and I'm sure there are more if my brain would dredge them up.
 

Well, Dac, I've written on and on answering your marvelous questions, but we talked about me writing how I was able to begin publishing my western historical romances after the debacle in New York. When the western romance line closed at Penguin I dabbled around and had a couple more published with another house, but wasn't happy, so I decided to do some regional historical books. For years I'd written a historical column for a few newspapers in the area and had a lot of good interviews. So I attended the Women Writing the West Conference where a new publisher was looking for that type of work, and as he'd been in the audience when I accepted my award for Fly With the Mourning Dove, I didn't have much trouble selling my idea to him. The Boston Mountains, Lost in the Ozarks came out a couple of years ago from Old American Publishing. It is still available there.

The secret, I think, is to continue to write the books of your heart and go to conferences where you can meet the people who might want to publish them. I'm not a fan of writing query letters and waiting three to six months to hear something. Nor do I want an agent---I've had three---who has twenty or thirty other clients and might submit my book once or twice in a year.

I like direct publishing to Kindle for my back list of books, but prefer to find publishers for new books. However, if I absolutely can't sell one, I would consider direct publishing at Kindle. The money is good if you promote a lot, which is something you have to do with any publisher today, anyway.

There's not enough time for all the things I'd like to get done, and that's just the way I like it. Thanks for having me, Dac. It was fun.

(Check out Velda's website at www.veldabrotherton.com.)

Will the Desert Bloom?

I’m guessing that the desert will bloom nicely this spring, if indeed it hasn’t already begun. All those grass fires in Texas last summer might do it. Burning off the grass grass releases those colorful little annuals. Many of them are legumes, with nitrogen-fixing bacteria in their roots. As the grass grows it will benefit from the nitrate supplied by those wildflowers.

If the desert gets a little rain…

Historically, grass fires impeded the growth of woody plants. Periodic fires kept the grasslands alive. Fire suppression is one of the factors that has allowed mesquite to become established in former grassland areas. When you do get a fire, it’s a big one. Like we had in 2010.

Rainfall tapers off as you proceed west in Texas. The 100th Meridian (about the edge of the caprock) marks a line usually recognized as the edge of the 20 inches of annual rainfall. Beyond that, farming is impossible without irrigation. But given an inch or so of spring rain, the desert annuals burst forth.

Is it blooming this year? Wish I was there to see…

Dac Crossley
March 21, 2012 (welcome to Spring)

“Nature is a labyrinth in which the very haste you move with will make you lose your way.” – Francis Bacon.