Dac Crossley's Western Blog

Mud Daubers in Luckenbach, Texas

Hondo Crouch bought the town of Luckenbach in 1971 (population: three, plus one parking meter). He liked celebrations. Among other festivals, he fêted the ‘Return of the Mud Daubers.’

Mud daubers played a part in my career in ecology at Oak Ridge National Lab. A less festive part.

On the Oak Ridge Reservation, engineers dug some large earthen pits in the ground, for experimental studies of liquid radioactive wastes. Instruments that monitored the levels of radioactivity sat alongside the pits, sheltered in little wooden boxes. Mud daubers discovered them and built their mud nests inside the boxes. Sometimes they used radioactive mud from the waste pits. The instruments soon began to measure the radioactivity of the mud dauber nests; it overpowered the emanations from the waste pits. The nests had to be removed periodically.

Here’s the fun part. One type of wasp, the black-and-yellow dauber, builds a ‘blob’ nest, rather shapeless. The black-and-blue dauber constructs a neat ‘pipe organ’ nest, rows of clay tubes. (You’ve probably seen both of these types in your garage). Both wasps used the instrument shelters. Some of the “blob” nests were radioactive. But the ‘pipe organ’ nests weren’t. None of them were radioactive. Never.

And we wondered – could the black-and-blue dauber detect waves of radiation, and avoid them? Could they sense atomic radiation? Not a silly idea; wasps can see ultraviolet radiation that’s invisible to us. Maybe they could actually 'see' atomic radiation.

My postdoc, Alvin Shinn, put the daubers in cages and offered them mud. The Black-and-yellow wasp snatched up wads of mud and made nests from it. The black-and-blue dauber carefully selected a little here and a little there; it was a fastidious user of mud. It selected only one type of clay, very carefully. It didn’t like the coarse, radioactive mud.

Was that the answer? The pipe organ builder would use only pure clays? The question remains in my mind. Was the wasp using chemical cues to select clays? Or could it, perhaps, detect radioactivity? Wasps can dig, they can build earthen nests. They can use tools. Are they in line to be the next dominant animals on our planet?

How Did Davy Crockett Die?

In 1955, Walt Disney gave us “Davy Crockett, King of the Wild Frontier.” Fess Parker will always be Davy Crockett, at least for some of us. (Certainly not John Wayne, who was always a cowboy.). The historian William C. Davis (“Three Roads to the Alamo) gave us Davy with all his warts and his virtues. A hero who died furiously defending the Alamo.

While we were watching Fess Parker on the screen, Carmen Perry was laboring over a translation of a difficult old document – the diary of a Mexican army officer who accompanied Santa Anna in Texas. Now available as “With Santa Anna in Texas,” the published translation avers that Davy Crockett was one of several Alamo defenders who surrendered! And was executed by the order of the Generalissimo.

This was a slap in the face to Texans! Surely Davy did not surrender. The troops rallied and began to find flaws in the diary and its translation. The first publication date of de la Pena’s diary was cited as 1836 in Matamoros – but – the diary references a report published in 1838! Surely the diary was a fraud. The 1836 – 1838 discrepancy was cited by Walter Lord (“A Time to Stand), author of the most respected account of the Alamo tragedy.

The “dates” issue was fully resolved later – a mistake by a translator – but many Texans still doubt that the de la Pena account is accurate.

Still, the question haunts us. There were other accounts to support the surrender theory, diaries and letters by other Mexican offers have surfaced. Did Santa Anna know who Davy Crockett was? Maybe not. Travis and Bowie were known in Mexico. Crockett was known in the U.S.

How many survivors in the Alamo? At least fourteen, suggests Walter Lord. Three Americans (Susanna Dickinson, her daughter Angelina, and Travis’s slave Joe) as well as ten Mexican women and children. Brigido Guerrero, a member of the garrison, convinced Mexican soldiers that he was a prisoner of the Texans. One Henry Warnell may have lived, but died soon from wounds. And there are other possibilities, lost in time. None of the survivors mentioned a Crockett surrender.

I’ve listed the three books – Davis’s “Three Roads,” Perry’s translation of the De la Pena diary, and Walter Lord’s “A Time to Stand” on my Shelfari shelf. If you’re a Texan – “A time to Stand” is a must read. The Crockett controversy is -- well -- put on the shelf.

dac

5/13/2008

More News -- Guns Across the Rio

A pleasant surprise – Guns Across the Rio is a finalist in the National Indie Excellence 2008 Book Awards. These awards are for independently published books, evaluated by a panel of experts from all aspects – editing, marketing, publicity and design. Permit me to crow gently.

More good news – Guns Across the Rio will soon be available in the Alamo Museum and Gift Shop. When Tometta Hentz and I were there back in October, we dropped off a copy of the book for them to consider. Okay, they like it and want to stock it. So, you fortunate people in San Antonio will be able to pick up one at any time. (You can still get one from me, personally autographed, fourteen dollars postpaid).

Paige and I signed books in Brunswick, Georgia, down on the coast this past weekend. We stayed in a B&B on St Simon’s Island. I thought of the East Texas coast: Big live oaks dripping with Spanish moss. Palm trees. Shorts and flowered shirts. Beer on the deck. I like this book signing stuff!

Keep checking the web site – Janice is fine-tuning it.

www.daccrossley.com.

And finally – here’s an old expression for you. Wheeligo Girls. Remember that one?

Cinco de Mayo!

On May 5, 1862, a Mexican army under the command of Texas-born General Ygnacio Zaragosa defeated a larger French army force in the battle of Puebla. The French assaulted Fort Guadalupe but were repelled with major loss of life. (I'll bet they didn't call him 'Nacho.')

France was anxious to collect on debts owed by Mexico, and invaded under that pretext, landing at Veracruz. (Abraham Lincoln was sympathetic to the Mexican cause, but had his hands full at the time.) The French Emperor, Napoleon III, was determined to conquer. He decided to put a Hapsburg Prince, Maximilian, on a Mexican throne. Ultimately he failed and Maximilian was defeated and executed.

The entire story is well told by Jasper Ridley in “Maximilian and Juarez” (see my Shelfari bookshelf).

The battle of Puebla was but a temporary setback for the French, who went ahead to take Mexico City. The victory was heartening for the Mexicans who were fighting against a superior army. President Porfirio Diaz decreed that May 5, Cinco de Mayo, should rank as a holiday along with Mexican Independence Day, September 15th.

The thing is – I don’t remember a Cinco de Mayo celebration when I was growing up in Texas. Does anybody remember one? The first I remember was here in Athens, about 30 years ago, a lawn party. We had Armadillidium races (pill bugs), a wetback T-shirt contest, and cow chip tossing. And shots of Tequila and jalapeno peppers.

And I ask – is the modern celebration of Cinco de Mayo here, in the U.S., merely a creation of the vendors of Joe Quervo tequila?

On a Personal Note ---

Thanks to those of you who responded to the recent post on the Santa Fe expedition. Bob G. pointed out that Larry McMurty’s novel, Dead Mans Walk, was a fictionized account. Andres Resendez (Changing National Identities at the Frontier) gave a thorough description of the expedition. See my bookshelf on Shelfari.

And, there’s a lot more to New Mexico history than I mentioned in that brief blog post. Open Amazon and search “Pueblo Revolt” for a list of books. (I buy ‘used’ on Amazon where possible).

BookSurge offered to send Paige Cummings (Under the Liberty Oak) and me to BookExpo in Los Angeles, May 30. I bagged it; I am happy with self-publishing and print-on-demand.

I’m speaking at Learning in Retirement, a University of Georgia program, next week.

Sales of Guns Across the Rio are still trickling in from Amazon. The season is upon us for more book signings. Farmer’s Markets and local fares are opening. Paige and I will be at Brunswick, Georgia, next weekend.

If you’d prefer a personalized, signed copy of Guns, send me a check for fourteen dollars and I’ll stick one in the mail. (D. A. Crossley, Jr., P. O. Box 903, Athens, Georgia, 30603-0903).

A sequel to Guns is under construction! Working title: Return of the Texas Ranger. I’ll keep you all in the loop.

The website our local writer’s conference, the HAWC, is up and running. Check http://hawcnews.blogspot.com/ for a story about one of my recent book signings.

My website is nearly ready, thanks to the marvelous efforts of Janice S. I tried to construct my own website. A professional site is so much better! Watch for mine. If you like, I can put you in touch with Janice.

Please tell me if you like Dac Crossley’s Western Blog. Any changes you’d prefer? Topics of interest? Just post a response on the blog. I’ve already had two requests for a Cinco de Mayo post, so stay tuned!

Dac

Liberating New Mexico

The Territory of New Mexico developed a unique personality.

Spanish settlements in New Mexico grew differently from those in Texas. Following the trail of early explorers, colonists hoped to find gold someplace beyond El Paso and up the Rio Grande river. What they found instead was good ranching country and colonies of sedentary Indians in Pueblos.

At first, Spanish rule set aside agricultural land for the Pueblos. But the Hispanic population grew at the expense of the Pueblos, and eventually pushed its way up the more remote river valleys such as the Chama. Relationship with the Indians worsened, aggravated by the nomadic Comanches and Pawnees. The Spaniards accused the Pueblos of aiding and sheltering the nomads.

New Mexico was more remote than Texas. Long distances and the Chihuahuan desert made for infrequent contact with Mexico City. New Mexico’s troubles were its own.

After Mexico won its independence from Spain, matters worsened. Three governing authorities regulated the county – civil, military and religious. For remote areas such as New Mexico, the most significant one was the Catholic Church. Twelve years later a Bishop made the long trip, and found church property abandoned and religion practices gone slack.

Besides, the opening of the Santa Fe trail permitted increasing trade with the United States – trade that bypassed Texas. So President Mirabeau Lamar sponsored the Santa Fe Expedition, which left Austin in 1841 and struck out, cross country, for Santa Fe. Their purpose – to convince the New Mexicans to revolt and join the Republic of Texas. And also, to establish a profitable trade route.

It didn’t work. After a hazardous journey, the frazzled expedition straggled into New Mexico and was captured without firing a shot. As invaders, the Texans were marched to Mexico City and imprisoned, until released in 1842. New Mexico didn’t want to be part of Texas.

Five years later, Winfield Scott and the U.S. Army landed into Las Vegas, New Mexico, and announced to its citizens that they were now Americans, and must swear allegiance to the Constitution of the United States.

New Mexicans didn’t like that, either.

Sam Houston of Texas

General Sam, victor at the battle of San Jacinto, provoked controversy throughout his life. Like so many charismatic leaders, Sam Houston put his faults and his virtues on public display.

After the fall of the Alamo, Houston led a retreat toward Lousiana. His officers urged him to attack the Mexicans; his men were ready. Houston continued the retreat. Provisional Governor David Burnet ORDERED Houston to fight. He retreated still. He offered no explanations.

Did he know what he was doing? Was he fleeing to Louisiana? Or was he waiting for the moment of San Jacinto? History has no answers.

Burnet resigned rather than inaugurate Houston as the first elected governor of Texas (Houston gave himself the oath of office). His enemies decried Houston’s policies and in particular, his friendship with the Cherokees. But Governor Houston was popular, highly respected.

When the Civil War approached, Houston refused to renounce his U.S. citizenship. Forced out of office, his loyalty questioned, his private life continually under scrutiny, his political enemies rejoiced.

First he was a villain, then a hero, then a villain again.

“Sword of the Alamo,” by Marshall DeBruhl, is the most recent biography of Houson. It’s scholarly but an easy read, detailed, up-to-date, based on recent studies of Texas archives (See my Bookshelf).

However, my favorite Sam Houston book is a novel. “Walk in My Soul,” a story about Taina Rogers, Houston’s Indian wife, offers an enthralling picture of the young Sam Houston.

Houston’s life story is rich, not easily encapsulated. Perhaps he is better captured in fiction, rather than in the archives. I recommend this book highly (on my bookshelf).

(Incidentally – deBruhl’s extensive work gives but a passing mention to Taina Rogers. She isn’t found in his index. Maybe she doesn’t appear in the Texas archives.)

For me, Sam Houston will always be – Richard Dix, the old actor. He played the part in a movie version; it made a major impression on me when I was a child.

Anybody else remember that one?

Eighteen Minutes at San Jacinto

April 21, 1836, 4:00 p.m. General Sam Houston trotted his big horse Saracen in front of the paraded companies. Farmers, Merchants, Lawyers, old men and boys, and just plain renegades, they heard the order they’d waited for: “Trail arms.” The Army of the Republic of Texas began a slow march across the plain of San Jacinto, toward the camp of Mexican General Santa Anna. Tall grass shielded their progress. Colonel Sherman’s Second Regiment began the firefight, chasing a small group of soldados back to their camp.

The Texicans raised their iconic battle cry, “Remember the Alamo,” for the first time.

The Mexican camp was overrun. It was a slaughter.

We learned the story from the Texas History Movies, the comic books read in school. And from Francis X. Tolbert’s “The Day of San Jacinto.” And more recently from Stephen L. Moore’s volume, “Eighteen Minutes.”

That’s what it took. Eighteen minutes, that changed the course of history.

It seems likely that Sam Houston didn’t intend to fight. His army was outnumbered and poorly supplied, untrained, although eager for battle. Houston never said it, but his actions suggest that he was moving his band towards Louisiana, an escape to the US. When Santa Anna divided his forces, hoping to catch up with the Texicans, he gave Houston his opportunity. The Texican soldiers wanted to fight; so did their officers. Houston paraded his regiments and led them forward. Like a good general officer, he led from the front, not the rear.

Neither Houston nor his officers could stop the slaughter. "Remember the Alamo!" "Remember Goliad!" The bottled-up rage, the bloodlust, finally exhausted the Texicans. Santa Anna, attempting to escape in disguise, was unwittingly betrayed by one of his own soldiers. He surrendered and recognized the Republic of Texas. The war was over.

However --

Suppose Deaf Smith hadn’t destroyed the bridge over Vince’s Bayou, and the Mexican army had been reinforced.

Suppose Santa Anna had escaped capture. Or had been killed in the battle. The war would have continued, and Houston’s little army (maybe 960 men) would have been overrun. (Colonel Mirabeau Lamar wanted to execute Santa Anna).

Suppose the Mexican Generals had ignored Santa Anna’s written orders to return to Mexico, and decided to fight anyway? (check my earlier blog on the “Sea of Mud.”).

The march of History slipped by these chances, and a fateful ten years later, the southwest – Texas to California – was won from Mexico by the United States in a war of national expansion.

One more footnote: Who shot Sam Houston? When the horse Saracen was shot from beneath him, Houston’s left ankle was shattered. His political enemies later suggested that the shot had come from the Texas army. Someone wanted to be sure that Houston wouldn’t begin a last-minute retreat.

Nobody believed that!

Dealing Down in Darien

Last weekend I went with my writing partner, Paige Mercer Cummings and her husband Mike, to Darien, Georgia. To sell some books. And sit on the deck overlooking the river, with beer and seafood.

I’ve recommended Paige’s novel, Under the Liberty Oak, a first-class read set on the Georgia coast.

We sold books in a sunlit square, together with two dozen painters, some potters and some miscellaneous artists. We were the only writers. Westerns sold surprisingly well for the Georgia coastal area, where history is more Revolutionary and Civil War. Paige sold much more than I did.

Darien a little town in that historic stretch of coast between Brunswick and Savannah. Pleasant, quiet, big Live Oaks and Spanish moss. Under the Liberty Oak is set in a fictional town, Liberty, which is based on Darien. Paige spent her childhood there. She gave me a tour of the town and its environs. It’s always nice to go behind the scenes with someone who knows the area.

There’s such a contrast with our severe South Texas Gulf coast, which is a desert by comparison. Both coasts are protected by offshore barrier islands, much more mesic in Georgia than in Texas. They have another common feature – oyster shell roads. Remember those?

Springtime in Texas?

Eastern Springtime. I’m driving down to the Georgia coast, to Darien, for “Art in the Park” on Saturday, maybe sell some books. I’ll travel the back roads.

And find that Georgia springtime is in the charge mode. Dogwoods, Redbuds, Azaleas shouting at me; that’s nice. But -- it’s the light, wispy green outlining the tree branches that reaches deep into my spirit – telling me, just wait, this is gonna be great! The springtime breeze says, “Underline that.”

And I wonder, what’s it like in South Texas? Are the bluebonnets everyplace, the winecups, the Indian paint brush, like in my childhood? Are the retamas and huisaches wakening, offering the same thorny experiences I remember? Is it springtime? Would anyone call it ‘roundup time?’

How about the mesquites? Have they offered up their shreds of leaflets? Childhood, I spent hours just examining the wondrous blossoms of the mesquite trees. You could do worse than spend your hours in rapt study of the mesquite flower (apologies to Robert Frost).

In my age I’ve learned to appreciate all seasons – even Winter – but my favorite remains – Summertime.

I mean a South Texas summer. Those hot, hot August afternoons. When your friends have sneaked away, seeking a quiet cool spot for a siesta. Breeze, not a whiff. Dry that yanks your breath from you. So bright that you squint at anything. The sun so powerful it pushes you down. There’s the creek, no flow, just a few little gray puddles in the bed, with a dragonfly or two soaring over, hoping for a misplaced gnat. You seek the horizon; it’s lost in the squiggles of heat rising across the prairie.

Take a deep breath, if you dare. Now, that’s what I call a SEASON!