Dac Crossley's Western Blog

Lonesome Dove, Once More

The other night local our TV re-ran the Lonesome Dove series. I never tire of it. Robert Duvall (Gus) is as real a Texas Ranger as you’d ever believe. The filming locales (Bracketville for the Alamo Village, Del Rio, Texas and the New Mexico sites) pull me right in. I could really believe it's the the Nueces river, sandy banks, mesquite and all, that I remember from childhood.

Did you know that a 1972 movie version was planned with James Steward as Gus McCrae, John Wayne as Woodrow Call and Henry Fonda as Jake Spoon? Would it have been better?  I doubt it. It was cancelled when John Wayne backed out. 

The movie's plot seems loosely based on a pair of feisty Texas Panhandle ranchers, Oliver Loving and Charles Goodnight. The Goodnight-Loving cattle trail followed the old Comanche war route through Horsehead Crossing on the Pecos River, up the river into New Mexico and then to Colorado. Traveling by day (instead of night!) in New Mexico, Loving was wounded by Comanches. He made it to safety but died of gangrene. Goodnight eventually took his remains back to Texas (Weatherford). Just like in the movie. 

When I was collecting insect specimens in Palo Duro Canyon in the 1940's, they showed me the remains of Charles Goodnight’s dugout. The Palo Duro was one of the last refuges of the Comanches. Goodnight scouted Indians in the Canyon. He showed Ranger Captain Sul Ross the location of Peta Nocona’s camp, leading to a major battle in the 1880’s. 

In that treeless region, pioneers set up housekeeping in dugouts. Goodnight’s dugout some had cedar supports, with old Comanche lodge poles used for rafters. Perhaps it’s still there. Goodnight eventually built up a major cattle ranch in Palo Duro Canyon, and constructed a big ranch house for headquarters. 

It's not all the way to Montana, where Call and McCrae traveled in Lonesome Dove. But it's where it really happened.

Today's panhandle, with its acres of irrigated wheat fields, feed lots, paved roadways -- does anyone ever think of the old days?  When you traveled by night?

Dac Crossley

10/18/09 

Lady to Winston Churchill: “Winston, if you were my husband I’d poison you!” Churchill’s reply: “If you were my wife, I’d take it.”

 

September in my rear-view mirror

 October and a chilly rain, light but steady, the day dull, neither warm nor cold. Early autumn.  Just gloomy.

     We old-timers know we should live within the day, each day: Finding contentment in the little things, meeting friends at the grocery, an unexpected e-mail from a youngster, a bowl of soup, a book to read – one almost remembered, not quite forgotten. As they say – planning ahead for us is buying green bananas.

     I’ve tried hard to learn to appreciate each of the seasons for its own gifts. I’ve never learned to appreciate winter. Perhaps it’s my south Texas upbringing;. I didn’t experience winter sports. I enjoy the sun. You won’t catch me complaining about the heat.

    September is summer over your shoulder, the long goodbye at the train station, the love-hate feelings you have for an old girl friend who dropped you years ago. The last hug before the train pulls out.

    October is a transitional month. The memory of summer pulls at you. Winter is right down the road, foreshadowed by October's  shorter days, cooler nights, waking up and it's still dark. We won’t have an actual freeze here until November, but October reminds me that it's coming. 

    I know that the end of January will bring some brave little flowers poking above-ground, the chirp of the little Spring peepers, forerunners of spring. March, maybe a late snow here in Athens. Who cares? Spring is almost here. And then May, and the garden, renewal. 

     Sorry, October. You lead me to a season I dread. Winter leave me cold!

     Did I actually say that?

Dac

10/5/09 

“24 hours in a day. 24 beers in a case. Coincidence? I think not!” – H. L. Mencken