Dac Crossley's Western Blog

What's Your Story?

Lost a writer friend last week, a former school teacher, witty and energetic, a tennis player. We were in writing class together, where she worked on a mystery novel in which a college president was murdered - a common theme for some of us. But where to find the body? On a gurney in the anatomy lab, Mary C. decided.

She left the story unfinished. It was a compelling one, the kind where the characters come to life. I will miss them as well as Mary.

And I wondered – how many of you, out there, will leave behind an unfinished story? Maybe not a mystery. Your grandchildren will want to know about you, and their children will too, and you can write for them. Set the scene of your childhood, in Corpus or San Antonio or San Francisco. Or the small town or the ranch. How you lived, your childhood dreams, your schoolmates.

When I was working on my Border novel I was given access to some old family papers, stories of living there in the 1900’s. Some typewritten, some by hand, and some old photos. Those things gave me a sense of surviving there a hundred years ago.

It’s easy to do today, with these marvelous computers. Put seat of pants in seat of chair. Write! Once you start spilling it out, it will flow. Your early memories. First day at school. First date? First car.

Tell your story. Do it now. Please!

Dac Crossley
April 25, 2013

“The first 40 years of life give us the text; the next 30 supply the commentary on it.” – Arthur Schopenhauer.

April 21, San Jacinto Day

“Soldiers of the Army of the Republic of Texas! I leave you one thought to take with you across the plain of San Jacinto and into the camp of Santa Anna: Remember the Alamo!” For me, Richard Dix will always be Sam Houston, and his rousing speech from the movie “Man of Destiny” will describe his leadership.

Really? You should read Stephen L. Moore’s “Eighteen Minutes,” a brilliant detailed account of the Battle of San Jacinto. On that day Colonel Burleson assembled the Texas troops. Sam Houston, astride the gray charger Saracen, spoke with each commander in turn. Then he gave his only general order. Parading Saracen before his army, he proclaimed, “Trail arms! Forward!”

It was Captain Moseley Baker who reminded his men of the sacrifices at the Alamo. It was he who said, “Let our watchwords be ‘Remember Goliad. Remember the Alamo.’” Perhaps the first time that phrase was uttered. Baker’s men picked it up. They voted “no quarter.”

So many questions pique the historian’s curiosity. Did Houston intend take his army across the Sabine into Louisiana and safety? Did his officers convince him to fight? Or had he planned to attack all along and was waiting for the moment?

Did Emily West (the “Yellow Rose of Texas”) distract Santa Anna from mobilizing the Mexicans. Or was he enjoyed his opium on that afternoon?

Who shot Sam Houston? And in which ankle, left or right?

Under what flag did the Texans fight?

You gotta read Stephen Moore’s “Eighteen Minutes,” and the Texas State Historical Association’s “Handbook of Texas On-line.” I wish I was able to recite my mother's animated account of the battle for you.

Yes, we old Texans still celebrate San Jacinto Day as the date on which Texas gained her independence from Mexico. For better or worse, it was accomplished.

But please! Give it the Texan pronunciation: “San Jay-cinto.” No silent “J,” not on this day!

Dac Crossley
April 21, 2013.

“The camping ground of His Excellency’s selection was, in all respects, against military rules. Any youngster would have done better.” – Colonel Pedro Francisco Delgado, Mexican army.

Back to Corpus Christi

I blogged about Corpus Christi last month, I know. My thoughts keep going back there in the springtime. And I offer you a little quotation of note.

Family history ties me to Corpus – my great-grandfather DeRyee had a drugstore on Water Street. Across Artesia Park lived great-grandfather Crossley, superintendent of schools. My grandparents, childhood sweethearts, played in that park. Zachary Taylor drilled a well for the residents of Corpus, then known as Kinney’s Post. That well is in the center of Artesia Park.

And the Corpus water, by the way. Let me tell you. When I was a child you knew where you were in south Texas by the taste of the water. In Corpus you had mineral water, unpleasant to the tongue. San Antonio – a slight tinge of sand. Kingsville, my home town, had the sweetest water. Of course!

Taylor’s army encamped across Nueces Bay from Kenny's Post, in the area we called “North Beach.” There we swam in the bay and rode a merry-go-round in the amusement park. Taylor’s soldiers found it un-amusing, barren and inhabited by many rattlesnakes.

I’ve run across a small privately-printed book entitled “Corpus Christi,” by Frederick Chabot, a San Antonio historian. According to Chabot, One Lieutenant Wilson described Kinney’s Trading Post as “the most murderous, thieving God-forsaken hole in the Lone Star – or out of it.” The post was “a small village of smugglers with lawless men but with few women and no ladies.”

Kinney retorted: “Ladies are all right, I reckon, but I’ve never seen one yet that was worth a damn as a cook!”

I can assure you – modern Corpus Christi is well supplied with ladies. The food is delicious.

Dac Crossley
April 19 2013

“You’re entitled to your own opinion, but not to your own facts.” – Sen. Daniel Patrick Moynihan

The Season of Yellow Shoes

Here on the Georgia Piedmont spring arrives in a sequence of phases. Not abruptly as it does for my friends in Michigan, where clouds of mosquitoes tell you winter is over. Or back in South Texas where I spent my childhood. In Kingsville, you didn’t worry about freezing weather after the end of January. February and March were good for flying kites and traveling down to Kennedy County to look for Blue Bonnets and Indian Paintbrush. That meant springtime for us.

Here in Athens, Georgia, the Crocuses pokes their heads up in late January, but it’s still winter. Comes March and the Bradford Pears bloom in a show of white (sniff those blossoms -- rotten meat. Fly pollinators are out earlier than the bees). Then the Robins parade through my yard, flipping the dead leaves. Soon the azaleas bloom all over town and Dogwood trees join them. All in a sequence, all springtime.

But now, in the second week of April, I come into the house with yellow shoes. Our southern pines are casting their pollen into the wind, and it drifts in everyplace. Pines are gymnosperms – Greek for “naked seed.” The pollen cones spew out their gametes in a cloud, seeking the exposed ovulate pine cones. Some folks have a severe allergic reaction to pine pollen. For me it’s a mess to clean up, on my deck, walks, even my garage, and especially my shoes.

Today it rains. Tinges of yellow in my downspout. Goodbye pine pollen. I‘m ready for Spring’s next phase. I’ll clean my shoes.

And I’ll take yellow pine pollen over those clouds of mosquitoes.

Dac Crossley
April 11, 2013

“What we once enjoyed and deeply loved we can never lose, for all that we deeply love becomes part of us.” – Helen Keller.

Because he spoke Spanish...

Joseph H. Spohn, described as “an attractive young Creole,” enlisted in the New Orleans Grays and journeyed to fight for Texas in the 1836 rebellion against Mexico. He fought at Bexar, and was transferred to the “Mobile Grays” to join in their abortive attempt to invade Matamoros, Mexico.

While waiting for the invasion to materialize, he found himself serving under Colonel James Fannin at Goliad.

Texans know the story of the Goliad massacre – “Remember the Alamo! Remember Goliad!” was Sam Houston’s exhortation to his army.

Colonel Fannin was, by all accounts, a brave soldier but he wasn’t an effective leader. His troops were volunteers, most of them Americans like the New Orleans Grays, who came to Texas to fight. They didn’t respond well to Fannin’s regular army discipline. In February, 1836, the troops landed at Copano Bay and marched to the old mission at Goliad. They planned an invasion of Mexico, but the arrival of the Mexican General Urrea in Matamoros stymied them.

Appeals from Travis at the Alamo prompted Fannin to launch a relief march. It didn’t work. Everything went wrong. His wagons broke down while still in sight Goliad. He went back to regroup.

By now, Urrea’s army was approaching Goliad. Fannin led his troops away toward Victoria. Urrea’s cavalry found them and overwhelmed them at the battle of Coleto Creek. Fannin surrendered.

Texans know the rest of the story. The prisoners were marched away toward Copano. At Colonel Portilla’s command, they were all lined up and shot. Only a few escaped.

Private Joseph Spohn did not make the death march. Because he could speak Spanish, the Mexicans kept him behind in Goliad. American doctors were treating Mexican wounded. Spohn was needed to translate. So, he witnessed the tragic death of Colonel Fannin (who was among the wounded) and other Americans.

Eventually, General Urrea took Spohn along with him on the return to Matamoros. There, Spohn enlisted in the Mexican Navy. He jumped ship in Havana and made his way back to New Orleans. To tell his story.

Sometimes it pays, to learn a foreign language. I wonder – is the Rosetta program as good as they claim?

Dac Crossley
April 3, 2013

“Don’t compromise yourself. You’re all you’ve got.” – Janis Joplin.