Dac Crossley's Western Blog

"Remember Goliad?"

Last year, when I attended a writer’s conference in the little village of Blue Ridge up the North Georgia mountains, I got quite a surprise.

“You write Texas stores,” a local writer said, “So you’ll appreciate this – you’re in Fannin County, named for James W. Fannin, hero of Goliad.” I didn’t believe it – thought she was pulling my leg. It turned out to be true. A North Georgia County is, indeed, named for James W. Fannin.

True, except for the “hero” part. Fannin was no hero, not in my book.

That wasn’t even his name. He was born in Georgia, the sprout of a Dr. Isham Fannin and one Miss Walker. Her father, James W. Walker, adopted his daughter’s bastard and named him James Fannin Walker.

Young James managed to be admitted to West Point but was dismissed for poor grades. In faraway Texas, James took his grandfather’s name. He began calling himself James W. Fannin Jr. And took the title “Colonel,” based on his West Point experience.

As the Texas Revolution got under way, Fannin found himself in charge of the largest revolutionary army in Texas, stationed at the old Spanish mission site of Goliad. His army was a mixture of adventurers, most them wanting to invade Mexico. Fannin was an inept, indecisive leader.

Ordered by Sam Houston to the defense of the Alamo, Fannin set out but marched only a few miles before an oxcart broke down. The army camped for the night, virtually in the shadow of the Goliad mission. The next day they went back. Never made it to San Antonio.

Pressed by the Mexican General Urrea, Fannin made the mistake of splitting his command. Twice. At last, he started his army on the road to Victoria. Over his officer’s objections he called a rest stop in a small depression, away from any cover or sources of water. There, General Urrea's army surrounded him.

The Texans knew how to use firearms and theyt slaughtered the Mexican troops, but Fannin’s position was hopeless. He surrendered his command.

And, as all Texans can tell you, Santa Anna ordered them all killed. Murdered. As in the Alamo. Only a few escaped to tell the world what happened. The Goliad slaughter remains a stain on the honor of the Mexican Army. It should never have happened. And as I see it, Fannin was culpable as well.

Well, at least James W. Fannin got a county in Georgia named for himself.

I’ve been reading an excellent book of Texas history: Slaughter at Goliad. The Mexican Massacre of 400 Texas Volunteers, by Jay A. Stout. This is one of the best accounts of the Texas Revolution that you’ll find today.

Dac Crossley
July 18, 2014.

“Remember the Alamo! Remember Goliad!” – Sam Houston’s charge to the Republic of Texas Army at the battle of San Jacinto.

Another Page, Another Story?

Many a page of life has turned,
Many a lesson have I learned…
“Oklahoma Hills.” By Woody Guthrie.

I’m beginning the move up to the Cabin In The Woods. Truly, another page is slowly turning for me. A new location, a remote spot far from my usual range and usual suspects. Sounds of the woods to replace the rush of traffic up and down my street. A different pulse outside my door.

Please understand, it doesn’t all happen at once. As once befell Abraham’s wife Sarah, I drift quietly along with the promise that I’ll eventually settle in. For now I’m planning on one or two days at a time. Easing my way into a new skin. Enjoying it, day at a time.

Every gambler knows, the secret of survivin’
Is knowin’ what to throw away and knowin’
What to keep.
“The Gambler.” By Kenny Rogers

For those of us of a certain age, making a move has its own special traumas. We’re surrounded by the detritus of too many years, the reminders of our families and of previous marriages. There’s that guilt, lathered on with a butter knife. It was her favorite so-and-so! And all the good china and silver. Will I ever throw another semi-formal dinner party? A Christmas open-house for students stranded on campus? Not at the cabin in the woods!

Seriously. I’ve visited old friends, and seen their china cabinets crammed with mother’s dishes and silver. Treasures that become an onus. Are those things liabilities to be unloaded on the F1 generation? I’ll make the offer to my descendants, take your grandmother’s silver service, hoping they’ll be honest with me.

And what about my own mementos? Those objects that mark my stormy passage through life’s narrows? Well, that’s one reason for the slow transition here. I want time for a thoughtful consideration for each tattered volume, each photo. The Cabin in the Woods has no attic storage. Thank God! It takes a slow triage to downsize your life, doesn't it?

And – what the heck am I gonna do with two eleven-year-old housecats?

Dac Crossley
July 2, 2014, anniversary of my separation from the US Navy.

“Don’t insert a period where God has placed a comma.” – Gracie Allen.