Tales of Old Trails

Cypress along the banks of the sabinal crossing near Eutopia

                     April 5^th 2011  , Dad and I drove up to Mason, Texas to do some banking business.  We took a scenic route on Hwy. 16 through Bandera, and then over to Kerrville, then on to Mason.  On the way back Dad and I were talking about research that I have been doing on great great grandfather Benjamin Holly Norwood’s civil war records. Benjamin Holly was one of 4 brothers that survived the civil war fighting for the Confederacy in the Army of the Tennessee under Gen Braxton Bragg. They survived 5 major battles of the war and after their Parole from the army, like so many decided to move to Texas. They left Mississippi in covered wagons.  Some of the slave families though freeman after the war came with them to Texas.  We began to talk about the slave families that came with him from Mississippi and wondered what might have become of them.  Dad told me often times of an experience that he had when he was about eight years old.  His father Louis Lee Norwood one day in about 1939 took him to Centerpoint, Texas, which is a little community not far from Kerrville.  He stopped at an old frame house where an old horse was tied to the porch rail, and there sitting on the front porch was an old black man that Louie called Sandy.  Sandy had been a former slave of his grandfather Benjamin. Louie introduced his son Don to him and then asked, “Sandy what do you remember about the trip over from Mississippi? “  Sandy, who Dad described as an old man of about 80 years old with very short kinky hair that was white as snow, said  “Well sir Mr. Norwood I walked behind yor grandpapy’s wagon all di way from Mississippi.  I was bout maybe eight year old. “  Louie, “ what do you remember about the trip over here. “ “Well sir, I sho remember dem der ribers. Yes sir I was scared of crossin those ribers.”

“We had to hold up and camp sometime cause those ribers was high and we had to wait till they went down.” Louie continued, “Sandy how long did it take you to get to Texas?” “Well sir, I bleve it took bout 3 months to get here from der.”

            I asked Dad if he could remember any more of the conversation but that is about the extent of what he remembered. Considering he was only a small boy himself when he witnessed this conversation it amazes me he remembered that much.  We were not far from Centerpoint on our planned route for the day so I asked Dad if we could detour over there for a little bit and poke around and see if we couldn’t maybe find the old house where Sandy lived or maybe get a lead on where he was buried.  If I could find his grave and see his last name I might get a lead as to what might have happened to those former slave families. We actually don’t know how many families came on the trip from Mississippi.  Centerpoint is still a very small community and it is the first time that I have been there.  I have poked around on the Internet looking for clues to the whereabouts of the former slave families but have not been able to find out much that way.  I think if I can contact old timers of that community I might yet find a trail to follow. We drove through Centerpoint and I stopped at the Post Office and asked a lady that was there if she had lived there for a long time.  She said no, but I asked her if she knew someone in town that knew a lot of the history of the community and might have lived there for a while.  She referred us to a gentleman named Mr. Lackey who owned a feed store in town. She said his family had lived there for a long time and if anybody knew something it might be him.  Dad and I drove a short distance and found the feed store but he had an employee there that knew not much about the community.  We looked up Mr. Lackey’s phone number but were unsuccessful in reaching him.  We decided to go out to the cemetery and see if we might get lucky and find a clue but the cemetery was fairly large and the chances of finding Sandy’s grave without a last name would be slim. The cemetery had a state marker at the entrance that was very interesting.  It said that there were over 30 Texas rangers buried in that cemetery along with such notable old pioneers such as the famous writer A.J. Sowell.  I wanted to see Mr. Sowell’s grave but was not successful in finding it.  We decided that the time was getting away from us and so we decided to travel on.  I guess I will have to take up the trail another day.

            April 6^th, of 2011 .  I knew it would be a fun day and a day that I would remember simply because I was going to spend the day with my best friend, my father.   We had planned to go fishing at Choate Canyon Lake but due to boat mechanical problems we were left looking for something else to do.  I had always wanted to take Dad back to Sabinal, Texas and the surrounding area to show me some of the old places that were the site of some of the old family stories. I was thinking of the old Davenport Pioneer cemetery out at Ranchero Creek in particular because I had heard from someone in Sabinal that the cemetery had been cleaned up and fenced off by one of the historical societies in Uvalde County.  We just decided to go up there and see what we could see. After spending the night at my sister’s home in San Antonio near Helotes, We got up early had breakfast while visiting with my sister, and soon we were off headed north on Highway 16 through the little town of Pipe Creek and on toward Bandera, Texas.

            The country was really dry everywhere we looked.  As we drove Dad commented about the Cedar that has literally taken over the hill country.  He said that great grandfather William Norwood had told him that when he was a boy the Texas hill country didn’t have much cedar in it. The hills only had some scrub oak trees, live oak and Spanish oak mostly, and that the grass was as tall as a horse’s belly in most places. Great Grandpa William was born on Turtle Creek, near Kerrville, Texas.  After the civil war his father Benjamin Holly Norwood, after fighting in the confederacy brought his family and some of his former slave families with him from Choctaw, County Mississippi.  He settled on a small farm near turtle creek and his 1^st cousin Andrew Jackson Norwood settled just up the road on a little creek called bushwhack creek.  Grandpa William was born on the Turtle Creek property in 1882 and he lived at a time when the great Indian raids were just about over and the land was beginning to transition into a tame and settled land. Before his time however the Indians had ranged the land and according to him they kept the cedar from taking over because they frequently set fire to the prairie grass to spur it’s growth in order to attract the buffalo that were still plentiful in those days.

.        After going through Pipe Creek Dad pointed out a little rock walled building, dilapidated and abandoned just off the road.  He said back in the 30’s an old man owned that place and it was just a little country store and bar.  He said that they stopped there often when they were coming in from Bandera into San Antonio for a coke or something to snack on.  He said that one time when they stopped there he smelled a horrible stinking smell coming from the back part of the building. He didn’t say anything till they got in the truck to resume their trip but then remarked to his Dad how bad it smelled in that place and wondered what could cause such a stink.

His Dad Louie told him that the smell was from a weed called marijuana or peyote.  He said the proprietor of that place often smoked it and then Louie began to warn Dad about the dangers of smoking that weed and best not have anything to do with it.  Dad said the stink of that place made him never curious about wanting to smoke marijuana.  He said the smell was horrible.

            We continued on our drive through Bandera and began turning north on 173 for a piece and then 16 again. Dad said turn here, so we turned left onto Ranch road 470 and started down a road I had never seen.  It was a beautiful, scenic drive twisting and rolling through beautiful hill country vistas.  Dad said he had not traveled the road since he and mom had first married.  At one point you drive up high on a hill and then breaking through a cut in the mountain you see a beautiful overlook that almost takes your breath away. He remembered stopping there with mom for a while just to look.  he said that during the fall that area is particularly beautiful. He mused that he had not traveled that road in over 53 years. As we rolled along we noticed that there were a lot of properties for sale.  The oak trees seemed to be suffering; many of them were dead either from Oak wilt or just casualties of drought.  Many of the places seemed to be owned by wealthy folks that just clean up the property and use it for a playground.  It didn’t seem to me that there were many old ranches in the cattle or sheep and goat business like there used to be. On many of the hills especially off Hwy 16 as we passed Pipe Creek and Bandera were the expensive multimillion dollar mansion homes that are now becoming common place for that area.  We talked about how much Texas has changed since the years that Dad was young. And even in my own 52 years the landscape has changed vastly.  Texas is growing and the population is exploding and much of what had been productive cattle ranches are now just hunting lodges for wealthy folk and tax write off properties that produce very little. I can remember as a young boy driving old Hwy. 87 out of Mason and going for miles and seeing few houses and mostly sheep and goats and deer.  As we rolled along getting closer to Utopia, Texas we saw high fenced properties with strange Antelope and exotic breeds of deer. The country looks like little Africa more so than Texas. It makes me wonder if in years to come those exotic breeds take over the native white tail deer and become the norm of the country. Mixed in with the exotic deer you often see a Llama out grazing along with the sheep.  Llamas have no real market in Texas as of yet but they do get great tax benefits to the landowners.  Who knows what lurks in the woods out there beyond the back roads of that country.

            When we arrived in Utopia I was hoping to catch the little museum open there but unfortunately it was closed.  I have seen some old family photographs in that museum and hope to get a copy of them if it can be arranged. Utopia is the original settling place of our Davenport ancestors.  John M. Davenport settled there with his family in the early 1850’s along with Capt. William Ware, and the Cranes, Robinsons, Anglins, Thompsons and others.  They were one of about 12 families that settled the area.  Many of their children intermarried over the years.  The little settlement was originally named Waresville, but later was changed to Utopia in 1884.  We stopped by the old Waresville, cemetery.  We walked around the place looking at some of the old graves that are there.  Many of those folks are kinfolks from way back.  William Wares crypt and memorial plaque given by the State of Texas is there.  It commemorates his service as a captain in the Texas Revolutionary war.

Gideon Thompson's marker

Captain William Ware's marker

 Gideon Thompson’s grave is there. Gid served in the confederacy, fought at Shiloh during the war and later after returning built a cattle ranch.  In 1870 He threw his herd in with Chris Kelly , our ancestor, and  the two men drove their herds west to California more than once. They made good profit on those trips and built two formidable cattle ranches together. I have previously written about this in my blog article “In Her Own Words”, an interview with great great grandmother Emma “Kelly” Davenport.

site of the old Kelly ranch headquarters

o

old blue water hole

            After leaving the cemetery we continued on our way headed to Sabinal.  A few miles before we reached Sabinal on Hwy 187 we pulled over at a bend in the road just before going across the dry frio and we stopped and looked at what had once been the old Kelly ranch headquarters the place where grandma Emma spoke about in her 1938 interview. Others own it now but it is still a beautiful old place.  I was disappointed that I could not see a name on the gate or someway to contact the landowners for permission to go up to the place.  The gate was locked so able to go no farther I snapped a picture with my phone and we went on up the hill a little ways. Behind the old ranch house place is the old “ Blue water Hole” that grandma Pearl often spoke of.  It is a place where our ancestors used to hold family reunions and such long ago but is also the place where Chris Kelly nearly lost his life to an Indian attack while watering his horse there one day in the early 1870s. I was able to snap a picture of it by parking my truck off the road and climbing the hill a little ways but still I was disappointed I could not get closer.    As we drove on down the road Dad pointed to the land on the right side of the road and told me that the Kelly ranch once comprised 16 square miles of land in Bandera and Uvalde counties. Grandma Emma’s portion of that inheritance was 8,000 acres that sat nestled in the canyons of a place grandma Pearl called sugar loaf mountain.  It is located about 12 miles northwest of Hwy 128 between Sabinal and Concan, Texas off county road 344. After she married grandpa John William Davenport it became the Davenport Ranch.  It is the place that grandpa Rollie and his brothers grew up and the object of my intense curiosity for many years.

            We continued to roll down the road finally reaching Sabinal and we decided to stop at one of the icehouses near Main Street.  While Dad was shopping in the store I asked the clerk if she knew anyone in town named Howard. She said yes, there was Dorothy Howard.  She owns a real estate place just up the way.  I wanted to contact them because they own the land that the old Davenport cemetery is on.   This is the land just a few miles east of Sabinal where John McNew Davenport originally settled after leaving Waresville.  It’s located on the old Hwy 90 just 6 miles east of Sabinal on Ranchero Creek. I was able to acquire her business card and from that gained some telephone numbers. I called her up and told her what I wanted to do which was to visit the old cemetery. She was very nice and gave me her husbands cell number but warned me that he might be short of time because he was busy working on a broken plow.  I decided to call and sure enough he told me he just couldn’t get away but that if I would give him more notice on another day that he would try to accommodate me.  Well I was disappointed but I understood.  So that was a bust.  I had also asked the icehouse lady if she knew any Hortons around Sabinal.  I had heard that the Horton’s were still the landowners that owned the old Davenport place previously mentioned. On several occasions going through Sabinal I have tried to locate the Horton ranch and find a way to contact them but to no avail.

The lady said “Yes I think there are a number of Hortons that live around here .  I think old man Eck Horton may be the one you need to talk to.  After a quick look in her phone book she gave me a number.  When I got in the truck I used my cell phone and called it up.  I reached a voice mailbox and so I left a message stating who I was and what I had in mind.  I figured well I doubt anyone will answer that message today. I have always envisioned the Hortons as being wealthy ranchers that use the ranch for lease hunting and not really ranching so much any more as so many do in that country.

I was born here April 18, 1958

Mom and Dad's first apartment

            Dad said well son let’s just head up to Uvalde then cause while I’m here I might as well talk with some folks up there while we are so close.   I figured why not because I doubted I would hear back from the Horton’s right a way so on we went up hwy 90 to Uvalde.  We had lunch in a restaurant there.  Dad wanted to visit with some men on a business matter and so while we were there waiting to meet with those men we took a little tour of Uvalde.  I was born in Uvalde but really have little memories there because I was so young when mom and dad left there.  Dad showed me the little hospital where I was born which was literally just up the street from the neighborhood where we lived when I was born.  We looked for the exact house but Dad couldn’t make out the house but was able to find the street they lived on.  We drove by the little apartment house that mom and dad lived in when they came back from their honeymoon.  I wrote about that house in an earlier post called “That will learn ya durn ya.” I took a few pictures and then we decided to take a ride out to the old cemetery.  There was an old Texas outlaw named black jack Ketchum that was buried there.  I wanted to try to find it but after looking for a couple of hours I was unsuccessful.  I did however get a picture of Vice President John Nance Garner’s grave.  We saw his residence in Uvalde as well but it was in the process of being restored and the tours of his house have been interrupted until they complete the repairs.

            After touring the town we went to the business of my Dad’s friend and visited there a while. While Dad was talking I got a cell phone call.  To my delighted surprise it was from Mr. Eck Horton.           

“This Mr. Norwood the voice said.” Yes sir I answered, thank you for returning my call. “Well I know what you want to do and I think it would be okay, I gotta feed and do some things, but I think if you could be here say about 3:00 this afternoon I suppose I could show ya a few things.  Aint much around here any more that was here when your folks lived here but there is a few things I could show ya.”            Yes sir Mr. Horton we could be there at 3:00.  I would really appreciate it .  “Ok then well meet up at at my place, he said.”  He then gave me some directions to get there.  I hung up and told Dad we needed to hit the road in high places because it was already well after 2:00 o’clock and we still had 40 miles to get back to Sabinal.   We got in the pickup and took off.  I was pushing it to be sure and not be late and hoping I wouldn’t pass a state trooper on the way.  Fortunately we arrived on time and the directions Mr. Horton gave took us right up to his front door.  When we arrived I found him cleaning out the back of his pickup next to his barn.  To my surprise instead of a young energetic ranchman I beheld an old man of over 90 years old who was still very strong and adept.  His face and hands were weathered with the roughness of a man who had worked hard all his life and strong voice that was very matter of fact and to the point.  I got the sense that he was a kind man but one that didn’t mince words or put up with any foolishness.  When I arrived and walked over to his pickup I just said Hello! Mr. Horton?

He barely looked up from his work and said You Norwood? I said yes sir. I’m Michael Norwood and this is my Dad Don Norwood.  You kin to the Davenports? Yes sir , I said, My mother was Beverly Norwood who was Pearl Davenport’s granddaughter.  “Oh Okay , Yea I knew Pearl Davenport., Well hop in well take my truck and I’ll give you a little tour.” I slid into the back seat and Dad sat up front with Mr. Horton.  His wife was sitting patiently there in the back seat. She was a little gray haired lady with the sweetest of smiles. I slid in the back seat of the pickup next to her.  I introduced myself and so the tour began.

site of the Davenport Ranch headquarters

old Sabinal to Eutopia wagon road

Great uncle Tommo's place

     We drove down the dusty caliche gravel ranch road just a mile or so away from Eck’s home place to a red brick house enveloped by oak trees.  He said this was the spot where the old Davenport ranch house once stood.  The house that presently stands there was built by a Horton family member and was built in the mid 1950’s.   Surrounding the house were a variety of barns and corrals. Eck said that some of the corrals were present when the Davenports lived there.  In the back of the house was a gate . I got out and opened the gate so we could drive through.  On the other side we began driving down and old dirt trail rutted in the ground and obviously quite old.  It was a simple dirt trail common in every Texas ranch.  Eck pointed out that this road was the original old wagon road that ran from Sabinal to Eutopia.  The old road has changed very little since the days when wagons and mule teams were the only mode of conveyance. After proceeding up the road for about a quarter of mile we came upon the banks of a dry rocky creek that Eck called the dry Sabinal.  He pointed out that the Davenports often camped out on the banks of that creek and would often spend their days enjoying that place.  Today it is very dry and very little water and covered with Cedar.  I would think back in the day it was a pleasant place with water plentiful in rainy years.  Eck pointed out some wash debris way up the hill where that creek often flooded well over it’s banks in wetter times.  Doubling back from that spot we returned back through the gate at the brick house and headed back up the main road past Eck’s house and toward the hills north.  The Ranch was beautiful to my eyes.  It was a plain of grass and shallow rocky creeks surrounded by tall hills.  We headed overland off the main road a little ways and parked in a grassy meadow looking toward an old windmill that stood at the base of a hill. That windmill marks the old homestead of your great uncle Tommo Davenports place said Eck. I told him that I remembered uncle Tommo . When I was a small boy we used to visit him every time we came to see my folks.  We drove back on the road and headed toward the tallest hill on the place where we had to stop at a tall fence.  “This place on the other side of that fence used to be part of the old Davenport place too said Eck, but it’s been bought up and fenced off and that fellow don’t let nobody on that place. He even locks up his water gaps he said.”  He kind of curled his nose when he said it and his wife said “aint that kinda crazy? “ they seemed rather amused at the way their neighboring rancher seemed to guard the place so much. I would really like to know who owns that place.  Looking across the fence we could see two large hills with a creek that separated the two.  Eck said that this was the actual original old ranch place that belonged to old John Davenport. He said that the Davenports often would pack up and go live up there in the valley on the side of the creek where they had an old cabin in the early days. It was only later in the early 1900s that they made a home at the place where the red brick home presently stands.

the mountain on the left is what grandmother used to call sugar loaf mountain but on ecks maps it's called ringtail mountain. In the valley between the hills runs the little Blanco creek.  Behind those hills was the original Davenport Ranch headquarters.

   As we drove the ranch Eck told us that he remembers Rollie and Pearl and all the Davenport brothers well. He said before his folks bought the ranch that they used to come and visit the Davenports on Sundays occasionally.  He remembered that one of the old Ranch hands, “Old Ben” was always very kind to the children and always had a little candy or some kind of little carved figurines to give to them.  He also remembered the story of grandpas treasure map, which I have written about in a previous post called “All that Glitters”.  It happened that he sat on the grand jury that acquitted grandpa when he was charged with embezzlement because of that map.  It was interesting hearing his memories of that event.

Eck Horton's map of the Ranch as it appeared when purchased,  the upper left quadrant within the yellow line as since been sold off.

   We had such a good time that afternoon and meeting the Hortons was such a delight.  It made me feel good to know that the old ranch was still a working ranch and not just a plaything for some rich lawyer or doctor out of Houston.  We sat and visited a while with them in the home and Eck proudly brought out some interesting maps of the ranch that he prized and also He showed us the plaque given to them by the state of Texas designating the Horton ranch as a century Ranch. Meaning that the ranch had been continually owned and operated by the same family for over 100 years.

     That day will stay in my memory for as long as I live.  It was the culmination of a quest that I have had in my mind since childhood to see that country so full of the stories of my childhood. It will live in my memory because I met a man that remembers my great grandparents and there are few left alive who knew those days.  It will stay in my memory because it was a day spent with my Dad who shares with me my love for history and especially the history of family that always helps me appreciate where I came from and who I am.  It was a little trip back in time where I could see little remnants of a Texas that is no more and will never be again.  It leaves me a little sad but still all things must change and I must change with it.  The land remains forever but we pass and go our way making only footprints as we pass. Thank you Lord for such a fun day and a wonderful memory.

"Wild Ranch Horses and Boys", A family treasure.

Sabinal, Texas taken April 6, 2011

Sabinal photo taken in 1912

  

 Recently I took a trip to Sabinal, Texas with my father Don Norwood.  Dad and I had planned a day of fishing but mechanical problems on my boat forced us to make other plans.  I have always wanted to see the ranch lands that our ancestors settled on when they came to Texas and especially the ranch that my great grandfather Rollie grew up on.   Many of the stories that I have chronicled in this blog took place on that land.  I asked Dad if he would go with me to Sabinal and see if we could contact the present owners of the land and get permission to go on the property and see it.  When I was a high school boy back in the 70’s my grandmother Pearl Davenport and I went up there to try and see the property.  We were able to get right up to the gate but alas we could only look over to the land but not gain entry.  Grandmother’s memory at that time was not sharp so she was unsure if we were truly at the right location.  Dad only had a vague idea of where the ranch was supposed to be so we had to do some investigation work when we arrived at Sabinal. He knew the name of the present owners of the Land, which was a great help, and after a little investigation work we were able to get a name and a phone number. I called the number, left a message on a voice mail and the rest I will leave to my next Blog entry, which will tell about that day I finally set foot on the old Davenport Ranch.

In 1975 Florence Fenley published a book called Heart Full of Horses. She passed away while the book was still in manuscript form but her daughter Belle Fenley Edwards completed the book in her honor.  The book was a compilation of old Stories from old timers that had been ranchers and pioneers of the southwest.  One of the interviews that she conducted in gathering material for her writings was an interview with my great grandfather Rollie Davenport.  The result was a chapter in her book that she Entitled “Wild Ranch Horses and Boys”.  I so value this book because it is like sitting down and listening to my grandfather tell of his days growing up on the Davenport Ranch in a time before Texas was fenced. A time before millionaire playboy “ranchers” buy land, fence it up and use it for a playground.  It recalls a time in Texas when ranching was about cattle instead of hunting exotic African antelope.

I have reproduced for your enjoyment “Wild Ranch Horses and Boys”.  Take a moment and let your mind go back to a time in Texas when the land was open and free and young boys found excitement in catching wild Mustangs instead of playing with computers , cell phones, and video games.

       Note: each page is an image. Click on the page and it will open in a separate window for easier viewing. Don't forget to hit the back button to return to this page.

Rollie on the left riding old Tobe and on the right is his father
John William Davenport 

Rollie on the right mounted on Majesty

God is Bigger Than The Boogie Man!

Jennifer holding Cy's little brother Case Michael Tolbert

Being a grandpa is so much fun. One of the great delights of growing older is watching seeds planted long ago begin to take root and sprout and flourish in the lives of your children. I have watched each of my children begin their journey of faith and it is my hearts delight to see each of them growing daily in their walk with God. My first born daughter Jennifer is now a mother of two little boys and I have been so proud to see her grow and mature in her faith. She married a fine young man , Quinn Tolbert, who  is  growing strong and teaching his children. He serves as a deacon in the Woodlands Church of Christ. Recently they were visiting on the occasion of my wife's birthday and I was treated to hearing my grandson Cy's new favorite song. It comes from a veggie tales video. Just for grins I decided to share it here on the blog. He likes to sing it loud but when I began to  record it on my phone he got a little shy and momma had to coax a little. I love you Cy and Case. You are one of the reasons I decided to start this blog.

God is bigger than the boogie man.
He's bigger than Godzilla,
or the monsters on TV.
Oh, God is bigger than the boogie man.
And He's watching out for you and me.

"ALL THAT GLITTERS"

       Recently I received an email from a relative that simply described herself as a “cousin of some sort”. 

She wrote me about memories of uncle Rollie and aunt Pearl coming to visit her grandfather on many occasions.  She said she had many memories of going to the old house in Sabinal , Texas and playing

 there with my uncles and mother in childhood days. She requested a story that lives in legend in my

family and have been intending to tell but have delayed pending an opportunity to hear my father retell

the story so that I could be sure of my facts as I put it here in print.  It is a long tale and almost incredible to believe but what I am about to relate is fact not fiction.

         I am withholding the name or changing the names of the actual people my intent being to protect anyone from embarrassment and to be careful not to liable anyone deceased or living. In the days after the Carranza revolution during the 1930s when Grandpa Rollie was again living and ranching on the Davenport ranch northwest of Sabinal , an old man that I’ll simply call Juan lived and worked as a ranch hand on the Davenport ranch. Grandpa and Juan spent a lot of time riding together on the ranch and one day while they were out working cattle old man Juan told Grandpa, “Rollie you know I know how you could get rich real quick if you can retrieve it, because I know where there is a bunch of gold”. It’s in Mexico just across the Rio Grande and you would have to get it and do something with it, but I can tell you where it is.” Of coarse such a statement would perk any one’s ears and so Grandpa listened as old man Juan related this tale. 

    In the early days of the Carranza revolution Juan had lived in Mexico and had been a gunrunner and thief. He and two of his amigos had been involved in many escapades of banditry during those lawless days. One of these escapades, according to Juan, involved robbing a Mexican government gold train that was transporting government stamped gold through the mountains of central Mexico.  The robbery netted the trio 7 burros loaded down with small gold bars.  After robbing the train the trio made out for the border staying just ahead of the Mexican “rurales”, which is the Mexican home guard mounted police. When the band finally reached the Rio Grande, they realized that the rurales were breathing down their necks.  Instead of trying to cross the river with burros weighted down with Gold and risk being caught midstream in a firefight they hatched a quick plan to bury the gold at the base of a tree near the fork of a stream that flowed into the river.  They made a mark on the trunk of the tree and then covered over their tracks in the sand.  They then lead the burros out into the river and shot them, letting their bodies flow down the river in the swift current. The trio then swam the river with their horses and hid waiting to watch the rurales when they came to the place of their crossing. The rurales milled around and looked for sign but seemed not to find their track or find the burial sight as far as they could see.  The rurales then gave up the chase figuring that the trio had beaten them to the border and that was that.  The trio vowed to go their separate ways for a year until things cooled down and then planned to meet and go back to retrieve their prize at a more opportune time.  Such was their plan but as fate would have it two of the trio did not fare well in their new home in Texas. Old man Juan’s partners in crime did not live long, leaving Juan the only surviving member of the trio.  Juan decided that maybe the demise of his friends would await him if he did not quit the bandit business and reform his life.  He married a Mexican woman, settled down in the Sabinal area and tried to be a respectable citizen leaving his old life of crime behind him. He told grandpa that he did not want his children to ever know of his dark past and that he did not want any of his family to know about the gold because he considered it to be a curse that would come back to haunt members of his family if they ever tried to retrieve it.  He offered the story to grandpa and even drew a map to the place, hoping someone would get some good of the gold but warned it would be very risky to retrieve. He gave grandpa the exact location of the gold, the name of the stream, and the mark on the tree, everything that he would need if he wanted to make a stab at retrieving the treasure. For a time grandpa Rollie kept this story under his hat so to speak and no more was said.

      As time went on grandpa decided that maybe it would be worth his time to take a trip down to the border with the map and just see if any of the old man’s story checked out.  Sometime in the early 30’s grandpa followed the map to the place and looked for the sign. He stood across the river from the place that Juan said they had crossed and sure enough the tree, the creek, the markings on the tree were all just as the old man had described perfectly in line with the map. Rollie decided that he would make a try at exploring more on the other side but would wait until he had the manpower and plan to accomplish the task without arousing the Mexican authorities interest in his activities.  Sometimes during that time he shared the story with a friend who lived in Sabinal and the two spent several years planning and scheming and trying to figure out how that they might make a dig and confirm for sure if the gold was there under the tree or not.  They had even written to the Mexican government inquiring about what would be the law concerning retrieval of such gold if it were to be retrieved. The government of coarse assuring them that the only lawful coarse of action was to return it to the Mexican government.  As the years went by in 1954 when my uncle’s were teen boys grandpa took them and a friend, who was a Mexican general and some of his men went over the border to the marked tree and as nonchalantly as they could took a metal rod and poked around at the base of the tree to see if they could tell if their might be something buried there. Grandmother Pearl told me that they felt something hard under the sand but that without actually digging and uncovering a lot of sand they could not confirm for sure if it was gold or not.  Years of flooding of the river had dumped more silt at the base of the tree and it was obvious that it would require some substantial digging to really know. Dad said that grandpa had related to him that as he stood there looking at the tree and watching the men milling around it occurred to him that even if they dug and found gold there it could quickly turn into a dangerous situation with the people around there. Greed can turn men into murderous animals when much money is involved and as he stood there looking at his two grandson’s he decided it was not worth risking their lives for any amount of gold. I think grandpa just decided then and there to let ill gotten gain lay buried and then and there decided just to let it all go.  He told his general friend that the floods had changed everything around there and he couldn’t really tell anything for sure He said he actually could see the mark on the tree and even had uncle Ray pull a leaf from the tree but turned and decided he didn’t want Ray or Richard to ever go trying to find the gold on their own. 

As the decade of the 50’s rolled on grandpa’s friend, the one whom he had originally shared the story with had a son in law whom I’ll just call Mr. Oreilly.  Mr. Oreilly kept coming to grandpa over a several year period asking him to give him the map to the gold and let him mount an expedition to recover it.  Grandpa kept telling him that he had no interest in going after it.  There was no way to even confirm that old man Juan’s story was true, except the circumstantial evidence of the clues to where he said he buried it.  The gold if it ever existed could have long ago been discovered and taken, washed up and lost in the many floods of the Rio Grande, and even if he discovered the gold bars there was no way he could legally keep it without being in danger of being sued by the Mexican government. In spite of all of grandpa’s assurances that the likelihood of ever finding any gold bars there was very slim at best, Mr. Oreilly kept on and on pestering grandpa about this map. Grandpa told my dad that he just wore him out almost weekly with constant pleas to let him have the map. Grandpa finally just decided that he was going to put an end to Mr. Oreilly’s nuisance visits and so out of irritation he said.  “Okay Oreilly , if you want that map I’ll sell it to you for ten thousand dollars.” Grandpa told my dad that he figured that Oreilly would just drop it then and leave him alone but much to his surprise in a few days the man came by and said . “ Mr . Davenport I want that map and I’ll be back in a few days with the money.” Grandpa said  “Well when you give me the money then I’ll give you the map.” he thought to himself well that will never happen and just forgot about it.  In a few days, wouldn’t you know, sure enough Mr. Oreilly came by with a “wad of money”,  nine thousand , nine hundred  dollars to be exact. Grandpa was of coarse amazed and once again reminded him that his chances of finding anything were very slim.  Oreilly was determined and not to be put off insisted that grandpa Rollie make good on the deal. Grandpa said okay and so they sat down and wrote out a receipt for the money and grandpa gave him the map.  So that was that or so grandpa thought.

Actual scanned image of the receipt in my grandmother's writing, name and actual signature photoshopped out.

In time Oreilly made a trip down to Mexico to try and find the gold and wouldn’t you know it was just as grandpa had warned. Over the years everything had changed, the tree was there , the markings on the tree were there,  but nothing else recognizable. The river had flooded and long story short no gold. Well Mr. Oreilly was of coarse upset and he started coming back to grandpa and telling him he wanted his money back that he didn’t find anything and saying that grandpa must have swindled him. Grandpa was getting pretty upset with Oreilly and said. “Look here Oreilly I told you straight up front that I didn’t know If there ever was any gold , that I never personally saw any gold and that the odds of you finding anything there were slim.  What you paid for was a map and that’s what I delivered and I never promised you anything beyond that map. Now you quit pestering me and leave me alone.” Oreilly began threatening grandpa and saying that he was going to take him to court as a swindler. In fact he filed a case in 1954 against grandpa and it went to the grand jury. When the grand jury heard the case they asked grandpa Mr. Davenport did you have any proof that you gave Mr. Oreilly the map in question and what money was paid for it? Grandpa gave them the receipt that had been written out the day he received the money from Mr. Oreilly. The grand jury looked at the receipt and immediately said well Mr. Oreilly is this your signature? Yes he said , Well then sir you don’t have a case. The case was dismissed that day.

In those days grandpa was already beginning to decline in health due to the emphysema , and was not well most days. Mr. Oreilly continued to come from time to time and threaten him and blacken his reputation as a swindler in the country around there. To this day there are some that still have only heard Oreilly’s side of the tale and consider my great-grandfather a real swindler.  I believe that most men that ever really knew my grandfather would never believe that.  He was a man of his word and as far as the gold map story is concerned he was as honest to Mr. Oreilly as he could be. The man got exactly what he paid for, which was in effect only a possibility of a treasure if he was willing to take the chance to hunt it down and go through the dangers of it’s recovery.  Oreilly, paid the money, took the chance and like many treasure hunters often do came up empty handed.

Scanned image of letter from Grandpa Rollie to" Mr. Oreilly" actual name photoshopped out.

The actual named price for the map of ten thousand dollars was never paid. In spite of promising to pay the last 100 dollars on the day of the transaction, Oreilly never made good on his promise.  After Oreilly failed to find the gold he refused to pay the balance of coarse and after failing to win in court he continued to threaten grandpa.  Later grandpa wrote him a typed letter demanding he pay the full amount. He never got it of coarse.

That map money was a godsend in those days to Granny and grandpa.  They were as poor as desert rats as the saying goes anyway. They were ten years into raising their grandchildren due to the death of their only daughter and grandpa was in poor health. Grandpa didn’t put it in a bank opting instead as many old timers did who lived through the great depression decided to put in their own bank.  The bank for them was an old dresser that had once belonged to John Nance Garner. In the back behind the mirror was a little secret compartment that grandpa put the money in. He invested some of it in some cattle, some of it in a new car, and the rest mom said granny would go to the little bank and pull out what she needed as they needed it. It evidently lasted for a while.

grandpa's bank which was behind the mirror to the right as reflected by a white door.

So there you have it, the story of Grandpa Rollie’s gold map. Who knows if there was ever any gold in the first place and old man Juan’s story was just a tall tale told by one old cowboy to another or if there somewhere in the murky mud of the Rio Grande lays a grand treasure buried undisturbed now for 91 years. Regardless of the truth one thing is for sure. Grandpa turning his back on the chance to find the gold unexpectedly reaped for him a little treasure that sustained him over hard times.  Old man’s Juan’s desire to have someone find the treasure actually in a way came true.

"Which Ever Side Does Right"

Things were not always fun and games at the Kennedy ranch during the Carranza Revolution. About 1920 the Revolutionaries themselves were beginning to fight among them selves in factions. Huerta’s supporters were skirmishing with loyal Carranza supporters and things were unraveling.

Carranza had been recognized as President of Mexico since 1916. “Although his intentions were good, Carranza was not able to stay in power long enough to enforce many of the reforms in the Constitution of 1917. There was greater decentralization of power because of his weakness. He had appointed General Obregón as Minister of War and of the Navy. In 1920, Obregón with other leading generals Plutarco Elías Calles and Adolfo de la Huerta led a revolt against Carranza under the Plan of Agua Prieta. Their forces assassinated Carranza on May 21, 1920.”

One day Rollie was riding the ranch and as he ambled along his way he looked up and saw a sizeable group of Mexican “warristas “as grandma called them riding toward him.  The leader of the group pulled along side him and greeted him in Spanish.  Grandpa greeted him in return and sat back in the saddle knowing full well what was on the man’s mind. These men were scavengers of the revolution looking for supplies for the army. They had a simple tactic to get those supplies. They would ask for your willing support and then ask you to donate saddles, blankets, bridles, guns any provisions they deemed useful. If you refused they would simply shoot you and take what they wanted anyway.  Grandmother told a story about an incident that took place during this same time of a neighboring rancher, an old gentleman who owned a sizeable place that was anticipating the arrival of these warristas.  He knew that when they came that they would clean him out of everything of value so he simply dug a big hole in the ground in the brush behind his barns and wrapped his saddles in their blankets and buried the lot of it in the hole.  In short order the warristas arrived and asked their customary donation of supplies from him. He insisted that he had nothing of value and declined to offer anything to them.  The warristas of coarse did not believe him and decided that he needed a little persuasion to remind him of his loyalty to the revolution.  They put him on a horse, threw a rope over a tree and threatened to hang him if he didn’t reveal what he had done with his tack. The old man was resolute and refused to speak preferring to die rather than to turn over the tack to these bandits.  The old man had a young son that could not stand to see them hang his father so he ran up to the leader and begged for his father’s life. “ I know where the tack is.  I will show you if you please just don’t hang my father.  He is an old man what value is it to you to hang him? He said.  The leader of the warristas agreed and added that if he tried any deception, if he held anything back that he would have his father hanged immediately.  The young boy agreed and led the men out to the place where his father had buried the supplies.  Fortunately the leader of the band was true to his word.  When they had recovered the buried treasure and scavenged the barns and house of everything of value they released the old man and warned him sternly that if he ever again withheld anything from the Presidente’s soldiers he would find the rope unmerciful the next time.

I’m sure this incident was fresh on Rollie’s mind as he casually conversed with this man who began turning the conversation around to probe grandpa’s views of the war. Sometime during the conversation the man asked grandpa point blank about which side he was on and where his loyalties would lie.  Grandpa not wanting to get backed into a corner he couldn’t retreat from simply answered. “ Which ever side does right I suppose.”  Sizing up grandpa’s answer the fellow smiled and informed grandpa that he would be along soon to the ranch house and that he would like to enjoy the hospitality of the rancho for a few days.  Grandpa tipped his hat, spurred his horse and headed back to the ranch.  Rollie knew that he was in a precarious position.  If he refused hospitality and held back supplies to these men then they would surely take whatever they wanted any way and probably kill him and perhaps Pearl and baby Helen as well.  He decided the better part of valor was to just play along and allow them to take what they needed in hopes they would just move along.  That is pretty much the way it played out.  True to his word the warristas showed up the next morning.  They camped there on the ranch for a day or so, cutting out some beeves for food, and going over the barns and ranch house with a fine tooth comb taking everything they thought was of value to them.  They did not harm grandma Pearl at all but were focused far more on the saddles and bridles than anything else.  After some time the men went their way and rode off into the countryside with their loot.  Grandpa now had a problem.  He couldn’t run the ranch without the things they had taken and so he had to go to Eagle Pass to get to a phone to try to call Mr. Kennedy to inform him of what had happened.  Finally getting Mr. Kennedy on the line Rollie told him what he had done and asked what he wanted him to do.  Kennedy told grandpa, don’t worry about it Rollie there was nothing else that could have been done.  Just go into the city and buy anything that you need to replace what was lost and sign for it and that he would make good on the bill.  Grandpa did as he was told and soon they were back in business on the ranch.  Not long after that incident grandmother told me that she and grandpa were sitting on the front porch of the ranch in the evening.  In the distance they could hear canon fire and rifles shots.  It was a good distance off but they knew that there was war all around them.  Rollie looked over to her and asked, “Pearl what do you think, are you scared, do you want to get out of here?” She said she just looked at him and said, “I think it’s time we get home. “ That night they loaded everything they owned in an old beat up car and headed out for the boarder.  They went back to the ranch in Sabinal and thus ended their adventure living in the midst of the Mexican Revolution.

The Resurrection

   A few years after they married , sometime in the early 1920’s, grandpa Rollie  was offered an opportunity to be a foreman for a large ranch over the border in Mexico.  Mr. Kennedy who was a neighboring rancher owned large land holdings on both sides of the border.  He offered Grandpa the opportunity to run one of his ranches about 80 miles over the border from Eagle Pass not far from a little town called Rosita.   Grandpa took up the offer and  they moved to Mexico .  Those days were treacherous days on the Mexican border.  Revolution had plagued the land since 1908 and Carranza and Zapata were battling for power along with Pancho Villa.  Bandits and gunrunners abounded in that country in those days but in spite of it all Grandpa was not going to be put off by a little Revolution.  Rollie spoke fluent Spanish and he had a large cadre of Mexican cowboys to work the stock.  One day he was riding the ranch with a dog trotting along side next to the horse, when suddenly the dog perked up and took out after a type of wildcat the Mexicans called a Tigeria.  The dog soon treed the cat and grandpa rode up and pulled his pistol and shot the cat right out of the tree.  He picked up the cat and slung him over the saddle horn and turned the horse to home, back to the ranch house.  Grandpa figured that an old couple that lived in a little jacal on the ranch might like to eat that old cat and so he rode up to the little mud hut and called out to the house.  The old woman walked out of the front door and greeted grandpa. Grandpa just asked her if she would like to have the tigeria and upon getting a hearty “si si,  senior”, he threw the cat down at the doorstep and then sat back in the saddle and began striking up a conversation with the lady. After a moment or two to the amazement of them both the old cat suddenly stood up, took one look at the two very surprised onlookers and immediately bolted into the little jacal hut running madly around the walls wailing and screaming like a banshee. The old woman got very excited, took up her broom and went in after the old cat doing plenty of screaming and howling herself as she tried to chase the frightened cat out of the house. Finally after tearing up the house the old cat found the door just in time to come muzzle to muzzle with grandpas old dog and then the chase really began. The old dog ran the cat up a tree in no time and this time grandpa rode up and dispatched the cat soundly with a shot from his pistol. That old cat caused quite a lot of excitement all right but grandpa always mused over what would have been the excitement if that old cat had come alive while he was draped over his saddle horn. I’m sure it would have been a lively resurrection.