LIFE STORIES TALES OF YESTERYEAR

Tales of Old Trails

2011-08-25T16:11:00.000-07:00

Cypress along the banks of the sabinal crossing near Eutopia

April5^th 2011 , Dad and Idrove up to Mason, Texas to do some banking business. We took a scenic route on Hwy. 16 through Bandera, and thenover to Kerrville, then on to Mason. On the way back Dad and I were talking about research that I have beendoing on great great grandfather Benjamin Holly Norwood’s civil war records. BenjaminHolly was one of 4 brothers that survived the civil war fighting for theConfederacy in the Army of the Tennessee under Gen Braxton Bragg. They survived5 major battles of the war and after their Parole from the army, like so manydecided to move to Texas. They left Mississippi in covered wagons. Some of the slave families thoughfreeman after the war came with them to Texas. We began to talk about the slave families that came with himfrom Mississippi and wondered what might have become of them. Dad told me often times of anexperience that he had when he was about eight years old. His father Louis Lee Norwood one day inabout 1939 took him to Centerpoint, Texas, which is a little community not farfrom Kerrville. He stopped at anold frame house where an old horse was tied to the porch rail, and theresitting on the front porch was an old black man that Louie called Sandy. Sandy had been a former slave of hisgrandfather 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 manof about 80 years old with very short kinky hair that was white as snow,said “Well sir Mr. Norwood Iwalked behind yor grandpapy’s wagon all di way from Mississippi. I was bout maybe eight year old. “ Louie, “ what do you remember about thetrip over here. “ “Well sir, I sho remember dem der ribers. Yes sir I wasscared of crossin those ribers.”

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

Iasked Dad if he could remember any more of the conversation but that is aboutthe extent of what he remembered. Considering he was only a small boy himselfwhen he witnessed this conversation it amazes me he remembered that much. We were not far from Centerpoint on ourplanned route for the day so I asked Dad if we could detour over there for alittle bit and poke around and see if we couldn’t maybe find the old housewhere Sandy lived or maybe get a lead on where he was buried. If I could find his grave and see hislast name I might get a lead as to what might have happened to those formerslave families. We actually don’t know how many families came on the trip fromMississippi. Centerpoint is stilla very small community and it is the first time that I have been there. I have poked around on the Internetlooking for clues to the whereabouts of the former slave families but have notbeen able to find out much that way. I think if I can contact old timers of that community I might yet find atrail to follow. We drove through Centerpoint and I stopped at the Post Officeand asked a lady that was there if she had lived there for a long time. She said no, but I asked her if sheknew someone in town that knew a lot of the history of the community and mighthave lived there for a while. Shereferred us to a gentleman named Mr. Lackey who owned a feed store in town. Shesaid his family had lived there for a long time and if anybody knew somethingit might be him. Dad and I drove ashort distance and found the feed store but he had an employee there that knewnot much about the community. Welooked up Mr. Lackey’s phone number but were unsuccessful in reaching him. We decided to go out to the cemeteryand see if we might get lucky and find a clue but the cemetery was fairly largeand the chances of finding Sandy’s grave without a last name would be slim. Thecemetery had a state marker at the entrance that was very interesting. It said that there were over 30 Texasrangers buried in that cemetery along with such notable old pioneers such asthe famous writer A.J. Sowell. Iwanted to see Mr. Sowell’s grave but was not successful in finding it. We decided that the time was gettingaway from us and so we decided to travel on. I guess I will have to take up the trail another day.

April6^th, of 2011 . I knewit would be a fun day and a day that I would remember simply because I wasgoing to spend the day with my best friend, my father. We had planned to go fishing atChoate Canyon Lake but due to boat mechanical problems we were left looking forsomething else to do. I had alwayswanted to take Dad back to Sabinal, Texas and the surrounding area to show mesome of the old places that were the site of some of the old family stories. Iwas thinking of the old Davenport Pioneer cemetery out at Ranchero Creek inparticular because I had heard from someone in Sabinal that the cemetery hadbeen cleaned up and fenced off by one of the historical societies in UvaldeCounty. We just decided to go upthere and see what we could see. After spending the night at my sister’s homein San Antonio near Helotes, We got up early had breakfast while visiting withmy sister, and soon we were off headed north on Highway 16 through the littletown of Pipe Creek and on toward Bandera, Texas.

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

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

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

Wecontinued on our drive through Bandera and began turning north on 173 for apiece and then 16 again. Dad said turn here, so we turned left onto Ranch road470 and started down a road I had never seen. It was a beautiful, scenic drive twisting and rollingthrough beautiful hill country vistas. Dad said he had not traveled the road since he and mom had firstmarried. At one point you drive uphigh on a hill and then breaking through a cut in the mountain you see abeautiful overlook that almost takes your breath away. He remembered stoppingthere with mom for a while just to look. he said that during the fall that area is particularly beautiful. Hemused that he had not traveled that road in over 53 years. As we rolled alongwe 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 ownedby wealthy folks that just clean up the property and use it for aplayground. It didn’t seem to methat there were many old ranches in the cattle or sheep and goat business likethere used to be. On many of the hills especially off Hwy 16 as we passed PipeCreek and Bandera were the expensive multimillion dollar mansion homes that arenow becoming common place for that area. We talked about how much Texas has changed since the years that Dad wasyoung. And even in my own 52 years the landscape has changed vastly. Texas is growing and the population isexploding and much of what had been productive cattle ranches are now justhunting lodges for wealthy folk and tax write off properties that produce verylittle. I can remember as a young boy driving old Hwy. 87 out of Mason and goingfor miles and seeing few houses and mostly sheep and goats and deer. As we rolled along getting closer toUtopia, Texas we saw high fenced properties with strange Antelope and exoticbreeds of deer. The country looks like little Africa more so than Texas. Itmakes me wonder if in years to come those exotic breeds take over the nativewhite tail deer and become the norm of the country. Mixed in with the exoticdeer you often see a Llama out grazing along with the sheep. Llamas have no real market in Texas asof yet but they do get great tax benefits to the landowners. Who knows what lurks in the woods outthere beyond the back roads of that country.

Whenwe arrived in Utopia I was hoping to catch the little museum open there butunfortunately it was closed. Ihave seen some old family photographs in that museum and hope to get a copy ofthem if it can be arranged. Utopia is the original settling place of ourDavenport 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 thatsettled the area. Many of theirchildren intermarried over the years. The little settlement was originally named Waresville, but later waschanged to Utopia in 1884. Westopped by the old Waresville, cemetery. We walked around the place looking at some of the old graves that arethere. Many of those folks arekinfolks from way back. WilliamWares crypt and memorial plaque given by the State of Texas is there. It commemorates his service as acaptain in the Texas Revolutionary war.

Gideon Thompson's marker

Captain William Ware's marker

GideonThompson’s grave is there. Gid served in the confederacy, fought at Shilohduring the war and later after returning built a cattle ranch. In 1870 He threw his herd in with ChrisKelly , our ancestor, and the twomen drove their herds west to California more than once. They made good profiton those trips and built two formidable cattle ranches together. I havepreviously written about this in my blog article “In Her Own Words”, aninterview with great great grandmother Emma “Kelly” Davenport.

site of the old Kelly ranch headquarters

old blue water hole

Afterleaving the cemetery we continued on our way headed to Sabinal. A few miles before we reached Sabinalon Hwy 187 we pulled over at a bend in the road just before going across thedry frio and we stopped and looked at what had once been the old Kelly ranchheadquarters 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 seea name on the gate or someway to contact the landowners for permission to go upto the place. The gate was lockedso able to go no farther I snapped a picture with my phone and we went on upthe hill a little ways. Behind the old ranch house place is the old “ Bluewater Hole” that grandma Pearl often spoke of. It is a place where our ancestors used to hold familyreunions and such long ago but is also the place where Chris Kelly nearly losthis life to an Indian attack while watering his horse there one day in theearly 1870s. I was able to snap a picture of it by parking my truck off theroad and climbing the hill a little ways but still I was disappointed I couldnot get closer. Aswe drove on down the road Dad pointed to the land on the right side of the roadand told me that the Kelly ranch once comprised 16 square miles of land inBandera and Uvalde counties. Grandma Emma’s portion ofthat inheritance was 8,000 acres that sat nestled in the canyons of a placegrandma Pearl called sugar loaf mountain. It is located about 12 miles northwest of Hwy 128 between Sabinal andConcan, Texas off county road 344. After she married grandpa John William Davenportit became the Davenport Ranch. Itis the place that grandpa Rollie and his brothers grew up and the object of myintense curiosity for many years.

Wecontinued to roll down the road finally reaching Sabinal and we decided to stopat one of the icehouses near Main Street. While Dad was shopping in the store I asked the clerk if she knew anyonein town named Howard. She said yes, there was Dorothy Howard. She owns a real estate place just upthe way. I wanted to contact thembecause they own the land that the old Davenport cemetery is on. This is the land just a few mileseast of Sabinal where John McNew Davenport originally settled after leavingWaresville. It’s located on theold Hwy 90 just 6 miles east of Sabinal on Ranchero Creek. I was able toacquire her business card and from that gained some telephone numbers. I calledher 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 hemight be short of time because he was busy working on a broken plow. I decided to call and sure enough hetold me he just couldn’t get away but that if I would give him more notice onanother 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 ifshe knew any Hortons around Sabinal. I had heard that the Horton’s were still the landowners that owned theold Davenport place previously mentioned. On several occasions going throughSabinal I have tried to locate the Horton ranch and find a way to contact thembut to no avail.

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

I was born here April 18, 1958

Mom and Dad's first apartment

Dadsaid well son let’s just head up to Uvalde then cause while I’m here I might aswell talk with some folks up there while we are so close. I figured why not because Idoubted I would hear back from the Horton’s right a way so on we went up hwy 90to Uvalde. We had lunch in arestaurant there. Dad wanted tovisit with some men on a business matter and so while we were there waiting tomeet with those men we took a little tour of Uvalde. I was born in Uvalde but really have little memories therebecause I was so young when mom and dad left there. Dad showed me the little hospital where I was born which wasliterally just up the street from the neighborhood where we lived when I wasborn. We looked for the exacthouse but Dad couldn’t make out the house but was able to find the street theylived on. We drove by the littleapartment house that mom and dad lived in when they came back from theirhoneymoon. I wrote about thathouse in an earlier post called “That will learn ya durn ya.” I took a fewpictures and then we decided to take a ride out to the old cemetery. There was an old Texas outlaw namedblack jack Ketchum that was buried there. I wanted to try to find it but after looking for a couple of hours I wasunsuccessful. I did however get apicture of Vice President John Nance Garner’s grave. We saw his residence in Uvalde as well but it was in theprocess of being restored and the tours of his house have been interrupteduntil they complete the repairs.

Aftertouring the town we went to the business of my Dad’s friend and visited there awhile. 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, thankyou for returning my call. “Well I know what you want to do and I think itwould be okay, I gotta feed and do some things, but I think if you could behere say about 3:00 this afternoon I suppose I could show ya a few things. Aint much around here any more that washere when your folks lived here but there is a few things I could show ya.” Yessir 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 getthere. I hung up and told Dad weneeded to hit the road in high places because it was already well after 2:00o’clock and we still had 40 miles to get back to Sabinal. We got in the pickup and tookoff. I was pushing it to be sureand not be late and hoping I wouldn’t pass a state trooper on the way. Fortunately we arrived on time and thedirections Mr. Horton gave took us right up to his front door. When we arrived I found him cleaningout the back of his pickup next to his barn. To my surprise instead of a young energetic ranchman Ibeheld an old man of over 90 years old who was still very strong andadept. His face and hands wereweathered with the roughness of a man who had worked hard all his life andstrong voice that was very matter of fact and to the point. I got the sense that he was a kind manbut one that didn’t mince words or put up with any foolishness. When I arrived and walked over to his pickupI just said Hello! Mr. Horton?

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

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 awayfrom Eck’s home place to a red brick house enveloped by oak trees. He said this was the spot where the oldDavenport ranch house once stood. The house that presently stands there was built by a Horton familymember and was built in the mid 1950’s. Surrounding the house were a variety of barns andcorrals. Eck said that some of the corrals were present when the Davenportslived there. In the back of thehouse was a gate . I got out and opened the gate so we could drivethrough. On the other side webegan driving down and old dirt trail rutted in the ground and obviously quiteold. It was a simple dirt trailcommon in every Texas ranch. Eckpointed out that this road was the original old wagon road that ran fromSabinal to Eutopia. The old roadhas changed very little since the days when wagons and mule teams were the onlymode of conveyance. After proceeding up the road for about a quarter of mile wecame upon the banks of a dry rocky creek that Eck called the dry Sabinal. He pointed out that the Davenportsoften camped out on the banks of that creek and would often spend their daysenjoying that place. Today it isvery dry and very little water and covered with Cedar. I would think back in the day it was apleasant place with water plentiful in rainy years. Eck pointed out some wash debris way up the hill where thatcreek often flooded well over it’s banks in wetter times. Doubling back from that spot wereturned back through the gate at the brick house and headed back up the mainroad past Eck’s house and toward the hills north. The Ranch was beautiful to my eyes. It was a plain of grass and shallowrocky creeks surrounded by tall hills. We headed overland off the main road a little ways and parked in agrassy 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 Davenportsplace said Eck. I told him that I remembered uncle Tommo . When I was a smallboy we used to visit him every time we came to see my folks. We drove back on the road and headedtoward the tallest hill on the place where we had to stop at a tall fence. “This place on the other side of thatfence used to be part of the old Davenport place too said Eck, but it’s beenbought up and fenced off and that fellow don’t let nobody on that place. Heeven locks up his water gaps he said.” He kind of curled his nose when he said it and his wife said “aint thatkinda crazy? “ they seemed rather amused at the way their neighboring rancherseemed to guard the place so much. I would really like to know who owns thatplace. Looking across the fence wecould see two large hills with a creek that separated the two. Eck said that this was the actualoriginal old ranch place that belonged to old John Davenport. He said that theDavenports often would pack up and go live up there in the valley on the sideof the creek where they had an old cabin in the early days. It was only laterin the early 1900s that they made a home at the place where the red brick homepresently 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 wedrove the ranch Eck told us that he remembers Rollie and Pearl and all theDavenport brothers well. He said before his folks bought the ranch that theyused to come and visit the Davenports on Sundays occasionally. He remembered that one of the old Ranchhands, “Old Ben” was always very kind to the children and always had a littlecandy or some kind of little carved figurines to give to them. He also remembered the story of grandpastreasure map, which I have written about in a previous post called “All that Glitters”. It happened that he saton the grand jury that acquitted grandpa when he was charged with embezzlementbecause of that map. It wasinteresting 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 hadsuch a good time that afternoon and meeting the Hortons was such adelight. It made me feel good toknow that the old ranch was still a working ranch and not just a plaything forsome rich lawyer or doctor out of Houston. We sat and visited a while with them in the home and Eckproudly brought out some interesting maps of the ranch that he prized and alsoHe showed us the plaque given to them by the state of Texas designating theHorton ranch as a century Ranch. Meaning that the ranch had been continuallyowned 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 thatI have had in my mind since childhood to see that country so full of thestories of my childhood. It will live in my memory because I met a man thatremembers my great grandparents and there are few left alive who knew thosedays. It will stay in my memorybecause it was a day spent with my Dad who shares with me my love for historyand especially the history of family that always helps me appreciate where Icame from and who I am. It was alittle trip back in time where I could see little remnants of a Texas that isno more and will never be again. It leaves me a little sad but still all things must change and I mustchange with it. The land remainsforever but we pass and go our way making only footprints as we pass. Thank youLord for such a fun day and a wonderful memory.

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

2011-04-18T08:31:00.000-07:00

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!

2011-04-01T13:57:00.000-07:00

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"

2011-03-07T13:24:00.000-08:00

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"

2011-01-25T09:58:00.000-08:00

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

2011-01-24T14:23:00.000-08:00

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.

"Many a Slip Between the Cup and the Lip"

2010-09-20T05:45:00.000-07:00

In the year 1910 President William Howard Taft becomes the first president to throw out the first baseball on opening day. In 1910 the Wright Brothers and Department Store owner Max Moorehouse undertook the first airfreight shipment from Dayton, Ohio to Columbus, Ohio. In 1910 Francisco I. Madero denounces President Porfirio Díaz, declares himself president, and calls for a revolution to overthrow the government of Mexico. This was the year that our country was experiencing the first decade of the new century, and in a little town far far away in west texas our family history was being made on the day Great Grandpa Rollie Ambrose Davenport met and married Hattie Pearl Loman.

Hattie Pearl is center of picture with the broad brimmed hat above the little girl with the bonnet.

Hattie Pearl was a young teenage girl growing up in the little town of Kennedy, Texas. Her father Upton Loman had a farm and was a cattleman working together with his brother. In 1889 He was encouraged by his brother –in-law to become a blacksmith there in Kennedy. Mr Loman continued blacksmithing there until he moved to Pettus , Texas and opened his own shop. Hattie Pearl was going to school in a little one-room schoolhouse, which was being taught by a young schoolmarm named Mrs. Koonce. There were several young boys that were always trying to get Hattie Pearls attention in those days. On one occasion one of the boys decided to offer her a gift to impress her. Her father called her to the front door one morning and asked her to look on the front porch. After going on the porch she discovered a watermelon, a fine specimen of the fruit, and on the side of the melon was carved the words, “I love pearl, she’s my girl.” The ploy didn’t engender any romantic inclination toward the young suitor but I would give the young man credit for imagination. She lived there happily with her brothers and sisters until one day a man came from Sabinal and told Mr. Loman that there was no blacksmith in that town and that one was badly needed there. So in 1907 Mr. Loman moved the family to Sabinal, Texas. In those days Sabinal was still very much a town in transition. It was a busy ranching and farming community and the little town was booming and growing. The railroad like many little towns in texas was the economic engine that kept the little town growing. On the streets of Sabinal could be seen wagons loaded tall with cotton along with all kinds of other type of buggies, hacks and buckboards along with horses and dogs and people. Mixed in this scene from the old world of the 1800’s was the new fangled horseless carriage the automobile. The streets were hot and dusty and smelly during the summer months from the horse manure, but in the rainy days it was a muddy, rutted quagmire of dirt and soupy sludge, difficult to walk across the street in some instances.

taken in 1912

Some time during the years of 1907 to 1910 the rancher and cowboy Rollie Davenport fell in love with the black smiths daughter, Pearl Loman. I do not know a lot of the details about how they met and what the courtship was like but my best guess is that they met at one of the many church socials that were often held there or perhaps they courted at many of the family dances or infares that were held in the community which were essentially a wedding reception highlighted by a barbeque and dance that would last sometimes several days.

I do not know many details of the courtship but I do know about the day Rollie took his sweetheart Pearl to be married. It had rained in the country and Rollie picked up his sweetheart Pearl in a buggy at her home in town. They traveled the muddy streets of Sabinal until they rolled up in front of the Justice of the Peace. Rollie not wanting his new bride to soil her shoes in the muddy street decided to lift her out of the buggy intending to set her gently down on the board walk of the Justice’s office. When he lifted Pearl up out of the buggy and turned to walk the few steps to the boardwalk he side shifted to miss a mud hole and to his surprise, he slipped backward feet flying flat out, he landed on his back in the mud puddle his bride to be tumbling in after. I don’t know what words rolled out of Rollie’s mouth during that embarrassing moment but I would imagine it might have been. “Good gladness miss Agnes” a saying that granny Pearl often attributed to him. What an auspicious beginning as they picked themselves out of the street and continued in to the Justice of the Peace office to say their vows and begin a new chapter in the davenport history. One of the good friends of the family in that day was their neighboring rancher and friend John Nance Garner. Mr. Garner was later to gain fame as the Vice President serving under President Franklin D. Roosevelt. Mr. Garner allowed young Rollie to take his new bride to honeymoon in a small log cabin on the banks of the frio river on his ranch. That little cabin was located across the river from the present day swimming hole near the dam at what is now Garner State Park. Though a humble beginning it was a love affair that lasted six decades through all kinds of adventure and crisis.

Its High Noon in America

2010-08-16T16:26:00.000-07:00

Gary Cooper in High Noon

It’s high noon in America and I see two steely eyed, heavily armed cowboys walking out into the middle of the street ready to face each other down. You can almost hear the theme music from a Clint Eastwood movie as you stare into the eyes of the two warriors fixed in a laser- like gaze on each other as they slowly maneuver themselves closer and closer, hands on their revolvers ready to pull and draw at the slightest hint of the others move to clear leather and fire. The threats and gauntlets have been laid down and now there is no way out they must duel to the death and there is only room for one to walk away from this deadly war of words. Both claim to be the one in the white hat, the defender of truth. He sees himself as the brave knight defending all that is good and true. Each claims to be the true spokesman for no other than the greatest truth crusader, Jesus Christ. The words are no longer enough its time to let the hot lead fly and only one cowboy walk away the victor.

There is another dark figure in this story. He is the one that always wears the black hat. He’s the one that has been silently slinking around in the background putting choice tidbits in each of the cowboys ear always pitting one against the other appealing to their pride and their fears and driving them to believe that they themselves are the only true hope, the only way that all things will turn out right. You must be the defender of truth he whispers, though this dark hat cowboy knows nothing of truth, only twisted lies masquerading as light.

I hope the reader will indulge my lame attempt at humor but in reality the scenario I am describing is not a laughing matter. I am talking about the ongoing battle of political speak between conservative media celebrities such as Glenn Beck and a few well known evangelical televangelists who are speaking out in support of Glenn’s attack on churches promoting the social or economic justice gospel. Glenn has repeatedly appealed to churches in America to unite and speak up against these social justice perversions of the Gospel. He is warning loud and clear to Christians in America that the phrase social justice or economic justice inserted or preached in pulpits are in fact “code words” for a political ideology that denies salvation through the propitiation of the blood of Christ and replaces it with a salvation based on a collective redistribution of wealth. Glenn believes that the political left is in fact actively trying to turn churches in America into community organizations that are not about Christ and personal salvation through faith in Christ’s deity and his sacrifice of atonement, but rather a collective type of salvation through actively lobbying for social reform.

I do not know if one could truthfully make the case that all churches that are teaching about social reform and economic reform can be charged with completely supplanting the Gospel’s message of redemption through the blood of Christ. I do not know if one could say that anyone who uses those terms are part of some great conspiratorial ring that are in truth are only fronts for left wing radical socialist or communist agendas. Undoubtedly there are some that are very much perverting the Gospel and twisting it into a means for a socio-political end. This is not a new thing but something that has been going on since the beginning. Paul warned young Timothy in 1st timothy 6:3-7 “If anyone teaches false doctrines and does not agree to the sound instruction of our Lord Jesus Christ and to godly teaching, he is conceited and understands nothing. He has an unhealthy interest in controversies and quarrels about words that result in envy, strife, malicious talk, evil suspicions and constant friction between men of corrupt mind, who have been robbed of the truth and who think that godliness is a means to financial gain. But godliness with contentment is great gain. For we brought nothing into the world, and we can take nothing out of it.” (NIV)

Indeed men that miss the meaning of the Gospel and twist it into some method through which we attain worldy fleshly gain have as Paul states been “robbed of the Truth”.

Financial gain in this passage means so much more than just the silver coin or the printed money. It is referring to all the things of this flesh that men pine for such as power , prestige , influence , property or anything that is the currency of the love of this world.

One such opponent of Glenn’s would be the very vociferous editor in chief of the Sojourners organization, Jim Wallis. There has been some sparing in the media from these two lately. Wallis has been compared to Jerry Falwell in his outspoken belief in merging his religious beliefs with his politics. In an article written four months ago entitled “Glenn Beck, Jim Wallis, and Falwell-esque Dangers of Mixing Politics and Faith” columnist Peter Wehner wrote; “In many respects he is, ironically enough, the mirror image of the late Jerry Falwell. Like Falwell, Wallis is drawn to power and attention like a moth to a flame on a dark summer night. Like the former founder of the Moral Majority, Wallis takes biblical principles and simplistically connects the dots to public policies he supports. He has, as the Reverend Falwell had, enormous confidence that he knows the mind of God on matters of politics. And Wallis says harsh and irresponsible things about those who hold views different than his. It is reasonable to say, I think, that there is little evidence of a spirit of grace and reconciliation in the words of Wallis.” Wallis is a very outspoken political activist that believes that using political means to achieve his spiritual goals is an integral part of the work of the church. He believes that the whole meaning of the incarnation of Christ was as much to right social wrongs and bring justice to the deprived than to offer himself as a sacrifice of atonement for sin. Consider these quotes from the Sojourner’s web site. The mission statement: “Our mission is to articulate the biblical call to social justice, inspiring hope and building a movement to transform individuals, communities, the church, and the world,” the Web site Quotes William Stringfellow, an early activist civil rights lawyer who was an early supporter of the sojourner community, an Episcopal church clergyman, also heavily involved with the World Council of Churches. “The politics of the cross delivers a message to the nations, to all regimes and powers, and even unto the ends of the earth, marked by the cry of Jesus which invokes the psalm: kingly power belongs to the Lord, and dominion over the nations is his (Psalm 22:28). That is truly what the Incarnation is all about.” Jim Wallis also writes about the role of the state in an article entitled All Hands on Deck. “There is a biblical role for the state, just as there is for the church. And they are not the same. According to Romans 13, the state is supposed to uphold the rule of law by protecting the innocent and punishing the guilty. It suggests a clear role for the government in ensuring the common good. And when the state fulfills its role properly, it allows the church to do its work in the world. The church must become "bilingual" in speaking the evangelistic message of the kingdom of God to all that will hear and also speaking to the state about its role and responsibilities. Justice, equity, and fairness are biblical concerns for the Christian community and standards to which the government should be held to account.”

" Le Martyr de Saint Pierre " par Michel-Ange"

I wonder what the apostle Peter and Paul might make of these two opposing views. The one vocalized by Glenn Beck that the role of the church is to unite in a political battle against the social justice churches to save the true gospel and to save the true form of Government, the democratic republic, which he believes is the “inspired” form of Government given by God to the founders. Would they espouse The role vocalized by Jim Wallis that the role of the Church is to right the social wrongs in our society by preaching a gospel of social economic justice and uniting every faith based organizations into political pacs that teams up with the state or alternatively pressures the state into playing it’s role as protector of the innocent and punisher of the guilty. It would seem to me that according to Mr. Wallis the church cannot play it’s proper role unless the state is properly playing it’s role. He seems to advocate that the church is woefully deficient in resources and ability to accomplish it’s purpose unless the government plays it’s proper role along side it.

I suppose that Jesus in saying Matthew 16:18 “Upon this rock I shall build my Church and the gates of Hades shall not prevail against it,” must have meant only if the government cooperates and helps provide the environment by which it can fulfill it’s mission. That mission being to bring justice to this corrupt world as defined by Mr. Wallis.

To both of these men who would be the protectors of truth I would humbly submit that the Church will and has for more than 2000 years been fulfilling it’s role. That role as defined by Christ is multifaceted but uniform in its goal. The church is to be the “pillar and foundation of the truth” according to Ephesians 3:10,11 “His intent was that now, through the church, the manifold wisdom of God should be made known to the rulers and authorities in the heavenly realms, according to his eternal purpose which he accomplished in Christ Jesus our Lord. In him and through faith in him we may approach God with freedom and confidence.” What is the purpose of the Church? To preach the Gospel which means good news, to the world. The good news is that we can be reconciled to God through the blood of Christ as a propitiation for our sins. Romans 3:21-25. How can we approach God with freedom and confidence? The Hebrew writer explains, Hebrews10:20,22 “Therefore, brothers, since we have confidence to enter the Most Holy Place by the blood of Jesus, by a new and living way opened for us through the curtain, that is, his body, and since we have a great priest over the house of God, let us draw near to God with a sincere heart in full assurance of faith, having our hearts sprinkled to cleanse us from a guilty conscience and having our bodies washed with pure water.”

The apostle Paul outlined the basic elements of the Gospel of Christ in 1^st Corinthians 15:1-9. Paul says that “Now, brothers, I want to remind you of the gospel I preached to you, which you received and on which you have taken

your stand. By this gospel you are saved, if you hold firmly to the word I

preached to you. Otherwise, you have believed in vain.” Paul continues spelling out the basic elements of the message which is the eye witnessed fact of the death , burial and resurrection of Jesus Christ. He goes on to refute those who would deny the resurrection and argues that, vs 17, “if Christ has not been raised, your faith is futile; you are still in your sins.”

Paul also warns sternly in his letter to the Galatians that perverting that gospel or preaching any other gospel would result in condemnation and loss of salvation. Ga. 1:6 “I am astonished that you are so quickly deserting the one who called you by the grace of Christ and are turning to a different gospel which is really no gospel at all. Evidently some people are throwing you into confusion and are trying to pervert the

2 Cor.11:14 And no wonder, for Satan himself masquerades as an angel of light.

gospel of Christ. But even if we or an angel from heaven should preach a gospel other than the one we preached to you, let him be eternally condemned!”

2Co. 2:11 in order that Satan might not outwit us. For we are not

unaware of his schemes.

Perverting the gospel of Christ is a serious matter. The apostle Paul holds both men and angels responsible for the way in which the gospel of Christ is preached. Galatians 1:12 “ I want you to know, brothers, that the gospel I preached is not something that man made up. I did not receive it from any man, nor was I taught it; rather, I received it by revelation from Jesus Christ.” It is so important that men who profess to know the gospel accurately profess it because of its holy origin.

Paul warned Christians in Colossians 2:6-10, “So then, just as you received Christ Jesus as Lord, continue to live in him, rooted and built up in him, strengthened in the faith as you were taught, and overflowing with thankfulness. See to it that no one takes you captive through hollow and deceptive philosophy, which depends on human tradition and the basic principles of this world rather than on Christ.

For in Christ all the fullness of the Deity lives in bodily form, and you have been given fullness in Christ, who is the Head over every power and authority.”

It is a troubling thing to me to see these two culture warriors bringing their respective political and philosophical ideas into the limelight both claiming to be the spokesman for the true will of God for America’s political future. It occurs to me that both the apostle Paul and the apostle Peter both died as martyr’s testifying to the truth of the gospel under the heavy hand of tyrannical Roman emperors, who were being used by satan to try to stamp out Christianity in it’s infancy. The blood of countless Christians still stains the hands of rulers of every kind throughout the centuries. Kings and monarchies of every kind, communism, socialism, democracy, republics, empires it matters not. The kingdom of Christ exists and flourishes no matter what the form of government or who might be its power. When Christ stood before Pilate and asked if he was a king he answered. John 8:36 “My kingdom is not of this world.” Christ’s kingdom, his church exists to testify to the deity of Christ and to his gracious purpose in coming to this world to save sinners. They do not use the weapons of this world, such as promoting divisive political parties, lying, slandering , demonizing , propagandizing and pitting one segment of society against another to achieve a political agenda. These tactics are the common currency of that black hat shadowy stranger that wants to destroy Christ and his church. Paul wrote, 2Corinthians 10:3 “For though we live in the world, we do not wage war as the world does. The weapons we fight with are not the weapons of the world. On the contrary, they have divine power to demolish strongholds. We demolish arguments and every pretension that sets itself up against the knowledge of God, and we take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ.”

As Peter was about to be hung upside down on a cross because of his testimony about Christ he wrote to Christians. 1Peter 2:17 “Show proper respect to everyone: Love the brotherhood of believers, fear God, honor the king.”

The apostle Paul wrote in Romans 13:1-7 “Everyone must submit himself to the governing authorities, for there is no authority except that which God has

established. The authorities that exist have been established by God. Consequently, he who rebels against the authority is rebelling against what God has instituted, and those who do so will bring judgment on themselves. For rulers hold no terror for those who do right, but for those who do wrong. Do you want to be free from fear of the one in authority? Then do what is right and he will commend you. For he is God’s servant to do you good. But if you do wrong, be afraid, for he does not bear the sword for nothing. He is God’s servant, an agent of wrath to bring punishment on the wrongdoer. Therefore, it is necessary to submit to the authorities, not only because of possible punishment but also because of conscience. This is also why you pay taxes, for the authorities are God’s servants, who give their full time to governing. Give everyone what you owe him: If you owe taxes, pay taxes; if revenue, then revenue; if respect, then respect; if honor, then honor.”

Glenn I appreciate the history lessons and the fact that you have warned all of America of the hidden and nefarious ways in which a political movement has gained power. I appreciate that you love your country and the form of government that has long been a blessing to our country, but be careful friend. Do not let the black hated stranger twist your zeal for country and truth into a backdoor attack on the church through an appeal to preserve our nation. I too love this country and it’s form of government but I love the Lord and his church more. I look to a heavenly country whose builder and maker is God. Hebrews 11:16. I believe the founders humbly prayed to the Lord and asked for wisdom as to how to form a government that would provide as much freedom and opportunity as possible to it’s citizens. I believe the Lord answered there prayer and blessed this country abundantly. I believe he did that for his own purposes. The church, however, is his own special people set apart for a special purpose, and that purpose must remain pure and not mingled with lesser purposes such as the preservation of democracy. Let the preservation of our nation be done If the Lord wills. A Christian can speak and write and vote as any other citizen to help preserve our freedoms but be careful oh Christian. Do not leave a holy calling in order to pursue a temporal one.

To Jim and all who long to see justice done and society more equal and harmonious I say be careful that your longing to reform this corrupt world not become a tool by the black hat deceiver to twist the message of the gospel of peace into a gospel of health and wealth and redistribution of this worlds goods.

The church belongs to Christ and is a kingdom unto itself. A monarch, king Jesus Christ, rules it. Its purpose is to glorify Him and reveal Him to the world. Its supreme law is His word and it is a kingdom that shall never end. It is comprised of men and women from every nation, from every period of time, and will survive every attempt from Satan to destroy it.

May God bless our nation and heal the land.

Psalms 60:2 Thou hast made the land to tremble; thou hast rent it: Heal the breaches thereof; for it shaketh.

"In Her Own Words"

2010-07-13T17:51:00.000-07:00

My Great Great Grandmother Emma Kelly was interviewed once by another lady whom i have previously spoken of in a past post entitled dominoes and daring do about aunt Florence finley. In 1938 she interviewed grandma Emma while she was living the sunset years of her life with her son in Sabinal, texas. Here she tells of life in the pioneer days of the Sabinal river valley as they settled the land.

by

   Mrs. Florence Fenley Angermiller, P. W. Life History

   JUN 15 1938

SAN ANTONIO TEXAS

   Mrs. Emma Kelly Davenport

   Sabinal, Texas

   The little, gray-haired mother of ten children who, herself, was born

   and reared in the Sabinal Canyon in 1864, and who played as a child in

   the river that is beloved because of its frontier history, is living

   today in the town of Sabinal. Her children, likewise, were brought up

   on the Sabinal River and trained for ranch life just as she and her

   brothers were.

   Possessing a more than ordinary education for pioneers of that day, it

   has served her purpose in recording facts and data which her excellent

   memory can now enlarge upon. As a young woman, she had the uncommon

   trait of keeping diaries, keepsakes and historical mementos. Belt

   buckles worn by her father and her husband's father as soldiers in the

   Confederacy; powder horns and valuable documents contribute to the

   interesting lore of early days.

   The following incidents are told in her own words:

   "My mother, Nancy Williams, was born in Perry County, Illinois, the

   daughter of Milton Williams. Her grandfather, Robert Williams, fought

   under General George Washington in the Revolutionary War. When she was

   very young, her parents brought her to live in Arkansas and there is

   where she later married my father, Chris Kelly, on Dec. 24, 1847 near

   the town of Siercy in White County. In 1851, they moved to Kaufman

   County, Texas, and in 1853 they came to the Sabinal Canyon where I was

   born nearly eleven years later, August 27, 1864.

   "You see, she was only about nineteen years old when she came out here

   and though it was about a year before the Indians began giving them

   serious trouble, it became necessary after that, oft' times for my

   mother to go to the field with my father and hold her baby and his gun

   while he worked.

   "My parents began ranching as soon as they got to the Sabinal Canyon.

   They had brought their horses and cattle and wagons with them and

   other members of his family had come along, also. In fact, there was a

   train of them. One wagon was provided for my mother and I think it was

   a little finer than the other wagons. She had her own bedding and

   personal things in that wagon. My daddy had a mischivous brother along

   in the wagon train and he tormented everything and everybody. His name

   was Jack Kelly. One day, he was riding in my mother's wagon and kept

   teasing her. She got tired of it after awhile and took off her shoe

   and threw it at him. She hit him right on the nose and it sure drew

   the blood. My daddy would have whipped him right there, but the whole

   wagon train took up for him and wouldn't have stood for it because

   they knew his mischief was all in fun.

   "The trip was made in ordinary time but the roads those days were

   simply awful. Scarcely more than a trail over the rough mountains or

   across long-stretches of muddy prairie kept them from making more than

   eight or ten miles a day lots of times. A heap of times, they had to

   lie over for the swollen creeks and rivers to go down so they could

   cross.

   "My daddy was always in the saddle and was always with the other

   settlers on the cow hunts. In 1870, he decided to take a herd of

   cattle to California, so he and Gid Thompson went together and threw

   their herds together. Gid's two boys, Hy and Bob, went along. The

   reason for selecting California was because of there being so much

   money out there after that gold rush. Cattle here was fat for

   they had open range and plenty of water. They knew it would take a

   long time to make that trip, so they prepared for it. They bought up

   different small herds around in the country and got together about

   3,000 head.

   "Indians had to be taken into consideration at this time because they

   were constantly coming into the settlements and robbing and stealing.

   My father had narrowly missed ambushed by them more than once. He

   decided that it would be safer to leave his family at Uvalde even

   though it was only a village, for there were soldiers down at Fort

   Inge and it was far better protection against the Indians.

   "John Davenport (whom I was later to marry) and others of the

   neighborhood stayed up at the ranch headquarters the night before the

   herd left on the trail. They went with the outfit for one day's

   travel. The last night we stayed at home, which was this same night,

   the boys were all camped around to start before day the next morning.

   The camp was awakened by my father singing that old song: "'Wake up,

   wake up, you drowsy sleepersWake up, wake up, it's almost day!How can

   you lie and sleep and slumber When your true love is going away!'

   "I guess that was pretty hard on my mother, for she realized that he

   would be gone a year or two, if he came back alive at all. No one knew

   whether they would ever get through or not and it was hard to give

   them up.

   "It took them two days to go from headquarters, here on the Sabinal,

   to Uvalde and we camped one night with them on the way to Uvalde. I

   remember that one of the cowboys caught me up and stood me up on the

   sugar barrel next morning. It was a barrel of brown sugar they were

   taking along with their provisions.

   "My father left us a new wagon and team of horses and money enough to

   live on two years. He left us in a rented house and after he was gone

   about two months, my mother built a new house in the west part of town

   near where the Main Street School is now. We had taken everything we

   had from the ranch except a few milk cows and some hogs.

   "I was soon old enough to go to school and my first school days were

   at Uvalde. My teacher was Old Judge McCormick. He was gray-headed and

   a middle-aged man then and all his days, didn't change his appearance

   much. He was tolerably strict in school but he was a great sport when

   it come to attending horse races or other sports. He was a great

   drinker too. I remember he was always ready for ball games and he said

   that John Davenport could throw a ball farther than any man he ever

   saw.

   "He told me that he never went to school over six months in the year

   in his life and that a boy could get a good education if he would go

   six months and really try to learn. He said his school came in

   three-months sessions at a time. He taught many a person in this

   country and he trained lots of men to different trades. He was a good

   surveyor and he taught that trade to John Davenport. They surveyed out

   many a section in this country and my understanding is that they

   helped survey out the town of Uvalde. He had a fine compass and

   Jaco 's :DEL] Jacob's staff and chain and before the old Judge died,

   he presented that very same compass to my husband and now it is owned

   by my son, Rollie Davenport. It is a fine instrument and as good as

   ever.

   "After my father was gone awhile my sister, Sarah, married George

   Dillard and George's sister married at the same time so they had a big

   double wedding and 'infair.' That was down in the Patterson settlement

   on the Sabinal. I think everybody in the country came and helped

   celebrate.

   "It was at this very place, later on, that George Dillard dubbed me

   a tomboy because I could run like a race horse. I could outrun

   any of the school boys in the whole country,/ unless it was Charley

   Harper and I could run right with him. George Dillard decided to put a

   pair of pants on me and I had always been taught it was a disgrace for

   a girl to put on men's clothing, so naturally I felt that I would be

   disgraced for life it such a thing were done. Well, he set out after

   me one day to catch me but he would have had to be horseback to have

   done it. I took to the open pasture and I remember going/ over hills

   and down them as I circled around to get back to the house. He found

   out he couldn't catch me. Not having any sisters near my age, I had

   played with the boys in their games till I was a good runner.

   "Not long ago, Ben Biggs from Seattle, Washington, came down here and

   he said he often thought of me because of a broken finger he got when

   we were kids and he was chasing me and fell. We were playing school

   and he undertook to catch me as I crossed the road close to the school

   house. He fell as he went across and hit his finger on the ground and

   broke it. The finger grew back crooked as a rememberance to me.

   "We stayed down at the Patterson settlement a few months after my

   sister married. We felt safer down there than we did at Uvalde. We

   were scared to death the whole time we lived in Uvalde. That certainly

   was a wild place if there ever was one. Rangers and soldiers would

   come in there and get on wild sprees. They would get into fights and

   shoot up the town. It surely wasn't safe to go up town after dark.

   I've gone under the bed many a time when I was little and all that

   shooting was going on. Once, there was a terrible commotion and

   shooting up town and the next morning we found out the cause of it.

   Two gamblers by the name of Asberry and Young were killed. They

   were men who had not been living there long and had no families. They

   were hard drinkers and gamblers and got into a fight with each other.

   Men would fall out with their very best friends in a gambling game.

   One of the men drew his gun and killed the other and they took both of

   them to jail -- the dead one and the wounded one. But someone went to

   jail and killed the other one.

   "It wasn't an uncommon thing for a cowboy fight or soldier and ranger

   fight to occur up town. There was saloons and places for them to have

   trouble and it often happened. There were so many outlaws and bad men

   in through here then, that men in this section went armed for years;

   the old and young -- even boys 12 and 13 years old had pistols buckled

   on them. Many a time when a killing occurred, the killer ran away and

   more often than not, made a clean get-away.

   "My mother's life was a busy one after we moved to Uvalde. She had a

   bunch of children to care for and the cooking, mending, sewing,

   soapmaking, washing, ironing and milking cows went right on. She

   started a garden right at once after we moved there and she bought the

   first cook stove I ever saw. It didn't lack much of being the first

   one in the town, either. That stove had the regular four-eye too but

   two back eyes were elevated about four inches. I remember the fine

   bread and cakes she could cook on it.

   "When cool weather came along, mother wanted to go back to kill her

   hogs up on the ranch and put up her meat and lard. Mrs. Thompson

   decided to go along too, for she had moved to Uvalde to live while Mr.

   Thompson was gone, the same as we had. They got two neighbor boys to

   go along horseback and they put all us children in the wagon and we

   started out. We had gone about forty miles up in the canyons and when

   we reached Nolton Creek on Uvalde Prairie, we noticed a mounted

   Indian leading another horse. I remember that the horse he was leading

   seemed a little crippled and I think he tied/ him and stopped to try

   to make out what we were doing or how many men there were. My mother

   told my two oldest brothers to get out and get two long sticks and get

   on the horses that were hitched to the wagon. They did so and then she

   told the two boys that were horseback to tie their lariats to the

   tongue of the wagon and start out. She had all of us children sit up

   in the wagon with hats on to make us look like men or big boys. Mrs.

   Thompson was frightened and was afraid that we were all going to be

   killed, but my mother told her to have faith in the Lord and all would

   be well. She was a courageous woman and one of the calmest and most

   serene persons I ever knew. She wasn't easy to get ruffled. Her scheme

   worked like magic because the Indian couldn't tell for sure how many

   men there were for it looked like there were four mounted men, armed

   with guns. Indians knew that men with rifles could do business in

   those days.

   "My mother finally sold her home in Uvalde and moved back up to our

   ranch before my father ever returned from California. I was going to

   school up there, then. I have heard them talk about my father coming

   home by boat, so I suppose he took a train from California to St

   Louis, and then went by boat down the Mississippi to New Orleans and

   then around by Galveston for I do know that he landed at Galveston and

   came on up to Houston. It took him a long time to make that trip and

   we hadn't had a letter from him in no telling when. The day he came

   in, my mother had gone down below to stay all night with my oldest

   sister. She rode horseback down there and left me at a neighbor's

   house. I saw two men come up the road horseback but I never knew it

   was my daddy till he went on home and my brother came down in a run in

   a little while and told me that he was there. We had looked for

   him so long, I ran like a race horse to get to where he was. I had

   forgotten about an old mean, fighting cow we had. We always had to

   keep out of her way for she would run you or fight anything. Well, I

   ran right into her face before I saw her. She tossed her head and I

   tossed over the fence. Gracious, I sure did run then. When I got to

   where I could see my daddy, he was standing in the door and when he

   saw me, he reached up and caught the top of the door facing and began

   dancing. I tell you we were all so happy we couldn't behave. He got on

   his horse then and rode on down to my sister's where my mother was.

   They said it was a great meeting with mother crying and clinging to

   him. She just couldn't stop crying.

   "He brought back a mint of money from that trip and told many an

   interesting experience they had on their way out there. He said that

   Old Man Ben Biggs and his boys, Jim and Billy, were several hundred

   miles ahead of them with about six-hundred head of cattle. They had

   about the same experiences crossing the desert and strips of country

   without water as the Biggs outfit had had. I heard him say that when

   they got to California and they needed to go into town--I think it was

   San Diego--and they were all so ragged and torn up and threadbare that

   none of them would have dared try to go into town looking like that.

   Not a one of them had a decent pair of pants left to go into town

   after provisions and clothes for the other fellows. But John Taylor

   met the emergency. He took the wagon sheet and cut out a pair of pants

   with a butcher knife. I suppose his leggings hid the stitches. I think

   they had a needle or two and some twine or coarse thread along. The

   boys thought it was a good idea. They were all so shaggy, with long

   hair and beard and so dirty they were longing to get into town for a

   clean-up. Well, John Taylor saved the day and went into town with his

   handmade duck pants and he bought clothes for the other boys and

   brought them out so they could all go in to town.

   "Even after my father got back to Texas, the Indians were still

   pilfering and stealing horses. He was taking us across the country one

   time from Uvalde to the ranch and we stopped at one of our places at

   the Blue Water hole for the night. There was a house there and we were

   going to spend the night there before going on in home. We unloaded

   the wagon and went into the house and my father turned the horses

   loose and they hardly got ten steps before the Indians had them. We

   didn't know it until next morning, but we saw by the tracks what had

   happened. My father had to walk about ten miles to get another team to

   take us on up to our home.

  " after his return from California, my father began making

   preparations for another trip up the trail -- this time to Kansas with

   a herd. Our lives were pretty easy from that time on for he made the

   trip and made lots of money. Then when he began making plans for a

   third trip, my mother set her foot down on it. She told him she was

   tired of staying alone and raising babies and calves while he was

   always gone. He didn't make the trip either.

   "As my father was strictly a stockman, he lived on a ranch till his

   death. In a few years after his cattle drives, he began experimenting

   with sheep and was very successful in handling them. I was partly fed

   on sheep meat and as my winter clothing came from the sheep's back, I

   like sheep to this day. I remember that sheep shearing time was surely

   a busy time for us. Sometimes there would be fifteen or twenty

   shearers come at one time and if the weather was good, they could soon

   do the work. They were generally Mexicans and there nearly always was

   a musician with them. They are great people to sing and play a guitar

   and we always loved to hear them. Once, there was a shearer with the

   crew who could imitate any kind of animal or bird he had ever

   heard. All of us children tried to do the same thing and we certainly

   made a racket if nothing else. One day one of the shearers spoke to me

   in Spanish and said he was going to cut off one of my curls. I didn't

   understand him, and made a dash for the house, scared to death, and

   told my mother that he said he was going to cut my head off. After

   they found out why I ran, they laughed at the joke on me, and tried

   every way to make friends with me but I stayed off at a distance and

   watched. Even their gifts of peloncilios (pe-lon-cios) sent to me by

   my brothers didn't win my confidence any more.

   "I went to school mostly up where Utopia is now. As I grew up, I took

   part more and more in the programs we usually had on Friday afternoons

   and we nearly always had visitors. Boys who liked certain school girls

   were pretty sure to be there. Two of my girl friends and myself got to

   where we expected certain boys to be there for the program. John

   Davenport always came after me on Friday evenings and he would get me

   and his girl cousin in the buggy and go to the store. He would buy a

   pound of candy for us and it would be wrapped up in paper as we had

   never seen candy put up in boxes then. We would drive on to his

   cousin's house and let her out, then we would go back to my home. I

   lived a mile north of the school and she lived a mile south of it and

   though he always drove pretty, fine-trotting horses, I noticed he

   didn't hurry them after we let his cousin out of the buggy and started

   back to my home.

   "Our parents were always strict about letting us go anywhere and we

   weren't allowed to go to parties on school days; only on Friday or

   Saturday nights. I was thinking lots of John Davenport about then,

   even though I was only 14 years old. I thought he was the handsomest

   thing I ever had seen and I felt sure that he wanted to marry me, but

   he hadn't asked me yet. There was another girl over about

   D'Hanis that I knew he had been interested in and I would hear

   different reports about it at times, but he seemed so much in love

   with me when we were together, I would always forget that there might

   be someone else.

   "The school days wore on toward an end that year and I must confess

   that I made my worst grades. I had always made such good grades but

   the last year, I nearly failed. My mind was on John Davenport too

   much. However, I was very enthusiastic toward the close of the term

   and tried to catch up on my grades and practiced speeches and parts

   for the programs to be given at the close of school. One afternoon, I

   was sitting under the arbor out at the side of the schoolhouse and I

   don't suppose any one knew I was there. I happened to be looking right

   down the trail when I saw Andrew Spencer meet his stepfather and kill him.

It was an old score settled for Andrew said

   his mother had been terribly mistreated and he had told his stepfather

   that if he ever attempted to speak to him, he would kill him. Andrew's

   mother died and his stepfather married again and was living with his

   second wife when Andrew killed him. I don't know what they said to

   each other but Andrew shot him down and there was a terrible confusion

   around there then and somebody gave Andrew a horse to leave on. He

   pulled out right over to Uvalde and gave himself up. He didn't stay in

   jail very long and when he was tried, he came clear.

   "Well, at the close of the last year of my schooling, we had a May

   Party. On a vote, I was elected queen and all the attendants were

   chosen. I remember that I was all dressed up in a white organdy with

   fluted ruffles. They took our old piano box and decorated it up with

   flowers for a throne. I had flowers on me too and my attendants were

   all decorated with flowers. When all the girls came in and made

   their speeches to me and handed me their septres and wands, I jumped

   up and said,

   "'AMEN!

   And heaven support us too!

   'Tis much we mighty people have to do --'

   There was more to it and I went right through the whole speech, but my

   eye was roving over the crowd to see if a certain cowboy had arrived.

   Being fixed up my prettiest, it was natural that I wanted him to see

   that ceremony where I was crowned queen. A little later that evening,

   I got a letter from him saying that on that day he would be taking a

   bunch of cattle to San Antonio and didn't thing he could possibly get

   there. I was the worst disappointed girl in the world. But after all,

   he did get there before it was all over and we went to a dance from

   there. We didn't stay late because my father objected to dances at a

   public place.

   "They never let us to to every dance that come along, either. I

   remember I had a hard time getting to go to all the dances I wanted

   to. I have gone with my brothers horseback, far and near, and have

   even ridden behind them on their horse just to get to go. Of course,

   that would only be for a short distance, but no matter how close a

   dance was, we most always rode horseback to it. My parents gave a

   dance occasionally and they were always largely attended. It was

   customary to dance nearly all night and they would serve coffee and

   cake or cookies through the night to the guests. And how they could

   dance! They were always so graceful on the floor and I do know that

   John Davenport was the most graceful dancer I ever saw. I just thought

   I was IT if I could dance with him.

   "He was rather timid in his younger days and while he was with me, he

   didn't ask me to marry him. He waited till he left and was on a cow

   hunt down the country, then wrote me a letter. He said he had

   meant to ask me but his heart failed him and he had been told

   that my parents objected to my marrying anyway. I wrote him back that

   I intended to marry whom I wanted and would not try to please my

   parents about it if a question arose. We considered ourselves engaged

   then and I was only 14, as I told you. He came to see me as often as

   he could but he nearly always came in a buggy so he could take me

   places.

   "While we were engaged, myself and two other girls and our three boy

   friends, chaperoned by my married sister and her husband, took a trip

   to San Antonio that summer. We rode in two hacks drawn by horses as

   there was no railroad west of San Antonio then. Our first night out,

   we stayed at Hondo with a friend. The boys spent the night in the hack

   and used the blankets and pillows we carried along. The rest of the

   party slept in the house. The next night found us in Castroville and

   we secured rooms and a place to put the teams. We went then to see the

   Catholic churchhouse which was practically new. It was a stone

   building, and beautifully decorated on the inside. I see that same

   church now when I pass through there going to San Antonio and though

   it shows marks of age, it still serves the purpose for which it was

   intended. I think that church was the first to be built west of San

   Antonio.

   "The third night found us in San Antonio. We went out window-shopping,

   then took a ride on the street car which was drawn by little Spanish

   mule. The little mule had a bell on its neck which was a good signal

   that the street car was coming. He didn't have to pull the car all the

   time as they had other miles stationed along the way so that they

   could put fresh ones to the car at different stops and let the tired

   one rest. Sometimes the passengers would have to push to get the car

   started if the car was heavily loaded.

   "We were out for a sight-seeing, so we went up to San Pedro Springs on

   the street car. The fare was cheap but the travel was slow. I'll say,

   though, that the street car reached its destination safely. We were

   anxious to see the zoo that was out there. It was a pit dug about ten

   or twelve feet square and contained a bear, a wolf and a coon. I don't

   remember any other animals, but they had just what we had seen all our

   lives and we thought it was a splendid zoo. There were water fowls,

   such as ducks and geese, and a good collection of fish.

   "But mosquitoes! I couldn't sleep at all. There were no screens, of

   course, for we had never heard of anyone screening their houses then.

   Well, we made it through the night and was glad when it was over. We

   got up ready for more sight-seeing. We felt that we should spend one

   whole day in the city to make our trip more satisfactory. We were

   determined that we would visit an ice cream parlor and eat some ice

   cream. As for myself, I had never seen any ice cream in mid-summer. I

   had been having a slight toothache that day and was trying to forget

   it, but the first bite of ice cream I took, settled the fun with me

   till I went to the dentist.

   "We went to see the Government tower that day. It wasn't finished but

   it was the tallest building I had ever seen. We went straight up the

   stairway, then the steps began to wind. It looked too high for me and

   there was so much unfinished woodwork, that we decided to come down.

   We went over to Frost's National Bank and then to Oppenheimer's store

   and a few other places where we bought some new things for one of the

   girls who was going to get married later on.

   "It was just such a trip as this that my mother and father took to San

   Antonio after supplies once. It took five days to make a trip to San

   Antonio and back and if it was muddy, it took a whole week. Well,

   they loaded up their wagon with the necessary supplies and they

   started home. My mother had bought a great assortment of dry goods and

   of course, on the way back, it was a long trip and many a hour of just

   plodding along watching the road. Having to stop to cook meals along

   the way and to let the team eat and rest, my mother wanted something

   to do. She hadn't brought her scissors along, but she hit on another

   plan of making a dress out of some of the material she had bought.

   Here is where another butcher knife came into play as a dressmaker's

   tool. She just cut out her dress with a sharp butcher knife and

   started to work on it and had the complete dress made by the time they

   got home.

   "John Davenport and I married in 1878 and the first two or three years

   of our married life, we lived on a cow ranch. We had stock of our own

   and were on my father's place on the Sabinal River. I reckon I have

   lived on, at least, seven or eight different places on the Sabinal

   River. We run the J W D brand, which was John's brand when we married.

   The J was on the shoulder, the W on the side and the D on the hip. My

   brand was EMA on the side, for you see I had stock of my own on my

   father's ranch too.

   "John continued on the cow hunts. The country was not entirely fenced

   up yet and they used to go on roundups and take pack-horses along.

   They would take a sack of biscuits, some bacon and coffee, sometimes a

   frying pan and coffee pot. If it was a lasting job, they probably

   would take two pack-horses to the outfit and maybe a wagon. They would

   round up from the head of the Sabinal and go down the country a good

   ways and meet other outfits that were on the east and west. I have

   seen many a roundup thrown together and I have seen the ranchmen

   marking and branding at the roundups and driving their stock home.

   Everybody was after the Mavericks. The first man to get his rope on

   him got him. They have penned in our corrals many a time but they

   hardly ever come to the house for their meals because they had their

   own camp outfit with them. You would see all those cowboys and

   men with their guns on them working right along in the hot dusty pens.

   Most ranchmen kept their girls and wives away from the pens when an

   outfit was working there, and most of them hardly ever went to the

   pens except for some home work where they were needed awhile.

   "If the cow hunts went on longer then was expected, John would

   generally ride in again in two or three days and get some more

   biscuits. He kept a sack tied on his saddle. They would ride all day

   and when they went to eat, they would always have fresh beef and

   biscuits.

   "We pre-empted a place of our own and went to running sheep with our

   cattle. I was used to sheep and loved to handle them. We nearly raised

   six of our children on that place for they were old enough to go to

   school. The children were always tickled to death when their daddy

   would ride in after he had been gone awhile. I always felt like I was

   one of the children myself, I was so young when I married. At least,

   he petted me as much as he did one of the children and we were

   sweethearts all our married life.

   "We stayed in the sheep business on up to the last few years of his

   life. While the children were small, we would have to move closer to

   school at times or maybe to town, then move back to the ranch. But we

   kept a teacher at home when they were right little. We had a governess

   there the time we lost our little boy. We had gone out on the river

   that day and the children were all playing around. Little Georgie went

   to climb up on a log while they were running around, and there was a

   rattlesnake lying under it. It bit him on the ankle and we grabbed him

   up right then and bound his leg and started for the doctor. One of the

   boys ran to the house and got a chicken and we split it open and laid

   it on the bite. John drove the horses in a run and I sat in the back

   and held him and I also held that chicken on his little ankle.

   We got to the doctor and he had everything that could be done or that

   he knew to do. We worked with him all night but we lost him just at

   sunrise the next morning. I talked to that doctor later and he told me

   he had never lost but one other child from a snake bite since that

   time. My next baby was a girl and I named her Georgia as a namesake of

   the little one we lost.

   "We used to do lots of our visiting after supper. Many a time, we have

   gone to see my mother or John's mother after supper or maybe to some

   neighbor's. We always went in a buggy or a hack. I think back now on

   how I used to go with John down to his mother's place east of Sabinal

   and the next morning, we would be hurrying to get off and I never

   helped with the breakfast dishes or any of the work. She insisted that

   she would clean up after we got off, but I wouldn't do that now if it

   was to do over.

   "John loved to sing and he loved music in every way. His mother liked

   music the same way and she could play the violin pretty good. She

   always loved to see her children and grandchildren come and always had

   something good for them to eat. She lived on the highway between San

   Antonio and Sabinal, about two miles east of the present town of

   Sabinal. For years she kept a store there and the freighters and

   travelers always stopped with her. There is where I saw so many ox

   trains and mule trains pass by. Freighters hauled cotton to Mexico in

   season and I have seen bales piled up on the wagons as long as they

   could get one on. Sometimes the Mexicans would come by from Mexico

   with [paloncillos?] and [quinect?] to sell. And I have seen them

   peddling red-birds -- just ordinary red-birds that are wild. You could

   put them in a cage and feed them cracked corn and water, and they

   would just whistle and whistle for you. Those peddlers oft' times had

   fancy needle-work and beautiful drawn work that must have taken them

   weeks to make. It was always rather cheap too. The country was getting

   more thickly settled then and the menace of Indians was over.

   "We stayed in the sheep business up to the last few years of John's

   life. We put in a two-hundred acre farm at the foot of the hills and

   continued on with our cattle and sheep. Later, we leased out our farm

   and ranch and moved to Sabinal to this home I live in now and where

   John died in 1926. All of our ten children were there: Jim, Raymond,

   McCormick (Connie, who died a short while after) Rollie, Lila,

   Georgia, Ira, Davie and Newell. Since he passed away, I have been

   blessed with having the children all around me. I miss the old life

   and I love to see all the old-timers in this country whenever we [?].

   I have long wanted a record made of these things I have told you and

   that is why I have preserved dates and other data which I have showed

   you."

One Man's Treasure

2010-07-13T13:06:00.000-07:00

Recently I was visiting with my uncle Richard Davenport. We call him uncle Dickie. He is my mother’s younger brother. He lives in San Antonio with his wife aunt Margie and they are a joy to be with. He has been the resident family historian and has been saving family nic nacs and little treasures of all kinds for many years. He has rescued them literally out of the ravages of time and has stored them and archived them for many years. Many times he would tell me he had things for me and wanted me to come and get them but the timing was never right and my own ability to store such things limited. Now my kids are grown and space is coming available and the timing is right. I went to his house a few weeks ago and and began sorting through a whole garage full of things. Some things were to keep some to discard but all interesting and all have some link to our families past. One of the most important treasures that he passed on to me were old photographs of family. Photos that I have never seen and now for the first time I can see the faces of people that I had only known from stories and legend. These are only the first installment of more photos that are yet to be discovered. Here is a photograph that is one of my favorites. It is the Davenport family on a picnic down by the river most likely on a Sunday afternoon after their family church services. In the foreground sitting on the grass in the center is a very young Rollie Davenport , my great grandfather, and in the upper right is his father John W. Davenport. Great, Great, Grandma Emma is also in the photograph sitting center left next to the bonneted young woman and Rollie’s sister my great aunt Lila is sitting on the seat of the wagon in the upper center of the photograph. You can see the chuck wagon on the left that the ladies used to prepare their meal and the men pitched a tent in a rough arbor for shade. I’m sure it was a grand day. This photo was taken most likely in the late 1890’s. Some Family friends , the buckaloos, Boyces’ and the kincheloes are also with them. My Dad told me that it was the families normal routine to go down to the river every Sunday for services gathered there with neighbors and friends come rain or shine. Grandpa Rollie used to tell of one such service held in the middle of an ice storm in which he said he thought he would freeze to death. This photograph for me is a little portal in time in which I can almost imagine myself climbing in the frame and taking my seat on the grass next to grandpa Rollie and just sitting and listening to the conversation going on. I wonder what tales would have been told?

Truth or Consequences

2010-06-26T13:43:00.000-07:00

Years ago when I was a kid there was an old television show that we watched called “Truth or Consequences.” It was hosted by Bob Barker and the premise of the show was that Bob would ask the contestant a quiz question and if the contestant answered correctly he could win a prize, however, if they answered incorrectly a buzzer would sound and they would have to pay the consequence. Usually the consequence was having to do some sort of silly stunt, which was entertaining and funny. At the end of every episode Bob Barker would sign off by saying, I’m Bob Barker and here’s hoping all your consequences are happy ones.”

It would be a pleasant reality if all consequences were happy ones but, as you know that is not the reality in life. Many consequences of life are difficult and hard to bear. This truth about life makes it imperative that we think about what we do and weight the possible outcomes for our actions. Unfortunately human nature is such that we often act impetuously and selfishly desiring to gratify the worldy appetites of life without thinking about the long-term consequence that might be the cost. To make matters worse we often fail to see that our act of selfishness sometimes brings a cost to bear for generations beyond our own. This principle also works in reverse. When we do acts of righteousness and deeds that bless the lives of others the reward we receive is often a blessing upon ourselves and sometimes even blessings that extend to our children and our grandchildren.

The Bible has much to say about this truth. Galatians 6:7: Be not deceived; God is not mocked: for whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap. For he that soweth unto his own flesh shall of the flesh reap corruption; but he that soweth unto the Spirit shall of the Spirit reap eternal life. The beginning principle of this verse is one of sobering judgment. God is not mocked. God is sovereign and his word is everlasting. When God pronounces something as sin than it is so. We as mortals can accept the reality of that and therefore bring our lives into conformity with that truth or we can ignore God’s word, rail against it’s truth and go our merry way deceiving ourselves into thinking that there will be no real consequence for ignoring God’s will. The result of coarse is the consequence of our choices almost always brings upon us the bitter harvest. The inevitable reaping of what was sown.

I have observed this principle lived out in my own life as well as watching it lived out in the lives of friend and family and I must say that God’s word holds true in every case that I have been able to observe. Let us consider for a moment the bible story of Cain and Abel. Gen 4:3-15. Both young men decided to offer a sacrifice of worship to God using the first fruits of their possession in offering. Abel gave an animal sacrifice offering the first fruits of his flock and the fat thereof, which is to say the best that he had. Cain however gave an offering of the fruit of the ground, which was some part of his harvest; he was as the bible said a tiller of the ground. God however accepted Abel’s offering, the KJV version renders it “ had respect unto Abel and his offering.” Evidently both young men had been taught the proper way to sacrifice unto God, but Cain’s offering God had no respect for because it was not made in the proper way and perhaps without the proper attitude. God says to Cain (from the NIV) Gen 4:7 “Why are you angry? Why is your face downcast? If you do what is right, will you not be accepted? But if you do not do what is right, sin is crouching at your door; it desires to have you, but you must master it.”

Is this not the dilemma that we all face at times? God’s word tells us plainly what we should do to please him and thus be blessed in our lives but somehow we chafe at God’s plan for us and believe that somehow what we desire, indeed what we think is a better alternative to God’s way will work just as well. God warned Cain that he could be accepted too if he chose to do right but If he failed to do what was right “Sin croucheth at the door.” Of coarse we remember the rest of that story. Because of his jealousy and rage Cain killed his brother and thus committed the first recorded murder in history and thus brought judgment on himself the consequences of which lasted through generations of his family. When the Lord pronounced judgment on Cain. Cain protested in Gen 4:13 “ My punishment is more than I can bear!” The Lord then put a mark on Cain and a curse on all who would harm him to protect him and Cain became a wanderer, driven from the lord’s presence to the land of Nod.

Isn’t Cain’s reaction sometimes the reaction we have to our own consequences in life? Sometimes we are tempted to shake our fist at God and declare that God is unjust. That his standards of life are too hard to live by and that somehow we should be spared from bearing the consequence of our own sin. It’s always someone else’s fault if not God then some other person surely not ourselves. Sometimes we confuse God’s forgiveness of our sin with the expectation that forgiveness means we get to skip out on the consequence for our sins. It’s kind of like in the little children’s game of kings X. If we do the right thing and repent and ask god for forgiveness than that means that we are expecting God will then just somehow magically make all things better and create a do over and put everything that is broken back into order. Sometimes what is broken cannot be put back in order. Humpty Dumpty cannot be put back together again as in the nursery rhyme. In those times how do we act? What do we do?

I am not speaking here of eternal consequences. God has provided ways that all who come to him in humble repentance and obedience through Christ can escape the eternal consequence of sin. Romans 5:8: “But God commendeth his own love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us. Much more then, being now justified by his blood, shall we be saved from the wrath of God through him.” I am speaking about the consequences that we may yet have to bear beyond repentance.

King David found that his sin with Bathsheba had consequences beyond his own life when he sinned in committing adultery with her. As a direct result of his sin David bore great sorrow and the pain of knowing that what he was to witness later in the destruction of his own family came by his own hand. 11 Samuel 12:7 “Thus saith Jehovah, the God of Israel, I anointed thee king over Israel, and I delivered thee out of the hand of Saul; and I gave thee thy master’s house, and thy master’s wives into thy bosom, and gave thee the house of Israel and of Judah; and if that had been too little, I would have added unto thee such and such things. Therefore hast thou despised the word of Jehovah, to do that which is evil in his sight? Thou hast smitten Uriah the Hittite with the sword, and hast taken his wife to be thy wife, and hast slain him with the sword of the children of Ammon. Now therefore the sword shall never depart from thy house, because thou hast despised me, and hast taken the wife of Uriah the Hittite to be thy wife.

Thus saith Jehovah, Behold, I will raise up evil against thee out of thine own house; and I will take thy wives before thine eyes, and give them unto thy neighbor, and he shall lie with thy wives in the sight of this sun. For thou didst it secretly: but I will do this thing before all Israel, and before the sun. And David said unto Nathan, I have sinned against Jehovah. And Nathan said unto David, Jehovah also hath put away thy sin; thou shalt not die.”

David repented of his sin and felt great sorrow and regret that he had sinned against Jehovah and thus Jehovah God forgave him of his secret sin but as we can see David still had to bear the consequence of his own evil actions. God can help us bear these heavy burdens but we must take the example of David when he prayed and fasted for the illegitimate child he had conceived with Bathsheba. He prayed that the lord would spare the child but upon receiving the news that the child was dead David humbly accepted the will of God in this matter. He washed, changed his clothes and went into the house of the lord and worshipped. David realized he could not change the past only learn from it and try to make his future choices more aligned with the will of God. So it is with our own lives. Our choices can affect our lives and those we love. It’s a sobering reality and one worth thinking about.

Psalm 51:7-13 “Purify me with hyssop, and I shall be clean: Wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow. Make me to hear joy and gladness that the bones, which thou hast broken, may rejoice. Hide thy face from my sins, and blot out all mine iniquities. Create in me a clean heart, O God; and renew a right spirit within me. Cast me not away from thy presence; and take not thy Holy Spirit from me. Restore unto me the joy of thy salvation; and uphold me with a willing spirit. Then will I teach transgressors thy ways; and sinners shall be converted unto thee.”

Oh! Baby!

2010-05-12T07:36:00.000-07:00

Verdi, Church of Christ

photo by Terry Jeanson march, 2009

Recently I was standing in the foyer of the church building during the Sunday services just previous to the Centennial celebration. Joe Wayne Vickers and I were manning the doors for the men serving communion, and as Joe is apt to do he shared with me a funny story about the early beginnings of the church. Joe's family the Vickers and the Brite's were one of the early founding families of the Church in Pleasanton. The church in Pleasanton was actually an outgrowth from the little community Church of Christ in Verdi. Here is the story he related to me in his own words.

I'm not sure of the exact time this happened, but I would say around 1900. My grandfather was one of 15 siblings who were raised near Verdi. If I remember correctly, 9 of the 15 were boys, and of course Verdi, Texas around 1900 was probably not a hotspot of entertainment. Some of the younger brothers were notorious as pranksters, and one particular Sunday morning they seized upon a golden opportunity. Most families drove to Sunday services in horse-drawn wagons, and the Church building was a simple one-room structure. It was apparently the custom of the day that those families with babies would leave their sleeping infants covered up in the wagons parked just ouside the Church building, and the mothers would go outside to tend to them if necessary. During that Sunday's worship service, while the congregation was singing and drowning out the sound of any activity outside, the brothers sneaked around the building and switched the babies from one wagon to another. By the time it was discovered, several families had driven off for home with the wrong babies. In the days before cars and even telephones in this rural area, it must have taken some time to get it all sorted out.

No one is sure what kind of punishment the boys received, but whatever it was, it did not deter them. Not long after, they disrupted a Sunday service by entering the church after services had started, parading down the aisle and parking themselves on the front row--all dressed from head to toe in women's clothing. They did get in trouble for that one, and they either saw the light or felt the heat, because the pranks (at least those involving the Church) came to a stop after that.

Years later, after all 15 of his children had grown up into respectable adults, my great-grandfather remarked that he was very proud that none of his children ever went to jail or got elected to the Legislature. One of those teenage mischief-makers, incidentally, was Jim Brite, who lived to his late 80's, and as far as I know, never missed a Sunday Church service in his adult life.

Joe V.

Trails of Honor

2010-05-04T19:47:00.000-07:00

The last few days we have been trying to get my daughter Emilie enrolled in the Arts Institute of San Antonio. We have been going over the financial aid options and looking for possible scholarship money that she can qualify for. Trying to figure out how to finance college can just about make your head explode. When you look at that whooping $80,000 dollar figure for the four year cost of a college you wonder how in the world that we can come up with that kind of money. Emilie is the youngest of four children and Katharine and I have been trying to underwrite the expense of all of our children as they struggle to put themselves through school. They have been working and paying as much as they can as they go and are starting their working lives off already in debt but so are most young people as they try to get through college these days. I am trying to afford this all on a coal miner’s pay. My wife is a school teacher and together we have made a comfortable living. We have all that we need and we feel blessed. Sometimes I am tempted to be resentful of the Federal government. If it had left us alone we would have had plenty to accomplish this task of educating our children and had some left to tuck away for a retirement one day. Much of my retirement, however, is now a memory now having spent it to pay off my house and other bills and what little was left Uncle Sam sucked up like a vacuum cleaner with taxes and penalties. I feel tempted to be angry at the government but being angry will accomplish little. It is what it is and now we must just keep going. In an age were many have no conscience about defaulting on debts and just walking away from responsibility I feel at times tempted to do the same. Yet I know better. My debt is my own and I will bear it.

I woke up this morning thinking about this challenge and feeling a little like a small boat in a great big sea looking ahead to a very dark and troubled storm looming in the distance. I said a quick prayer and threw one foot down on the floor and decided to focus on this morning’s immediate need, which was to get the girls to school on time. That being accomplished I came back and took care of a few morning chores and then sat down to write while I have some time before picking up Emilie once again. We will go back to the Art Institute for our enrollment appointment this afternoon. As I sift through my feelings about all this I once again go back in my mind to my great grandfather Rollie Davenport. I had so little time as a small boy to actually interact with him, yet his shadow looms large over me because of the character of his life and the example he set in the face of difficulty and trial. He was loved by my father for the same reason and my father’s experiences with him and Granny Pearl’s stories about him have sustained me and reminded me of important values in life that are worth holding on to. Even though he travelled in a time ahead of my own his tracks are deep and wide and I hope my tracking skills will lead me in a righteous path.

Late in Rollie and Pearl’s life they met with such tragedy that would have crushed and destroyed people of lesser character, but by the Lord’s grace they survived and persevered. Their only daughter Helen was stalked and murdered by her estranged husband. She was gunned down in broad daylight on a street corner in San Antonio, as she was about to board a city bus on her way home after work. Leaving behind three small children, my mother and her two brothers, Helen’s life was cut short in a drunken fit of rage by a husband who was filled with anger and resentment over her rejection of him. Due to his failure to support and his philandering and drinking Helen made the decision to divorce and move on with life. Dick Squyre , my grandfather, after shooting her down then turned the gun on himself and tried to commit suicide but failed to do the job and instead was left wounded but alive. After being nursed back to health he was tried and convicted of murder and was sentenced to 40 years in prison. In one fell swoop of fate my mother and her brothers lost both their parents and Rollie and Pearl though in deep grief were now facing the prospect of raising three young children with very little money and in the sunset of their years. Grandpa Rollie had been a cowman and rancher all of his life owned very little property and had accumulated very little wealth and now at this age was also not in good health. All this looming over him he did not shrink or cast off his responsibility but went to work doing the best he could to provide and make a home for his grandchildren. His sisters great aunts Dovie and aunt Lila did what they could to help and with this somehow they “eked” out a little living.

Sabinal, Texas was a little town were everybody knew everybody else’s business. A murder was a real scandal during those days and the pain of living through the loss of their daughter and the surrounding circumstances had left my grandmother Pearl’s heart resentful and bitter toward her estranged son in law. His name was simply not mentioned around her even into my own generation. When my grandmother lived with us this tragic story was never spoken of. I did not know of it, in fact, until I was nearly a high school senior. Grandma Pearl dealt with her grief and though it was heavy she rose out of the gloom and in time was in fact a jolly person who knew laughter and joy. All that knew her remembers her as being a person full of life and laughter. I do not know how my Grandpa Rollie dealt with his grief but I sense he had no time to dwell on it but was rather focused on trying to bring in some income for the family. The loss of his daughter took place in 1944 during a time when Grandpa was employed as foreman for his sister Lila’s ranch. He continued as foreman for a while but later bought and sold his own herd keeping them ranged on a small leased place somewhere near Yancey, Texas. He made income of this enterprise for a while until the great drought of the early fifties that began in 1955. Making it in the cattle business during those days was really tough and paydays were few and far between. Many cattlemen lost their herds and “went bust.” Grandpa had just bought a small herd just before the drought hit. He spent the next few years just trying to keep them alive and hoping to at least break even. Toward the end he was literally herding them along the public highways letting them graze on what little green grass could be found there. He and my dad often spent days herding them day and night along the highways to try to keep them alive until he could sell them. During this period of time Pearl and Rollie opened a little store near the school in Sabinal selling B.B.Q brisket and hamburgers. My mother worked there during her high school days. The school kids bought hamburgers for lunch and Grandpa’s B.B.Q was popular with folks. His sauce recipe was a particular success and at one point he was offered a considerable sum for the recipe. That recipe is still used in our family today when we get together for family reunions and gatherings of all kinds. Somehow piecing together income from whatever skills he had Grandpa Rollie kept the wolf away from the door. It could not have been easy at his age. The old house that they lived in was not with modern convenience. It was a very humble wood slat structure with a big front porch and a screened-in back porch. It had no indoor plumbing and it’s heating was dependent on an old wood stove and gas butane stove in the kitchen. It’s cooling was based on high ceilings and open windows and whatever breeze the good lord provided. It was simple and humble by any measure but it was a loving home and the best he and grandma Pearl could provide.

Somehow Rollie and Pearl Davenport ran their race together with dignity and honor. They held their head high and just continued raising their grandchildren in a Christian home providing what they could as they could. Sometimes I ponder what might have been. What might have been if my grandfather Dick Squire would have made better choices and not have succumbed to the pressure of temptation and listened to the angels of his darker passions. What might have been if my great grandfather Rollie had been a lesser man and had given in to the temptation to pass his responsibilities on to someone else. Both of my grandfathers left behind a trail to follow. They left tracks in the sands of time that speak a lesson to me. I do not judge grandfather Squires harshly. I guess I can never know what he was thinking and what he was facing and how he eventually arrived to a place where he was holding a pistol in the middle of a street ready to take his own life and murder his wife. How can I ever get into his mind and know for sure what really happened in secret places of his mind. I spend little time pondering what can never be known, but I do spend time thinking about the consequences of his choices. His tragic choice forever changed the coarse of our family history and left a deep scar and a void that exists even today in my own generation.

Dick Squyre died a few years after being released from prison. He was released into the custody of a brother after serving his sentence and lived the last years of his life in a nursing home in Oklahoma. I never met him, though at times I regret not having the opportunity to answer many questions that, as far as I know, were taken to the grave. I have on occasion tried to research Squyre family history but as yet have been unsuccessful in trying to find someone that knew him or could answer some of those questions. My mother as a little girl kissed him, as he was lead away in handcuffs to prison and never again saw his face. My mother in her characteristic way has made peace with all these things and does not dwell on things beyond her control but is always focused on her own family. The tragedy of loosing her parents at a young age I will always believe has been part of the reason that she has been so focused on cherishing family. She is the most meek and gentle and servant minded person I have ever known. She followed in the tracks of Grandpa Rollie and dutifully cared for them in their last years and also my father’s parents even while trying to raise her own 6 children. My parents did not dodge or pass off their own responsibilities but also took on the challenges of life with faith and fidelity.

These tracks are worth following, As I meet my own challenges I must say Thank you Grandpa, your life speaks to me even beyond the grave.

Foundations of Faith

2010-04-28T10:43:00.000-07:00

Next Sunday the Pleasanton Church of Christ will celebrate it’s Centennial Celebration. Think of it, 100 years in existence. Starting with only a few families meeting together during the pioneer days of our state the Church has slowly grown to over two hundred souls currently meeting together and has established a wonderful legacy of spreading the message of the Gospel of Christ beyond their own borders and even into the far corners of the world. As we celebrate the accomplishments of the Church in the past 100 years and remember it’s humble beginnings, it is important for us also to ponder it’s future and want to draw upon lessons learned from the past. One of those lessons became very clear to me years ago when I was travelling on one of my first mission trips to India, accompanying my father Don Norwood and former Elders Ned Royal.

We were in the city of Mysore, which was one of the great cities built by the Maharaja of Mysore, Tipu Sultan, who was a mogul ruler of south India in the early 18^th century. We had toured his magnificent palace earlier in the day, and we had scheduled to meet with the three local Churches in that city. The last meeting of the day was started at nightfall and continued by the light of a single dim light bulb supplemented by candlelight. The majority of the people that made up those congregations were converts from the Hindu religion. Most of them were very young in the faith and still had only a rudimentary understanding of the doctrines and teachings of the Church. They were naturally always comparing the Hindu thinking and experiences to their new faith in Christ. The Hindu religion is very tied and entrenched in a brick and mortar mentality since their Gods themselves are indeed idols that have been crafted and built by human hands. The Hindu temples that are literally everywhere in the Indian landscape are huge stone edifices adorned with all kinds of strange half human half beast mythical creatures. The stonework and the architecture of these temples are testament to the skill and creativity of their fertile minds. Worshiping these “Gods” for years makes a difficult transition to understanding some of the elementary truths of the Gospel. God is a spirit and cannot be crafted in some image envisioned by man’s mind. No man has seen him or heard him but comes to know him through faith in Christ Jesus. That God’s spirit does not live in temples made by the hands of men but rather God spirit indwells his people and that collectively his people make up his body the Church.

These concepts in the beginning are hard to grasp for a people who have all their lives looked at God as a huge stone figure, which is the image of a spiritual creature they fear to displease. They are constantly sacrificing to it to gain its approval and blessing. They are constantly building up the temples and the grander and more magnificent the temple the more the people take pride in it, some traveling in pilgrimages for miles to worship at the famed temple. I have witnessed them walking bare footed, lashing themselves, torturing themselves as they go believing that if they make a vow to the Gods to pilgrimage and sacrifice at the temple they will receive the desire of their heart, some favor the Gods may impart.

In Mysore that night as the worship service was concluding one of the Indian brothers meekly came forward with a letter of petition, which he read, by candle light as another translated. The point of the petition was a request for the American missionaries to donate money to them for the acquisition of property and materials in order to build a suitable worship facility. The idea was a simple one that we heard often repeated from the new Indian Christians in those early days of our mission effort. The idea was in a phrase “If you build it they will come”. They thought that in order to spread the gospel to their community they would have no legitimacy or respect from their Hindu neighbors unless they built a sanctuary that was as impressive and attractive. They viewed the brick and mortar church building itself as the key to their legitimacy as a church and no one would consider them as a viable religion without some kind of temple that could be seen by men. My Dad began to bristle a bit being quite annoyed at the request at first but then catching himself, and in spite of his physical weariness he then patiently answered the request with a short lesson about the power of the Gospel message. He spoke about how the power of the Gospel message itself would be the very instrument that would draw their neighbors to the church. The Gospel needs no help from any brick and mortar temple to grow and thrive once planted in the hearts and mind of people. Colossians 2:8-10 “Beware lest any man spoil you through philosophy and vain deceit, after the tradition of men, after the rudiments of the world, and not after Christ. For in him dwells all the fullness of the Godhead bodily. And you are complete in him, which is the head of all principality and power”

This principle I find is fundamental and sadly misunderstood even among more mature Christians on both sides of the ocean. No we have not come to finance and build church buildings all over south India. Instead we have come to plant the Gospel seed. Plant it deep in the hearts of men and then nourish it and cultivate it with encouragement and teaching from the written word. Now after more than 35 years of work in south India there are thousands of small congregations working and growing and thriving. Most worship in small mud and mortar buildings with bamboo thatch roofs, but the body of Christ in India is spreading the message of the grace of Christ to their neighbors and growing in numbers daily.

In America today many Christians have there own version of “If you build it they will come mentality”. Many modern churches seem to think that the Gospel message by itself has no power to draw modern Americans to it. They see the skepticism and the growing animosity toward Christianity in America and they think that their neighbors simply will not be attracted to the message of the death and burial and resurrection of Christ, which is the core of the Gospel message. They are instead turning to human reasoning and ingenuity to, as it were, sweeten the message in order to make it more attractive to its carnal neighbors. Some have gone as far as deny the resurrection of Christ or deny the doctrine of propitiation all together in order to make Christ more palatable to the world. American Christians have built huge brick and mortar temples as well believing that these great monuments to their own creativity will somehow impress and attract worldly men into coming into the borders of the kingdom. The hope is that once inside the buildings, and enjoying all the amenities that money can provide, they will be slowly converted and eased into the harness of the “yoke of Christ.”

We should take note of the lessons of European church history, home of many of these huge edifices that though are impressive to the human eye are virtually empty and are an albatross around the necks of men who though professing Christ have forgotten the simple Gospel foundation. They are now entrapped by the upkeep and expense of these huge cathedrals while the temples are dwindling empty of worshipers who have found the ritual worship oppressive and empty of meaning. As Christians have sought to be attractive to the American culture they find themselves at a crossroads. Do they truly believe in the power of the Gospel in its simplicity? Do they still believe that the message that lit a fire in the ancient world still has the power to light a fire in the modern world?

As the Pleasanton Church looks to the future and plans it’s modernization and future construction of facilities I hope it will never forgets its foundation. John 12:32 “Now is the judgment of this world: now shall the prince of this world be cast out. And I, if I be lifted up from the earth, will draw all men to me. This he said, signifying what death he should die.”

I pray we will never be so proud of our brick and mortar facilities that we forget to be “not ashamed of the Gospel of Christ for it is the power of Christ unto salvation for everyone that believes, to the Jew first and also to the Greek.” Romans 1:16.

Dominoes and Daring Do

2010-04-16T13:10:00.000-07:00

I remember when I was a junior high school kid that from time to time my grandmother would receive a visitor at our old house in Pleasanton, Texas. It was a sweet elderly lady that grandma Pearl would introduce as my great aunt Florence, Finley. She was a sweet lady, her hair so white it seemed to have a bluish tint to it. I remember she and granny would sit and play dominoes and drink coffee for hours. They would laugh and talk about the good old days of long ago and I would sit and listen a little while, but soon excuse myself to pursue a more entertaining past time. On occasion I would try to play forty-two with these ladies but I was way to slow to keep up with the game. These gals would throw down their dominoes so quickly that you would hear the plop plop plop of their dominoes and then a long pause, as I would be trying to figure my play. I gave up soon and just preferred to sit on the sideline and watch the pros do it instead.

I didn’t realize at the time or nearly appreciate the person that was there visiting in my home. I couldn’t appreciate what a wealth of historical and literary knowledge Mrs. Finley possessed. Granny told me she was an authoress and that she had written several books that talked about our ancestors but as a kid you just don’t value things as much as I now do. Florence Finley was a W.P.A. writer. She had been part of the W.P.A. Life Histories Project during the 1930s. Congress in 1936 authorized writers from all over the country to find and interview the pioneers and early settlers of our country and get them to tell their experiences in their own words. My aunt Florence whose maiden name was Angermiller at the time was commissioned to be one of those writers. She traveled a good bit of Texas in those days and literally sat on the porches and in the homes of some of the old timers of our state that were still alive in those days. She recorded their stories word for word as they sat and shared their recollections of the early pioneer days of Texas. Those interviews are preserved in the Library of Congress to this day and are available on the web. They are so interesting to read. Eventually aunt Florence compiled her works into several books that today are rare Texana collectables. She is the author of Old Timers and Old Timers of Southwest Texas. She also is the Author of Heart Full of Horses a book that tells stories about the many wranglers and cowboys of early Texas. If it were not for her writing many of the stories from our ancestors would have been lost to posterity.

I post here a sample of her work, which was an interview with my Great Great Grandmother Emma Davenport. The interviews are too lengthy to be placed in a Blog post so I will instead give you the direct link to the W.P.A. Life Histories site that has them. I do not have permission from the Library of Congress to reproduce them. The two interviews detail the life of Emma herself as she grew up in the Sabinal Canyon the daughter of Chris Kelly one of the old trail drivers who drove a herd to California in the middle of the great Gold rush of 1849. She tells of Indian depredations and horse thieving. She tells of her trip to San Antonio in the 1870’s, an engagement party as she called it, before her wedding to John.

In the second interview Emma Davenport talks about her mother in law. Mary Davenport. Florence Finley called her aunt Mary Davenport. Mary was the daughter of Captain John Crane an old boy hood friend of Andrew Jackson and veteran of the Creek Indian war, later a veteran of the Texas war for Independence. Her husband John Davenport was ambushed and scalped by Indians in 1859 just a few miles from Sabinal leaving Mary widowed with two sons. The youngest of the two sons John Davenport jr. was later to become Emma’s husband. My great grandfather Rollie was one of their 10 children.

I hope you enjoy these interviews. Grab a cup of coffee or Tea and sit and read a history by a woman who lived it and told it in her own words. Click on this link: interviews and it will take you to the home page of American Life Histories home page. Look for the search by keywords link on the left of the page. Click on that and enter the word Davenport. The search results should give you both interviews at the top of the page. Click on their names and the interview manuscript should appear.