Bats, Batman, and, Keeping Austin Weird

Austin, Texas has plenty to offer both its citizens and visitors to be sure, but, perhaps, the most unusual thing it offers is the comings and goings taking place underneath the Congress Avenue Bridge.  In fact, during certain times of the year, there are literally millions of comings and goings taking place each and every night.  And the culprits behind all this nightly activity are bats, Mexican free-tailed bats, who make up one very large bat colony.

Mexican free-tailed bats are no strangers to Texas or to Austin in particular, but when Austin’s historic Congress Avenue Bridge was modernized in 1980, the redesign required spaces to be built underneath the bridge infrastructure which allowed for expansion and contraction.  It is in these spaces that bats have found a place to call home, when they are away from their other home in Mexico.

Spanning Austin’s Lady Bird Lake, the official name of the Congress Avenue Bridge is actually the Ann W. Richards Congress Avenue Bridge, named in honor of the outspoken former Texas state treasurer and governor.  Most people still refer to the bridge as just the “Congress Avenue Bridge,” in much the same way that a lot of renamed roads, bridges, and buildings across the country have never caught on with a new name.  But, if a new name didn’t catch on, new digs for millions of bats did, and the rest is history.

The bats that inhabit the bridge are almost exclusively female, and make it their home during the summer months when they give birth to their pups.  At dusk, the bats take off en masse to spend the night consuming vast quantities of bugs down the lower stretches of the Colorado River.  And when they take flight, they provide quite a spectacle for those on or near the bridge.  During the times when the bats are flying, spectators line the top of the bridge, the Austin-American Statesman property, or, watch from open air restaurants which line the lake.  Another popular way to see the bats is to take a boat out underneath the bridge.  If you don’t have your own boat, you can easily purchase a seat on one of the commercial bat excursion boats that tie up just below the Austin Hyatt Regency.

My preferred method for watching bats has always been the commercial boats, and for a couple good reasons.  When the bats are flying, there is no better place to be than directly under the bridge. As these unique winged mammals emerge, the view of them pouring out of the bridge against the backdrop of the darkening sky is simply amazing.  Viewers looking down from the bridge don’t see such a spectacular view.

But, there is another good reason to be in a boat.  The bats are not always cooperative.  On some nights, the bats, for whatever reason don’t explode into the sky.  Instead, they stay hunkered down deep within their protective holes in the bridge.  People, who stand for hours on the bridge, or, at other venues along the lake, have nothing to show for their troubles except disappointment.  This is not as true on a commercial boat.  Prior to the estimated launch time of the bats, the tour boat operators take their passengers on a nice leisurely cruise up Lady Bird Lake.  In the process, passengers (many holding their favorite adult beverage) enjoy viewing a beautiful sunset over the lake, rowing teams in action, a beautiful view of the Austin skyline, and, even the statue of Stevie Ray Vaughn.  So, even if the bats don’t come out in force, those taking the bat boat excursions end up with an enjoyable, or at least an inebriated, evening.

Several weeks ago, I once again decided to go see the bats.  Accompanying a friend on her first trip to Austin, we purchased a couple of boat tickets and enjoyed the pre-bat cruise on Lady Bird Lake just as the sun was setting.  After the lake cruise, and just before we approached Congress Bridge to see the bats, we began getting certain disturbing signals from our so-called “Captain,” who looked like he was not a day over 16.  The long and short of it was that the bats had not been too active recently, so, it might not be a good night to view bats after all.  Of course, nothing of the sort was mentioned prior to the ticket money being exchanged on the dock.  It must have slipped the “Captain’s” mind. True to his word, the bat experience was underwhelming, although, we did see many thousands of bats emerge out from under the bridge.  That may seem like a lot, but not if you are expecting to see a million.

There is always a silver lining to every cloud it seems.  Just as all the spectators were about to take leave, a man suddenly leaped from the bridge, arms spread wide as if in flight, and plunged into Lady Bird Lake.  It seems that a “Batman” had arrived just in time to try and save the evening.  The crowd cheered as the “Batman’s” head suddenly appeared above the dark waters.  The man, no doubt having spent the last several hours imbibing in one or more of Austin’s famed Sixth Street drinking establishments, had apparently gotten his superheroes confused.  It is Superman who can fly and “leap tall buildings in a single bound,” not Batman.  Heck, even I know that.  I also know that "Batman" did his part in continuing to "Keep Austin Weird."

Lighting Up The Past: Austin’s Moonlight Towers

It’s hard to believe these days perhaps, but there was a time before ambient light polluted the night sky, that even some of the largest cities in the country were quite dark after the sun went down. This produced problems, not the least of which was increased evening crime.

In the late 1800’s, as innovations in technology made it possible, many municipalities turned to carbon arc lighting to brighten their streets, or, more specifically, their entire town. Unlike street lights which light up a relatively small area, the arc lights were hoisted on top of tall metal towers, sometimes hundreds of feet high. By placing many of these towers in strategic locations around the city, it was possible to light up nearly everything within the city limits. These towers, with their lights, were often called Moonlight Towers.

In the mid 1890’s, Austin was one of the cities which decided to erect the lighting system. Austin bought 31 towers with accompanying lighting equipment from Detroit, Michigan, a city which had received a lot of favorable press since installing the system itself.

Many citizens in Austin, perhaps not as technologically sophisticated as those living in Detroit at the time, worried about the ill effects of living in a city where it would never get dark. Some predicted dire consequences on everything from animals to plants. It didn’t take long after the lights were first lit, however, for the skeptics to see that the ever-present artificial “Moon Light” was harmless.

Over the years, the unique lighting system, which had been installed in so many places around the country, has been phased out in favor of lighting which is easier to maintain and much less expensive. The one exception is Austin, Texas. The city remains the country’s sole remaining location where the towers are still present and the lights illuminate the city from very high above, every night of the year.

Of course, with the passage of time, the towers have all been repaired and restored, and the technology of the lights updated. The actual number of existing towers has been reduced, for one reason or another, by about half. Critics over the years have cited both cost and the unsightliness of the towers to call for their removal, but to no avail. This is Austin after all, a city which takes pride in being different. This city pride, which has preserved the towers and the special lighting system, continues to "lighten" a tangible link through Austin’s past. For that, we can all be grateful.

1883: A Bloody Christmas in McDade, Texas

The Yegua Knobs are a line of small hills running along the border of the Texas counties of Bastrop and Lee, and are very close to Williamson County as well. During the mid to late 1800’s, the underbrush, large stands of cedar trees, and the elevated terrain of the Knobs made it a perfect place for people to go who did not want to be found. As such, the Knobs provided a safe haven for violence-prone drifters, killers, petty thieves, Confederate deserters, and men who liked to steal cattle and horses.

The years following the Civil War were especially traumatic across the Southern states, Texas included. The South was devastated by the war, and many of its social institutions were destroyed. Confederate soldiers returning to Texas found a much different environment from the one they left. Resentment and bitterness between those who supported secession and those who did not resulted in violence, murder, and blood feuds across the state. To make matters even worse, Federal soldiers, who came to Texas to enforce Reconstruction, exacerbated the already unsettled situation. In many places in Texas, it was a very dangerous time for law-abiding citizens.

The McDade, Texas, area was first settled on the edge of the Knobs in the 1860’s, but did not become a town, as such, until the 1870’s. The building of the railroad through town greatly expanded the financial opportunities in the area, and, along with the more respectable businesses of the time, came the gambling dens and saloons. These attractions brought many of the less than desirable men out of the Knobs into McDade to “take advantage” of the money passing through town. The bitterness and anger of the Reconstruction era, fueled by survival instincts, alcohol, and guns, brought about an explosive combination in and around McDade, which culminated into a deadly Christmas Eve and Christmas Day in 1883.

Texas, in the late 1800’s, was hampered by a lack of fast and effective communication, slow travel conditions, and understaffed, biased, or corrupt law enforcement officials. Given those unique circumstances, jury members were often reluctant to convict those who broke the law, for fear that they or, members of their families would be harmed. It was not an irrational fear.

During the 1870’s, a gang of desperate men began to form in the Knobs. The “Notch-Cutters,” as they were called, was a gang which initially preyed upon the weak and defenseless, but later still on powerful ranchers and respected citizens of McDade. Citizens were often ambushed as they traveled through the area. People disappeared and mysterious graves were found from time to time. The citizens of McDade, eventually, endured enough of the killings and fear, and formed a vigilante group to enforce order and decency in the area.

As early as 1875, McDade vigilantes hung two trouble makers. The outlaws then attempted to square things by killing a couple of men who had participated in the lynching. The vigilantes, however, immediately struck back. The retribution came in the form of yet another outlaw hanging from a tree. The next year, a couple of cattle-rustlers were caught skinning cattle belonging to the nearby Olive Ranch. They were shot dead, and covered with the branded hides of the animals they had killed. In 1877, vigilantes stopped a dance not far from McDade, and took several suspects away. They were later found hanging from a tree. These incidents, along with others, were just a precursor to the bloody Christmas in McDade itself in 1883.

In December 1883, a deputy arrived in McDade to investigate a couple of murders which had taken place in nearby Fedor, Texas. He was shot and killed as he walked through McDade’s streets after dark. Despite all the violence which had taken place in and around McDade over the years, this was the incident, it seems, which crystallized the need for decisive action among the town’s citizens.

Christmas Eve 1883 found a celebration in progress inside the Rock Front Saloon in McDade. During the evening, many armed vigilantes arrived at the saloon, and took three men away into the dark night. They were found the next morning dangling from a tree about a mile outside of town.

The next morning, Christmas Day, found several members of the “Notch-Cutters” milling around town. The sequence of events and motivations of those involved is disputed, but what is not disputed is that a gunfight took place on a McDade street. The fight involved two respected McDade businessmen, Tom Bishop and George Milton, and several members of the gang. When the shooting stopped, two gang members were dead, and another, seriously wounded. Another person who came to the defense of Bishop and Milton was also killed in the melee. When all was said and done, the Christmas Eve hangings and Christmas Day shootings left six men dead. Needless to point out perhaps, but it was not a very Merry Christmas that year in McDade.

Although some violence in McDade lingered for many years thereafter, there was never anything again like that bloody Christmas in 1883. Today, McDade is a very small and extremely quiet place best known for its annual watermelon festivals. If one did not know the town’s history, there is nothing today to suggest its violent past. The old railroad track, which brought both prosperity and crime during the 1800’s, is now covered with grass and weeds. And the Rock Front Saloon, the scene of much of the turmoil in McDade’s history, is a museum.

The Yegua Knobs, of course, still rise above the surrounding area. And, although the infamous “Notch-Cutters” lost the natural protection the region afforded the gang long ago, the Knobs area itself has recently been in need of preservation from the threat of encroaching development. As a result, several hundred acres of the Knobs have been safely secured in recent years to ensure development does not destroy the natural beauty, flora, fauna, and history of the region.

The Clash Of Cultures And The Webster Massacre

Historically, the Comanche did not make many friends, even among fellow Native Americans. The Comanche were a force to be reckoned with, however, for hundreds of years in what is now the American West and Mexico.

Skilled with horses, the Comanche were both proficient traders and brave warriors. The Comanche traded and fought with a host of diverse people and political powers from around 1700 until the late 1800’s, but were finally overwhelmed by the expansion of the United States as it pushed west.

One of the most famous and bloody clashes involving the Comanche occurred in Texas in 1839 (the exact date is disputed). The Webster family, along with some traveling companions, left Virginia for a new life in the West. While heading through Texas, they were attacked by Comanche warriors along Brushy Creek, in what is now Williamson County, just east of present day Leander, Texas.

The attack left all the men in John Webster’s party dead. Webster's wife and two children, one boy and one girl, were captured. The wife and daughter later escaped, and his son was safely ransomed. This was a happy ending, perhaps, to a not so happy confrontation between two very different cultures.

Although John Webster lost his life in the Comanche raid in 1839, his daughter, who survived the attack but was captured, lived until the age of 93, before passing away in California in 1927. The last Comanche warriors finally surrendered to authorities in the 1870’s.

While many pioneers continued to move west to eventually establish the western boundry of the United States in California, most of the remaining Comanche eventually settled in Oklahoma. During World War II, like the Navajo code talkers who befuddled the Japanese military, and made such an important contribution to this country in the Pacific, the Comanche code talkers were equally important in Europe confusing the German military.

The violent struggles in Texas of long ago, which helped produce events like the Webster Massacre, emanated from collisions of much different cultures. Today, the victims of the massacre lie peacefully in a common grave in a cemetery along the eastern edge of the hill country, a mile or so due east of Leander.

Barbara Jordan

Visitors waiting for their luggage on the bottom floor of the passenger terminal of Austin-Bergstrom International Airport will see a bronze statue of a person after whom the terminal is named. That person is Barbara Jordan.

Barbara Jordan was born in Houston, Texas, the daughter of a Baptist minister. Excelling in school studies and debate while growing up, she attended Texas Southern University, and later the law school at Boston University. Upon returning to Texas, she opened up a law practice in Houston.

Jordan became involved in politics soon after her return to Texas. An active volunteer in support of the Kennedy-Johnson ticket during the 1960 election, she went on to run for a seat in the Texas House of Representatives in both 1962 and 1964. While she lost both times, she did not give up, and finally gained a seat in the Texas Senate, representing the area around her native Houston. The election victory was viewed as historic at the time, given that she was both an African-American and a woman.

During her years working as a state senator in Austin, she impressed her colleagues with her hard work and dedication to the causes in which she believed. After her successful career as a state senator, she ran for the United States House of Representatives in 1972, and was elected. It was during her tenure in Washington that she first came to national prominence.

Tirelessly supporting legislation designed to help the poor and disenfranchised, Jordan became an important voice in the impeachment proceedings of Richard Nixon. Despite her important impact in Washington, her health began to decline, and so she chose to return to Texas in the late 1970’s.

Jordan’s political career had a positive impact in both Texas, and the United States as a whole. As an African-American, and a woman, she was elected to political bodies, which at the time, had few representatives of either.

Jordan’s relationship with Austin began when she first served as a state senator, and this relationship was renewed upon her return to her home state, when she started teaching at the University of Texas. Upon her life’s passing, in 1996, she was buried in the exclusive Texas State Cemetery in Austin, and honor reserved only for those who have made important contributions to the State of Texas.

The Old Williamson County Jail

One of the things Georgetown, Texas is known for today is “Sun City Texas,” the large retirement community.

But for many in Georgetown between the hundred year period between 1889 and 1989, there was a place where the sun did not shine. That place, was the Williamson County Jail.

The jail was built to replace an older more insecure facility which was located right next to the courthouse. With construction finished in 1888, prisoners began inhabiting the new jail early the following year. Even today, one hundred-twenty years after it first housed prisoners, and twenty years since it closed, the building, although architecturally interesting, is a haunting place to look at from the outside. I cannot even begin to imagine the place on the inside. The old jail is historically noteworthy for a couple of reasons, beyond the fact that it is very old.

The last man hanged in Williamson County was escorted out of the jail just before his appointment with the gallows in 1906. Tom Young, a dirt poor cotton chopper, had beaten his niece to death during the previous year. In March 1906, the scales of justice weighed in, and Young was escorted out of town and hung in front of a large crowd.

Much later, in the years just before the jail closed, the facility confined the alleged serial killer, Henry Lee Lucas. Although sentenced to death for a Williamson County murder, his sentenced was reduced to life in prison by the governor, given the fact that the evidence was less than reliable, as Lucas had a habit of confessing to crimes he could not have possibly committed. But, he was, of course, guilty of many heinous crimes, and died in a Texas prison in 2001.

If a drive past the old jail in Georgetown at 3rd and Main doesn’t scare someone out of a life in crime, I don’t know what will. While today’s penal facilities are called “correctional facilities,” one hundred years ago in Georgetown and for long thereafter, it was more about punishment than correction.

Down In Luckenbach, Texas Without Waylon, Willie, And The Boys

All hill country travel eventually leads to Luckenbach, Texas, where, as they say there, “Everybody’s Somebody in Luckenbach.” The town, such as it is, first become famous during the 1970’s, but its history goes back well before that.

Located just a few miles southeast of Fredericksburg, Luckenbach was established in the mid 1800’s, and by the late 1800’s, had a post office, general store, and a drinking establishment. The goods and services provided, catered to both the local farmers as well as the native Comanche, who were still prevalent in the area.

The Engel family, which had initially opened the small trading post, was still in control in 1970, when, they put the “community” and its establishments up for sale. Luckenbach was purchased by several local “characters,” including one Hondo Crouch, who promptly appointed himself, Mayor. He eventually made Marge, a decendant of the original Engel family, and the drinking establishment’s bartender, the Sheriff. Other appointments included, a Minister of Agriculture, who received the honor because he was the one who took the eggs to market. Other appointments included ambassadors to other countries. It was all in good fun, of course. Crouch, himself, played guitar, sang, told stories, and was easily recognizable by his white beard and hair.

In 1973, country music singer Jerry Jeff Walker recorded an album in the dance hall which brought the first real fame to Luckenbach. Several years later, in 1977, county music legends Waylon Jennings and Willie Nelson, recorded, “Luckenbach, Texas (Back to the Basics of Love),” which became a huge hit, and put this little speck of a place in the Texas Hill Country on the lips of people around the world. Unfortunately, Hondo never experienced the fame the song brought to Luckenbach, having passed away in 1976.

Despite the fact that this small place is extremely difficult to find (a lady in Blanco, Texas, warned me, “Don’t blink or you’ll miss it.”), it provides a place of pilgrimage of sorts for country music fans, historians, curiosity seekers, vacationers, and visitors, from all over the world. A lot of the people hanging around Luckenbach, look just like Hondo Crouch did, with white beards and white hair, and there are always a line of motorcycles in a special parking area just outside the dance hall. During my visit, I did not see Waylon Jennings, Willie Nelson, or any of the “boys,” of course, but I enjoyed the experience just the same.

Despite the historic charm of the place, with the old post office, general store, dance hall, outdoor stage, cold beer, and live music seven days a week, some visitors, it seems, are disappointed. I’m not sure what they expected, but this is a remote part of the hill country of Texas. People who come here from distant places because of the song’s popularity but are then disappointed, perhaps need to listen to the song once again. It’s obvious, that they have missed the message the lyrics are conveying.

Luckenbach, Texas (Back to the Basics of Love) **

There's only two things in life that make it worth livin

'That's guitars that tune good and firm feelin' women

I don't need my name in the marquee lights

I got my song and I got you with me tonight

Maybe it's time we got back to the basics of love

Let's go to Luckenbach Texas with Waylon and Willie and the boys

This successful life we're livin' got us feuding like the Hatfield and
McCoy's

Between Hank Williams pain songs, Newberry's train songs and blue eyes
cryin' in the rain, out in Luckenbach Texas ain't nobody feelin' no pain

So baby let's sell your diamond ring

Buy some boots and faded jeans and go away

This coat and tie is choking me

In your high socitey you cry all day

We've been so busy keepin' up with the Jones

Four car garage and we're still building on

Maybe it's time we got back to the basics of love

Let's go to Luckenbach Texas with Waylon and Willie and the boys

This successful life we're livin' got us feuding like the Hatfield and McCoy's

Between Hank Williams pain songs, Newberry's train songs and blue eyes cryin' in the rain, out in Luckenbach Texas ain't nobody feelin' no pain

Let's go to Luckenbach Texas with Willie and Waylon and the boys

This successful life we're livin' got us feuding like the Hatfield and McCoy's

Between Hank Williams pain songs and Jerry Jeff's train songs and blue eyes cryin' in the rain out in Luckenbach Texas ain't nobody feelin' no pain

** Lyrics of this song or any variation thereof, are the property and copyright of their respective authors, artists and labels, and are provided here for educational purposes only. Please respect the various proprietary rights of the owners.

Nine-Pin Bowling And Homemade Food

Prior to moving to the Texas Hill Country, I had no idea there were private bowling clubs, or bowling alleys using nine pins instead of ten, and people, rather than machines, who reset the pins. Apparently nine-pin bowling, or, “nine-pins” as it’s commonly called where played, is popular in Europe, particularly in Germany, but also here in the hill country of Texas.

Although I’m not a bowler by any means, and my name is not embroidered on a bowling shirt, I’ve rolled quite a few bowling balls down bowling lanes in my life. But, I knew nothing of the game of nine-pins until recently. For you real bowlers out there, I’m sure you already know this, but for the rest of us, nine-pins is much different than the game we are familiar with here in the United States. The ball is smaller, the lane is shorter, and there are some other differences involving the rules. Also, there is manual work involved in initially setting and then resetting the pins. I have no interest in anything manual with regard to bowling, not in this age of technology.

My wife and I did not come to the Blanco Bowling Club Cafe to play nine-pins, or ten-pins, or bowl in any way, shape, or form. We just wanted to eat a good lunch as we were passing through town. A resident of Blanco recommended the place as the spot to go where “the locals eat.”

The resident did not steer us wrong. During the day, the bowling lanes are hidden from the front of the restaurant, to such an extent, that if the name on the sign did not mention “Bowling,” you would never know there was a bowling alley there. We weren’t interested in that, in any event, but found the food to be very good.

As I’ve written about the abundance of gravy in the hill country before, I was bound and determined to order something much different during the visit to the Blanco Bowling Club Cafe. I actually felt like something different too, a sandwich, so, I ordered the “Hot Steak Sandwich (with Salad & Fries).” I envisioned some type of steak, on a bun, with the usual toppings. When my order arrived, it looked strangely similar to the chicken fried steak my wife had ordered. While both selections were covered with gravy, my meat was sitting upon pieces of toast, while hers was not. I guess the toast was the “sandwich” part. The word “Hot” in front of the words “Steak Sandwich” on the menu should have tipped me off that this was an open faced sandwich, but I missed it completely. Nevertheless, my “sandwich” was delicious, and it just goes to show you that you get gravy down here, it seems, even when you don’t really want it.

The thing I really like about the hill country is that places like this still exist. Hill country towns, like Blanco, are quaint little places, with historic town squares, where you can still get authentic homemade food in traditional settings. The people, like the ones who served us at the Blanco Bowling Club Cafe, are always friendly and helpful. These are the kinds of places I remember from my youth, but they are quickly disappearing around the rest of the country as the chain restaurants become dominant, even in the smallest of towns. As a result, I’m going to continue patronizing these type of places before they are gone for good.

Hopefully, though, just like the nine-pin bowling which has persisted in the hill country long after automated bowling alleys and ten-pin bowling became the standard everywhere else, maybe the small cafes and restaurants will remain as well.

The Pecan Tree Proves Everything Is Bigger In Texas

For the past month, as they typically do this time of year, pecan trees all over the hill country have been dropping their nuts. The commercial growers have large stands of the trees, of course, which supply a vast human marketplace wanting the pecans. But, wild pecan trees are also found in the millions throughout rural areas of the state, and in and around the cities and towns of Texas, where the nuts fall indiscriminately on the sidewalks and yards for the birds and squirrels to consume. Most Texans know that the pecan tree is the state tree of Texas, but few may realize just how far back the relationship between this tree and the land go.

The tree, native only to North America, is believed to have had its origins in what is now Texas and parts of northern Mexico. Fossils of the tree, pre-dating human activity, have been found in the area. And while, over time, the native trees eventually spread north up the Mississippi River Valley and east along the Gulf of Mexico, the migration all started in Texas.

The first native people to the area recognized the value of the pecan as a food source, and made their way through the region during the latter part of every year to collect the nuts which would help sustain them during the winter. Later, as the first Europeans began exploring and settling the region, they also recognized the value of the pecan tree for both food and the utilization of the tree’s wood for other purposes, including furniture, tools, and fuel for fires. Later, the stands of these trees were cleared for other agricultural uses. In time, it all took its toll, and by 1900 or so, the large stands of native pecan trees, which had flourished since before the advent of humans in the area, were in real danger in Texas.

Recognition was finally given to the tree for its importance to Texas in 1919, when it was officially proclaimed the official state tree of Texas. Today, Texas is one of the leading producers of pecans in the United States.

Pecan trees have been known to live for a thousand years, produce nuts for hundreds of years, and grow to well over one hundred feet. As already noted, they initially provided food for native populations, and later, a source for both food and wood helping America establish its presence on the frontier.

Today, the pecan trees provide both employment and enjoyment for people who consume the sweet nuts in candy, pies, fresh out of the shell, roasted or salted. The wood is still used today, both for making furniture, and for the smoking of beef, sausage, chicken, pork, and fish. And, for all those trees in yards across Texas, they provide great shade from the scorching Texas sun.

People in Texas like to brag about how “everything is bigger in Texas.” But, if truth be told, the biggest things in Texas have always been the pecan trees, not just because of their physical size, but in all that they have provided over thousands of years to sustain life, and more recently, to furnish great pleasure to people through the gift of their nuts and wood.

There Is A Story Behind Everything, Even If It Remains Nameless

I’ve driven past the intersection of FM 1431 and Nameless Road in the Texas Hill Country too many times to count. I used to chuckle when I drove past, figuring it was just one of those roads that never got an official name for one reason or another, and by default, the local officials just called it “Nameless.” I couldn’t have been more wrong.

Curiosity finally got the better of me; I did some research and then took a drive up the road. What I discovered, is that Nameless Road runs by a now-deserted little settlement. The interesting story behind this settlement, and the road that runs by it (or through it), is, of course, how it got its unusual name.

The area was settled along the banks of Big Sandy Creek just after the conclusion of the American Civil War. The small, but thriving community, eventually petitioned the United States Post Office Department for a post office in 1880. The settlement, then known as Fairview, had its original name rejected. Five other attempts to get a post office using other names were also rejected. It seems that government bureaucracy was alive and well in the 1880’s.

Eventually, the exasperated citizens of the settlement sent the officials in Washington, D.C., an extremely strong message. In their response to the latest rejection of a recommended name, the notice sent was very clear, “Let the post office be nameless and be damned.” How typical of Texas was the response. There are a great many people in Texas today, I would guess, who would send the federal government the same response.

Well, apparently, that was all it took. Our country’s 19th century postal service then agreed that the settlement’s post office should be called, “Nameless,” but dutifully left off the “damned” part.

Whatever the name, the settlement never became the success of Austin, Dallas, El Paso, or Houston. After the ruckus over the name of the post office, the post office itself lasted not more than ten years before it was closed. The town slowly dwindled away, and with the closing of “Fairview School,” in the 1940’s, there wasn’t much left.

Today, all that remains of Nameless is the former Fairview School (renamed Nameless School), the cemetery, and the historical marker erected by the State of Texas. To access the school, its grounds, and the cemetery just off Nameless Road, I had to cross a creek, unchain a large gate and walk up a dirt road. The only other alternative, and an easier way to get in it seemed, was to walk up what appeared to be someone’s private driveway. Not in Texas am I going to do that.

The Misunderstood And Underappreciated Mountain Cedar

If there is one thing that gets people in the Texas Hill Country huffing and puffing, it is the "Mountain Cedar." While the tree is found in a few other parts of the country, its heaviest concentration is in the hill country of Texas. To hear many allergy sufferers tell it, the tree is the worst thing on the face of the earth and totally devoid of anything positive whatsoever.

To begin with, the tree is really a juniper. Its scientific name is Juniperus ashei. Detractors of the tree no doubt, accuse this juniper of deceitfully masquerading as a cedar, further proof that the tree does not deserve any respect.

It is true, that the severe allergy symptoms caused by the tree’s pollination, have a detrimental impact on many Texans. Pollination usually begins as early as November, but hits its peak during the cooler months of December through February. And it is during these months that the real suffering takes place. People with an allergic reaction to the pollen call it “Cedar Fever.” And while there is no actual fever which develops, there are some very real symptoms.

Nasal congestion, repeated sneezing, shortness of breath, teary and itchy eyes, are just a few of the symptoms which plague a great many people. Unfortunately, those affected have to deal with the symptoms for many months. There are allergy medications, but which, depending on the person, bring mixed results. Additionally, sufferers are sometimes advised to stay indoors as much as possible. Not very practical advice I would say, and again, bringing mixed results.

If the tree’s bad reputation was just based on the problems it causes for the human medical condition, that would be one thing, but it doesn’t stop with just that. Some of the tree’s attackers consider it a weed, and treat it as such. Others say it is a fire hazard, takes more than its share of water from the soil, doesn’t look good, offers insufficient nutrition to animals, and produces wood which is next to worthless. Goodness, if I was this cedar, I would have a serious problem with my self-esteem with all that criticism.

But it gets worse. Even those who had traditionally made a living off the tree had to endure the barbs of others. A little history is in order.

From the late 1800’s until about the start of World War II, there was a group of somewhat nomadic people who moved around the hill country looking for work. Their main subsistence came from going into the numerous cedar brakes in the hills and chopping down the trees. As a result, they were referred to as “Cedar Choppers.” The wood they cut was sold and then used for a variety of purposes, including, everything from railroad ties and fence posts, to charcoal. Unfortunately, perhaps given their lack of a permanent home, and the hard living lifestyle, the term “Cedar Chopper,” took on a negative and hurtful connotation to the people who cut down the trees.

So it seems that if you were this cedar, or, were a person associated with this cedar, you were not favorably looked upon by many in the hill country over the years. But, I’m going to defend both the tree and the people.

This cedar of the hills, along with a few other trees, keeps the Texas Hill Country green all year long. The beauty of the hill country, with its outstanding views, is primarily due to the abundance of this much maligned tree. For those of you who are cedar detractors, but also, benefactors of tourism, imagine looking out over the many scenic hill country vistas without the presence of this tree. What would the scarcity of this tree in the hills have on your annual income? I'm just asking.

And what about those “Cedar Choppers” of the past, who cut down the trees to earn a living, provide for their families, make available the wood to fence property boundaries, expand rail lines, and bring forth the charcoal to cook meals? Well, today, you would call those people, “hard working Americans.”

Texas State Cemetery

With the exception of Arlington National Cemetery in Virginia, you’d be hard pressed to find a more historical, better preserved cemetery than the Texas State Cemetery in Austin. But such wasn’t always the case.

Despite its rich history, by the early 1990’s, the cemetery had become deplorable. It was vandal-ridden and unkept. Bob Bullock, who was then the Texas Lt. Governor, stepped up to the task and began an extensive multi-year restoration of the cemetery. To see it today, you would think it has been lovingly taken care of since its inception.

The cemetery has been around since the early 1850’s. After the American Civil War, Confederate military veterans and their wives were buried in the cemetery in great numbers. Today, there are over 2,000 Confederate veterans and their widows buried in a special section of the cemetery.

The cemetery is a peaceful and tranquil place, with many trees, and an abundance of water. And unique to this cemetery, is the fact that a Texas state highway, State Highway 165, runs right through the middle of the cemetery, lined on both sides of the road with flags of the State of Texas. It is less than a mile long, the speed limit is very slow, and it is locked down at night, along with the cemetery.

The famous people buried in the cemetery are a very long and impressive list. From Stephen F. Austin, an early Texan and the first Secretary of State for the Republic of Texas, the historical roll call includes, Confederate General Albert Sydney Johnston killed at the Battle of Shiloh; African-American Hall of Fame baseball player, Willie James Wells (“El Diablo”); Barbara Jordan, the first African-American woman from a Southern state to serve in the U.S. House of Representatives; and, John Connally, Governor of Texas, and later, Secretary of the Treasury of the United States, who was shot in November 1963 in the presidential limousine with John F. Kennedy in Dallas. Tom Landry, the successful Dallas Cowboys football coach, famous for his winning record and that special hat he wore, while interred in Dallas, is honored with a cenotaph.

The cemetery is also the final resting place for many Governors and Lt. Governors of Texas, U.S. Senators, members of the U.S. House of Representatives, Texas Rangers, and, several Texas Medal of Honor recipients.

Additionally, there is a monument to recognize World War II military veterans of the "Greatest Generation" and a monument for military veterans of Vietnam and Southeast Asia, recognizing the sacrifice of this country’s military members during that very long, unpopular, and difficult war, which ended in 1975.

The most important grave and monument in the cemetery, in my estimation, is that of Lt. Governor, Bob Bullock, who saved this historic cemetery from neglect and oblivion.

May God Bless Bob Bullock, and all the souls resting in the Texas State Cemetery.