Remembering The Alamo Survivors: Susanna Dickinson And “The Babe of the Alamo”

When I was growing up, everybody I knew believed a common myth that there were no survivors among the defenders of the Alamo mission. This myth has been perpetuated over the years for various reasons, but whatever the reasons, it is not true. While it is accurate, perhaps, that all combatant defenders perished in the fighting, there were, in fact, survivors. Among the survivors of the battle were Susanna Dickinson and her infant daughter, the one they called “The Babe of the Alamo.”

This past Saturday was the anniversary of the Battle of the Alamo. On March 6, 1836, General Santa Anna, commanding Mexican military forces at the time, attacked the Texans holed up inside the mission. The attack came after a brief siege, and in the ensuing battle, hundreds of attackers and defenders were killed, including, Jim Bowie and Davy Crocket. For reasons still unknown today, General Santa Anna spared the life of Susanna Dickinson and her baby daughter, Angelina, and they were released.

Susanna Wilkerson was born in Tennessee in 1814, and was married at the age of 15 to Almaron Dickinson. Shortly thereafter, they moved to Texas. Caught up in the turbulent times during the push for Texas independence from Mexico, her husband volunteered to help defend what is now San Antonio, Texas. It wasn’t long before Susanna, and their daughter Angelina, joined him in the Alamo Mission. And, while Almaron died in the famous battle, his wife and daughter were spared.

In the aftermath of the battle, and because of the subsequent release granted by General Santa Anna, Susanna was able to inform the rebellious Texans about the catastrophic loss at the Alamo Mission. It was, in part, due to her eyewitness testimony of the battle, that angry Texans rallied and successfully completed their quest for independence at the Battle of San Jacinto the following month, when Santa Anna surrendered his army.

Angelina, “The Babe of the Alamo,” married several times before passing away sometime around 1870, in either Galveston or New Orleans. And her mother, Susanna, widowed at such an early age, went through a slew of husbands over the years. With her fifth and last husband, Joseph Hannig, she eventually moved to Austin, Texas, where she died in 1883. Upon her death, she was buried in Austin’s Oakland Cemetery, where she rests today. With her passing, went the last of the remaining Anglo defenders of the Alamo.

Texas Independence Day

March 2nd of every year is a very special day for Texans. For it is on this day, that citizens of Texas annually celebrate something which cannot be celebrated by citizens around the rest of the country, Texas Independence Day. Unlike any other state, Texas was once an independent and sovereign nation.

It was on March 2, 1836, in Washington-on-the-Brazos, that an assembly of representatives from various small villages and settlements throughout Texas voted to approve the Declaration of Independence from Mexico. In the words of the document itself, the signers declared “that the people of Texas do now constitute a free, Sovereign, and independent republic.” Through the actions of this assembly of delegates, the Republic of Texas was formed.

The move toward independence was precipitated by Mexico’s decision to create a centralized form of government, which greatly diluted the power of the individual Mexican states, including the state of Coahuila y Tejas, which now includes parts of present day Texas.

It was an official Texas State Holiday today, and in Austin, the capital of Texas, there was an observance at the Texas State Cemetery, where fifteen signers of the “The Unanimous Declaration of Independence made by the Delegates of the People of Texas,” on that day long ago, are buried.

Declaring independence is one thing, securing the independence declared is something else altogether. On March 6, 1836, less than a week after independence was declared, the upstart Texans were dealt a bloody setback at the Alamo Mission in San Antonio, by the Mexican military leader, Santa Anna.

Migrating Monarchs And Winter Texans

They’re probably all in Mexico by now. I saw my first monarch butterfly of the fall here in the hill country during the first few days in October, and my last about a week ago.

The migration of monarch butterflies begins in the upper regions of North America in early September, as the weather starts to cool. Monarch butterflies can’t live in the cold weather and head south before winter sets in. Like migrating birds, the monarchs come down certain flyways on their long journey. Their primary destination is the mountainous area just west of Mexico City, Mexico, although some monarchs west of the Rocky Mountains do migrate to certain areas of southern California.

It is estimated that nearly 100 million monarchs take part in the fall migration. East of the Rockies, the various flyways eventually converge into a narrower configuration, which funnel into one or two flyways over Texas. The major flyway is over central Texas and the Texas Hill Country. As a result, hill country residents, primarily during the month of October, are blessed with seeing more than their fair share of monarchs.

Once the butterflies reach Mexico, they all head to a relatively small area in the volcanic mountains just west of Mexico’s capital of Mexico City, where at the elevation of 10,000 feet, they spend the winter in oyamel fir trees. They are welcomed every year by local residents, and by tourists, who climb mountain trails to see the millions upon millions of monarchs hanging on the trees.

The monarch migration through the hill country this year, as always, was spectacular. They were everywhere, and the photo opportunities were endless. But now, they’re gone.

Migrating monarch butterflies, are just like the human “snowbirds,” or as we call them in Texas, “Winter Texans,” who come south to escape the cold weather up north every year. But, while the monarch butterflies come into Texas with numbers over 100 million, but then keep passing through, we really don’t want that many human winter visitors to stay down here. It’s not that we don’t appreciate them, because we surely do, but 100 million? That’s just a bit much.

The Texas Hill Country is a wonderful place to stay or visit during the winter, but, you folks from the north, please keep at least a couple thousand people or so back up there. Somebody has to run "your" country up north during the winter months, don't they?

Pastel de Tres Leches (Three Milk Cake)

Three milk cake, or in Spanish, pastel de tres leches, is a delicious treat found in abundance in Texas. In fact, it is so good, that many countries are fighting about where it originated. Everyone, it seems, claims to be an expert on the matter. According to most so-called “experts,” the top two contenders for this honor are Mexico and Nicaragua. But others stridently disagree, asserting the cake’s origin is in Costa Rica, Cuba, or a lot of other Central and South American countries.

Since no one really knows, and anyone can be a self-professed “expert,” I would think that Fargo, North Dakota, or, Baraga, Michigan may want to chime in and claim credit. In fact, any village, town, city, county, or state hoping to increase tourism should claim credit. Think of the additional visitors the Upper Peninsula of Michigan would get for being famous for both this milk cake and the pasty. If you don’t know what a pasty is, you need to check out a blog site of someone extolling the virtues of great food in the Copper Country of Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. I would give you an overview of the pasty myself, but I’m a little busy with this blog here in Texas.

All kidding aside, there is no doubt that the cake had its beginning south of the United States border. But beyond that, all bets are off. I prefer to favor Mexico, because it is close, and Texas is heavily populated with wonderful Mexican-Americans. But, just like all the other “experts” who weigh in on this important subject matter, I have no proof to support my opinion.

Whatever its origins, everyone can agree that this is one outstanding cake. I’m a great cook, in my “expert” opinion, but I’m not a baker by any means, so I’m going to simplify things just a bit, well okay, quite a bit. I’m talking about radical cake making directions here. Bake a sponge cake, punch holes in it gently with a fork or tooth-pick, and then pour three types of milk into it so it soaks through the cake. The types of milk must include a mixture of condensed milk, evaporated milk, and heavy cream. Refrigerate it, then frost the cake with a mixture of whipped cream, sugar, and vanilla. Then, place some cherries or strawberries on top. I can see professional bakers rolling their eyes (repeatedly). Do yourself a favor and get a detailed recipe or find a store selling these cakes. In either case, it’s worth the effort and expense.

When all is said and done, once this cake is thoroughly chilled, it is wonderfully milky, creamy, moist, sweet, and satisfying. It is no wonder so many countries south of the border want to claim a piece of this “pie.” Well, maybe it's not a pie, but it is a cake, and an excellent one indeed!

The Ubiquitous Prickly Pear Cactus

The Prickly Pear Cactus is the state plant of Texas, and it’s little wonder why. It is found nearly everywhere throughout the state. It is a relatively small cactus, covered with very sharp spines. We, in fact, have many growing on our property here in the hill country. While stumbling into the plant wearing sandals is not a pleasant experience, eating it certainly is.

The Prickly Pear Cactus is native to the American Southwest and Mexico, and has been part of the the diet of people living in the area throughout history. Before moving to Texas, I never imagined that people ate cactus, but I have to tell you, it’s surprisingly good.

The Prickly Pear Cactus is comprised of a couple of parts. The pad is the large flattened portion of the plant and is referred to as “Nopales.” The fruit is referred to as “Tuna.”

Even if you have this spiny plant growing in abundance on your land, it is advantageous to purchase the cactus you wish to consume. Removing the spines is a tedious and time consuming task, and certainly not worth the time or effort, especially when a single fruit of the cactus, completely cleaned of the spines can be purchased for twenty cents in a local hill country store.

The fruit, or Tuna, with the spines removed, is easily prepared for consumption. Simply cut off both ends of the fruit, split the fruit lengthwise, and peel the outer skin off. The remaining portion consists of a sweet and juicy, seed-filled interior with the flavor of a melon. The small seeds are swallowed or chewed by some folks, but probably should be spit out as you would do with watermelon seeds. Various products are derived from the fruit, including jelly, syrup, and candy.

The pad, with a flavor similar to green beans, can be prepared in a variety of ways, often, but not always cooked.

The common Prickly Pear Cactus is interesting to look at, always troublesome to handle, but surely provides an interesting addition to hill country foods.