UNT Star Party

One of my many tasks is to identify field trips, which will grab the imagination and hold my wife’s interest for a day. In my search, I discovered that the University of North Texas (UNT-Go Meangreen) has a little known astronomical observatory, The Rafes Urban Astronomy Center, on the west side of the Denton County Airport, the site of a former Nike Missile Base. On the first Saturday of each month, they hold a “Star Party” at the facility and allow adults and kids to see and learn about the stars. Thus, on a beautiful, warm and very clear Summer night, we found ourselves westbound through the city of Denton, Texas.

UNT has two large domes, which each house an 8-inch refracting telescope and 3 open bay covered buildings with roll back roofs, which contain several smaller refractor and reflecting telescopes. Think really expensive amateur off-the-shelf telescopes. We had been fortunate in having some heavy rain during the preceding week, which had both cooled and cleared the skies above us. But first, I must take a moment to talk about the drive out to the facility.

As we’ve learned from countless westerns and TV shows, Texas is big. And pretty flat. Except for the region known euphemistically as the “Hill Country” of the southwest and a couple of mountains east of El Paso, you can watch the sun rise and set from horizon to horizon unless you get into a major city where the buildings get in the way. Being so big means there’s a lot of open space and thus places and things tend to be far apart. And not densely populated. It is not uncommon in the rural areas for homes to be a mile or more apart, which is very picturesque in the daylight, but can cause your nighttime drive to be a very dark one. Without a moon up, it can be pitch black.

So, with this in mind, I scheduled our foray so we would dine in Denton, drive the 5 miles to the Observatory (still in the waning daylight) and be able to spend the evening looking for ET. The Star Party was scheduled to begin at 30 minutes past sunset. As usual, I was able to mix business with pleasure and get a meal out of the deal.

It wasn’t our first time to Denton; we had been through there a couple of times with friends. Denton is the County Seat of Denton County and has a very handsome Courthouse built around 1896 at it’s city square. Denton, historically, was and is a major player in the region with a railroad running through the town, not only the home of UNT but Texas Women’s University (originally founded in 1901 as the Girls Industrial College, Go Pioneers) was the first all-women’s college chartered in Texas. It is the largest state-supported university for women in the United States. They also house the WASP Archival Collection, which features one of the largest repositories of women in aviation in the world, housing the history of Women Airforce Service Pilots of World War II, the Whirly-Girls International Helicopter Pilots, Women Military Aviators, and others.

Two blocks southeast of the square is a great Tex-Mex restaurant named “Fuzzy’s Taco Shop”. It’s situated on the end of a bank of former warehouses, which now house two restaurants and a bar. We had our favorite, chicken nachos. This may be a good time to reflect on the use of real cheese and Velveeta. I am no food snob but there are certain standards we have all grown up with and I have to split hairs on this one.

Folks in Texas have an historic love of Velveeta cheese. Velveeta, as many of you know, is mostly whey, a bi-product of regular cheese making and a common substitute for real cheese. The key term here is real. Kraft started making it in 1927. Being a manufactured product, it did not require much refrigeration and had a shelf life of about three centuries if left undisturbed. This made it a crossover favorite of the rural ranching and farming families of Texas. Many of whom didn’t have the electricity or refrigeration we enjoy today.

Velveeta is not sought after by discriminating pallets for it’s aged taste or old world texture but for it’s utility. It is inexpensive and can be adapted to many of our traditional favorites like grilled cheese sandwiches, Mac and cheese, and (God forgive me) Nachos. So it is part of our restaurant checklist to note the use of Velveeta whenever we dine and we’ve seen some crazy adaptations, like Chicken Primavera and a weird American cheese Pasta Alfredo at an Italian Restaurant outside Glen Rose, Texas. The place which was playing Country music instead of Sinatra over the Musak.

Fuzzy’s passed the test and got a big thumbs up for their use of what appeared to be real grated mild Cheddar and Monterey Jack. They also liberally drizzled this concoction with a spicy Chipotle sauce.

Now, our bellies full, we mounted our Nissan Rogue and, with Google Maps on the iPhone, made our way westward toward the Observatory. This is where things got dicey. If any of you have ever used Google Maps, there is that little-viewed caveat about doing a “reality check” when accepting their directions. It calls for due diligence in making sure the roads suggested are actually open and not closed to traffic (well if I knew that…I wouldn’t be using the mapping service, now would I). And, of course, like most men, I have been blessed with the razor sharp instincts of an ancient navigator and if all else fails….I can maneuver using landmarks and the stars if need be (yeah, right).

The initial guide was straight forward and took us from Fuzzy’s due west over the I-35 and got us to the east entrance of the Denton County Airport. Now mind you, the Observatory is a mere 5.7 miles, as the crow flies, ( I never understood why we gauged our travels by crows…why not Eagles or Carrier Pigeons?) on the west side of the airport. An estimated travel time of 17 minutes. Here we came to a dead end. The perimeter road had been closed for construction. This required a re-evaluation of Google Maps and a work-around.

Now my friend Dana will tell you that this only requires a touch of his little Tom Tom screen for Alice ( yeah, he named it) to recalculate a new path for him. Not so easy with the iPhone. It has no such editing feature so you must widen the view to discern streets and highways around you to visually figure an alternate way to your destination. Here in lies the next problem with Google Maps. God love ‘em, they have digitized the entire world into their little servers all over the planet and, I swear, they must have digested all known maps of the New World going back to Cortez. Suffice it to say, that “reality check” thing really comes into play especially in rural Texas. I came to believe they might even have digitized the maps scrawled on the napkins of Davy Crockett and William Travis from that little Mexican Café when they used to meet at the Alamo.

Then the geography comes in to play as well. Remember big, flat, few homes and landmarks, oh yeah..did I mention dark? My vaunted time schedule was now shot to hell and the darkness was now upon us. I’m talking “can’t-see-your-hand-in-front-of-your-face” dark. Recall that Texas is spread out and trying to get anywhere is not always straightforward. It can lead one many miles in what seems like a totally different direction to ultimately get to one’s destination. It takes the concentration of a bomb maker and the patience of Jobe to work it out (neither of which my wife possesses).

My competitive side takes over. The clock is ticking and I, for one, am determined to get to the Observatory before the “party” begins. Dianna has now ditched her iPod book on tape and is trying to help. So begins my desperate attempt to navigate us through the landscape and to the finish line while fending off Dianna’s helpful reminders, “The speed limit says 30 not 45,” and, (does this sound familiar?) “Maybe we should stop and ask directions.”

Now, mind you, we are careening (I’m sorry, traveling) down tree lined County and Farm-to-Market roads which are quickly dwindling down to less than a single travel lane moving from paved to dirt. The trees have formed a dense canopy which has blocked out any possible sky light we may have had left. We haven’t seen a living soul for about an hour. I’m talking those backwoods roads in scenes from the X-Files where all you can see is by the glow of your headlights and, when stopped, all you hear is the rustling of the trees and the sound of banjo playing in the background. Which brings out the occasional observation from Dianna, “You know, we could die here and no one would ever find us.” That’s my girl.

Now my wife and I have been together for some time and she has developed a certain threshold for my map quests. As we all know, driving and navigating while looking down at your lap at a bobbing, glowing cell phone is not only ill advised but downright dangerous. She has taken a motherly stance as to my treatment of her beloved mother-of-pearl Rogue as I skitter around rock-strewn bends in the road and the occasional pothole. But then…just as she prepared another, “Maybe we should stop and ask directions?”, we arrive, unscathed.

The trees open up and we’re stopped among parked cars and our first sighting of humans in a long while. At the end of the lane, almost mockingly, in my headlights, I can clearly see the reflectors of the Denton County Airport perimeter gate and the control tower in the distance. Like Columbus stepping off onto the sand and addressing his crew, I turned to Dianna and said, “See, I told you we’d find it.” And…. there’s the roll of her eyes. I still have it.

Being prepared, I brought my flashlight and we stumbled our way to the entrance gate. We were directed to one of the domes and told it was locked onto Venus and to take a look. We got up onto a ladder and could see the image of Venus undulating in the eyepiece. I am not an astronomer and was surprised to see only a “half moon” image of the second planet from the Sun. I kinda thought it would be like the full moon. Dianna, without blinking, suggested it was due to Venus’ position relative to the Sun that gave it that half moon look to us.

Ok, in my household, I hold the coveted title of “Keeper of all Trivial Knowledge.” Not a day (or an awkward moment) goes by that my family, friends, or co-workers can depend on me to come up with some little known fact or long forgotten snippet of data. The revelation usually is preceded by the dreaded, “Did you know….”? It is usually met with rolling eyes, sighs and, often, looks of disdain as I elucidate to those around me.

I don’t take my mission lightly. No sir, the world needs my help and seemingly limitless ability to bring forth critical knowledge that, by it’s very utterance, could very well press the walls of ignorance aside. Though, unfortunately, this counsel is not highly sought after, it’s a burden I’m willing to bear that others might benefit. Let’s face it, somebody has to do it.

So, when clearly trumped by my wife’s superior knowledge of the cosmos, I was taken aback and knocked just a little off balance. I approached one of the docents and asked the question about the half moon effect and, without missing a beat, told me it was Venus’ relative position to the Sun, which dictates how much of it we see in the night sky. For it is the Sun that lights up the Moon and the planets, not the Earth. I now felt doubly ashamed in that I hadn’t believed my wife and was now accused of being an old world “Earth centrist” bigot.

Trying to deflect her criticism of me, I asked her what she did at the Observatory. She said she is an instructor at the facility. Even in the darkness, I could sense this young woman was maybe 23 or 24 years of age and couldn’t possibly qualify as a teacher for UNT. She may have sensed this because she then cheerfully told me Astronomy was her lifelong hobby and because of her passion for the subject, they made her an instructor to assist Physics undergrads with their work. I asked her if she was a grad student teacher. She happily replied she was actually an English major undergrad and hadn’t gotten her degree yet. Wow.

We then moved on to the rest of the facility and checked out the other telescope mounts in the roll back buildings. Unfortunately, some parents had brought little kids with them and they were yelling and running around jumping up onto the different telescopes. The telescopes had been locked onto different stars in the sky but the kids kept grabbing and pulling the eyepieces around and knocking them off their targets. The parents were not keeping pace and were just letting them run amok. The Astronomy students on hand were ill equipped to handle the situation and we had to leave to escape the bedlam.

But the best part was convening back between the domes for the English Major to talk to us about Astronomy. She had this really cool green Laser pointer (this thing was like a Light Saber from Star Wars) and was very adept at pointing out the various stars and constellations in the clear night sky. She even waxed poetic as she explained some of the Greek and Roman myths surrounding the creation of the constellations.

Having gotten our fill of all things Astronomical, it was time to leave and now came the hard part. Deciding how to get back through the winding maze that formed our arrival. I approached one of the students and asked what was the fastest way back. He pointed to the little map on our handout and said to just follow it back to the main highway.

With my tail between my legs, under the watchful (and jaundiced) eye of my wife, we made one left turn onto a County dirt road, which took us to a paved Farm-to-Market road. Turning due east we quickly (we’re talking minutes) came upon I-35 and a quick return trip home. Turns out, it’s the same map displayed on their website advertising the Star Party. Who Knew?

Tyler, Texas

As I have explained, the process of divining a path to the hinterlands of this great State is mired in deep thought and analysis as to which place best exemplifies a region or culture. Not really, it always boils down to whether I can get the wife on-board and primarily if the weather will hold up.

The Summers in Texas can even try the patience of the Texas horned lizard (Phrynosoma cornutum, Texas State Reptile) of West Texas. It’s not uncommon for most of North Texas August days to be in the 100’s. Forget that nice dry Santa Ana stuff in the West. This always comes with a major dose of humidity. You know, that sweat-dripping-down-the-back-of-your-shirt humidity. I look out on the plains of Texas and always wonder how those ranchers and dirt farmers hacked it pre-air-conditioning. They were better men (and women) than I could ever be.

Thus we found ourselves in the midst of a cold snap (well….it was in the low 90’s after 17 consecutive days of over 100, with heat indexes up to 112 in some of North Texas). And so, the wife and I made a trip to the Rose Capitol of Texas, Tyler, Texas.

Tyler was unique in that we did this trip on a Friday not the usual weekend hop. I get a lot of grief for waiting until Sunday to go on our treks. As I’ve mentioned earlier, in Texas, on Sundays, they usually roll up the streets and everything else because of the religious influence on all things Sabbath (not the band). This becomes more evident in the more rural areas, places I refer to as the stitching of the Bible Belt.

Saturdays are the best because the Town Squares are populated with residents and visitors hitting the eating and watering holes and most of the boutiques are open for perusing. The wife loves to meet with “her people” (folks who delve into the black arts of crafting, sewing, and general interior decorating with Christmas lights and the much sought after door wreath). They light votive candles to fabric gods and make a pilgrimage to the owner’s most recent creation altar. Fun times.

Sundays can be ok, but some towns can resemble a ghost town. Think the final scenes of “On the Beach (1959)”. But sometimes it just works out that way and we (well…Dianna) are often disappointed when we arrive ready to party and are greeted with window shutters slapping in the breeze and the occasional tumbling tumble weed rolling by (I kid you not, actually saw a tumble weed roll through the streets of downtown Wichita Falls, Texas, November 2009).

Tyler is a city in and the County Seat of, Smith County, Texas. The city is named for President John Tyler in recognition of his support for Texas' admission to the United States. Tyler has been nicknamed the "Rose Capital of the World" because of its large role in the rose-growing industry; about 20% of commercial rose bushes produced in the U.S. are grown in Tyler and Smith County and more than half of the rose bushes are packaged and shipped from the area. It has the nation's largest municipal rose garden and hosts the Texas Rose Festival each October, which draws more than 100,000 spectators.

Now Tyler is the County Seat of Smith County but no longer has it’s historic Courthouse at it’s center. After a series of three log cabins over five years served as the county courthouse, the cornerstone was laid in December 1851, for a new courthouse, Tyler’s first brick structure. The two-story building was 40 feet by 70 feet and sat in the middle of the square. In 1876 a third story was added, as well as a clock tower that never had a timepiece installed. Unfortunately, uncharacteristically of Texas, a decision was made in 1955 to remove it to be replaced by a more modern structure, which would then allow Main St. to continue through the Town Center where the old Courthouse once stood. I think you’ll agree….bad idea. The new building is stark and very pedestrian. A classic “government” building with no heart or soul.

We (ok..I) was hungry and we walked the square until we found a great Mexican place, Don Juan on the Square. The veggie enchiladas (yes, I’m watching my cholesterol) were awesome.

To walk off our meal we again ventured forth around the square and where the once beautiful Courthouse once stood, was a great little plaza dedicated to Community leaders and a very touching memorial to Crime Victims of Smith County. Also a very nice Law Enforcement Memorial to those Smith County (and Federal) Peace Officers who lost their lives in the Line of Duty.

Off the square was the Smith County Historical Society housed in the Carnegie History Center. It was kind of a two-fer in that the building was formerly a Carnegie Public Library and when the City Library expanded to a new building across the street, the Historical Society took it over to house a small museum and their offices.

Some of you might know that Andrew Carnegie immigrated to the United States in 1848 and became a powerful businessman in the American steel industry. He spent his last years as a philanthropist, which included building over 2,500 libraries worldwide. Tyler received a $15,000 donation from Carnegie to build a new home for its library. It was completed in 1904 and remained the City Library until 1979.

Inside was a neat collection of memorabilia of early Tyler and Smith County including an exhibit of Tyler’s contribution to the Civil War (TWONA) effort. Smith County was apparently a strong supporter of the Confederacy and slavery (think major agriculture hub). They provided a large number of volunteers to the Army of Northern Virginia as well as defending the Texas frontier from those pesky Native Americans foolishly trying to maintain dominance on what was their home turf during the war years.

As we know, the Confederacy, contrary to the Union, was handicapped by not having a large industrial base before the war. So some of Tyler’s manufacturing companies went to a wartime footing and produced arms and ammunition for the Confederacy. Being so far from the battle lines allowed Smith County to become a major supply point right up to the war’s end.

Because most of the big firearms manufacturers were in the North, the Tyler arms and munitions industry took to making copies of existing sport and military rifles. Some converted weapons were even bored out so they could use standardized ammunition. Because of the shortages of materials, they had to take shortcuts such as only using a single screw to secure the butt plates. This feature still defines the few examples of remaining antique firearms made by Tyler from those days. Part of the exhibit demonstrated how to assemble a rifle cartridge for a muzzle-loading flintlock. Lots of measuring, pouring powder and wrapping of the paper cartridge. Very tedious and dangerous work.

As we made our way back to the car, we came upon another icon of early Texas life, the Independent Order of Odd Fellows (IOOF). You can find evidence of this fraternal order in most Texas towns. Either as a name placard on a building or, like this one, an actual operating Lodge.

Thomas Wildey, born in London, England, January 15, 1783. He joined the Odd Fellows in England in 1804 and is the founder of Odd Fellowship in North America.

When Thomas Wildey came to America in 1817, British citizens had to keep under the radar and were still pretty unpopular in the States because of the War of 1812. Wildey missed the camaraderie of the IOOF and advertised in a Baltimore newspaper to determine if there were any other Odd Fellows around (you could go on for days making jokes off of that).

On April 26, 1819, Wildey and the four men who responded to the advertisement formed the Independent Order of Odd Fellows in North America, dedicating the Order to achieve philanthropic goals. Other Englishmen who were Odd Fellows had grouped in the states along the Eastern Seaboard, and Wildey gathered them all into the newly formed fraternity. He traveled widely to set up lodges in the most recently settled parts of the country. At the time of his death in 1861, there were more than 200,000 members of the Independent Order of Odd Fellows in 42 states.

The first lodge of Odd Fellows in Texas was instituted in Houston, as Lone Star Odd Fellow Lodge Number One, on July 25, 1838. The Odd Fellow Fraternity grew from there to many Texas towns. They are still referred to as Odd Fellows and Rebekahs (think Masons-Shriners/Eastern Stars) and have been a part of the Rose Parade on New Year's Day since 1955.

Even today, they are still involved in several events and charities like the Arthritis Foundation, Disaster Relief – Hurricanes, Tornados, Flooding, 9/11, SOS Village, they do an annual wreath laying at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, Wilmer Eye Institute at John Hopkins University, and United Nations Education Pilgrimage for Youth. They have about 10,000 lodges worldwide.

Tyler is also a kind of Winery Center for East Texas and has an assortment 6 wineries within a short distance of downtown Tyler. We didn’t get a chance to try any but my Texas Wine Country Passport was burning a hole in my pocket as we drove around.

There are several historic homes in Tyler to tour but a must see is the Goodman-LeGrand house and museum. This classic Antebellum style home was built originally as a single story home by Samuel Smith in 1859. When the Civil War (TWONA) came round, Smith sold it to a guy named Franklin Gary. The home was bought and sold several more times until it ended up with Dr. William Goodman, a physician and Civil War field doctor, in 1867. He had three children who remained in the home until the last surviving daughter, Sallie Goodman-LeGrand died and donated it and the surrounding gardens to the City of Tyler in 1939.

It went through a series of remodels from 1880 to the last one in 1926 changing it from Antebellum, to Texas Colonial (Italianate), to a Greek Revival style as it looks today. The really cool element was that the home’s interior pretty much looks like when the family lived there with original furnishings, paintings, glassware, and hand-painted antique dish sets dating back to the 1880s. There’s an amazing display of Dr. Goodman’s medical equipment from the Civil War period and lots of Medical books from that time as well.

The home and the nine acres of land around it was turned into LeGrand Park by the City of Tyler and is open to the public free of charge (donations accepted) seven days a week. It’s part of an historical home tour and, during Christmas, is covered with Christmas Lights for the season.

After reflecting over the highlights of our visit over Cranberry-Limeades at the SONIC drive-thru, we bid East Texas goodbye, pointed our Nissan northwest and, keeping Tyler square in the rear view mirror, returned to our homestead to plot and plan for our next sojourn.

Weatherford, Texas

As previously stated, on most weekends, I Shanghai my wife (like Captain Ahab dragging off a Seaman destined for the Pequod) and drive to new places to learn more about our State. We’ve been together now for 35 years. Early on, I was able to cobble together a profile of my wife. I can tell you, as the years have progressed, we are no longer as open minded about things as we used to. Camping has been replaced by Spas, thread counts have to be in the thousands and meals are not to be consumed standing but plush booths are acceptable. God forbid if anyone within a 50-mile radius is smoking. Oh yeah, screaming kids in restaurants too.

Because we have this close bond, I have often sensed she is not always a willing participant but humors me into believing she is so we can spend more quality time together away from the drudgery of workaday problems. I really believe it may be more a way to placate me so she doesn’t feel guilty when she’s collecting the life insurance check.

The process in getting out must be described. Something I like to call “our little dance”. It begins on a Saturday or Sunday after she returns from doing some of her errands. I approach her cautiously to check the weather and once I’m confident she’s in the right frame of mind (and there are no sharp objects in reach), I ask if she’s up for a trip. Being the real trooper she is, she generally agrees and then begins the second phase of the dance.

My wife, Dianna, has a pre-drive ritual, which would rival a Space Shuttle launching. There are books and magazines to be loaded, iPhone/iPods plugged in to cigarette lighters, earphones, snacks, juice bottles and handi-wipes to clean and cool the skin. After relocating her sunglasses for the fifth time, we stow the checklist, the Gantry is rolled back and we can begin the flight. Then there is the reiterating of the itinerary so she can update her iPhone App that logs our journey for future generations. And so, we head for Weatherford, Texas.

In 1855, Parker County was created by the Texas State Legislature and named for pioneer and State Representative Isaac Parker. Parker was the uncle of Cynthia Ann Parker, a little girl who was taken from her home by Indians during the Texas Revolution. Cynthia Ann lived among the Comanche from 1836 to 1860 and became the mother of Chief Quanah Parker, the last leader of the Quahadi band of Comanche before they surrendered and moved to reservations in Oklahoma.

Later, when she was overtaken in flight by Texas Rangers, Col. Isaac Parker who recognized her as his long-lost niece, brought her back to her white family. Cynthia Ann never took to being among the white race and began a very sad series of failed attempts to return to her native home and family. She was often locked in her room over the next several years so she wouldn’t escape. Often refusing to speak or eat, she died in 1870 of influenza at the age of 43.

Weatherford was incorporated in 1858. It is the County seat of Parker County and the crown jewel is the Parker County Courthouse. Parker County’s first courthouse was built of rough pine lumber in 1856. It was replaced with a brick one in 1858. It burned in 1884 and reconstructed in 1885 of Parker County limestone. The Seth Thomas Clock was installed in 1897 for $957. The Courthouse was restored in 2004 to bring back its classic beauty and original splendor from the turn of the 20th century.

In the early 19th Century, the State legislature enacted a rule that the County seat of a County had to be within 5 miles of its geographic center. The Parker County Courthouse is located in the exact geographical center of the County. Interestingly, this Second Empire style courthouse, like most Texas town squares, usually resides on an island of lawn and surrounded by monuments and parking. At some point, it was determined that this Courthouse should be the focus of a traffic circle like some sort of Hot Wheels track around a tree at Christmas. I’m sure it’s an efficient means of getting around, but I think it really detracts from what is a beautiful Courthouse.

Named by the State Legislature as the Peach Capital of Texas, Weatherford and Parker County growers produce the biggest, sweetest, juiciest peaches in all of Texas. Each year, around July, the Peach is celebrated at the Parker County Peach Festival. They shut down the town square (and the traffic circle) and it becomes Weatherford's largest one-day event.

While in the Town Square, we were (ok…I was) hungry and took breakfast at The Weatherford Downtown Café just across from the Courthouse. Britton and Jamie Schweitzer have a great place with lots of seating, old photos and wall paintings to keep you entertained while waiting for a sumptuous dish, in this case, a very filling breakfast burrito. On the recommendation of the server, we saved room for the chocolate pie dessert. Wow, is all I can say.

The Town of Weatherford was named for the first State Senator for this district, Jefferson Weatherford of Dallas an ardent secessionist at the time of the Civil War (TWONA). According to his cousin, like most politicians, Senator Weatherford never set foot in the town. The first settlers had arrived less than ten years earlier. There were many Native American attacks between the years of 1846 and 1874. There are several headstones in Parker County that read, "Killed by Indians."

The railroad arrived in June 1880. The Santa Fe Depot (which today houses the Weatherford Chamber of Commerce) was built in 1908. Built under Jim Crow laws, the Depot had waiting rooms segregated and separated by the ticket office.

Other historical notable figures have helped shape Weatherford. Mary Martin, internationally known Broadway star, renowned for her portrayal of Peter Pan. Her son, Larry Hagman, became forever immortalized as the villainous J .R. Ewing, of the television melodrama, Dallas. Former 56th Speaker of the House Jim Wright grew up in Weatherford. In 1954, he was elected to Congress from Texas's 12th congressional district, based in Fort Worth but also including Weatherford. During his term, he got beat out of the Democratic Leadership by one of the new guys, Lyndon Johnson.

Weatherford has a rich western heritage filled with colorful characters and personalities. Legendary cattle drivers Oliver Loving, Charles Goodnight, and Bose Ikard are just a few of the notorious cowboys that make up Weatherford's history. Oliver Loving is buried in Weatherford’s Greenwood Cemetery. After being attacked by Indians in New Mexico in 1867, Loving’s dying wish to his friend, Charles Goodnight, was to be buried in his home, Parker County. Goodnight brought the body back six hundred miles by wagon for burial. The story is the inspiration behind Texas author Larry McMurtry’s novel, Lonesome Dove.

A year earlier, Goodnight had invented the first chuckwagon, which catered to cowboys on a cattle drive that would later become known as the Goodnight-Loving Trail. Boze Ikard, who served with Goodnight and for whom the McMurtry character “Deets” was modeled, was also laid to rest in the Greenwood Cemetery.

The international oil services corporation now known as Weatherford International was founded in 1941 in Weatherford, Texas as the Weatherford Spring Company by Jesse E. Hall Sr. It is a recurring theme in Texas that most oil discoveries were made while looking for water. Who better than a well water drilling company to develop methods for tapping oil deposits. Weatherford International now employs 43,000 persons and operates in more than 100 countries.

Weatherford was the home to British portrait artist Douglas Chandor who moved to Weatherford and married Weatherford native Ina Kuteman. His portrait work is kind of a Whos’ Who for anybody of significance in the late 30’s, 40’s and 50’s. Five are part of the Smithsonian’s National Portrait Gallery. Known internationally for his portraits of the rich and famous including Queen Elizabeth, Winston Churchill, Eleanor and Franklin Roosevelt, he designed and built a beautiful botanical garden known as "White Shadows" which is now owned and operated by the City of Weatherford.

Though the temperature hovered around 105, the wife and I made our way to the home and walked the garden using the self-guided tour. We were the first to arrive and were fortunate enough to hook up with one of the docents on her gardening rounds who provided an intimate tour of the house and neat tidbits about the grounds (and general gardening tips for our homestead). The 3.5 acres of land was donated by his wife’s family and Chandor set out to build a home and garden as part of the estate. Both he and the Mrs. really liked Chinese and old English style gardens and there are elements of both in the garden.

To build his garden, Mr. Chandor recycled many materials. You can see old Coke and 7-UP bottles, clay sewer pipes for roof tiles and colored marbles as part of the various designs and lots of used bricks. It is said that Mr. Chandor told others he, “never saw a brick I didn’t want to break” to create a design on a pathway or a water feature. The flowers, colors and water features are magnificent. A must see.

Cool story was that Chandor always wanted to construct a “mountain” as part of his garden. He told this to one of his portrait subjects, former Governor James Cox of Ohio (1913-1921). After seeing the completed portrait, Cox cut Chandor a check for the materials (kind of like stimulus money, Cox was after all a Democrat) to complete his beloved mountain. Chandor died January 13, 1953 at the age of 56. Soon after, his wife Ina Chandor opened the gardens to the public for a fee of $1.00. She used the proceeds to help absorb the high costs associated with the gardens’ maintenance. The gardens were drawing several thousand visitors annually. Ina joined her late husband in 1978, and the gardens and home fell into disrepair. A local family, Melody and Chuck Bradford, purchased the house and garden in 1994 and brought it back to it’s original glory. They then sold it to the City of Weatherford who now run it as a museum and event destination for weddings, private and public gatherings.

The house was just as intriguing. Although built in 1936, it is an interesting mix of Tudor style, Asian and a little Art Deco thrown in. There were many features for cooling off the place in the hot Texas Summers (pre-air-conditioning) like rollback roof-peak venting to move air through the house. His workspace was a huge vaulted ceiling ballroom-size room. Funny thing was he would only work at one end which has a very tall window (the large window visible on the right), affording the only light. There, in this small corner of the room, would he sit his subjects and paint.

We also discovered there is also a driving tour of some of the best looking Victorian style homes throughout Weatherford which we followed on the way out of town. Worth doing but not in the West Texas heat of the day. So, now, hot and dripping sweat from our trek through this beautiful home and garden, we poured ourselves back into the car and, air-conditioning blasting, made our way back out the I-20 for home.

Corsicana, Texas

Corsicana, Texas was an interesting stop both historically and gastronomically. Corsicana came about in 1848 when it was chosen as the county seat of the newly formed Navarro County (to encourage more settlement and organization, the Texas Legislature enacted a bill in the 1800s stating that with a petition consisting of only 150 names, a county could be created.). When searching for a name, one of the founders, Jose Navarro (yes, the namesake of Navarro County) suggested the town be named after the island of his father’s birth, Corsica. Jose had been given the honor of naming the town because he had been one of the Father’s of the Texas Revolution releasing Texas from Mexico and a signer of the Texas Constitution.

Since it was founded, Corsicana has been an important agricultural, commercial, retail and transportation center in North Central Texas. Corsicana began as a significant railhead at the confluence of three major railroads and had a major impact of the Texas commercial cotton industry.

Corsicana grew rapidly in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, mostly due to the prosperous cotton industry. Because of the success of North Central Texas early cotton barons, Navarro County quickly became part of the nation’s largest cotton-producing area during the later 1800s. Cotton played a very important role in the early development of Corsicana, but it’s the accidental discovery of oil that put it on the map.

By the early 1890s, the rapidly expanding city had outgrown its water supply and the following year civic leaders formed the Corsicana Water Development Company with the aim of tapping a shallow artesian well in the area. Drilling began in the spring of 1894; but instead of water, the company hit a large pocket of oil and gas. The find, one of the first significant discoveries of oil west of the Mississippi River, led to Texas's first oil boom. Within a short time, nearly every lot in the town and in the surrounding area was under lease, and wells were springing up all over. The first oil refinery in the state was built in 1897. The discovery of oil transformed Corsicana from a regional agricultural shipping town to an important oil and industrial center. Corsicana became one of the first Texas oil boomtowns, and one of Texas' wealthiest cities. The area still has the longest continuous oil flow in Texas, with a total production in excess of 200 million barrels since 1895.

Texans were always on the cutting edge of the early transportation industry. Corsicana was no exception. Electric Interurban Railways, a standard railway passenger car propelled by electricity instead of steam engines, ended the use of horse or mule drawn trolleys in urban parts of Texas. In 1912, a company called the Texas Traction Company, purchased a line built by the Dallas Southern Traction Company from Dallas to Waxahachie. In 1913, that railway was built on to Waco and a fifty-six-mile line from Dallas to Corsicana was completed. In 1917, the Texas Traction Company and the Southern Traction Company merged to form the Texas Electric Railway Company, the largest interurban railway in the South, with more than 200 miles of track. But, with the advent of automobiles, most of the services ended by the late 1940s.

Ok, I can sense your eyes are rolling back, let’s talk about food. We were (well...I, was) hungry and we searched for a place to eat. It was, after all, Sunday and nothing was open. You must understand that most of Texas is a huge notch in the Bible Belt and few businesses are open on Sunday. If they have Sunday hours, most won’t operate until after the Churches let out after around 10 a.m.

Well, lo and behold, there was a very good Mexican restaurant on the east side of downtown called Fiesta Grill on N Commerce Street. A very extensive menu with lots of local fare for the large Hispanic population. Family owned and very busy.

To find dessert, we found Collin Street Bakery. The bakery was established by August Weidmann in 1896 using old world recipes of the early German immigrants who are well represented in early Texas history. What started out as a place to get fruitcake (yuck!) has morphed into a huge selection of breads, cakes, cookies and just about any sweet dessert you can think of. When word got out about the bakery, folks from all over, including Will Rogers, Enrico Caruso and even John Ringling and his troupe made a pilgrimage to sample Augusts’ stuff. The wife and I couldn’t resist, we too walked away with a bunch of goodies to munch on the way home.

Around the corner was Russell Stover Candies and Factory Store. Russell Stover is the nation’s leading manufacturer of boxed chocolates and the third largest American chocolate manufacturer. The company’s three brands – Russell Stover, Whitman's and Pangburn's – account for more than 60 percent of all boxed chocolate sales in the United States. Russell Stover candies are sold in more than 50 company-owned retail stores like the one on Pecan Delight Avenue in Corsicana.

If you like chili, you may be familiar with Wolf Brand Chili sold in many grocery stores around the U.S. In 1895, Lymon T. Davis had been a trail cook for cattle drivers and had developed a recipe for chili he made for his hungry charges. It was quick, easy and stuck to your ribs while you were droving cows to the meat packers up north. Feeling he had something special, he came to Corsicana and set up shop with his chuck wagon outside the Blue Front Saloon. A bowl was 5 cents.

By the early 1920s, the chili’s great-tasting reputation had spread, so Mr. Davis began canning the chili. At the suggestion of a local photographer, Mr. Davis’ pet wolf, Kaiser Bill (Yes....you all knew that was a reference to Kaiser Wilhelm of Germany), was selected to grace the label. Suddenly the chili had a name, Wolf Brand, which became a Texas staple for many.

As discussed in prior posts, the city and for that matter Texas, has often fallen on hard times. The Civil War (TWONA for the Southerners) put a virtual halt to the cotton industry. Corsicanans were slave owners (remember the cotton) and were whole heartily in support of the Confederacy and sent most of it’s men and boys off to fight in the Army of Virginia with Lee. When the war was over, Corsicana luckily avoided the violence and bitter strife of Reconstruction and quickly developed economically as oil became more important than cotton in the region. Then the Depression came along and the city shrank under the strain of that period until WWII came along and brought back the oil industry to it’s peak. Some historians credit the State of Texas with fueling the entire war effort and this wild pumping may be the underlying reason for almost exhausting it’s great wealth of oil reserves.

Come to Texas and you will find that each of it’s 254 counties has some type of central Courthouse  in it’s County Seat. For many counties, their Courthouse was a central feature and source of local pride. Many were well financed and rather ornate. Most were built between the late 1800s to the early 1900s. Many designed by well-known icons in the field of architecture and are nationally recognized as classic examples of various styles from that era. In almost every case, you will find that several of these Courthouses were, at some point, destroyed by fire and rebuilt in the same spots. Corsicana, like many places in Texas, had a total of four built between 1853 to 1905.

For the tourist and frustrated historian (did I say that out loud?) what most Courthouses do have is often an extensive collection of historical markers, which are windows into their community’s past. There is always the obligatory memorial to the TWONA usually raised by the United Daughters of the Confederacy (UDC). But Corsicana has an extensive and opulent memorial to all the wars since, including a memorial to the War on Terrorism. There was also a rather neat Peace Officer Memorial for Navarro County Law Enforcement and one to Firefighters too.

Recall from an earlier post that Texans revere all who have served their country and make no apologies for that reverence unlike some of their Yankee cousins who couch some of that enthusiasm with political correctness.

Though it still remains a commercial and transportation center for the area, it has really declined since the late seventies. It’s once colorful downtown harkens back to Main Street USA of the 50s and 60s, but is now just a series of empty storefronts. We took the self-guided driving tour of some classic Victorian era homes from it’s glory days still present in the northwest quadrant of the city but it’s clear Corsicana needs an injection of new blood to revitalize their historic downtown. As many communities in Texas have experienced, when the great Texas oil bust occurred, Corsicana, like Texas oil barons, and their historic importance, receded back into the history books.