4th of July 2011

Independence Day always evokes strong emotions in many Americans. Whether you were a member of the “Greatest Generation”, “Frozen Chosin”, visited the Vietnam Memorial, accepted Uncle Sam’s invitation to vacation in the Gulf (one or both times) or just liked the movie with Will Smith. Realizing the act of declaring an independence from colonial rulers in the middle of a rather (up to that point) one-sided conflict (which we were not exactly winning) with the then world’s biggest superpower was to say heroic and well….rather insane. Luckily, King George the 3^rd realized the cost of running a long distance war was bad for business and his throne and reluctantly decided to throw in the towel to Ben Franklin and the boys from Paris and we walked away with a new country of our own.

Although the British did exact a little revenge during that little disagreement we had with them in 1812 for trade restrictions and impressment of our sailors on the high seas. We had gotten a little cocky and had forgotten that part of the Constitution which called for the government to provide for the “common defense,” so we got our hats handed to us but not before the British sacked and burned our capitol. Thank goodness Dolly Madison stuck around long enough to get Washington’s portrait out in time. Hey, we did make a comeback by 1815 when we kicked butt at New York and New Orleans and sent them packing. The world has looked upon us as a force to be reckoned with ever since. Well except maybe for the French.

However you look at it from a natural citizen to naturalized citizen’s point of view, it is a venerated milestone or jumping off point for our fledgling Democratic experiment worth celebrating even in the worst of times. That is, right before a Presidential election.

My family has always made the 4^th a special day since the birth of our daughter Nicole on the 4^th of July. For so many years, Nicole thought the fireworks were for her and rightly so. It was somewhat of a gynecological miracle we were able to have her so it seemed appropriate after all. We were fortunate enough to have friends who would often invite us to their soiree’s, feed us, give us drink and usually in a place where there was a great seat at many a fireworks display.

Fiesta Island

It also holds a special place with me because, Independence Day in 2005, was the last 4^th we would spend in our home in San Diego. I had retired in March from my law enforcement career and we had already sent Dianna off on her great adventure to North Texas to take the job with Countrywide in Plano, Texas. I was back with Nicole and Billy in our Santee house preparing to move them and our belongings to Texas and hopefully sell our house at what turned out to be the eve of the bursting of the housing bubble that Summer.

Our friends, Dennis and Susan had again offered us a spot with them and their 5^th wheel trailer on Fiesta Island to eat, drink and be merry to watch the Mission Bay fireworks display that night. I remember laughing it up with Dennis, Susan and her brother David as we talked about his on-going remodel of his lean-to in old San Diego. On that occasion, David had discovered all the boards beneath his bathroom had rotted to failure and though he had removed the offending floorboards and joists, Susan was chiding him for not replacing them in a timely fashion and how she had to step out into space to relieve herself the last time she had visited. David, bless his heart, never acted in a rash manner and his plans were always well thought out. He just took a long time to act on them.

The most vivid recollection though was Nicole, Billy, Dennis and I playing cards under the canopy in the coarse but cool sand of the beach. I can see it like it was yesterday, the golden yellow light of sundown reflecting onto their faces as we laughed, made jokes and played. The noises of those other partiers around us, distant music playing, children laughing and running, wooden pallet fed fire rings cracking and snapping and the smell of hot dogs and beer. It was a moment when everybody was getting along and enjoying each other’s company as though we all knew it might be the last time we would be able to do that for a very long time.

Night fell, the constant cacophony of the jet skis and ski boats we had heard all day subsided and the coolness of the ocean breeze enveloped the scene as the anticipation grew among the children as they took up viewing positions in chairs on the sand or on top of motor homes and picnic tables wrapped in blankets and towels. I can still see Nicole all bundled up against the cold in the flickering light of the fire. The show was amazing as usual but there was that sense in the back of my mind that this was a kind of last hurrah for me.

Shortly, I would be making the first of five round trip drives to Frisco, Texas to first drop off Billy, the big dogs, Mary and Elvis, then Nicole and some of our furniture to Dianna’s rental over the next several months.

By October, the house wasn’t selling and we were forced to consider renting it to help defray the costs of running two separate households. I hired movers and a property manager and packed the rest of the house myself for the trip to Texas. Alone on that last night, I said goodbye to our beautiful house, again with a realization I would never set foot in there again. I walked my way through each room and said goodbye to the home that had raised our kids, saw birthday parties, anniversaries and got us through many a rough spot. I felt like I did when I left my parent’s home those many years before, a little unsure what the future would hold.

As I looked around the vast emptiness of the now silent house, I looked down at the tile floors I had slaved over, the kitchen cabinets, the sinks I had replaced and the window we had added in the living room and heard the echo of children laughing and running up and down the stairs. I locked the door behind me and asked the house to take care of the next family as it had ours. I drove away for the last time and, as the “Now Leaving California” sign flashed by as I pressed my old Ford Ranger eastward, I began my life anew in Texas.

Jefferson, Texas

It was Memorial Day weekend and the wife and I decided to head to deepest, darkest, East Texas. A place called  Jefferson, Texas, a stone’s throw from the Louisiana border and county seat of Marion County, named for Francis Marion, a Revolutionary War patriot who, you may recall, was known as the "Swamp Fox". The town was named after President Thomas Jefferson.

Historic accounts say Jefferson began as a river landing on Big Cypress Bayou between 1836 and 1840. Because Big Cypress was navigable by steamboat, Jefferson became a major port of entry from New Orleans. The land had been ceded from the indigenous Caddo Indian tribe. At that time, the river was blocked by a massive log jam more than 100 miles long on the Red River north of present Natchitoches, Louisiana. The Indians said that this log jam, known as the Great Red River Raft, had always existed. The Red River Raft acted as a dam on the river and raised the level of Caddo Lake and the Red River several feet. This rise of Caddo Lake and the corresponding rise in the Big Cypress Bayou at Jefferson permitted commercial riverboat travel to Jefferson from ports such as St. Louis and New Orleans via the Mississippi and Red Rivers. During that time, Jefferson was considered the second most important port behind Galveston, Texas.

That was until the Army Corps of Engineers came along in 1873. You see the Corps never backs down from a challenge and, using nitroglycerin, the Corps was finally able to clear the raft from the Red River. But now the natural dam was gone and this lowered the level of Caddo Lake and Big Cypress to the extent that riverboat traffic to Jefferson was no longer commercially feasible. Isn’t it like Uncle Sam to roll in and change something that the taxpayers didn’t want and make things worse for everybody? Thank God, those pesky logs are gone for good. I wonder if they did an environmental impact study before blowing up all the logs.

Caddo Lake is the largest natural lake in the south, and the only natural lake in Texas.  In the 1900's, when oil was discovered under Caddo, the oil companies built a dam to raise the level again but for a different reason. This allowed them to drill for oil and Caddo Lake then, sadly, became the site of the first over-water oil well in the world.

In its heyday, Jefferson thrived, buttressed by the lumber industry and the nearby discovery of iron ore.  the town was home to one of the state's first breweries and the world's first ammonia refrigerant ice plant. It also was the first in the Lone Star State to use artificial gas for street lighting.

On arrival, I immediately pointed the Rogue to the historic downtown and the 1912 Texas Classical Revival style Marion County Courthouse. The Courthouse is still functioning but is in need of repair. Birds have taken over the eves. The wood could use a paintbrush and the exterior brick could use a power washing. Court has been held in many buildings over time but the first official Courthouse was built in 1873. Next door was the Sheriff's Office and a really well done Veteran's Memorial for Marion County.

Contrast that to the 1889 Harrison County Courthouse in nearby Marshall, Texas. Harrison County came into being in 1839 and this is Harrison’s third Courthouse. Marshall, Texas was named after Supreme Court Chief Justice John Marshall. Harrison was a Texas Revolutionary.

Jefferson is considered to be the most haunted city in Texas. It has been featured in several magazines, newspaper articles and the Travel, Discovery and SciFi channels. We took the Jefferson Ghost Tour   through downtown Jefferson. There are so many reports of paranormal activity in Jefferson it’s hard to keep up with our tour guide Jodi. The best stories involve her experiences on the tours as she or one of the tourists told her about things happening while they were at one of the sites. It was a holiday weekend and the tour had attracted a sizeable force of tourists. It was almost comical watching our gaggle of maybe 50 people plying the streets of a now dark Jefferson jumping at every snapping twig and giggling like schoolchildren at the rustle of trees as we walked up the narrow streets.

To prepare ourselves for the long night (and walk) we first dined at Lamache’s Italian Restaurant in the Jefferson Hotel. I had the sausage and peppers over linguini and Dianna had the Chicken Carbonara but neglected to note it included mushrooms. Great food and service got us out of there in plenty of time to join the Ghost Tour meeting a block away.

It's rumored that a room in the historic Jefferson Hotel, built around 1851, is home to a young bride who hanged herself there when the groom sent word the wedding was off. In shame, she ended her life in her parent’s room. Jodi said spiritual activity usually forms around objects, which were present, or in contact with the deceased.  Over the years several events have occurred which have generated paranormal activity in the hotel. In that time, furniture from the rooms have crossed into other rooms or, in one case, amplified when more than one object has been moved into a room with its own tragic history.

Hayes House has Lady in Blue ghost

Remember, this was a major port from its beginnings through the Civil War and was as wild and crazy a place as Dodge City back in the day. The Excelsior Hotel across the street has spirits in its rooms. Big Cypress Coffee House, which used to be the Kahn Saloon, was the scene of a grizzly double shooting death of a Deputy Sheriff and the man who killed him, was a saloon, brothel and a funeral home too. There were victims of riverboat disasters, Civil War dead, there was a Union Stockade where significant town’s people (Confederate sympathizers) were hung or died while in custody, unexplained hangings of slaves, heart-wrenching deaths of children due to yellow fever. This was like Ghost Central! I was expecting the Ghost Busters ambulance to wheel around the corner, with its wailing siren, any minute.

There is a great place to discover Jefferson history in the 1888 Jefferson Federal Courthouse and Post Office. It is jam packed with memorabilia and artifacts from Jefferson’s colorful past. The basement has a vast collection of turn of the century (that is 19^th Century) tools and household items. The first floor has historic accounts of Marion County and East Texas in general. I loved the first computer delivered in Marion County exhibit.

It is an IBM 5110 from 1978. The 5110 featured a desktop unit, which housed a central processing unit, a keyboard and a 4-inch monochrome screen. Main memory held 16K bytes of data. It had a magnetic tape and two 10” disk drives. This baby could store as much as 204K bytes of information per tape cartridge or 1.2 million bytes on a single diskette; for a total online diskette capacity of 4.8 million bytes. It was purchased by a local C.P.A. for (are you ready?) $20,000.00. That included a printer (I wonder how much those cartridges set you back). Wow. Other floors had period guns, quilts and a replica of a period doctor’s office.

Downtown is a little rundown but the business owners have done their best to make it bright and inviting. If you like antiquing, this is the place for you. Antique and architectural resale stores were everywhere. Make sure you stop at the Jefferson General Store on Austin Street for all your old time candy, ice cream and soda fountain favorites.

My Kind of Syrup

Oh...Chocolate Fudge

Jefferson has always had a strong connection to Lyndon Johnson and his family. Lady Bird had lived briefly in Jefferson in her early youth, attended school and summered here with relatives. She and the former President visited here often and their signatures are in the Excelsior Hotel registry. Speaking of the registry, recalling that Jefferson was a serious crossroad for much of the time up to the 1870’s, there are original signatures for President Grant, President Rutherford B. Hayes, George and Laura Bush and Astronaut James Lovell. The Excelsior is the second oldest hotel in Texas next to the   Menger Hotel in  San Antonio, Texas. The Menger has its haunted history as well where Captain Richard King, founder of the King Ranch, appears now and then entering his room, the King Suite.

Another infamous ghost of the Excelsior and celebrated town scandal is the story of Bessie Moore, a “woman of the evening” whose murder in the woods outside of Jefferson, Texas propelled her to the level of local legend. She was killed by a single gunshot wound to the head in the early afternoon of Sunday, January 21, 1877. Her accused killer was her lover (and husband), Abraham Rothschild. He was tried twice and got off both times (before double jeopardy). Diamond Bessie (as she was known) had done well by herself and had amassed a small fortune in diamonds she often wore. The murder was turned into a play and towns people put in on every year during its annual Pilgrimage Festival. Bessie was buried in Jefferson's Oakwood Cemetery it is rumored under six slabs of concrete because Bessie was supposedly buried with all her jewelry.

And there is the obligatory town fire known as the “Million Dollar Fire”. Recall that most of Jefferson consisted of businesses and warehouses supporting the port operations so it’s no surprise that on July 1^st, 1904, a huge fire raged through town, which, rumor has it, was only halted when the townsfolk began dynamiting buildings to reduce the fuel and snuff the fire out. Really, that was the only option? I’m thinking there was a whole bunch of people with too much access to explosives in that town. As you can imagine, most of the town was decimated with a huge loss of life and property. Yep, more ghosts too.

Ok, let me digress and interject that during this world wind of happy history absorption, we did actually stay a couple of nights and had some fun too. We had made arrangements at a bed and breakfast called Chez’ Lafayette. Miss Beth has a neat little place on Lafayette Street within walking distance of downtown Jefferson. Some have labeled Jefferson the “Bed and Breakfast Capitol of Texas” with good reason. There must be a zillion bed and breakfasts. It seems like every other home has a sign beckoning you to stay the night. We spent two gloriously air-conditioned nights (it hovered in the high humid 90’s) in the “Granddaughters Cottage”. A nicely appointed room away from the main house and Ms. Beth served up breakfast each morning. The best part was meeting and learning about our hostess and the other guests. It is right next door to one of only three Carnegie Libraries in Texas that still functions as a library.

We spent Sunday morning driving into  Shreveport, Louisiana just over the border. Tried to enter a Casino but had to leave because of cigarette smoke inhalation. I held my breath, walked into the Casino, slipped a twenty into a $2 dollar slot, pulled the handle five times and left. We returned back to Texas and drove to Caddo Lake, the only naturally occurring lake in Texas created by the draining of the Red and the Sabine Rivers. Lots of Bayous, moss draped trees, expensive homes and boating enthusiasts. We stopped for a late lunch at River Bend Restaurant in a place called Uncertain, Texas. The River Bend had a limited menu, which included frog’s legs and alligator. I was assured the alligator was batter fried and tasted, yep, you guessed it, like chicken. We had the rib eye steak, baked sweet potato, beans, cole slaw and Jalapeno Hushpuppies on the screened in patio over Big Allan Pond on Big Cypress Creek, which was excellent.

We returned to the cottage hot and ready for the air-conditioned comfort of our room. After a good night’s sleep, we rose to eat a final breakfast and rowdy conversation with our fellow travelers and got some inside tidbits from Beth about Jefferson families and politics. We then loaded up the Rogue and headed back to Frisco on Memorial Day looking forward to our next trip.

Hico, Texas

At the cross roads of State Highways 281, 220 and Highway 6, Hico, Texas (pronounced "high-co") is a small city located in Hamilton County in Central Texas. The town motto is "Where Everybody Is Somebody!" (Really, I’m not kidding).



Everybody is somebody

Hico was named by its founder, Dr. John R. Alford, for his hometown in Kentucky. The original site in the mid-1850s was on Honey Creek. As we’ve seen in many other towns we’ve visited, when the Texas Central Railroad came through the area in 1880 the citizens decided to move 2½ miles to where the line ran through where Hico resides today. Hico was incorporated in 1883 and became the county's shipping center. In time, it developed a major shipping market for cotton, eggs, chickens, and turkeys.

The residents have always had strong ties to their past. In 1882, an Old Settlers' Reunion was established in the community and has occurred every year except for the World War II years (1941-1945 for the historically challenged). In 1890, a fire destroyed downtown businesses on the east side of Pecan Street. As luck would have it, a few weeks later another fire ravaged the west side. The town’s people decided to rebuild the downtown in stone, which ended the fire threat and provides its rustic charm today. Many of the former storefronts like the 1895 Opera House and Ice House now contain many antique and gift shops, which have kept Hico’s town, center a vibrant place.

Not much puts Hico on the map but the town has promulgated the story of one of its former residents, Ollie P. Roberts, usually known as "Brushy Bill" Roberts, a resident of Hico during the late 1940s, claiming to have been the outlaw Billy the Kid. Although this assertion has been pooh-poohed by historians, the Hico Chamber of Commerce has capitalized on the folklore by opening a small  Billy the Kid Museum, where visitors can decide whether Brushy Bill was indeed William H. Bonney. I suppose anything is possible.

There’s a marker devoted to Brushy Bill in the historic downtown titled: "Ollie L. 'Brushy Bill' Roberts, alias Billy the Kid”. He spent the last days of his life trying to prove to the world his true identity and obtain the pardon promised him by the governor of the state of New Mexico. He was interviewed by the likes of fellow Texas Sam Donaldson and was the subject of a Robert Stack “Unsolved Mysteries” episode. There are several relatives and members of Sheriff Pat Garrett’s family that contend that Garrett and the Kid may have even plotted the fake death to collect the $500 reward offered for The Kid. Bill died in Hico, December 27, 1950.

Hico establishments also sell  Dublin Dr Pepper, made from Imperial Sugar like the original recipe, rather than the cheaper (and evil) high fructose corn syrup we all swallow now. Dublin Dr. Pepper costs about twice as much for a drink as regular Dr Pepper. The "Dublin" refers to one of the original bottling companies in  Dublin, Texas that still produce the soda. As some of you may recall, Dr Pepper was first developed east of Hico in Waco, Texas.

But, the real reason we were there was the Hico Texas Rib eye Steak Competition. Yes, Nick and Dianna will always make themselves available to be a part of anything that will involve free food. For the last eight years, Hico has sponsored the only Steak competition in Texas. Yes, you have your brisket, ribs, chicken and pork, but Steak, the only red meat, is a family favorite. The event has been featured on the Food Network, Rachel Ray and our beloved Texas Monthly Magazine.

The competition started at 10 when the contestants heated their grills, massaged and cooked their steak creations, which had to be done by noon. Then the samples were sent to the Judges for grading. Winners were announced at 5 p.m. But after sending off their works of art, to while away the time, the contestants opened their BBQ stands to the public each making some examples of their beef, pork or other creations. Many we found just took an already incredibly tasty piece of beef and wrapped it in bacon or in the form of  “popper” which consists of a Jalapeno pepper stuffed with all kinds of concoctions and wrapped with bacon. Some made Jalapeno hor d'ovres on crackers or slices of cheese. There was one vendor that was handing out huge grilled corn-on-the-cobs for free.

Rangers owner Nolan Ryan

Team Steak, Stogies and Beer

We stopped in to meet team Steak, Stogies and Beer. I have always been grill-challenged and took the opportunity to get some tips from the experts. These guys had designed and built a huge round BBQ grill made from a water tank top and a removable round horse trough about four feet in circumference on a trailer. At the rear of the trailer/grill, were two large smoker boxes that could handle up to 20 briskets as well. I’m sure these guys were very popular back in their neighborhood.

I asked what the deal was about the cut of steak. They both said that rib eye has the best marbling of fat and provided the grill master with the tenderest meat. Although the rib eye was the preferred meat, you can still whip up a decent steak no matter what the cut. Well, these guys never saw me in action.

When they asked about my problem, I told them I was grilling on a gas BBQ and always seemed to overcook and dry out my slabs of beef. When I said “GAS” both men started laughing. As anyone knows, grilling with real wood or charcoal is the ONLY acceptable method of BBQ by true aficionados on the planet. They didn’t make me feel inferior (too much) but had some excellent advice. Always let the meat comes up to room temperature before tossing on the fire. Prepare the meat with a rub or marinade and NO SALT. The grill should be hot….around 500 degrees. Then turn down the burners to low before throwing the steaks on.

Prepare a spray bottle with water and salt mixture. This saline solution is for flare-up control and to initially coat the rare side of the steak prior to flipping to sear the rare side. The spray will provide all the salt you’ll need. After the initial sear (less than 90 seconds to lock in the juices), push it a few inches with a spatula (yes, there is the Tongs method, but not according to these guys) so that side doesn’t stick. Another suggestion was to take half an onion in a mitt and rub it over the hot grill to clean it and reduce sticking. 3-5 minutes a side and take it off. You should only flip it once. Then take it off. NEVER cut open a steak to check it. “With practice, yer just gonna know when it’s done” was the sage advice. You can always throw an undercooked steak back on a grill. If it’s overcooked, you’re done and it’s ruined. I, for one, am well aware of this universal tenant.

We thanked our hosts and wandered up and down the rest of the downtown streets to consume more beef, sausage (regular and hot link) and poppers. It was hot and humid from the passing front and rain that had hit most of Central Texas the day before. The many sizes and variety of grills strewn on both sides of the streets pushed the temperature up into the 90’s. The heat waves and smoke swirling from hot coals or mesquite wood gave the whole town a blueish-grey hue, like the scene after a Civil War battle.

Then a strange and yet heartwarming event took place in the town center. Around 12:15, during the initial welcome address from the event sponsors, the announcer asked us to pause for the Star Spangled Banner. In one motion, as if on cue, everyone I could see turned in unison toward the small American flag which was waving (more from heat waves than wind) at the information booth. Mind you, there had to be several hundred people just within the two blocks I could see from my vantage point.

As if part of the choreography, every cowboy hat and baseball cap were reverently drawn off heads and mounted to their owner’s chest. A young lady took the microphone and sang “a capella” (sans music) to the assembled crowd, some joining her in song. Not another sound could be heard anywhere. I am not one to make light of such a moment except to say it was “magical”. You really had to be there to get the sense of it. Rural Texans are renowned for their patriotic spirit at moments and events like these. Here was a fine example just past noon in Hico, Texas.

Although food was the central theme, there were several other vendor stalls with art, jewelry and clothing (I forgot to get my T-shirt). They even had airconditioned Porta-Potties. We made our way throughout the six square blocks of the event. There wasn’t a lack of “stuff” to spend your money on. Our hair and clothes smelled like we had walked through a forest fire.

If you wanted to wait around, you could buy a ticket for $25 bucks and select any of the participants to make a steak to your specifications and have dinner in the town square. If you paid $100 bucks, you could have a celebrity Chef make your meat and dine “al fresco” under the stars in a courtyard behind the Opera House.

Around 2 p.m., we decided to forgo the announcement of the winners and cranked up the Rogue, the air conditioner and Patty for the trip home. But the free handout fans we were given were now tattered and my deodorant had quit working long ago so we had to go. We were so full it was hard to get back to the car for the drive home. But we will definitely make Hico a future stop for fun, food and adventure.

Denison, Texas

It was a wine cruise which got us motivated to visit Denison, Texas on the southern bank of the Red River standing guard against the Oklahoman hoards from overrunning North Texas. As most of you recall, Denison is the birth place of the 34th President of the United States, Dwight David Eisenhower. Denison is also the former home of T.V. Munson (see Texas Wine Country August 2010 Blog), savior of the French wine industry and the home of his Vivicultuer Center at the Grayson County College. Chesley Burnett "Sully" Sullenberger the “hero of the Hudson” graduated Denison High in 1969 and John Hillerman “Higgins” in the TV series Magnum, P.I. made Denison home. The President’s stay was brief, lasting only 3 years, he spent most of his early and adult life in Abilene, Kansas. Thus our visit to the historic home site in Denison.

The President’s father, David, came to Denison in hard times. He had tried his hand at building and owning a general store in their former Hope, Kansas home but Kansas in the late 1880’s was going through a drought and recession and the business failed. David and his wife Ida moved to Denison so David could take a job with the Missouri, Kansas and Texas Railroad. For the next three years, David worked in the massive MKT railroad yard cleaning engines and rail cars. During that time, on October 14th, 1890, Ike was born.

The home, which was once a bustling workers neighborhood, now sits in a sprawling State Park. The home was actually a rental at the time of Ike’s birth and occupied up into the late 40s’. Acquired by the State of Texas in 1946 all of the surrounding homes were removed and it has been nicely restored to it’s former 1890’s look when the Eisenhowers would have been in the home.

The Eisenhower home is located a stone’s throw from the former MKT railroad tracks, which is the basis of Denison’s existence. The city of Denison was founded in 1872 and was named after the wealthy MKT (or it’s nickname the "Katy" line) vice president George Denison. Because the town was established at the intersection of the MKT and the Red River (both important conduits of transportation in the industrial era), it came to be an important commercial center in the 19th century American West.



So in a trip to the Red River Railroad Museum at the Katy Depot, we learned the MKT was established in 1870 and entered Texas in 1872. It was the principal rail line which crossed the then hazardous “Indian Territory” which is now modern Oklahoma. Denison was also the entry point of our very own St. Louis and San Francisco Railroad, the Frisco Line, that runs through our city (and it’s namesake), Frisco, Texas. Denison was such an early industrial and social hub, even John Henry "Doc" Holliday opened up a dental office in 1875 in Denison.

From 1915 until January 4, 1959, the Katy, in a joint venture with the Frisco Railway, operated the Texas Special. This luxury passenger liner ran from St. Louis to Dallas, Ft. Worth, and San Antonio. It sported rail cars with names like Sam Houston, Stephen F. Austin, David Crockett, and James Bowie. The Katy continued to push south through Dallas, Waco and Houston to end up in the real commercial prize, the Port of Galveston, then the most important port and access to the major shipping lines of the world throughout the early 1800’s up to the 1900’s. The railroad yards were big with one of the largest turntable and roundhouse in the west. They even had a factory for turning out their own engines and rail cars. The line prospered until being purchased by the Union Pacific Railroad in 1989.



Interestingly, since that time, much of the former Katy railroad bed has been absorbed into the Katy State Park along a large section of the Katy line in Missouri, the Katy Freeway in Harris County in West Texas, the Heights Bike Trail in Houston and a pretty cool walking trail in Dallas called the Katy Trail.

Across the road (and tracks) from the museum was another mark of the old west railroad connection to Denison. There sat the “Traveler’s Hotel” built in 1893 by Ernst Martin Kohl. It was the place to stay for railroad passengers for several years and has changed hands several times since. Kohl, a German sea captain, built this place to last. The National Register labels the architectural style Prairie, but if you've ever been to Central Europe, you'd think the building was a medieval fortress. The house is four stories tall, made of solid stone and timber and laced with wrought iron. It’s now in private hands and really needs a paintbrush applied to it.


All this running around made us (well…me) hungry and we sought out a decent eatery which led us to the former Tony’s Main Street Café. We quickly discovered Tony’s had moved causing a drive across town to it’s new location at the intersection of US 69 and S. Austin Ave., now Tony’s Restaurant. No Italian cuisine for this place just full plate local Texas faire. I had the BLT and Dianna had the Patty Melt. Both delicious amongst the slight disarray of the staff and facility. They had only been there for about a week and were still getting their sea-legs. The real treat was watching the portions of Chicken-fried Steak, mashed potatoes and green beans being laddled out to the four Denison firefighters sitting at a corner table. Wow, one order could have fed them all.

We made a lengthy stop at Fairview Cemetary. The first recorded burial was Harriet D. Morrison in 1882. The cemetary is cared for by the City of Denison. It is a typical Texas historical cemetary except for two glaring exceptions. The first is that it is one of only three Union War Memorials in Texas. “The Forgotten Soldier” is a monument dedicated to the memory of those Union Veterans of the American Civil War who were members of the Grand Army of the Republic (G.A.R.) and the Woman's Relief Corps (the auxiliary of the G.A.R.) in 1906. It also contains the graves of six unknown Union soldiers behind it.

It reminds us that not all Texans wanted Texas to secede from the Union nor were they supporters of the Confederacy and slavery. In 1860, there were a total of twenty-eight counties comprising the population centers of the State of Texas. Of these twenty-eight, eighteen voted to leave the Union and join the Confederacy and ten voted to remain in the Union. Eight of these counties, including Grayson, were in North Texas, and two were in the San Antonio region.

The other jewel is the Weeping Angel statue. It is the work of a monumentalist (the proper name for people who make monuments) Frank Teich. Teich was an artist who was renowned for his monuments and did many pieces throughout Texas like the Confederate monument and the Fireman's monument on the capitol grounds at Austin and the Sam Houston monument in Houston, Texas. There are four examples of the Weeping Angels but this is one of the two angels which still have their extended arms intact.

Having sought all that Denison had to offer, we wended our way west to Pottsboro, Texas to the Tanglewood Resort on the banks of Lake Texoma. As the name implies, Lake Texoma is a huge man-made reservoir completed in February of 1944 which straddles the Texas-Oklahoma border. By crimping off two ends of the Red River, it created the nation’s 12th largest lake. With a maximum depth of 100 feet, it has about 1,250 miles of coastline. At 15,350 feet long and 165 feet high, Denison Dam is the world’s largest rolled-fill type earth embankment dam in the world.

We had been invited to the Landon Winery Wine Cruise so we made arrangements to stay at Tanglewood Resort so we could drink and not have to drive home. Tanglewood is a nice modern hotel serving primarily the fishing, boating and watercraft community. The rooms were sparse but well appointed and very clean. Clearly designed only for people who were going to spend time at the lake. The Resort was a sponsor of the cruise and offered a really great overnight rate.

At the appointed hour, the Resort provided a ride in their airport van down to the dock at  Highpoint Marina just below the Resort. There we checked in and received our selected wines, a chocolate Red dessert wine and a Sparkling White. Our royal barge was a two story houseboat with a covered upper deck and a cabin/seating main deck. We were greeted by our Captain and asked to join the other passengers on the upper deck for the safety talk.

There we could see that our fellow passengers had preceded us by a couple of hours and were already well anesthetized, some already with empty bottles on their tables. The Captain was a good old boy of few words. By his directions and cautions, he’s obviously done a few of these cruises before. He started off asking if we all knew where the various landmarks on the S.S. Minnow were (yes, it was scheduled to be a three hour tour of the lake) and was forced to point out the locations of Port, Starboard, Bow and Stern as well as the locations of the life preservers “in the event of an unfortunate water related incident” to his intoxicated minnions. He insisted that we remember these important facts in case “somebody fell overboard”. His concern was, in the event some poor soul left the confines of the craft, we could properly transmit the place where he was so he could successfully steer away from the now hapless passenger, “so I don’t run him over.”

Now having armed us with all the required information, our Captain then paused sullenly and emphasized one more important legal point. He stated,” One more thing, there’s no nudity in the harbor.” Realizing we may need more clarification, he added,” Well, there’s no nudity while we’re in the harbor, but once we’re clear of the breakwater, you can do whatever you want, I don’t care.” It was clear from his demeanor that this had been a sticking point in the past and needed stating. Oh yeah, and then, almost as a passing thought, he pointed to a ship’s wheel overlooking the bow and reminded us, “That wheel is connected to the one in the wheelhouse below so don’t mess with it while we’re moving or it’ll be hard for me to steer.” Once the Howells, the Professor, Ginger and Mary Ann made it on board, Gilligan slipped the lines and we were off.

Me contemplating the vastness of Lake Texoma

Dianna clutching her iPhone not to miss a text

As we jutted out into deeper water, it was still pretty warm but a slight breeze generated by our headway was just enough for us not to feel the Texas humidity that had persued us all day. Soon dinner was called and having strategically positioned ourselves right in front of the main cabin doorway, were able to beat the crowds and get the fresh crab cake appetizers and main course of pork slices with a dab of plum sauce, salad, sauteed mushrooms, and a cool mini-tart with a mint chocolate filling. Now thoroughly satisfied, we sat back and watched as the sun set, ready to extinguish itself for the night. We had finished off the sparkling wine and made serious inroads to the red as the inky darkness enveloped us with the occasional winking light of a fire ring on the beaches in the distance as we passed. A slow turn to port signaled the halfway point of the excursion, the early evening sky betraying a unique alignment of all the Solar System planets on an angle across the western sky on either side of a waxing cresent Moon.

Athwart this placid scene, we felt and heard a very solid “Thunk!” to the bow (I remembered the safety talk) and was followed by a just as abrupt deceleration of the Minnow. The Captain seated just behind us in the main deck wheelhouse popped his head out the window and quickly regained control of our now seemingly very vulnerable little watercraft still a serious swim from any shoreline. After a few moments, we were back up to speed and continuing on southbound back to our starting point, Highpoint Marina.

I, for one, couldn’t understand why we were still underway and had not stopped to do at least a cursory search for the offending object to determine what we had hit or, for that matter, if we were taking on water. It could have been an overturned boat or some other debris which was clearly a hazard to navigation. Not to mention it scared the crap out of everybody onboard. The commotion had caused the band to stop playing and the mostly in-the-bag revelers above to halt their off-key sing along. The other couple seated on the bow patio deck with us stopped their necking and we heard the woman ask out loud, “Where were those life vests again? (not paying attention at the safety talk) But after a quick walk around the bow, the Skipper returned to his post without another word.

The rest of our trip was tense but uneventful as we all contemplated whether sufficient care had been taken to assure we weren’t sinking and the obvious questions as what to do with the unused bottles of wine in case we had to abandon ship (these are serious, thought provoking questions I’m sure we all struggled with).

We finally rounded the breakwater and entered the open arms of Highpoint Marina once again. It was around 10 p.m. and the once bustling docks were now very subdued but gayly lit with lots of rope lights surrounding the various slips and the occasional couple dancing to some hautingly muffled Country song.

By the light of the owners flashlight (seriously, like Samuel Clemens calling out the rope knots on a depth line), we crept our way back to our departure dock and, once securely tied to the piling, we gathered our things to depart.

While waiting to disembark and still a little mystified about the crews behavior after the mishap, I couldn’t help myself. I made eye contact with our Captain and asked, ” Hey Skipper, ya think we hit an iceberg?” The Captain looked up from the helm with a look of distain gained from, oh, so many years on the high seas and having to respond to my poor attempt at landlubber humor, he merely peered over the rims of his marred spectacles and said, “Yep, probably an iceberg.” In the awkward silence that followed, we quickly made our way off the Minnow and onto the creaking dock toward solid ground.

The Resort returned us none the worst for wear and we slipped into our 5th floor room. Sleep came easily but staying asleep was difficult. The room had a very adequate air conditioner just below the window. At this magical time of her life, Dianna requires the room to be quite cool, even in the dead of winter. If allowed to arrange the controls unsupervised, she can get the temperature down in the teens. We sleep with our dogs in our bedroom at home and occasionally my chocolate Lab Marley looks askance back at me with a, “Dude, the dog house was warmer.”

Like Dr. Freeze, to maintain this arctic environment, the air conditioner had to work overtime. First the fan would start up and then the compressor would kick in sounding like the putt-putting engine of the African Queen as Bogart navigated Katherine Hepburn up the Ulanga River. All night long, I’d be pulling the blankets up to my neck and she would kick them to the foot of the bed. I could see my breath rise up as I cursed the menopause Gods.

It was a beautiful Mother’s Day that greeted us as we checked (and thawed) out. I promised my bride, mother of our children, a Cracker Barrel breakfast of Hashbrown Casserole and Pancakes. On our way east along Georgetown Rd., we were reminded of how this area was a closely guarded region by the early Texas militia. Pottsboro, then Georgetown, was one of many outposts along the Red River to guard the new Republic and protect these important commercial and transportation hubs from Native American raids. We passed an open field where once stood Fort Johnson guarding and patroling the old Preston Road (State Highway 289) which was an important commercial and military road which ran from the Red River all the way to Austin.

Once home, Mother’s Day turned into the announcement of Bin Laden’s demise. A great ending to a very interesting weekend. God bless those who put themselves in harms way to make us safe.