The Light and Champion (Center, Tex.), Vol. 138, No. 91, Ed. 1 Friday, November 13, 2015 Page: 5 of 20
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riday, Nov. 13,2015 15A
The Light an
You can take the girl out of the city
Cobwebs in the Attic
Columnist
Haile
From Page 4A
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M
4
Courtesy photo
See SWANZY, Page 6A
R
Terri
Lacher
horseback. Tame by mod-
ern standards, to be sure,
Pre-order your auto-
graphed copy of “Texas
Boomtowns: A History of
Blood and Oil,” Bar tee’s lat-
most original show ever
seen in the United States. If
Money goes as far as
it ever did - but now it
doesn’t take you with
it.
and converted it into a cafe,
you might get something
approximating Casa Ma-
nana.”
Amon Carter lost the
attendance battle with his
Frontier maverick draw-
■*.
other counties through-
out the state. The fact
is, then, starting almost
twenty years before Sam
Weaver and Judge R. L.
Parker moved the coun-
ty records in 1866, it was
expected that the county
seat would be moved.
There were at least
five reasons other than
being near the middle of
the county that helped
shape the choice of the
site in its present loca-
tion: 1) the combined
expertise of Weaver (as
surveyor) and Parker
(as county official); 2)
its location as a high
point in the area; 3) a
pending donation of fifty
acres each for that pur-
pose from Jesse Amason
and William P. Wilson;
4) a major junction in the
immediate area; and 5) a
group of stores that the
strategic junction had at-
tracted. Less important-
ly, it has also been said
that R. L. Parker owned
some land very near,
and that may have had
something to do with it.
According to Joe Lou-
is Jones, docent of our
historic courthouse, the
stake for the center of
the county was actually
Viewpoint
www.lightandchampion.com
Can you believe it is the middle of
November? Have you asked yourself
where did the time go? I think some-
where while we are sleeping at night,
someone is shaving off our extra hours,
a few minutes at a time, leaving us with
the dizzy feeling that Father Time was
sitting down watching us, laughing qui-
etly to himself as we rush about trying
to retrieve those stolen moments. Not
complaining much though, because fall
finally decided to grace us with its tardy
appearance.
It is no surprise to many that I am
not a Shelby County, born and bred
East Texas girl. Those who spend more
than five minutes conversing with me
will discover that, although I have made
Center my home since 1990,1 still have
just about the strangest accent around.
When asked were I’m from, I usually
laugh and say I am a Cali-Zona-Texan,
thus making an excuse for not speaking
true Southern, with the exception of an
occasional “y’all” and “fixin’ to.”
My introduction to East Texas came
at a wonderful time of the year. It was
June in Phoenix, with the temperatures
hovering around 110 degrees. The
Pineywoods were experiencing a bit
of rain, but the highs were well below
100, a welcome relief to a girl brought
up in the Southwest. After spending
close to 30 years fighting rush hour
traffic, neighbors who we could shake
hands with at the edge of our city lots,
and living in heat waves that left at least
40 percent of the population cranky and
somewhat murderous, Shelby County
would prove to be a welcome relief.
So, just like the Clampetts, I loaded
up my little Nissan pickup, said “sayo-
nara” to Arizona, and made the tradeoff
of rattlesnakes, scorpions, black widow
spiders, and muggers, for the simpler
life of that of a country girl. I was not
quite prepared to face armadillos, nu-
tria (which are mutant rats), water moc-
casins, and some kind of spider that
although she weaves a beautiful web,
walking into it in the dark will make
you shake hands with a spider as big as
a softball, and nearly impossible to pull
away from her great architectural ac-
complishment, a sticky web that sticks
on you for life.
It would be not too long after meet-
Shelby County History
David
Swanzy
Guest
columnist
ing my now husband
of 23 years, that I
would be giving up my
lifestyle of apartment
dwelling, Starbucks,
and a vegetarian diet.
These changes, which
as we all know, came
as a result of true love,
making us do things
we never dreamed we
could do. By the end
of October, the talk around town was
centered on getting your guns sight-
ed, buying sufficient ammunition, and
pulling camo out of cedar chests. Sur-
prisingly, much of this conversation
came from my female co-workers. The
excitement could hardly be contained
as they prepared for hunting season.
As a newcomer to the woods, and seri-
ously in love with a meat-loving hunter,
I decided the best thing for me to do
rather than resist, was try to do as the
locals, following the old adage, “when
in Rome...”
The first thing Bob did was to take
me into the woods, after careful instruc-
tion that shorts and tennis shoes and
matching socks were not adequate cov-
erage for all the things the woods held
that wanted to either poke me, stick me,
or sting me. So I met him with jeans,
sweatshirts, and boots that I hoped
would protect my ankles against any
squirmy reptile ready to ambush me.
We took his guns out to his favorite spot.
I watched with curiosity as he paced off
a few yards or so, nailing a target to the
tree. After brief instruction, he assisted
me how to hold up the rifle, and take
aim, hopefully ending up on the target.
I squeezed off the trigger, the first shot
giving me a quick punch in the shoul-
der, and then adjusted and took aim
again. When finished, we strolled down
to the target, and discovered that not
only did I make holes on the target, but
they were all in a nice circle, very close
to bull’s eye. At that time, I informed
him that I had earned my sharpshoot-
ers certificate in rifle club as a young
girl, and shooting was very much the
same as riding a bicycle; it eventually
comes back to you.
I was officially ready for my first
deer hunt. My husband woke me up
million paying customers
to the Dallas Exposition’s
and forth or watched from six million plus. But he had
achieved what he set out
to do - help his hometown
but undeniably titillating step out of Big D’s shadow,
for those prudish times. Pre-order your
However, the rave re-
views were reserved for
Casa Manana. Damon Run-
yon, author and New York est book, by mailing a check
columnist, wrote, “Broad- for $28.80 to Bartee Haile,
This is a photo of downtown Center, not too long after the 1885 courthouse was built.
culture and atmosphere of
the old frontier.” That is a
nice way of saying that Car-
ter’s unauthorized festivi-
ties were more about his
romanticized view of the
old Southwest than what
happened in the land of the
Lone Star before and after
the Battle of San Jacinto.
He sought to bring the
Old West back to life with
the Frontier Village, which
had livery stables, general
stores, a clapboard church
and a railroad train with a
wood-burning locomotive
and wooden coaches. And
even though it must have
looked strangely out of
place, he included a replica
of the den at the Califor-
nia ranch of humorist Will
Rogers, his close friend
killed in a plane crash the
previous year.
Contrary to Carter’s ex-
pectations, Casa Manana or
“The House of Tomorrow”
was the unqualified hit of
the Frontier Centennial. A
huge theater-in-the-round
with enough tables and
chairs to accommodate
3,500 guests, it was origi-
nally built for Billy Rose’s
“Jumbo” but stuck around
to become a Fort Worth
landmark.
Carter had never heard
of scandalous Sally Rand
until Rose, the famous
Broadway producer, as-
sured reporters at his first
press conference that his
“show would have neither
nudity or smut.” He went
on to stress, “We don’t
need any fans or bubble
dances at the Texas Fron-
tier Centennial.”
But after Rose reluctant-
ly admitted Rand had been
the biggest attraction at
the recent World’s Fair in
Chicago, his employer told
him she was precisely what
they needed. Carter put
got a clear shot, took aim, and fired. Be-
cause of the tangle of bushes and leaves,
he wasn’t sure he had hit it. We waited
quietly for a while before descending
the tree, and again he said, “I’m not so
sure I got it.”
He had. It didn’t take long for my
20 percent Mohawk Indian heritage to
kick in. I assured him, he did, and we
began to track a few feet further into the
woods. There it lay, a nice buck, com-
pleting my first deer hunting experience
as a successful adventure. I stood by his
side, assisting in the field dressing, and
then held the rifles as he dragged his
trophy back up the hill toward our wait-
ing pickup.
I went hunting a few times later af-
ter that first year, even taking down my
first deer with one very well placed and
lucky shot. The experience reminded
me of a coming of age experience for a
young Indian, learning all the right ways
to live off the land, giving thanks to the
deer for providing a winter’s supply of
meat. My city girl attitude eventually
wore down somewhat, although occa-
sionally she still pops her head out and
I have to shove her back with self talk,
“Git yourself behind me, girl!”
Through the now 25 years I have
lived in East Texas, I have embraced
all it has had to offer me, including be-
ing adopted into local families as their
own. And yes, I can cook venison better
than most, filling our November kitch-
en with the wonderful aroma of garlic,
onions, bay and rosemary basted deer
roast that makes the neighbor’s mouth
water if I open the window above our
sink.
I am proud of my East Texas heri-
tage, holding fast to its language, its
people, and its tradition, and help get
my husband ready for the annual hunt-
ing season, knowing how much he en-
joys it. The only difference from some
of the locals is when this former city
girl begins to prepare the meat, I may
soak my roast for a while in cold milk,
and then as it begins to simmer on the
stovetop, I pour a generous helping of a
good wine, just for good measure, and
say in my best French, “Bon Appetit!
You may reach Terri Lacher at P O
Box 28, Center, Texas 75935 or at bt-
lacher@sbcglobal. net
LET ME
ASSURE YOU
By Buster Bounds
Kids are just little
adults - only adults
hide it better.
The purpose of ski
poles is to help you
get accustomed to
crutches.
Sign on the farm gate:
“Trespassers will be
prosecuted to the full
extent of one German
Shepherd.”
The gate’s always open
at Bounds Insurance
Agency, One West
Austin, Center, Texas
75935, (936) 598-2421.
BOUNDS INSURANCE
AGENCY, INC.
One West Austin Street, Center, Texas
598-2421
•Gil
A small town is a place
where it’s no sooner
done than said.
up thousands of billboards way and the Wild West
across the country with the are jointly producing what
slogan “Go elsewhere for probably is the biggest and
education. Come to Fort
Worth entertainment” and
a larger-than-life photo of you took the Polo Grounds
scantily clad young “cow-
girls” from Sally Rand’s
Nude Ranch.
Males of every age and
description waited in long
lines to ogle Rand, a master
of illusion, do her world-re-
nown thing with her fans ing slightly less than one
while her supporting cast
tossed beach balls back
around 4:30 a.m.,
and nudged and
prodded me into my
hunting attire, mak-
ing me happy with a
warm cup of coffee
to help me wake up.
As we drove to the
deer lease, he gave
me all the rules of
hunting. I nodded
sleepily, and tried
to remember everything he said. We
parked the truck, walked in through
dry leaves and bushes that seemed
to swing back at eye level when you
pushed through, and climbed the stand.
We were finally there. I was going
on my first ever deer hunt! As the day
broke, squirrels dashed through the
branches, and then the most amaz-
ing thing happened that I don’t think
I will ever forget. A crow flew in from
somewhere and began calling out to his
feathered friends. Before long, there
was the caw from another crow, then
another, and then many more. I visual-
ized them in the clearing, all in a circle
calling out to one another, and then had
the thought of a coven of crows that
possibly turned human. Your mind can
do funny things when it is still sleepy
and it’s barely daylight.
Looking lovingly at my sweetheart, I
observed his posture, still, waiting, ears
alert, and I could see his eyes through
the camo netting. Trying to keep quiet
for those who know me, understand that
it was almost nearly impossible, and fi-
nally, I could not help it. I began to softly
laugh to myself.
Here’s the picture as clearly as I re-
call. I, a long time city girl, who had
painted nails, wore suits and silk blous-
es, working on the 24th floor of a high
rise in Phoenix in a top law firm, was
now sitting as quiet as I could, dressed
like “Rambo-ette” and waiting for my
first deer to come along. If cell phones
had been more popular and I had been
efficient in using them, I probably would
have sent a selfie to my friends in Phoe-
nix. But that wasn’t what I did at all.
It was around 8:30 when the first deer
arrived, making me wonder why I had
to get up at 4:30 while the rest of the
animal kingdom was still sleeping. Bob
Center’s historic square
By David Swanzy
As I prepare for a new
topic for the 2016 issues
of “We the People of
Shelby County,” it seems
an appropriate time to
reflect on our issues of
2015. Their theme was
focused on our histor-
ic square, and the topic
turned out to be as chal-
lenging as it was enjoy-
able.
Since I grew up in
Center in mid-20th cen-
tury, I recognized and
loved the ambiance of
our unique square and
courthouse, but my
research for writing
about them provided a
renewed appreciation of
our history. In the pro-
cess, I discovered some
interesting facts I other-
wise would never have
known. Perhaps the
most interesting were
those that suggested
how the particular site
was chosen.
As many readers al-
ready know, the Texas
State Legislature as ear-
ly as 1848 gave a specific
guideline about where
county seats should be:
as near as possible to
the middle of the county.
This set the stage for our
square's establishment.
It was not just Shelby
County that would be af-
fected; it applied also to
Panola (Pulaski to Car-
thage), Sabine (Milam
to Hemphill), and many
driven at the high point
very near our present
post office. That partic-
ular rise is a bit higher
than the one where the
historic courthouse now
sits; some of the reasons
already given may have
been why that choice
was simply a passing
thought.
Especially important
was that the site chosen
embraced a strategic
location: at the junction
of two active wagon
trails—the route be-
tween the earlier towns
of Buena Vista and Shel-
byville, and the trail that
led to Nacogdoches
from Logan's Ferry. By
1866 these well-traveled
trails were being used
as postal roads, and also
by then, merchants had
been attracted by the
junction to locate small
stores there.
If we had assumed
there were no group of
stores or houses to cause
Weaver and Parker to
choose the particular
plot of land now known
as Center's historic
square, we might have
concluded they were sim-
ply attempting to identify
the center of the county
in order to start "fresh"
with a new county seat.
J.B. Sanders, however,
states that there were
stores there prior to Sam
Weaver's survey.
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Snyder, Steve. The Light and Champion (Center, Tex.), Vol. 138, No. 91, Ed. 1 Friday, November 13, 2015, newspaper, November 13, 2015; Center, Texas. (https://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth1278959/m1/5/?rotate=90: accessed July 16, 2024), University of North Texas Libraries, The Portal to Texas History, https://texashistory.unt.edu; crediting Fannie Brown Booth Memorial Library.