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Showing posts with label john. Show all posts
Showing posts with label john. Show all posts

Monday, December 12, 2016

Nemesis: Facing Our National Demons



The older you get, the more precious are your childhood memories. They may be growing faint, but they are the last vestige of the innocence and trust born in your heart which have not yet been violated, a safe place in your personal hard drive where you still nurture those all-American hopes and ideals.

And heroes.

Peter Evan's 2004 revelation called Nemesis took my long-protected bubble of innocence and hammered it into an urn of ashes. I accept that it happened, but I am always mad at myself when I am the last to know...

But maybe there are some others who like me missed this story... some incredible way, probably THE BIGGEST STORY OF THE CENTURY. Peter Evans seems to have quietly answered all of our suspicions and fears, and many of the lifelong mysteries around the Kennedys... and nobody bothered to acknowledge his accomplishment. Some tried to call it rubbish and even an outrage, but it seems to have survived the test of time.

Evans wrote an authorized biography about Aristotle Onassis and then was told by several people very close to the famous husband of the former First Lady, that he had completely missed the real story. It was the story that Onassis took to his grave. It was the story that others closest to him must never admit. And in the telling of it, Evans takes down many of our lifelong American icons.

I found the book by accident after watching Bill O'Reilly's killing book made into a movie, made with tunnel vision, Killing Kennedy, where one scene grabbed my reclining intellect as I enjoyed memory lane. Jack and Jackie are cuddling and consoling one another after losing their third born, and President Kennedy says sweetly and trustingly, for her to go ahead on that Mediterranean cruise with that Onassis guy... to get some rest and enjoy herself... and come back to him so they can go to DALLAS... it was all so wholesome. And right then I knew that O'Reilly had done another slick spin on history as he wants to sell it. But I was unsure why I felt that way...

Perhaps it was because, no matter how much skeptics have dismissed the lingering suspicions about an assassination conspiracy, even as a nine year- old I knew that it was too much of a coincidence that Lee Harvey Oswald JUST HAPPENED TO BE EMPLOYED in a building right on the parade route which would give him maximum visibility to shoot the president. Too much of a coincidence that Oswald was found quickly hiding in a theater, where he gave himself up as if he expected an escort out of the country... Too much of a coincidence that a Dallas strip club owner was able to walk right up to him and shoot him LIVE on national television in the police station... Too much of a coincidence that Texas Governor John Connolly, once the trusted hatchet man for Lyndon Johnson, discreetly changed over to the Republican Party... knowing he had no friends left in the other one...

What did Connolly know? Perhaps he learned as I did from Peter Evans that Jackie, fed up with the Kennedy brother's sex-capades, wanted out of her Kennedy farce, had found a new champion in Onassis, a longtime nemesis of the Kennedys. And Onassis was a man that had no moral compass and was admittedly the most ruthless man on the high seas. Perhaps he found out that one of Jackie's trusted confidants was also a trusted confidant of...

Lee Harvey Oswald.

I just knew from Killing Kennedy that IF Jacqueline Kennedy was floating around with Ari, before the assassination, that fact opened up a lot of possibilities for the causes of future events. For more “coincidences.” And as it turned out, Peter Evans had been trying to tell me and you for a decade. Yes I am a conspiracy nut. Every mother's son from my generation is to some degree. We all knew growing up that the Warren Commission had been a whitewash to cover up the truth about the Kennedys, the assassinations, the ugly part of our national soul, and we would probably never know what happened. It was too big, too dangerous, too earth-shaking. And then Peter Evans dumps it out like moldy old gym shorts from a forgotten locker room. And damn it stinks.

And there are answers, and reasonable explanations, and yes, even confessions. In the end, none of the players is left standing, least of all Jackie O, our uncrowned queen.... our forever national widow, fallen from grace, and with Peter Evans's investigative skullduggery, she morphs into OMG, the wicked witch of the west.

Evans's account is scrupulously footnoted and backed by numerous first- person accounts and testimonies, and yes, tons of hearsay. But the bottom line is that it has the ring of truth. Onassis had volcanic hates, and irrational obsessions, and multi-layered sin scum at the bottom of the sea, and Peter Evans manages to dredge up just enough to make us beg him to drop it, for God's sake, back to where he found it.

But not before he has convinced me and others that he has uncovered the ugly truth about the Kennedys and “Camelot,” and the political forces behind their destruction. In the end, it all makes sense. The unexplained coincidences of the premature deaths of Marilyn Monroe, the Kennedys, Oswald, and others. Anyone who could hurt Jackie. And arranged by the ones who would avenge her. And then they tried to destroy each other. In the end she walked away with her reputation intact... and with much of the money.

But new questions emerge. How could the Media and our whole country for that matter, ignore this book and its implications? That question, and the possible conspiracy behind it is far more daunting now. How could O'Reilly make such a flacid regurgitation of old news, and perpetuate Jackie's spin of “Camelot”? To do that, his co-writer had to step over a lot of dead bodies. One wonders why, after all this time, and Evans's revelations, we are still nursing those childhood fantasies...

But I'm sure O'Reilly sleeps better at night, than those of us who have faced our national demons. We all have to choose between Peter Evans's noxious humus, the staggering corruption and decadence which was the cornerstone of the Liberal wing of our society, fifty years ago, or continued ignorance and bliss. It is obvious, America has already made its choice.

Wednesday, June 18, 2014

Sgt Dibbrell Led Half a Ranger Company [eventually] to Tame Navasota!


Captain John H. Rogers and Sergeant John Dibbrell,  of Co. C, Texas Rangers
One of the Texas Rangers who was sent to fight the criminal gangs waging private wars in Navasota was Sergeant John Dibbrell of Company C, then based in Alpine.   Things must have been quiet out in west Texas, where towns are far apart and few people were found in between, and in 1907 the Rangers sent Dibbrell and a new private to Navasota when the violence there grew to amazing proportions for such a civilized portion of the state.

So one day two Texas Rangers showed up, fresh from the Wild West, and started knocking heads in the muddy cotton center of the Brazos Valley. Dibbrell, like many rangers before him, effectively quelled the nonsense for a season, and used the adventure to break in his lanky sidekick, a 23 year-old kid named Frank Hamer.

Young Hamer showed great promise as a ranger, and he and Dibbrell made a positive impression on the law-abiding citizens of Navasota. But as was typical for the rangers, as soon as things quieted down, they scooted out before they could get entangled in small town politics - or get offered permanent jobs. They kicked the dust off of their feet and headed back out into “the great wide open.” What a difference there was between west Texas and east Texas.

In a few months, a deadly killer named Ed Putnam holed up in a home in Del Rio after a witness saw him murder a local sheepman. Well-armed and desperate, he asked for no mercy and gave none. Captain John H. Rogers and Privates Hamer and Hudson and one other ranger surrounded the house and a hot gunfight exploded for almost an hour. When it was over, the rangers counted over three hundred bullet holes in the walls of the humble abode, and learned that Private Hamer had ended the fight with one well placed Winchester bullet in Putnam’s head. This was the second outlaw Hamer had killed in a shoot out. Frank Hamer was the man you wanted next to you in a tight spot. He suddenly began to make a name for himself in the community.


Rangers Hamer and Hudson became local heroes in Del Rio after killing a cold-blooded murderer in a wild shoot out.

Soon the violence kicked up again in Navasota, worse than ever, and the Navasota City Council saw Marshal W. B. Loftin leave in fear and disgust, after getting a finger shot off. Nobody else wanted the job, and the few men foolish enough to have taken it in the past did not last very long. The City was wide open, the Republicans and Democrats were in an all out shooting war, and armed white gangs brutalized and lynched blacks and killed each other over turf. Finally the mayor contacted the governor, pleading for assistance from the Texas Rangers.  The councilmen were convinced they needed a permanent ranger. The governor was quite aware of the troubles in Navasota, and agreed that only a ranger would do. He made a call.

Soon after, Ranger Headquarters in Austin asked Sergeant Dibbrell if he wanted the job, as, unlike so many city marshals, he had been successful there. He had done magic in Navasota before, so he might be the man for the job. Would he leave the clean mountain air of Alpine and trade it for a plantation-bottom river town? Dibbrell was incredulous. He was not interested even though the job would mean a considerable increase in salary. But Dibbrell offered a solution. He recommended Private Hamer. You can almost see the dusty room in Alpine, full of boots and spurs rangers kicking around the governor’s request, and Dibbrell smirking as he handed the letter to Frank Hamer. You can see the empty look on Captain Rogers’ face, concerned that he was about to lose his finest recruit ever… And you can imagine the young man’s starry outlook, anticipating a cushy job with better pay.

Looking back, we have to acknowledge Ranger Dibbrell’s wisdom. He knew how to pick ‘em. But at first the Navasota City Council was unconvinced. Private Hamer was too young and inexperienced.  They did not want a trigger-happy Billy the Kid-type terrorizing the town.  But Dibbrell stuck to his original rejection of the job, and insisted that Hamer could handle it. Eventually, desperately, the people of Navasota adjusted to the idea. The “powers that were” thought a young ranger would be perfect, as they could easily intimidate and boss him.

So Marshal Frank Hamer reported to duty in Navasota, Texas in November of 1908.

And the rest is Ranger History.

 
NOTE: Amazingly, four of the men in Company C based in Alpine, Texas ended up serving in Navasota. First Dibrell and Hamer, then Hamer brought M. E. Bailey who served as his deputy and then took his place. Recommended by Hamer, Duke Hudson came later and was elected as Grimes County Sheriff

Saturday, October 12, 2013

The Taylor Brown Stoneware story begins to unfold!


The gate at the Brown family cemetery plot.

The ETB  brand- mark of the Holy Grail?
This past July a young woman contacted me about some bits of Texas stoneware she was uncovering, which led to some wonderful discoveries. Since that first contact, Susan Singer has proven to be a dogged researcher and  “made my day” several times, as she went and did what I had only imagined. She not only found the site where Taylor Brown operated his early Texas pottery, and his family cemetery, but she found quite a few pottery shards all over the old Brown property outside of Henderson, Texas.

CLUES FOR A HISTORY DETECTIVE. Susan Singer has had great luck searching for answers to Henderson's stoneware secrets. Photographs of Brown pottery shards and Brown plantation scenes courtesy of Susan Singer.

I had merely mentioned, if she wanted to do some real service, to find me some evidence of Brown stoneware, as I had been trying to establish what its characteristics were for some time. Taylor Brown operated one of the very first potteries in early Texas, and his site was also the original site of other early Texas potters.  You might say Taylor Brown, or his potters (some of them slaves) would have thrown the “Holy Grail” of Texas stoneware, if there was such a thing.

Susan poses next to the gravestone of Taylor Brown.
One of the slaves known to have thrown for Brown was Elix Brown.  After I had discovered some early vessels which I thought had their initials on them, marked ETB, I needed some kind of hard proof. There was very little known for sure about Brown stoneware, and no known samples of it. What did his pottery look like? What colors where his glazes? What color was the clay? What kind of markings might he have put on his stoneware? What were the common forms thrown on his wheel? I needed something tangible to connect my findings to Taylor and Elix Brown of Henderson.

Susan went to work on the project with true dedication, scouring (with permission!) the old Brown home site and what was left of the kiln sites. Roads and lakes and general earthwork mayhem had obliterated much of the old pottery operation. Still, there was plenty of evidence of the early Texas potter’s toils and products.

To say the least, we learned a ton of stuff from Susan’s efforts. Much to my pleasure, she found numerous pottery shards, with a variety of clay bodies and glazes. And most importantly, some artifacts which matched my ETB vessels; Salt glazed, alkaline glazed, Albany glazed, pink and khaki colored clay, with telltale iron granules. Day after day Susan would send me photos of her finds… day after day there were new revelations… I am sure everyone will want to see and inspect her shards. She has uncovered Brown, Leopard and Rushton fragments, as well as Hunt and other east Texas potters.
First of all here are the vessels thought to be Taylor Brown’s, or perhaps his slave, Elix Brown’s. These are the only three vessels I have seen with the ETB mark... a small T dangles upside down from the top of the E!


 

1) A small salt-glazed pitcher, photo courtesy Rick Reed.
 


2) A large, olive, ash-glazed jar, sold at Burley Auctions. The stamped impression is faint at the bottom of photo at right.
 

 
The 3 gallon lime green jug which started this whole search... I found on a friend's deck full of rocks!
Notice several things which are key Brown pottery characteristics; Fairly pure gray to khaki-colored clay, with a minimum of iron impurities; Symmetrical, ovoid forms (like a football!); HANDLES, not pulls; Soft, fairly consistent glazes;  Multiple decorative rings around the shoulder.

A large, even, ash-glazed shard found by Susan Singer at the Brown pottery site. This shard certainly firms up the physical description of Taylor Brown pottery... and easily connects to the ETB stoneware. Photographs courtesy Susan Singer.


This shard is very related to the EB salt glazed pitcher...
It was the curious mark on these pots that caused me to research Taylor Brown.  Having little to go on, I knew I was looking for a Republic period potter, probably from East Texas, with initials E.B. But more curious was the little upside down T hanging off of the E. It eventually became my theory that the initials were those of a famous slave potter named Elix Brown of Henderson, Texas who had shared attribution with his owner, Taylor Brown. (See top of page) The upside- down T, dangling from the E, was very reminiscent of the game of “Hangman” where the elements of a popular game are built on the end of a T, a sort of whimsical construction which allowed the maker to mark his vessels and yet share, somewhat wryly,  the label with his master.  As far as I know, this is the only example in American stoneware of this kind of logo.

What Singer found was that John Leopard, Mathew Duncan, Taylor Brown and probably Joseph Rushton  all came from Randolph County, Alabama or thereabouts. These potters came from the same area, and shared cultural traditions, and especially pottery techniques. That helps to explain why the earliest appraisals of the ETB stoneware pointed to Duncan pottery.  And they should have. There was no doubt a professional relationship and artistic influence where the potters came from, and there could very easily have been one in Texas as well. And this may help support my theory, that it was Elix Brown who trained or influenced Duncan potters who emerged later at the “Randolph Pottery” Site in central Texas..
That typical tobacco spit brown!

 John Leopard shards found at the Brown Site. By 1870, and probably earlier, John Leopard lived next door to Taylor Brown, and operated his own pottery factory at Taylor Brown's old facility... photographs courtesy Susan Singer.
 
                  Note the sienna! It is believed that Leopard used iron oxide in his glazes.

Below are Leopard jars for comparison... Leopard forms were more like Grecian vases... wide shoulders, small bottoms. Leopard glazes were rich, spotty and rough looking compared to Brown's.

 
 
John Leopard leaned towards using pulls instead of handles... and had some fantastic glaze recipes. Leopard also used incised decorative rings... but not consistently. These rings may tell us when he was throwing for Taylor Brown.

Susan smartly researched these potters back to their roots and found the wonderful background to this story. All but Taylor Brown show up in the U.S. Census in Randolph County, Alabama in 1840. Taylor Brown was from adjacent Bibb County and married in next door Jefferson County in 1828 and still living there in 1830. He struck out for Texas right after Texans won their independence from Mexico. Apparently, after Taylor Brown discovered rich clay deposits around 1839 in east Texas the Alabama potters followed him to Rusk County, Texas and went to work for him, before starting their own pottery enterprises. Eventually Taylor Brown got out of the stoneware business. John Leopard operated a pottery at the old Brown site after the Civil War. Elix Brown disappeared but showed up later in the 1880's working for the Hunt pottery in Henderson.

Finally we have very strong evidence that links the ETB vessels to Taylor and Elix Brown. So Susan Singer has quickly become my Texas stoneware hero!

Another great shard... very even for alkaline glaze... very similar to the ETB jug. Photographs courtesy Susan Singer.

There were also some khaki colored, almost toasted salt-glazed pieces...
 
For comparison I include some examples of Duncan pottery... One distinct difference between Duncan and Brown would be the lip on the mouth of the jug. Duncan made a little rounded donut. That's right... Duncan donuts!

Taylor Brown or more probably ELIX, made a flattened ring. (Compare to top photo). It is quite possible that Elix Brown was the main craftsman of this early pottery company, and learned his trade in Alabama... and maybe from Matthew Duncan... or even more possible that the skills were passed down from generation to generation via the slaves who did the majority of the work.








So that is where we are for the moment..no shards with the ETB logo popping up on it... but that may come with time. We all owe Susan Singer a lot for doing this ground-work and homework for Texas Stoneware enthusiasts! And a special thanks to her for sharing these informative photographs of her finds.

 


Sunday, May 19, 2013

The Parker Saga: Twists of hate, fate... and photography

One hundred and seventy seven years ago today…

Cynthia Ann Parker and her daughter Prairie Flower.

The most intrepid, or some might say foolhardy of Texas pioneers suffered a famous Indian attack that became the foundation for an enduring legend of the American West. And its beginnings were right here in Grimes County.
Elder John Parker appears to have been a deeply religious yet impetuous patriarch, who led his large family from Virginia into settlement experiments in Georgia, Tennessee, and finally Illinois, seeking the right opportunity for his prolific clan. Through their migrations they suffered multiple setbacks and misfortunes, as son Isaac lost three children to disease, and then John Jr. was killed by Delaware Indians. Disgusted, John Parker decided they all needed a fresh start.  And besides, he dreamed of establishing a frontier church, a “two seed” Baptist utopia in Texas.

The Parkers were the stereotypical advance guard of Manifest Destiny; and a bundle of contradictions, wearing the various hats of preacher, farmer, Indian fighter, or entrepreneur, as circumstances required.  Now they added visionary colonists to their resume' and in 1832, 25 ox-drawn wagons rolled approximately 70 Illinois immigrants to Grimes Prairie, not far from Navasota. Stephen F.  Austin’s Colony had appeared to be the perfect opportunity for social and financial recovery.
But nothing could go as planned.  After getting lost in Louisiana, they followed an Indian trail known as the Coushatti Trace down to their new “Promised Land.” And once they got there they learned some hard truth; The Spanish government made an uncompromising requirement of Catholicism, and Baptist ministers were not welcome.  Federal laws notwithstanding, Daniel Parker performed an illegal marriage near present day Anderson, and by some accounts preached the first Protestant sermons on Texas soil. The Parkers were ready to stand for their “rights.” But just as some of the do-good Parkers were men of the cloth, others were wanna- be “Injun fighters” proposing not only to settle land, but old scores with the Indians. Their illegal and confrontational dispositions probably did not settle well with the local leader, Regidor Jesse Grimes, who was very law-abiding and respectful of the various local tribes.  His friendly dealings with the Mexican government and the Caddoes, Kickapoos and Coushattas were a foundation of the community. One story suggests that after the Parker’s arrival, the Bedias Indians began to complain that somebody was stealing their horses…  

When these Northern immigrants realized they were surrounded by resolute Texians who did not share their definition of utopia, and most of the prime land in the area had already been acquired, the fact that most of the landowners were Southern slave holders and tolerant of the natives, probably became the last straw. It was time to regroup. They sent out men to investigate a more promising environment.

About a year later, and by now in an awkward cloud of accusation, the weary and somewhat disgruntled immigrants split up, nearly in half, and most of the Parkers and their loyal friends pushed further into the wilderness, far from the reaches of Mexico and its loyal subjects, and settled at the headwaters of the Navasota River, near modern-day Groesbeck.  [ It is not insignificant that brothers Daniel and Isaac chose not to share in their adventure. Daniel went on to become a respected Baptist minister, and Isaac served in the Texas senate.]  By 1834 Elder John Parker and his followers had made a clearing in the wilderness, built a sturdy fort and planted crops.  34 of the most adventurous frontier settlers in Texas planted themselves far beyond the comfort zone, where they could exercise religious freedom. More than able, and quite willing to protect themselves, some of the men got themselves designated as Texas Rangers, with Silas as their Captain, qualifying each man for an extra $1.50 per day, with the license to kill all the Indians they could hunt down.  Ft. Parker became the arrowhead of Anglo intrusion into wild Texas and the Parkers finally had their place on earth.  Some would have argued it was the ends of the earth.

Establishing themselves way beyond the reach of any protection from the Mexican soldiers or the Texian population, the Parker men displayed a chronic flaw that would haunt them repeatedly, to the grave and beyond; that was the willingness to do whatever in the name of opportunity, at the expense of the safety of ther families.
The killing of one of their brothers by Lenape (Delaware) murderers had prejudiced them, and James, Silas and Benjamin Parker were young aggressive lions in the forest looking for trouble. They and their fellow villagers began to hunt and kill Indians, making sure they would not ever suffer at the hands of Red men again.  And one legend says they purchased horses from some of the natives with counterfeit money. The Parkers were as duplicitous as they were “unlucky.”

Later events seem to bare these assumptions out, requiring no stretch of the imagination.

On May 19, 1836, just a few months after Texas had won its independence, an unusual coalition of Woodland and Plains tribes showed up at the gate of the fort. Several hundred angry Kiowas, Caddos and Comanches approached Ft. Parker with a white flag. Probably with tongues in their cheeks, they demanded water for their horses, and cattle to butcher. They were in no mood to suffer fools. But enough water and cattle to satisfy this throng would have prostrated the village. Benjamin bravely tried to renegotiate, making his very last deal with an Indian. When they did not get the payment they demanded, they began to butcher the Parkers like hogs.

They filled Benjamin with arows and then hacked, raped and destroyed, killing and scalping five of the inhabitants including Elder John, Silas and Benjamin Parker and taking two young women and three children with them. Meanwhile 28 desperate survivors threaded through the forest to safety, arriving at Ft. Sam Houston after six days of grueling flight. Barefooted and hungry they dragged into the frontier outpost, about the same time that the Comanches and Kiowas gloatingly divided their new white slaves on the infinite expanse of the “Great American Desert.” And an American legend was born. The twenty-five year saga for little nine- year old Cynthia Ann Parker had begun.

While the Plains Indians headed back to the Llano Estacado, the Woodland Indians melted back into Frontier Texas. .. and the Native American version of human trafficking became commonplace in the new republic.  Delaware and Cherokee middle-men made careers finding and ransoming Texas women and children. John Conner, Black Beaver, Jim Shaw, Jesse Chisholm, and others were constantly contracted by Sam Houston to find his captive sheep and bring them home.  Amazingly, many of the captives spoke well of their captors, and some even wanted to return to them.
Elizabeth Kellogg was the consolation prize for the Caddoes, who wisely traded her to the some Kichai kinsmen, wild plains Wichitas beyond the boundaries of civilization, who fairly quickly sold her to, ironically, some Delawares.  (Hmmmmm....) She was home by August. This was way too fast for the Delawares to have even been hired by anyone to find her.  But as it turned out, they happened to have connections (coincidence?) to President Sam Houston, who gladly “reimbursed” them.  The Indian network for slave trade and extortion was surprisingly efficient.

When Elizabeth was returned to her family at Nacogdoches, relatively close to Ft. Parker, they happened, coincidentally, upon one of the Caddo Indians who had abducted her, and who had just recently been caught stealing horses, and consequently suffering from a gunshot.  He seems to be the only one of hundreds of raiders at Ft. Parker that did not get away with the murders, kidnappings and extortions of the Parkers.  He was identified by some tell-tale scars and executed in his stupor, but the rest of the story unfolded painfully and slowly.
One beautiful day in May, life got different for Rachel Plummer.
Rachel Plummer, three months pregnant, was thrown on a horse and taken five hundred miles away to the northwestern-most corner of Comancheria. Her little boy James, just a toddler, was beaten bloody and then disappeared completely.  The baby she carried inside her was born and then suffered a horrible death. After he became too much of a distraction, he was strangled, cruelly dragged to pieces by several braves, and then tossed in her lap.  Rachel was just grateful that in spite of their incredible brutality, they allowed her to bury her infant in peace. Later she decided to get herself killed by bucking the women who oversaw her labors. She ended up whipping them both and gaining the admiration of the tribe for her courage and fighting ability.  To the Comanche, courage was the highest trait of character.

It was explained to her by the chief that she had shown mercy to her enemies when they deserved death, and although this was not the Comanche way, her compassion was seen as Godly. Through her violent tirade she ascended from miserable slave to Divine messenger. After every unimaginable violation and humiliation, and eventual acceptance into their convoluted social order, she was unexplainably traded around a year later to Mexican Comancheros who ransomed her to a wealthy couple in New Mexico.  Perhaps this exchange had always been the plan.

The Donohos of Santa Fe had let it be known they would ransom white Indian hostages. But it is easy to see their good intentions backfiring and actually inspiring more kidnappings. Indians were notorious for stealing people to increase their own numbers, but the main motive in this case turned out to be something else; just plain old revenge… and a profitable business opportunity.  
Raiding, killing and stealing was the way of life for the Comanche, and with their expert use of horses this became a perfected system, over a territory as large as Texas, straddling over five or six states in the West.  But the Comanches were adventuring way beyond their common hunting and raiding grounds when they ravaged Ft. Parker. It is arguable, as unpopulated as the region was, the only way they would have ever pin-pointed the fort was with the guidance of the local tribes. The fact that there were any survivors indicates that they were more interested in making a point, a show of force, and perhaps providing moral support rather than gathering spoils or scalps. 

Led by a merciless firebrand known as Peta Nocona, who would make quite a name for himself, they took what they wanted. Yet their spoils were fairly insignificant compared to what they generously left behind to the Woodland Indians, who failed miserably to capitalize on the raid, especially the advantage in numbers that was provided them. The Comanches seem to have been like a big brother helping a little brother settle a schoolyard dispute.  It was after all, the local tribe’s battle. But the locals lost their nerve and only trailed the Ft. Parker refugees, apparently afraid to attack them as they scambled through the east Texas jungle. And in the main party there were twelve children and only six adults- perhaps only a handful that could have fought them in any capacity.

Back at the fort, three overwhelmingly outnumbered Parker defenders, led by David Faulkenberry, had only to finally aim their rifles at the assaulters and they apparently dispersed the whole attack. Only after they left in search of those fleeing in the woods did the Indians come in and ransack the village. Anyone who reads of later depredations by Comanches would agree, this was not an attack led by them, but by less violent and less capable, certainly less determined tribes. 

Then, as if there was a cavalry around to chase them, the Plains Indians raced across the state and disappeared as myteriously as they had come. It was a textbook example of guerrilla warfare. The perfect crime.

It took a grueling six years, but four of the five captives were ultimately ransomed for considerable amounts and returned to their families.  The fledgling and feeble Texas government was bankrupting itself over chasing, fighting and then PAYING the confounded Comanches. 
The Donohos found themselves in the middle of a bloody revolt in Santa Fe and fled with barely recovering Rachel Plummer in another long and perilous journey… to Missouri, where she was finally reunited with family and returned to the new Parker settlement... back again in Montgomery County (probably northeast Grimes County today)… which turned out to be another chapter of scandal and chaos.

I am stretching to connect bits and pieces of history together here, but from what I can conclude, James Parker found himself under suspicion of responsibility somehow for the death of a Montgomery County woman by the name of Taylor. According to Blair’s Grimes County History and Z. N. Morrell’s history, there was a woman named Taylor supposedly killed by Indians there in 1838, in present day Grimes County.  Mrs. Taylor, accompanied by her two daughters, had insisted on retrieving the body of her husband who had just been killed by Indians. They too were attacked and Mrs. Taylor was slain, and her daughters taken captive. But in his wonderful book Empire of the Summer Moon,  S. C. Gwynn finds that vigilantes had so threatened James Parker over the death and robbery of a Mrs. Taylor and a daughter, that Parker was compelled to flee with his family. Ever on the defense, Parker even wrote to Texas President Lamar about the chase and his removal to Houston to save his family. I believe the two Mrs. Taylors are one and the same. It seems that Indian depredations followed the Parkers wherever they went, and soon the locals tied the two together. It must be that some Montgomery County citizens believed James Parker had somehow riled the Indians, who were always consistent about retaliation, and decided to stop the cycle after the Taylor deaths and abductions. One can understand their suspicions if this were the case.

One begins to wonder what the fuss was, that the Parkers had with the Delewares back in Missouri. Was it some kind of fear of a vendetta that propelled them into the great wide open? And when they discovered the Delawares were there in Texas, in fact General Sam Houston's henchmen, perhaps they had to leave Grimes Prairie or find themselves as social undesirables, and certainly targets. What kind of dirty deal had they perpetrated on east Texas tribes to have inspired such a seemingly unprovoked raid deep in the Texas woods? After the Taylor killings in Grimes County,  coincidentally upon the return of the Parker remnant, it seems to establish James Parker as the lightning rod to the Native American lightning bolt. 
During the first year after her return, Rachel Plummer wrote quite a bit about her misfortunes, but unfortunately they were not over... And more ironically, after becoming pregnant again, and predicting her imminent death, she died after the Parker family’s flight through the wilderness in Texas, this time to escape vigilante justice.  James Parker ultimately left a trail of needless casualties, and Gwynn describes him as “one of the most outrageous, extreme, obsessive, ambitious, violent, dishonest, morally compromised, reckless and daring characters ever to stake a claim on the early Texas frontier.”
Flowers for his dear Rachel? This is supposed to be an authentic likeness of  troublesome James Parker. It certainly does nothing to contradict the unkind words used to describe him.
There was an ugly trend by now, and even Sam Houston washed his hands of James Parker when he refused to return little James Plummer when his father could not to afford to reimburse him for the ransom money… much of which had come from the struggling Nation’s treasury.  Gwynn again describes James Parker as; “... murderer, counterfeiter, liar, drunk, horse thief and robber.” This was the man who searched tirelessly for and received Rachel and James Plummer into his care, only to use the moments to destroy his legacy. It seems too ugly, too tragic to be true.

Meanwhile at around thirteen years of age Cynthia Ann Parker had been married off to the cunning predator who had abducted her. A master of bloody surprise raids who refused to talk peace, Peta Nocona fathered several children by Cynthia who eventually saw him as her brave provider, a kind and loving husband, and noble father of her sons. She had been interviewed over the years by various would- be saviors, who begged her to agree to be ransomed, including her brother John, who returned unafraid after he was ransomed.  Nocona would not hear of it, and she only froze up when it was discussed. Cynthia Ann  was not dissimilar to the women we hear about that are held in captivity today… adjusting to horrible circumstances, losing hope of escape, finding meaning in their life by serving their captor, baring children, even growing … strangely tolerant, if not even fond of their captors.

Then, twenty–five years later a strange “battle” took place in far northwest Texas, which ended Cynthia's saga and began another. After several horrible atrocoties by hostiles, Governor Sam Houston sent one of his most trusted Rangers to retaliate. Young Ranger Captain and Indian- fighter Lawrence Sullivan Ross led a squad of Texas Rangers and U.S. Cavalry in a surprise attack on what they believed to be Peta Nocona’s camp on the Pease River.  

legendary skirmish birthed so much confusion that historians have still never dared to explain the contradictions.  According to the combatants, hundreds of Comanches were encamped on the Pease River, where Ross and his small force attacked with so much zeal that the Comanches fled in all directions, leaving the chief and his party to their ugly fate.  This was an unlikely scenario, and when the smoke had cleared, in truth they had only killed a few warriors, and more significantly, perhaps a dozen squaws.  Years later old Rangers would sheepishly admit that they would never brag about that particular skirmish. They were still squeamish over it.  Still, they supposedly managed, they believed, to kill the chief and capture his wife, only to discover she was the long sought after Cynthia Ann Parker
 To his credit, Capt. L. S. Ross was known to adopt and raise the captives he saved. He eventually took in a little girl found when subduing Buffalo Hump, and he adopted a little Mexican captive boy rescued at the Battle of Pease River. He became like a son and served him all through Ross' campaigns in the Confederacy. 
Suddenly, no matter the circumstances, Ross and his Rangers were Texas legends.  Everyone was jubilant over the end of a twenty-five year tragedy.  But Cynthia Ann was crying profusely… supposedly over the loss of her beloved husband and the separation from her sons. But to add to the confusion, years later the Comanches insisted that the Rangers had not killed Chief Peta Nocona, but his servant… a c"servant" (probably a captive slave) known as “Joe Nocona,” who had been left behind by the main tribe in what tribal historians called a mere “hunting party.”  And a fairly small and vulnerable hunting party it was, made up mostly of women…  servants, and at least two captives.

That was the spin, but they were more than likely intentional decoys, if not a begrudging peace offering. Cynthia Ann had become a huge liablity to the whole tribe. It was time to cut losses, give the White men what they wanted, for the greater good.
Sul Ross always believed one of his men, a Mexican orderly who wanted revenge, had killed the great Peta Nocona, just as he had claimed, forcing the unimaginable conclusion, that the whole tribe got up and abandoned Nokona and his entourage and left him to be surrounded and summarily executed. Yet his sons, both of fighting age, were nowhere to be found. Surely they would have fought to the death to save their parents, had they been anywhere around. But this never happened.

The historical facts are simple; Nokona was reputed to have lived on many more years, living to see his and Cynthia Ann’s oldest son become a warrior of high status. Whites even reported talking to him, but the story of his death stuck. The Rangers had killed him. That was far more poetic and useful than the truth. Eventually Sul Ross built an impressive military career, serving as the youngest Confederate General and later was elected Governor of Texas.

But Cynthia Ann told them from the git-go that (ironically) a significant party of warriors, around 35 real fighting men, had left just before the attack. Typical after successful raids, the main party was out trading with Comancheros. This sounds like the proper duties of Nokona, if not the perfect alibi.  With parties of soldiers weaving across the plains, no self-respecting Comanches assigned to protect the chief's wife would have left in masse unless… it was planned for some reason.  And from the day that she was “saved” Cynthia Ann was inconsolable. She finally admitted who she was, remembered her English, and went home with her Uncle Isaac, who set her up in a fine cabin near Ft. Worth, but she stayed depressed and distracted, uninterested in her Parker kin or their civilization.

An influential politician, Isaac Parker was able to get a generous pension and a land grant from the State of Texas, now a member of the Confederate States of America. But there was not enough money in the world to replace what Cynthia Ann had lost, or to give her a fresh outlook. She was known to practice Comanche ritual mourning, her hair cut off, slashing her breasts and bleeding into a fire. Passed around between frustrated relatives, Cynthia Ann plodded along in a suspended state of martyrdom. Something deep, even harder than the death of a loved one, ate at her psyche.

 Sure Cynthia Ann missed her boys terribly, and was no doubt devastated after being ripped away from her SECOND family, this time from her husband and children. But to be fair, her sons were practically grown and on the warpath, the equivalent to career training in our culture.  They were out of the nest and in the normal Comanche life style. They were still alive and making Texans pay, as far as she knew. And Peta Nokona was no Prince Charming. A legendary man of war, he was described by objective witnesses as fat and greasy and lazy. His main "positive trait "was his prowess as a ruthless killer and robber; Somebody who massacred relatively helpless, small groups, who routinely destroyed families and tortured his enemies with glee. It would be easy to assume from all of these observances that Nokona would have probably qualified in our culture as a sociopath, someone capable of anything necessary to achieve his objectives.

And all Comanche women were no better off than slaves, no matter who they were. That is illustrated by Rachel Plummer's swift rise in spite of incredible odds, over her female, Comanche co-workers. Her baby dead, she did not care whether she lived or died, and that nothing-to-lose attitude made her a star.  In the Comanche world, loss was an inevitable part of the process. And you were the winner, no matter what, as long as you were brave doing it. Loss of your loved ones was certainly justification for mourning in Comanche society, but Cynthia Ann's were probably not lost. And she still had her baby, Prairie Flower, to bring her joy.

I believe it was the psychological wounds of the outrages she suffered as a child, long suppressed by brutality and the struggle to survive, and the subsequent revisitation of the loss of her mother, her whole family, their savage deaths, and whatever was added to that which we will never know, which left her in a permanent state of shock. In fact life on the prairie had helped her to forget, perhaps deny her losses,  and she had never dealt with them. The return to that life twenty-five years later was the killing blow to her fragile mental bubble.  And the loss of a mother's love was trumped by the loss of ... for lack of a better term, "true love."

Not only was she suffering from the long-delayed grief over all that she had endured... but the ultimate insult. She had been forged from the age of nine into a good Comanche wife, worthy of a Chief. Done everything with compliance only a captive will muster, and then, just as outragous as the first abduction, she had been allowed to slip through their otherwise fierce and protective fingers. It had the stench of betrayal. No other human being in history has suffered such great failures from her families, both real and adopted, as to be abducted twice by violence from their negligence.  But the second abduction was probably inspired by something far more hurtful than neglect.

So, to try to explain Cynthia Ann more realistically, I propose something that has never been proposed to my knowledge. I suggest that the Comanches, "lords of the plains," were in total control the whole time. And what Cynthia Ann suffered was something worse than abduction or captivity; Rejection.

Worse than that, she was being used as cannon fodder, Comanche style. When the Texans that day began to massacre every Indian, she saw her life flash before her eyes. She was on the high plains, and left high and dry. How could she have been the fiercely protected prize for so long and then...  it was all over in an instant... and unbelievably, no chief or his warriors around to fight for her. It looked like a set up.

Before one of the Rangers could snap his musket, she knew what she must do... she reportedly exposed her breasts... her relatively white breasts, and instantly identified herself visually as a woman, a white woman, and then to make sure they understood, she yelled, "Americano!" In a desperate but strategic measure, she had been handed over against her will. Whatever theatrics or pouting Cynthia Ann displayed afterwards, it is a safe assumption that she understood a great deal more than anyone else did. 
The main proof for this theory is simple. Nobody ever found the Comanches unless they wanted to be found. The Tonkowa scouts had found the camp… even saw hundreds of warriors.  But when they attacked at daybreak… ready to get their ultimate revenge, all they found were some helpless stragglers. I believe Peta Nocona orchestrated the surrender and recapture of his wife to buy time and peace for his tribe. Pragmatic if not heartlessly practical, his band had been hounded all across the plains, as his famous wife had attracted a great deal of negative attention, and the army coming after him was growing exponentially. The hunter was becoming the hunted.  I propose that his men were instructed to be “found” and then unbeknownst to the focus of the search, Cynthia Ann and a few women and servants were to be left behind in a supposed hunting party, to distract and delay the Texans and Tonkowas, bent on satisfying two decades worth of revenge.

The Comanches assumed from past skirmishes these stragglers would be safe. Whites would rarely kill women and children.  Very possibly older, less essential members, ones who were burdensome and who wanted to give it up, and perhaps wanted to be sent to the reservation, were being granted their wish, as they were used to distract and occupy the enemy. And more importantly, the Texans would have to escort their prisoners to the Indian Territory… far from the main body.

And the wily, ruthless Peta Nocona would live to fight another day. Cynthia Ann, in Comanche terms, was nearing if not past her prime as a wife. To a ruthless warlord like Nokona, she was expendable, especially since she was the focus of a twenty-five year manhunt. But his handsome son Quanah Parker would become one of the fiercest warriors in Comancheria, one of the last to be subdued. He made his father proud no doubt, yet legend says he forbade his warriors to abuse or kill white women, as one might be his mother.  One has to wonder what made him so sure she might be alive. Perhaps even Quanah understood the trade of his mother for relief. But when he finally came in to the reservation, one of the first things he did was seek her out.
She and his little sister had died, one despondent, the other from pneumonia, decades before during the Civil War. Quanah, who became a great leader in the White world as he had been in the Red,  then asked for something good he had discovered about White civilization- a photograph of his long lost mother, the human bridge between him and the world he was adjusting to. Amazingly, he made a much better go of it than she had. A photographer who read of his search sent him an enlargement of his mother suckling Prairie Flower, his little sister. Luckily, he had captured them right after their "rescue" when both were at the height of their good health.

For the rest of his life, and even as an old man, Quanah was obviously moved when he talked about his mother. In spite of all the racism and treachery on both sides, nothing could come between the love of a mother and her son.  Not bloody wars, bribes, abandonment, the whole expanse of the Great Plains, not even death. There are numerous known photographs of the great Comanche chief, some proudly posing next to the picture of his mother. It was supposedly his most prized possession.



I'm sure a Native American would have been as fascinated with the magic of photography as he would have been by so many promises many people made about the whereabouts of his long lost, but never forgotten mother. She had "gone to be with Jesus..." was no doubt stated confidently many times. She was now "in God's hands,"  and "someday they would be together again." Quanah posed comfortably between the two, and for that moment then, and for us now, they were all together in that circle that will be unbroken, Bye and Bye.


 And this all began one hundred seventy seven years ago, today.

Click Below for a music video I made about Rachel Plummer...

 *If this interests you, do read Gwynn's book on the Comanches; Empire of the Summer Moon. It is the best book ever written on the subject, especially the details about one of my all time heroes... Quanah Parker.

Wednesday, October 12, 2011

Diamond Six, Part III: Above the Law



As I have said, the 1958 biography Diamond Six has a great deal concerning our local history that I have never heard, and I thought this one more blog would be appropriate to show you an example.

According to the author, John Wesley Hardin made at least one undetected escape from the Huntsville Prison while serving as a trusty. A trusty was not a trustee. He was a prisoner who was thought to be trusted if you gave him certain… liberties and privileges. Hardin was in the Huntsville State Prison for killing a bunch of men, especially a Texas lawman.

According to the account in William Fielding Smith’s book, in the spring of ’85, half a dozen rustlers attacked the Diamond 6 Ranch, stole all the cows and killed several of Wesley Smith’s old and reliable hands, ones he had served in the Texas Rangers and the Confederacy with. This suddenly makes the event sort of hard to lie about. Those deaths can be researched. Anyway, Smith and his men hunted down the killers and hung them all, Western Justice style, except for the one with a shotgun who was assumed to have killed an old crony ironically named “Dude” Justice. The shotgunner was forced into a draw and he was shot dead by Wesley Smith, in some kind of attempt at retribution.

Later John Wesley Hardin wrote Smith and claimed two of the men were his cousins and even though he was in prison, he intended to kill Smith for hanging his relatives.

Then one evening in 1886, right after Smith had been elected as sheriff, Hardin showed up at the ranch in Willis, ready to make good on his promise. But he caught Smith without his gun, and would not shoot him unarmed. After more threats were made, Hardin and his companion left, only to be chased by two young eager beavers, Smith’s son ”Bubba” and a buddy who would one day be another prominent Montgomery County lawman… Mabin Anderson. They killed Hardin’s second, but Hardin escaped.

So the story goes…

Then, Sheriff Wesley Smith tracked Hardin to a Post Office in a place called “Esperanza,” just south of Huntsville, perhaps somewhere near Stubblefield Lake, where they found him wounded from the scrape at Diamond 6. Sheriff Smith suspected he was wounded and had brought along a doctor. Hardin, desperate to keep his trusty status and get out of prison soon, made apologies and swore he was not at the rustling venture where so many Diamond 6 men had been murdered. He admitted that he had always had a hard attitude towards Smith because of one of his Diamond 6 cowboys, who had beaten him in a gunfight in Willis years before. Perhaps not coincidentally, that gunman, Duane Murchison, had been savagely murdered by the rustlers. Smith cited Ranger Ben McCulloch as the reason he believed Hardin’s testimony.

McCulloch had said that most of Hardin’s killings were understandable, the necessary or forgivable shooting of carpetbaggers, scalawags, negroes and Reconstruction era Police. The two were birds of a feather. They patched him up, not to escort him to authorities, but to send him on with blessings… !!!

In fact Hardin enjoyed the sincere blessings of many Texans. Sheriff Wesley Smith encouraged the outlaw to finish his Law studies and was sure he would make a fine attorney some day. And unlike all other deadly challengers before, he buried the hatchet with Hardin. And my sympathy for him as well. If this yarn is true, it is the final act of an embarrassing enigma of State and local history; The most deadly man in Texas, unknown, absolves the most famous killer from Texas, because they both fancy themselves as... Southern cavaliers.

It appears that there was a lot of popular support for Hardin, regardless of his crazy, murderous behavior, and the State fully intended to let him out of prison, because he was really "one of us." Hardin's killing spree was, in the end pardoned, yet he really deserved life imprisonment, if not hanging by the neck until dead. Instead, he soon went to El Paso and became a corrupt gambler and lawyer, until some other nut put a bullet in his brain.

The author’s final sentence claims that Sheriff Wesley Smith was justified in all his actions… all those battles and over sixty killings, whether they were legal or not. And that was the acceptable spin for Texas Democrats in 1888 and 1958!

And come to think of it, they have not changed…

Sunday, June 27, 2010

Early potters in Texas, Wallace and James Wilson. With NEW PHOTOS!

NOTE: you can read this and the whole series on my pages for Texas stoneware. Just look over to the right at the list inside the green box, and go down to the last four entries... all about Texas stoneware! And leave me a note! What do YOU know?



It says in the Bible that God is like a potter, and we are like the clay. So potters have always had a certain importance to us, as they illustrate attributes of our Creator. These guys were once slaves, shaping pots on the potter's wheel in Capote, Texas, near Seguin, for their master, John Wilson, a Presbyterian minister. When they were freed, they started their own business, making pots with their brother Hiram for their community. Also working in the family enterprise were Andrew and George Wilson. Still, it was the oldest brother's name, H. Wilson, that was stamped on every vessel. The following is a little information I have scavenged about this intriguing Texas family. But what I am most excited about is the epiphany of this photo, believed to be of the less known Wilson potters, now on display at our blues museum at Blues Alley...

When Texas stoneware collectors gather and converse around pick-up truck beds at flea-market parking lots, there are a few names that always come up. Names like St. Clair, Helberg, Jones, Ross or Russell, all infamous traffickers of this rare collectible. They are the envy of a small elite school of stoneware enthusiasts, as they find the elusive grails of Texas lore. And Wilson stoneware is the most famous and best documented, and thus the most sought after early Texas pottery.

Only a few years ago, just a small specialized group of Texana enthusiasts even knew of the obscure cluster of potteries in Guadalupe County. A protégé of stoneware collector and author Georgiana Greer, young Craig Oatmann blazed the trail as he scavenged through forgotten and abandoned pottery sites to find scraps of Wilson pottery to aid in identification.

I was introduced to Texas stoneware through an old friend, now deceased, who insisted that I “fix” his broken and chipped pots so that he might enjoy them better. Stuart Cox harangued me until I finally fixed a few, adding handles, patching glazes, even reconstructing spouts and some bottoms. It did not take long however for the word to get out, and I "fixed" several vessels for other collectors, to the howls of protest from purists who hated the very idea of restoration. I was able to restore many pieces for collectors back in the late 90’s, before I just got too busy to fool with them. In the process I fell in love with the stuff, and soon could recognize early Texas potters by just looking at the pottery. Most of it is not signed, and it takes expert knowledge to discriminate between some potters, and even they are fooled and surprised sometimes.

As rare, early Texas stoneware has become a coveted thing, it has also become the subject of various unorganized educational efforts. With trickles of information, and a few publishing ventures of Russell Barnes, Dale Ross and others, now Texans can know a tantalizing portion of the Wilson stoneware legacy. The first point of note is there were three “sites.”

First Site Wilson: The first site was established in 1857 by John MacKamie Wilson, a Presbyterian minister and entrepreneur. Wilson promoted the central Texas region where he settled, and wrote glowing reports about the suitable clays that were found in the area for the manufacture of stoneware. His pottery was made by his slaves, including Hiram, Wallace and James Wilson. Production in this pottery must have ended shortly after the Civil War.

The short number of years of production under John Wilson limited the amount of artistic variation, and there is a fairly strong coherence of artistic style in these forms. Vessels made here were quite ovoid, and usually glazed with alkaline substances or salt, which created smooth, clear to inconsistently colorful and somewhat crusty glazes. First Site forms include mostly slope necked jugs, small-mouthed jars and churns. Handles on jugs were high and open, joined completely to the vessel shoulder. Handles (grips) on jars were horseshoe shaped and tapered on the ends.

An example of John Wilson's stoneware, on display at UT San Antonio.

Second Site: John Wilson’s slaves, members of the black Wilson family who had worked on the Wilson Plantation, started their own pottery at a different site soon after the war. Throwing and firing begun around 1869, as Hiram, James and Wallace Wilson made a team of potters that are believed to be one of the very first businesses in Texas owned and operated by freedman. Hiram was apparently the boss, and the primary force in the enterprise, as his name was stamped boldly on much of their stoneware produced from the end of the Civil war until 1884, when the legendary potter passed away.

Shards found by archeologists at the Hiram Wilson "Second Site." Note:You can click inside the photo and it will come up MUCH larger.

Vessels made here were ovoid to slightly ovoid, glazed with salt and various mixtures of wood ash, which resulted in unpredictable, runny, transparent, grey-green finishes. Flashes of iron present in the materials made beautiful crimson swirls and spattering, which appear randomly on the vessels. Forms from the second site are usually small and large-mouthed storage jars, churns and jugs. Side handles on crocks and jars are typically a no-frill horseshoe-shaped coil. Most importantly, the vessels are marked, with the prominent stamp in plain letters: H. Wilson & Co.

Third Site: At the same time that the former slaves began to throw pottery as free men, John Wilson conveyed one of his other pottery sites to M. J. Durham. Durham produced stoneware there and was later joined by a partner, a black potter named Chandler. It is known that Isaac Suttles began his pottery career here. Wallace and James Wilson joined this operation in 1884 after the death of Hiram Wilson. This pottery was in continuous production until 1903.

Third site vessels are greatly varied stylistically and are much more cylindrical, salt-glazed, and light grey to beige in color. Many flaws in the clay body became evident in the firing, and surfaces were crude and splotchy. Forms discovered today may be very similar to later Suttles pottery, since I. Suttles worked there after arriving in Texas from the Ohio valley. Jugs might have fancy cavetto, blob top, flattened ring, or refined napkin ring spouts. Handles usually start on the shoulder and end at the spout of the vessel, reducing breakage. Shipping by rail caused an evolution of the forms over the years from ovoid to straight sided, to decrease wasted space in crating. Third Site pottery is thick, sturdy and more utilitarian.

Jug attributed to the Durham-Wilson pottery, from UT San Antonio.

Note: The photo of the two men at the top was purchased from an antique shop here in Navasota, and was thought to be two of the Wilson brothers... The man on the left could easily be a brother to Hiram Wilson, the famous black potter, and another artist saw a striking resemblance between the man on the right and James Wilson. I concurred and offer it and a rare published photograph of James Wilson to the general public for viewing and comparison. We have no proof of these men's identities, but are still pleased and thrilled at the possibilities.

Also look for my new series of articles about Texas Stoneware, searching my "Pages" section at the top right of the main page! Parts I & II have this and much more information on Texas stoneware!