Joe Herring Jr.

The restored Union Church, photo taken in 2003

Something remarkable happened in Kerrville around Christmas Eve, 1885.
Though the community had its beginnings in the late 1840s, when Joshua D. Brown and a group of men built a shingle making camp near the present-day intersection of Water and Washington streets, and though the county had been organized in 1856, Kerrville had no churches.
There were several likely reasons for this: Kerr County was very remote, travel was difficult, attacks from Native American groups were frequent, and the county, while rich in land, was extremely cash poor.
Sometime in 1884 two local women, Mrs. Whitfield Scott and her sister, Miss Laura Gill, decided it was time for the community to have a church. According to a story I found in the March 8, 1928 issue of the Kerrville Times, the two worked tirelessly to get a church for our community.
"Mrs. Scott and Miss Gill drove from house to house, not only in Kerrville, but throughout the county soliciting funds. It was hard work. People were poor, some did not believe in churches. But through the indomitable perseverance of the ladies, the money was finally collected. Not only was every resident of Kerr County asked to give but many letters were written to friends far away for aid."
Mrs. Scott even wrote letters to newspapers and magazines asking for help.
"I wish to make a plain statement of facts concerning religious matters in this country, hoping that this article will arrest the attention and awaken the sympathies and interest of more fortunate persons.... We have no place of worship, excepting an unfinished Episcopalian church, whose doors are only open to pastors of their own faith."
St. Peters Episcopal Church was under construction at the time, at about the same location as the present site of the church. Mrs. Scott and Miss Gill wanted to have a place of worship for more congregations.
A petition had been presented to the Kerr County commissioners court requesting permission to hold religious services in the county courthouse, and permission was given for six months. "That time has now expired and we are not inclined to repeat the experiment," Mrs. Scott wrote.
"Christians are few in number, most of them poor, unorganized and discouraged.
"Society suffers as a consequence, and our dear Kerrville boys are growing up to be mockers and scoffers of pure religion and desecrators of the holy Sabbath day.
"Times are hard, but few people are able to contribute to anything but the maintenance of their own families.... I appeal to the readers of this paper for help.
"Not from far off China, Japan, Africa, or India but from your own Western Texas comes this cry for help..."
The women did raise the funds to build the church, and Captain Charles Schreiner donated a lot on which it was to be built. That lot was on the corner of Main and Clay streets, and the church faced Clay Street. A gas station, car wash, and convenience store stand on the site today.
Construction was completed "about Christmas, 1885." I can just imagine the happiness those ladies felt as worshippers came to the newly-built church to celebrate Christmas.
The church they built was called the Union Church, and it was the home of four congregations: the Methodist Episcopal Church, the Cumberland Presbyterian Church, the Missionary Baptist Church, and the Christian Church. Each had use of the building one Sunday per month and the week that followed. The building was available for other faiths "by permission."
Other faiths had their local start outside of the Union Church, of course. The Episcopal church was erected in 1884; the first Catholic mass was read here in 1889, in Dr. Parsons' Hall, which once stood next to our print shop.
As each of the Union Church congregations grew, they left the Union Church building and built their own churches, until only the First Christian Church remained in the building. It was to this congregation the building was deeded on September 9, 1925. The building was in poor repair at that time, as no one congregation wanted to spend money on the building.
The old church building was purchased and moved to Lemos Street, where in my youth it was an Army Navy surplus store.
Later the Friends of the Kerr County Historical Commission obtained the old church building and had it moved to a corner of the Schreiner University campus. Many, many hours of hard work went into its restoration, and the building is again available to the public.
Until next week, all the best.

Joe Herring Jr. is a Kerrville native who wishes each and every reader a very Merry Christmas. This column originally appeared in the Kerrville Daily Times December 24, 2016.

Pampell's soda fountain and drug store, July 4, 1952
Click to enlarge photo

I've been interested in computers as long as I can remember, and recent developments in artificial intelligence are amazing. This is a long article, but the discussion about recent advances in Google Translate are worth the effort. (I definitely do NOT understand everything in the article.)

Ms. Carolyn and I need to rent this for our next party. Stayin' alive.

Speaking of artificial intelligence, here are some AI experiments from Google. Bird sounds, and drawing. I for one want to be kind to our future neural network overlords, so I can be on their good side when they take over the planet.

Ok, it's the end of the year, and I've been reading long essays. This one about time is good. Not completely sure I understand all of it.

If you've heard of Snopes.com, you know the site attempts to debunk false stories on the Internet. Suppose those annual Christmas letters we all receive from distant friends and families were subjected to the Snopes treatment?

Which word to use use for an evening meal? Dinner or Supper? This map shows regional word use, and you can plug in words of your own choosing. Neat.

My creative bride is having a sale on items in her crafting store. Proud of her. Sale ends tonight, December 31st. Use the coupon code stamps to save 15% on orders of $25 or more. For more information, check out her blog.

The Six Letters were "CALLCO"
Click to enlarge

A few weeks ago my son and I decided to see the changes made at the old Hasting's store after its transformation into Entertainmart (or Vintage Stock). As we entered the door, one of the folks working there said they'd found something painted on one of the interior walls of the building, and asked if I knew anything about it.
That building has been many things in my lifetime, and it started out as several separate buildings which were joined into the present-day conglomeration.
My earliest memory of the building is when it housed the H. E. Butt Grocery Company. In those days the grocery store faced Quinlan Street, and there were other businesses on that block, along with many other buildings, including a building torn down long ago which had once been the home of one of Captain Schreiner's daughters, Caroline Marie. During the 1970s, the grocery store was remodeled and expanded into the structure we recognize today, with its entrance facing Main Street. Later, when the grocery store moved to the 300 block of Main Street, the old building became a clothing store, and later still, Hastings Entertainment. This past autumn Vintage Stock opened a store there called Entertainmart.
Today all of those other buildings on that block are either gone, or have been consumed into the building housing Entertainmart -- except for the Voelkel's building on the corner of Clay and Water, which still stands as I remember it as a child, though in those days it was a dry cleaning business, Sweatt Cleaners.
On our recent visit, my son and I were guided through several doors and hallways until we arrived at a darkened part of the building, somewhere near its southernmost corner. There, high above us, was a remnant of an old sign. The sign suggested what is now an interior wall was once an exterior wall.
There, in fading black letters on a white wall, was a fragment of an old sign. It read "CALLCO," and was painted in tall, bold letters. Partition walls inside the building, which were added later, cut off any letters before or after these six, and so I guessed there was once more to the sign. I took a photo with my phone, and Joe and I retraced our confusing route back to the public areas of the store. I told the lady who'd shown us the sign I'd see what I could find.
I like a history mystery, and when I had a few minutes later that week I began to see what I could find.
I often use a website to read old newspapers, newspaperarchive.com. On a hunch, I put in Callcote and Water Street to see what the website might find.
It found nothing.
Years ago we had a printing customer at our shop named Hazelle Calcote, a local realtor who volunteered with the stock show and youth programs. My first search misspelled her last name, adding an extra "L."

The 500 block of Water Street, late 1960s
Click to enlarge

So I tried Callcott and Water Street, and found there was once a George H. Callcott auto parts store in that block, and that it faced Water Street. My next step was to see if I had a photograph of the auto parts store in my collection.
I started with a photo of the Voelkel building, the triangular building at the intersection of Water and Clay streets. That photo did not show enough of the Callcott building to show the sign.
Then I remembered an old newspaper photo showing a group of men building a sidewalk in front of the old A. C. Schreiner home on Water Street. If I was lucky, the old Callcott store would be in that photograph.
And it was -- centered in the frame right above the workmen. The letters we saw in the Entertainmart building were visible in the photograph, which was taken in the late 1960s, or early 1970s. And in the photograph, the sign looked worn and weathered, just as the remnant looks today.
I texted the photo to our friend at Entertainmart, having solved the mystery. I love it when a case is quickly solved.
Until next year, all the best.

Joe Herring Jr. is a Kerrville native. This column originally appeared in the Kerrville Daily Times December 31, 2016.

Once again, Gentle Reader, we begin a new year together.
This column began in November, 1995. Together we've seen a lot of Januarys on these pages.
I reviewed some of my columns published on the first weekend of a new year -- and the theme was often the same.
First, I am thankful for the opportunity to visit with you on this page each week. I know it's a privilege, and I'm appreciative of your support, patience, and encouragement for these many years. It is true: I like writing these letters to you each week.
And I'm thankful for the opportunity given me by the many publishers and editors for whom I've written. I'm certain I often exasperate them, but they've been kind and tolerant.
Secondly, in the first column of many of those years I express a concern over the 52 weeks ahead. It often feels like a big stack of blank paper waiting for me, and I've often expressed concern about filling those 52 weeks with something that might interest you.
I expressed this in 1999: " It is that time of year in a columnist's life when a long, blank 52 slotted slate rests ahead, needing to be filled up with words, words approaching style and correctness, and the first column of the year is always a toughy."
That concern still exists today.
In 2001, I shared this: "writing a weekly column is a lot like carrying a canary with you into the mine, and hoping it will sing. In the last year, I’ll admit, the bird sometimes sang flat. Other times, though, she sang true and sweet. As all miners and columnists know, it’s most important that the bird sing. When the bird stops singing, well, that’s when the problems start. For miners, it means the air’s not fit to breathe; for columnists it can mean lots of things, none of them very encouraging."
Likewise, in 2009, I tried to explain it like this: " At the first of the year the contracted-for series of columns looks like a very tall mountain. On the morning I write the first column of the year I feel like my climbing shoes are worn, my rope is frayed, and my supplies are low."
In many of those years, the first column outlined a plan of attack. One year, 2001, I offered a "Chautauqua," telling the story of our community's history, which was a series that ran for several months. The first in the series suggested "the story of Kerr County begins with the land. People have come to live here for thousands of years, and most of them have had one common motivation – the land itself."
In 2010, I offered a history class, to be taught in a series of columns. It began:
"Now class, please take your seats.
"It’s a new year, and I’m glad you’ve signed up for our course in local history. You will find, over the next few months, the story of our area is very remarkable.
"And you’ll find our area was the home to some very interesting characters. Some were scoundrels, some were heroes. One or two have names you might recognize. Some did great, showy things you can’t miss; others did small, quiet things that changed our community."
So what's in store for 2017?
Over the last few weeks, I've been working on a plan for this coming year. I hope you'll find it useful. One of my editors years ago told me my job was to "inform and entertain," a task that isn't as easy as it might seem. That's part of the 2017 plan.
So, then. See you here next week, and we'll get started.
Until then, all the best.

Joe Herring Jr. is a Kerrville native who daydreams way too much. This column originally appeared in the Kerrville Daily Times January 7, 2017.

As many of you know, I collect items from Kerrville and Kerr County's history. The collection is housed at our printing company on Water Street, and I hope to donate the collection to a local history museum someday.
Severa
l new items came into the collection over the past few weeks, and I'd like to tell you about them.
There are a few of you who might remember Henke's butcher shop in the 800 block of Water Street. It was gone before I came along, but I've heard many stories about the shop. Many remember the barbecue sandwiches they sold there, with tables set up behind the shop.

The cash register from Henke's Meat Market

A long-time friend arranged for me to pick up the old cash register that Henke's used. It's a giant brass National Cash Register machine. As I was cleaning it I found two items: a red penny ration coin, from World War II, made of what looks to be red rubber; and an old Ford key. Both items were lodged in the back of the machine, behind the cash drawer, and in the springs and posts in the back of the machine.
As for the Ford key, I can just imagine one of the Henkes asking the rest of the crew in the butcher shop "has anyone seen the key to the delivery van?" I cannot guess how long it's been lost in the workings of the machine, but I'm happy it's now found. If only we could find the old Ford to which it once belonged.

A model of the Charles Schreiner Mansion

Another item came into the shop, and I'll admit I'm not sure from whence it came. I received word a model of the Charles Schreiner mansion was available at a local resale shop, and I dropped everything, went over there, and bought it. It's about 18" high, and about 24" wide, and is made of fired clay. It's signed by Ruth McNay, and I'm glad to have it here. I remember Ms. McNay; we printed many items for her. I've teased I'm planning on putting a teeny-tiny little museum inside the teeny-tiny little mansion.
My friends Jon and Sandy Wolfmueller, of Wolfmueller's Books, gave me several things over the past few weeks, including the minutes of the "City Council of Parents and Teachers of Kerrville, Texas," which I think meant the Parent Teachers Associations of the elementary, middle and high schools in Kerrville. The minutes are from the 1930s, and feature many recognizable names from that era.
Those minutes also clear up a mystery. During the 1930s, Kate Franklin, a teacher in the middle school, together with her students organized a Kerr County Museum. For a time the items they collected were on display at the Arcadia Theater, back when that theater was still quite new.
The rumor had been that after being displayed at the Arcadia, many of the items were discarded. However, one of the entries in the minutes tells what happened to the items after they left the Arcadia, and I hope other entries in those minutes will help explain where the missing items might be today.
A few months ago a kind reader brought in a scrapbook filled with newspaper clippings from a divisive time in our community, when the schools here were finally desegregated. It's been interesting reading those clippings, learning what was being said on both sides of the issue at the time. Like many communities, it took Kerrville a long time to get to the right answer: public schools were for all children, regardless of race.
The variety of the items coming into the collection is amazing, ranging from old newspapers, a fine sample of stained glass, and quite a few historic photographs of our area I'd never seen before.
I'm grateful to everyone who's brought items in. I hope together we can find a good home for them.
Until next week, all the best.

Joe Herring Jr. is a Kerrville native who likes learning about local history. This column originally appeared in the Kerrville Daily Times January 14, 2017.

Fossils found recently by the author within the city limits of Kerrville

Time is hard for me to understand.
I can wrap my mind around some time periods. I understand how it feels to wait in line for ten minutes. I remember three decades ago when our children were born. I can understand how this community looked 100 years ago -- and I know a bit about the people who lived here then.
Longer time frames are hard, but still manageable. I know about the American Revolutionary War. I understand about Europe during the Renaissance. Egyptians building pyramids, got it.
Even with those historic landmarks, long periods of time are still difficult to comprehend.
Harder still are some of the artifacts found in our community. I know of two Clovis points found in Kerr County, which suggest people have passed through this area for around 10,000 years.
10,000 years is hard to understand, so I break it up into generations. For convenience, I assumed a generation every 20 years -- so 10,000 years is 500 generations. That trick helps a bit, but 10,000 years is such a very long time. And 500 generations -- unknowable.
Imagine, then, if there was something in Kerr County which suggests 10,000 years is really no time at all.
Imagine if these time travelers were abundant, free, and widespread in our community.
This last week, on the evening of the big storm, I was up on a hill inside the city limits of Kerrville exploring the distant past. I was hunting for fossils.
There are many places in the Texas Hill Country where it is harder to find a rock that is not a fossil than it is to find a fossil. I know of several spots where the fossils are so thick they carpet the ground.
A little studying tells me our area was once underwater -- beneath a shallow sea. The fossils I found were from small marine creatures.
Years ago William Matthews wrote "Texas Fossils: an amateur collector's handbook," and it's available online for free from the University of Texas. In it, I learned our area of Texas, the Edwards Plateau, just north of the Balcones Fault and south of the Llano Uplift, is rich in fossils.
Many of the fossils are of marine animals -- such as snails, urchins, bivalves, and even fish. But the area also has dinosaur fossils, including fossilized dinosaur footprints. (There are at least two sites in Kerr County with these ancient footprints.)
Kerr County lies in the Lower Cretaceous geologic area of Texas, with plenty of limestone and shale. Limestone is a sedimentary rock, made up of layers and layers of debris and muck, and often the remains of animals, which can become fossilized.
As children, we often collected fossils we called "Texas Hearts," which are an internal mold of a Texas Cretaceous pelecypod. We also found many "stone ears," which were the shells of gastropods and pelecypods, a type of clam or mussel.
As a child, my son was especially good at finding fossilized tylostoma, the corkscrew fossils that look like snail shells. He found them in all sizes. They're the internal mold of a gastropod.
Ms. Carolyn once found a fossilized plant, a small leaf imprint. We've found what looks like fossilized coral. There are many types of fossils in our area.
These fossils are tens of millions of years old; the Cretaceous geologic period stretched between 66 and 145 million years ago.
As the big rain storm gathered last Sunday evening, I was on a hillside in town. I found two small fossilized urchins. They looked like Phymosoma texanum specimens to me; they were about the size of a quarter. They weren't museum quality specimens, but you could still make out the lines of bumps radiating from the center like the petals of a flower.
As the rain began, I thought how the fossils of these two little creatures had been waiting on that hillside for tens of millions of years. It was an amount of time I could not understand, but I could hold something in my hand from that long ago.
If you go fossil hunting in our area, hillsides are often better than hilltops. There are plenty of fossils to find. Don't trespass to go fossil hunting; there are lots of sites open to the public where fossils are abundant. Happy hunting!
Until next week, all the best.

Joe Herring Jr. is a Kerrville native who likes to find fossils and artifacts in our community. This column originally appeared in the Kerrville Daily Times January 21, 2017.

From my collection: poster frame original to Kerrville's Arcadia Theater,
with poster from the first movie shown in that theater, 1926

With the Arcadia Theater finding itself in a front-page story this week, I thought it might be time to share a column from my files telling the story of the theater's first night. I certainly wish the best for this latest effort to renovate the old movie house.

* * *

On the warm Tuesday evening of June 29, 1926, a flock of folks crowded into a newly built hall to watch the comedy film “Irene,” starring Colleen Moore. They were greeted with “cooled” air and a saga about the life of a poor, beautiful Irish lass whose dire economic circumstances obscure her royal lineage. She worked as a shopkeeper’s assistant, selling dresses. A local grandee had obtained the job for her there as a model; the villainous shopkeeper had demoted her to lowly clerk. During a grand fashion show, the grandee notes the absence of his protégé, storms to the dimly lit store, costumes the girl and returns with her to triumph, and eventually love – discovered on a rusting fire escape, outside the fashion show.
The scenes of the fashion show were “registered in subdued tones of the Techni-color process, a new idea which has recently been discovered by those who invented the method of color photography.” This probably explains the choice of this movie, a First National release, as the film for that particular evening. The film was in color.
“Irene” was the first film shown in the newly built Arcadia Theater.
The town was very proud of their new theater. There was an older movie house, the Dixie, near the corner of Washington and Water streets, on the northern corner, about where the left side of Rivers Edge Gallery stands today. The Dixie is remembered for its wooden bleachers, where patrons tucked their feet up to avoid the rats that ran along the floor eating popcorn and nibbling on shoelaces. The Arcadia, by contrast, was a movie palace.
Built at a cost of $90,000, the new theater featured high-tech (for 1926) projection equipment (a pair of Powers projectors), a ‘Gardner Velvet Gold Fibre Screen,’ a Hillgren-Lane pipe organ, and seating capacity for 1,000. The building looked very different then: it featured a Spanish mission façade, and the 16x40 foot ‘arcade’ was accented with rough plaster and hand-hewn beams. In the ‘arcade’ was seven display cases.
Seating was also arranged differently than the seating many of us remember. In addition to the ‘orchestra’ and balcony seats, there were also eight loges with five chairs each. Smoking was allowed in the balcony seats only.
The small stage (8 x 15 feet) was furnished with scenery from Volland Scenic Company of St. Louis, and included a “beautiful mountain and river scene, typical of the country surrounding Kerrville. It is a remarkable reproduction of nature, done in oil.” There was also an orchestra pit measuring 7 ½ x 25 feet; this was the home of the pipe organ.
The neon sign we see today, frantically flashing in the night sky, is not the original sign for the theater. The first was about 15 feet high and extended six feet above the building, with 16” letters. The lighting flashed on and off at intervals, but was not neon; the coloring of the letters was done by placing ‘glass color hoods’ over the lamps, and red and green and amber were the predominate colors. There was a twinkling torch and a ‘flowing’ border driven by an electric motor.
The Bart Moore Construction Company built the building. Mr. Moore was also the president of the Kerrville Amusement Company, which owned the Arcadia and Dixie Theaters, and he would serve as the Arcadia’s first general manager.
Admission prices that first week of performances were 25 and 50 cents.

Joe Herring Jr. is a Kerrville native who has a movie poster for "Irene" on display at his family's printing shop. The poster is framed in an original Arcadia display case. This column originally appeared in the Kerrville Daily Times January 28, 2017.

Louise Hays Park, not long after construction.
Note the Blue Bonnet Hotel and Cotton Eldridge's ski shack.

So many of my readers have memories of the Cascade Pool downtown; my generation made memories at Kerrville's Olympic Pool, off of Singing Wind Drive in east Kerrville. It had a diving tower, with platforms at 5 meters and 10 meters. I remember being terrified to jump off of the 10 meter platform. This video, shot in Sweden, reminds me of my early days, trying to make up my mind, whether to jump or not. (Via the New York Times.)

Several of you have asked for the link to the book on Texas Fossils, and I'm happy to provide it. (It's a free download.) I wrote about fossil hunting a few weeks ago. A copy of the book might be available at Wolfmueller's Books in Kerrville.

What happens if the data underlying our assumptions changes? Here's a thoughtful TED talk given by Sarah Bloom Raskin.

Here's a bit of whimsy for your Saturday.

How much change can one family make on their hometown? A chef and her family are making a difference in her hometown in North Carolina. I sometimes watch her PBS show to learn more about the state where our daughter lives.

Have a great weekend!

How much does the weather affect the course of history?
I'm not talking about the sudden rainstorm which forces Lulu's seventh birthday party to be moved inside. Lulu, of course, has felt a change in her personal history and the weather's effect has marred her fun. (Lulu's parents will definitely feel history has changed when all the party goers start running around inside the house.)
I'm not even talking about a sudden change in weather which altered a famous battle. Nor am I talking about weather which claimed the life of a leader, or of icebergs sinking famous ships.
I'm talking about the rhythm of the seasons, the cycles of clouds and sunshine, the dew and frost typical of a place. Plain old boring weather.
I've been reading "The Texas Rangers" by Walter Prescott Webb partly because so many of our early male settlers spent some time as Texas Rangers. Both Joseph A. Tivy and Charles A. Schreiner were Texas Rangers. There are more than 30 Texas Rangers buried in the Center Point cemetery alone, including a pioneer historian who had served as a Ranger, Andrew Jackson Sowell. So understanding more about the early Texas Rangers might help me better understand Kerr County in its early days.
In the first pages of the very first chapter, Webb makes a suggestion I'd never considered.
I'd read elsewhere about his 98th meridian theory -- that, in Texas, a plantation economy was not practical west of that line. To the east there is plenty of rainfall; to the west, a scarcity of rain. Because of this fact Texas was unlike many of the southern states in that its economy was not based largely on plantation agriculture and the exploitation of slave labor.
While that does not remove the wrongs of slavery from our state's history, it does suggest rainfall (or lack thereof) affected the history of our area.
The new thing I learned in the first few pages of "The Texas Rangers" was this idea of a dividing line along the 98th meridian (west) impacted the history of Kerr County for much more than just the period before the civil war. Its effect preceded the creation of Kerr County, and even preceded written history here.
Kerr County is closer to the 99th meridian than the 98th; we're farther west, hence drier than counties to the east.
Here's Webb, talking about the land of Texas:
"The 98th meridian separates the Eastern Woodland from the Western Plains; it separates East Texas from West Texas." Elsewhere he describes a trip upriver from the mouth of the Colorado River to its source, traveling east to west, starting in a "heavily timbered and well-watered country," crossing a level prairie region, and then ending in the high plains.
Anyone who's traveled IH 10 from here toward Houston can see the dramatic changes in landscape, from rocky hills to flat, soggy woodlands. And traveling west along IH10 toward Fort Stockton will show a transition from rocky hills to a semi-arid desert.
Consider, then, how these different environments would have impacted the various Native American tribes present in Texas around the time Mexico was losing its control here. Many of those tribes living in the eastern part of the state tended to be agricultural, even farmers. They had villages fixed in one location. Many (but not all) of these tribes were peaceful and cooperated with settlers.
Those living in the western part of the state had a much different way of living. Resources were scarce, and competition for those resources was fierce. The tribes were nomadic, and were not farmers. There was often constant conflict between different tribes, and seldom were these people of the plains cooperative with settlers. It was among these tribes the early settlers of Kerr County found themselves.
How much of the differences between these two types of tribes, the woodland tribes and the plains tribes, could be attributed to weather? Probably more than we suspect.
Until next week, all the best.

Joe Herring Jr. is a Kerrville native who can remember times when months and months passed between rainfalls here. This column originally appeared in the Kerrville Daily Times February 4, 2017. Titles by Walter Prescott Webb and Andrew Jackson Sowell are available from Wolfmueller's Books in Kerrville.

I'm proud for my friends at the Plant Haus 2 who are opening their new store on Valentine's Day directly across Clay Street from their old store. I imagine Trena Cullins and her crew are about worn out, but I know they'll be happy to be in the new building soon.
My sister, son and I have been active sidewalk superintendents as the new store was under construction by the Zubers, noting each phase of the building underway during our morning walks for coffee at Pint & Plow. For a long while there was no sign on the project and we made many guesses about its purpose. We were thankful when the sign went up announcing the new building would be the home of the Plant Haus.
The weather this time of year acts as if it were a character in a play, with its own personality, ambitions, and conflicts; I know it plays a role in our lives whether we notice it or not. I don’t know if you were up early enough on Tuesday to see the thick fog, but as I drove to work before sunrise that morning, the fog was as heavy as I’ve ever seen here. Later that same morning, as the sun rose and the day grew warm, ghosts of mist rose from parking lots and lawns, rising to a brilliantly clear sky. It was quite beautiful. And then the rest of the day was beautiful and pleasant outside.
This lull between the cold weather of January and the remaining few cold snaps of February brings to mind the chores I still have to do in my garden as I get ready for the coming season. If anticipation is truly the best spice, I suppose these waiting days before planting time are some of the most flavorful of the year.
I've only done a little of the work in my garden this year; I cut down the stringy trees along the fence a weekend ago. I still need to build a better fence to keep the dogs out of the garden and till the soil. I'm toying with the idea of building some raised garden beds this year.
Another part of the garden work I haven’t done yet is the planning – and that's the fun part, really. This time of year, when the skies bounce from cold to hot in the slanting sun, there are few joys more precious than a seed catalog, a nice chair, a sunny window, and time to read. I used to read through the seed catalogs that come to my mailbox with great interest, like a hungry man reading a large menu at a roadside diner, and while my imagination lingers on the exotic plants (tennis ball lettuce, for instance). But printed seed catalogs are a thing of the past, and I always return to the plants I’ve known for many years, the ones that are reliable, but I also return to the one plant that breaks my heart season after season.
There are few heartbreakers like Silver Queen Corn.
The trouble with this plant is not its perennial failure in my garden, nor even the fact that it always springs up strongly with verve and grace before its final disappointment. The problem with this variety stems from the first time I ever planted it in my garden: on that first attempt, Silver Queen corn grew well and produced so many beautiful ears of corn we actually gave corn away. We’d call ahead and have the recipient put a pot of water on the stove to boil, so the time from stalk to pot was kept to an absolute minimum, preserving the sugars in the corn before their sad decline to starch.
In that first season, the Silver Queen was royal, gracious, and bountiful. It happened by chance it was also the first time I’d tried corn in our garden, and I came away from the experience thinking corn was easy to grow, and I’d found a new regular to stand alongside our tomatoes, peppers and beans.
A nice stand of corn is pretty in the garden; it makes the plot look like a garden, with the tall green stalks bunched together like a platoon in formation, a nice contrast to the more squat cages of tomatoes and the staked pepper bushes. We even made a rustic scarecrow after we kept seeing birds among the stalks.
The trouble came in the following years. We never again had the same success with the Silver Queen, for a variety of reasons, from poorly prepared soil, to a harsh wind storm that knocked all of the proud plants to the ground. Year after year I have visited Trena Cullins at the Plant Haus, buying the grayish Silver Queen seeds; year after year I have tried to think through the problems we faced the previous season; year after year I have planted the seeds with hope, thinking we will once again have a nice stand of corn in our garden.
One year Ms. Cullins gave me a different type of corn seed to try and I botched that one, too.
Maybe this is the year for success. Maybe my beginner's luck will return. If I just changed this, or that – perhaps tried raised garden beds -- would the Silver Queen reign again?
Until next week, all the best.

Joe Herring Jr. is a Kerrville native who does not like to eat corn, but plants it for his family. Not that they've had any for many years. This column originally appeared in the Kerrville Daily Times February 11, 2017.

An old book which held surprises other than its writing

I'm re-reading a book I read many years ago, back when our kids were still in elementary school, John Steinbeck's "Travels with Charley." I suppose I wanted to read a rambling travel book. Twice.
My copy of the book is old and beat up, from the second printing, with stains on the cover and pages which have yellowed in the 55 years since it was made. It is inscribed inside as a party gift from some hostess to some dinner guest at some feast held in an eastern state in 1962.
I'm pretty sure I bought it at a Friends of the Library book sale in the 1980s, in the basement of the Butt-Holdsworth Memorial Library, back when those sales were conducted among air ducts, junk, and a hodge-podge of rickety shelving. We often went there to buy books for ourselves and for our children, and many of the books we have on our shelves at home today were bought second-hand at their sales. In those days I was apt to pick up books by authors I recognized, and I'm sure I'd never heard of this book before, but I knew the name Steinbeck. It was an accidental discovery, and I may have paid the princely sum of one dollar for my copy.
Now that several decades have passed since I purchased the book and read it the first time I'm noticing things I could not have noticed before.
First off I noticed the simple joys of reading a real book, one made of paper and ink and binder's board and cloth. Even though I am a printer most of what I read these days is read on a screen of some type. Though I get a physical copy of the Kerrville Daily Times at work, I've usually read it on my iPad before leaving home, read at an hour when most of you are still sound asleep. I have subscriptions to a national newspaper and several magazines, but they all come to me wirelessly on that same device. I no longer receive printed copies of most of the magazines to which I subscribe, mainly because it's convenient and reliable to receive them electronically, but also because I tend to leave unread magazines in towering piles of clutter. Even old printers like me can enjoy these advantages.
This particular copy of "Travels with Charley" was printed on fine paper with a slight finish and cotton content. I believe I can feel the imprint of the letters on the page, suggesting it was printed on a letterpress of some kind, with lead type. It has a cloth cover that's rough in places from wear; the cloth is a light cream color and shows every stain. It's not a museum-quality edition, by any means. It's an ordinary book printed using techniques common in 1962, though those techniques are no longer used.
I can tell there's some acid in the paper, too. Most of the pages have age spots, and the edges are slowly turning brown. That acid will continue to work on the paper until it's brittle; if given enough time, the acid will eat it away until nothing is left but dust.
At least two readers made marks in the book as they read it. One of them was me, though a much younger me. I recognized the notations from the code of checks and brackets I used in those days, but haven't used for at least ten years, and cannot use as I read on my electronic tablet. Those marks I made many years ago, like the printing process used to make my copy, are obsolete.
Unlike others in my family, my memories of what I've read are hazy at best. Ms. Carolyn can recall with great clarity books she's read; I cannot. Looking at the marks I made in the book years ago is like looking over the shoulder of my much younger self, to see what interested him and to compare the judgments he made on the paragraphs he read with my reading of them today.
Those judgments are different. I'm more critical of writers today than I was then, less likely to be in awe of even Nobel prize-winning authors. I was more easily impressed twenty years ago, but I've read a lot more books since then.
Here's an idea, Gentle Reader: re-read a book you read decades ago. Read it in printed form. If you run across notes you made, see how much you've changed. You might be pleasantly surprised.
Until next week, all the best.

Joe Herring Jr. is a Kerrville native who has more books than he's actually read. This column originally appeared in the Kerrville Daily Times February 18, 2017.

It's hard to pick up a newspaper these days and not find a story about immigrants and the politics surrounding immigration. While most agree the laws on the books should be enforced -- that illegal immigration is, in fact, illegal -- not as much coverage has been afforded to those who've immigrated to this country legally.
In the war-torn parts of the world today, there are countless families who want and need to flee the danger and strife all around them. Coming to the United States is a dream for many of these families, and thousands spend years attempting to obtain the necessary documents to come here legally.
But that is not new.
Many of the early settlers of New Braunfels, Fredericksburg, and Boerne were immigrants from Germany, and many of them were escaping the conflicts plaguing Europe at the time.
And many of the early settlers of Kerr County were also German immigrants, but we had settlers from many other parts of the world, too. And those immigrants helped make our community the place it is today.
Let's consider some of the prominent immigrants who settled in Kerr County.
Captain Joseph Tivy was an immigrant; he was born in Canada. Although he spent all of his adult life in the United States, serving in both the California and Texas legislatures, his time in Kerrville is remembered because of his interest in public education. In the late 1880s, when Tivy was the first mayor of the City of Kerrville, he donated the land for a public school, along with other parcels to be sold to help pay for a school building. That original school was named in his honor, and today Kerrville's high school is named for him.
Policarpo Rodriguez was an immigrant, born in Zaragoza, Coahuila, Mexico in 1829. He moved to San Antonio with his family when he was just twelve. His was a life of adventure and faith. He served for many years as a scout, and helped establish the route from San Antonio to El Paso. Later in life he became a Methodist minister, and even built a chapel (which still stands) on Privilege Creek, just across the Kerr County line, in Bandera County.
Captain Charles Schreiner was also an immigrant; he was born in Alsace, grew up speaking French, and moved to Texas as a boy with his parents. Both of his parents died when he was a teenager, and Schreiner joined the Texas Rangers for a while. Later he and his brother-in-law Caspar Real started a small stock farm on Turtle Creek. Later still, after serving in the Confederate Army, Schreiner started a store in downtown Kerrville, while also serving as Kerr county clerk and county treasurer. He was a shrewd businessman, and he shared his success with our community in many ways, including founding what is now Schreiner University.
Christian Dietert and his wife Rosalie were some of the first settlers in Kerrville; both were immigrants from Germany. Christian was a millwright, and he built a mill to harness the power of the Guadalupe River, near where today's One Schreiner Center now stands. Rosalie introduced many firsts in Kerrville, too, including having the first Christmas tree. Although Christian was the appointed postmaster for Kerrville, it was actually Rosalie who did the job; she was the acting postmaster for decades.
A young man from Syria immigrated to Kerr County in 1856; his name was Hadji Ali, though here he was called Hi Jolly. (Born Philip Tedro, he changed his name to Hadji Ali after converting to Islam and going to Mecca to perform the Hajj.) He came to Kerr County along with two others from the Mideast, men called Mico and Greek George. They were all camel experts, and they traveled here with camels as part of the experiment in camel transport at Camp Verde. Hadji Ali lived until 1902 and is buried in Arizona, where a monument was erected in his honor.
Ben Davey, a native of Yorkshire, England, arrived in Kerrville in 1871. He built many of the old stone buildings in the downtown area, including the Masonic Building, now home to Sheftall's Jewelers; the Weston Building, now home to Francisco's Restaurant; and the original Tivy School, now home to the administrative offices of the Kerrville Independent School District.
There are many, many more I could mention. Like James Spicer, who came here from England, who was an accomplished artist. Or Howard Lacey, another Englishman, who was a world-renowned botanist and naturalist. Or Chester Nimitz, the grandson of immigrants, who played such an important role in the Pacific War.
Immigrants have been an important part of our community since before Kerr County was formed, and they continue to make our home a better place.
Until next week, all the best.

Joe Herring Jr. is a Kerrville native who would not be a very good immigrant. This column originally appeared in the Kerrville Daily Times February 25, 2017.

Charles Schreiner, sometime in the 1880s.

This past February 22nd was the birthday of the man who has been called the Father of the Texas Hill Country, Charles Armand Schreiner; he was born 179 years ago. Passing by his residence this week, I thought about Schreiner and his family. It's hard to remember the old structure was once a family's home. Theirs was a large family: Schreiner and his wife Lena had eight children.
Years ago I researched Schreiner's life, focusing on his early adult years here in Kerr County, and I'm happy to share that with you again. Here's the story, from my files:
There are few in our community's history who rose to such prominence, wealth, and power, and so you'd think finding (and reporting) the facts about Capt. Schreiner would be elementary.
But the veil of years, even for the most prominent member of a community, can be thick and coarse. There are so many things lost since even the short interval separating us and the early pioneers: those that lived during the time have passed; those who remember the ones who lived in those days are few. And though the research tools available today are the most powerful ever granted to us (we curious few), there are whole continents of information simply...missing.
The images we have of Charles Schreiner almost always show him as an older man. But what about the time when Schreiner was a young man?
In the past few weeks I've learned some new things about Captain Schreiner, from the period when he was a young man.
For instance, he was elected district clerk in 1865, some 4 years before opening his Kerrville store, showing he was already held in high esteem in our community before his commercial success. In fact, in 1868, a year before he opened his store here, he was elected treasurer of Kerr County, a post he held for thirty consecutive years.
It was during this time, as District Clerk, Schreiner began dropping the "s" from Kerrsville. His editing stuck, thankfully.
I learned where his first store stood, too, and it wasn't where I thought it was.
In an interview with J. E. Grinstead, Schreiner is quoted as saying, "Yes, it was a small beginning: just a little cypress shack that stood where my residence now stands."
That little store was only 16x18 feet, made of cypress, and stood in the middle of the block, facing Earl Garrett street (then called Mountain Street). I'd always assumed it stood on the corner of Water and Earl Garrett. I was wrong.
And what of Schreiner -- what did he look like?
"Captain Schreiner was not so large a man as his photographs make him appear," Gene Hollon wrote in 1944 for the Southwestern Historical Quarterly. "His height was only around five feet and eight inches, and his weight never reached more than 17 0 pounds."
Meaning he was about my height and my weight -- by modern standards short, but back in those days Schreiner was probably about average in height among his neighbors.
"In his prime he was trim and fleet of foot," Hollon wrote. "It was said he could outrun any man in town in a foot race, and he often proved it...he did participate in foot racing down Main Street, a stunt not exactly considered dignified for a middle-aged man today, but quite proper then."
Well, that was a surprise: Captain Schreiner was a sprinter.
Schreiner's 179th birthday was February 22nd. I wonder what type of cake he liked.
Until next week, all the best.

Joe Herring Jr. is a Kerrville native who prefers dark chocolate birthday cakes, if anyone asks. With vanilla ice cream, please. This column originally appeared in the Kerrville Daily Times March 4, 2017.

The Blue Bonnet Hotel, in downtown Kerrville,
from a 1950s-era tourist postcard

My long-time friend Jan Cannon stopped by our family's print shop for a visit recently, and we shared our memories of Kerrville's Blue Bonnet Hotel. The Blue Bonnet was an eight-story hotel in downtown Kerrville, at the intersection of Water and Earl Garrett streets; a parking lot is there today.
There are fewer and fewer of us in Kerrville who remember the Blue Bonnet Hotel. During my childhood, the old hotel was around forty years old, and had obviously seen better days.
My earliest memories of the hotel are of joining Dad as he went to his weekly Kiwanis meetings -- and of those memories, the strongest is of the food served during those meetings. I thought the food was great, and going with Dad to his meeting was very special.
I also remember two ladies who lived, for a time, at the hotel: Miss Thurma Dean Miller, who was in charge of children's ministries at First Baptist Church, and Margaret Beirschwale, who wrote a history of Mason which my father printed. It was a great treat to go to the Blue Bonnet, ride the elevator, and visit them.
The March 31, 1927 issue of the Kerrville Mountain Sun sports this bold headline: "Blue Bonnet Opening Marks New Era in City's Growth."
Indeed, the late 1920s were a period of growth for Kerrville; a year earlier the Arcadia Theater opened, to much fanfare, in the middle of the 700 block of Water Street, and Kerr County had recently built a new courthouse -- the one still in use today.
"The new hostelry, a triumph of architectural design and mechanical construction, lends a distinct metropolitan atmosphere to the city. The facilities and service offered undoubtedly will attract increased numbers of tourists to Texas' greatest playground," the Mountain Sun reported.
"The present unit of the hotel contains 80 rooms, each equipped with private bath, telephone, fan and circulating ice water. All corner rooms have a shower as well as a tub bath. The guest rooms are of commodious size and papered in pleasing harmonious colors with wood work in natural oak. Furnishings and carpeting are of quality in keeping with the high character of the hotel. On each floor are two-room suites, a living room and a bed room with connecting door. Each room throughout the building has outside exposure.”
The Blue Bonnet Hotel Company had high hopes: it planned to build "six or seven" hotels in Texas, including a Blue Bonnet Hotel in San Antonio, at the corner of Pecan and St. Mary's streets. Other towns identified in the story were Laredo, Corpus Christi, Brownsville and Abilene. Of these, only the San Antonio hotel is listed as under construction.
When the hotel opened, it was only five stories tall; a short while later the building grew to eight stories, going from 80 rooms to 140.
Along its ground floor several shops rented space: a drug store, complete with soda fountain; a barber; a beauty parlor; a coffee shop, and a magazine stand. There was an "enclosed ballroom," and plans for a garden terrace overlooking the Guadalupe below.
How the company's plans were altered by the stock market crash a few years later, along with the Great Depression which followed, is probably a story in itself. I don't know how many hotels the company actually built.
The formerly grand hotel was torn down in the early 1970s and was replaced by a drive-through bank for Charles Schreiner Bank. That bank building has since been torn down, too.
I do remember Kerrville's Blue Bonnet Hotel, though, and I enjoyed hearing Ms. Cannon's memories of the place. It was a wonderful hotel.
Until next week, all the best.

Joe Herring Jr. is a Kerrville native who has a few relics from the old Blue Bonnet Hotel in his collection of Kerrville and Kerr County historical items. This column originally appeared in the Kerrville Daily Times March 11, 2017.

The Mystery Photo of Kerrville
Click to enlarge

As you know, I really enjoy a good mystery, especially one which involves an historic photograph of Kerrville or Kerr County.
This a kind reader brought by a nice panoramic image of Kerrville, taken from south of the river, looking northeast.
Like most of the panoramic images of Kerrville, this one was taken from one of the hills opposite Kerrville, and roughly in a line with Earl Garrett Street. The earliest shot from this vantage point I have in my collection is dated 1903; the latest was taken in the late 1970s.
I believe there is a special type of camera that took panoramic photos in those days; this was before our cell phones could take panoramic images easily and quickly. Two of the panoramic photos of Kerrville in my collection also have the name of the photography company in the lower right hand corner. I think they may have been taken and sold to members of the community; I've seen several exact matches to the late-1970s one I have on display behind my desk at work.
The panoramic photograph brought by this week, however, is different. It was taken decades before the one I have on display, but it contains a mystery.
In the center is a title "Kerrville, Texas," and underneath "Approx. 1930-1933." That date was added later.
It's definitely Kerrville, but the date doesn't seem right.
First off, the Sidney Baker Street bridge with the three arched steel supports is in the center of the photograph. I thought that bridge was built in the mid-1930s, so I started to look for clues which might narrow down a more exact date when the photograph was taken.
I know it's before 1941, because Antler Stadium is not shown in the photograph. And I know it's after 1938, because both the Rialto Theater on Water Street and the Schreiner Wool and Commission building is seen on McFarland Drive.
However, all of the other clues are not within that range: 1938-1941. The Saint Charles Hotel is missing from the photograph; it was torn down in 1936. Notre Dame Catholic Church is shown, when it was a stucco structure facing Main Street; it was built in 1935. Jimmie Rodgers house is visible, but it dates from 1929. First Baptist Church is shown in its old location, at the intersection of Washington and Jefferson streets; the current church building won't be built until 1953. There is no Louise Hays Park in the photo; that comes in 1950.
I wish I could find something that would narrow that range; 1938-1941 is a pretty big gap for me.
Otherwise, the photo is quite interesting. It shows the eight-story Blue Bonnet Hotel, at the intersection of Earl Garrett and Water Streets; the old Ice Plant at the river bluff at the end of Washington Street; the steel bridge I remember from my boyhood; the Kellogg Building is pictured; it was the community's hospital before Sid Peterson Memorial was built in 1949. Louis Schreiner's home, Tulahteka, is shown; it dates from 1921.
South of the river, that home is about the only thing shown. All else is plowed farmland, though it looks like the river has filled many of the fields with stones.
I've stitched together a copy of the photo using my computer, and I've enjoyed studying it closely. I'm thankful to the kind reader who brought it by the print shop.
Until next week, all the best.

Joe Herring Jr. is a Kerrville native who collects Kerrville and Kerr County historical items. This column appeared in the Kerrville Daily Times March 18, 2017.

Postcard I received this week, showing a newly-built Sid Peterson Memorial Hospital
Click image to enlarge

If you want to learn to make better decisions, it wouldn't hurt to read this essay about baseball's Ted Williams and his efforts to become a better hitter. With commentary by Warren Buffett.

Here's a lovely story about an unlikely friendship.

What's a Saturday without a handy Cognitive Bias Cheat Sheet? An interesting read about how we fool ourselves when making decisions.

Here's a columnist's essay on resisting the Internet. (Yes, I realize I'm sharing this with you via the Internet.)

We have a black cat, and we have a Roomba, but we don't have this.

Congratulations to our friends at Pint & Plow on their first year of business.

My sweet Carolyn made a videoshowing how she makes a greeting card using mixed media techniques. (She's put up several videos teaching card-making techniques.) It's neat being married to an artist who is also a teacher. Here's a link to the complete blog post.

Have a great weekend!

Postcard I received this week: the Cascade Pool, in downtown Kerrville.
It was along the river bluff at the end of Earl Garrett Street.
Click to enlarge image. Yes, someone is performing a swan dive.

Several interesting things came into the print shop this week, thanks to kind readers and friends.
A letter arrived in the mail from a kind reader, full of antique postcards showing Kerrville as it might have looked in the late 1940s or early 1950s. I say "might have looked" because the postcards are based upon photographs, but have been retouched to such an extent they no longer look real. They are the "Natural Color Card" product of the E. C. Kropp Company in Milwakee, which apparently took black and white photographs and tried to make them look like color photographs.
One of the cards says "Published by Commercial Office Supply," and another says "Published by Lehmann's." Commercial Office Supply was open for many years, and the most recent owner was the family of the late Nell Hutzler. I don't remember Lehmann's, but I do remember the store that followed it in the same building: Winn's. It was in the 700 block of Water in what had originally been the Schreiner Wool Warehouse. That old building is gone now, except for one curved limestone wall.
The postcards brought back lots of memories, and I am thankful for them.
Another kind person brought by a different postcard which featured a Conoco service station at the corner of Junction Highway and Spence Street. It's a structure I should remember, but I do not. The Wells-Fargo Bank at Five Points has their ATM building at the same location today.
She also brought me a Special Bicentennial Edition of the Kerrville Daily Times, which was published May 2, 1976.
The top story in that edition, above the fold on page 1, had the headline "Report Indicates Change in Earth's Climate...." A closer reading of the story cited a CIA report that said "based upon the climatic change study by Reid A. Bryson of the University of Wisconsin... the world's climate is cooling and will revert to conditions that prevailed between 1600 and 1850."
The report further predicted famines because of the cooler temperatures, and political unrest because of the famines. Because of the Earth's cooling temperatures. [How quaint.]
The second story on page 1 was titled "Innocent talks heard by federal and state investigators." That story said the government used listening devices and telephone taps to eavesdrop on nearly 50,000 people in 1975.
Aside from the fact that the climate change story is 180 degrees opposite from the stories published lately, those headlines would be at home in almost any daily newspaper today.
A "Special 60-page Bicentennial Edition Inside" banner graced the top of page one. A 60-page extra edition takes a ton of work even today, and in 1976 it took several tons of work because almost everything was done by hand. While computers helped set the type, the pages were still pasted up by hand, and the photographs were processed separately and "stripped in" to the page.
Wally Jacobs, who was the newspaper's managing editor when this 1976 edition was published, wrote, in a page 1 column, "This special issue represents amounts of work that is impossible to measure. Everyone in this office, and everyone associated with this newspaper outside of the office, had a hand in preparing and delivering this colorful edition." I believe him.
I know I'll enjoy studying each page of this special edition.
Other items that came in this week -- a local map of Kerrville and Kerr County published by the Charles Schreiner Bank back in the 1970s, a complete 1956 Kerr County Centennial edition of both the Kerrville Daily Times and the Kerrville Mountain Sun, plus other local newspapers from the 1940s.
I'm like a kid in a candy store.
Until next week, all the best.

Joe Herring Jr. is a Kerrville native who collects Kerrville and Kerr County historical items. This column originally appeared in the Kerrville Daily Times March 25, 2017.

Sid Peterson Memorial Hospital, early 1950s.
Note the gas station on the first floor.
Click to enlarge photo

I've had occasion this week to visit a family member at the Peterson Regional Medical Center and am once again reminded how fortunate we are to have such a good hospital in our community.
The crew there, from doctors and nurses to technicians and clerks, have all been very helpful and kind. Even late at night, when yours truly was grumpy and tired, they were unfailingly professional and courteous. I am often surprised how helpful Kerr county people can be to total strangers.
I was reminded of the history of the beginning of that hospital -- a story of two brothers about which I wrote years ago:
"Kerrville really shouldn’t have a hospital as nice as the Sid Peterson Memorial Hospital. When it was opened on July 3rd, 1949, it was a really big deal. But it was a deal that, if you take a hard look at the numbers, probably was bigger than the community it served.
"The population of Kerr County in 1950 was only fourteen thousand; then, as now, about half of the county’s population lived in Kerrville.
"To build a hospital in such a small, rural community wouldn’t seem to make a lot of financial sense. Hospitals require a lot of capital – equipment changes all of the time, medicines are expensive, and the people you need to run a hospital are highly trained.
"Yet two brothers, with help from others in the community, made it happen.
"One, Hal “Boss” Peterson, was a gifted businessman. He left his parents’ ranch home at 15 to work in M. F. Weston’s Garage, on the corner of Sidney Baker and Water Streets in downtown Kerrville. By the time he was 18, he owned the garage.
"Together with one of his brothers, Charlie, he built an empire known as the “Peterson Interests,” which included bus lines, real estate developments, businesses, and ranch land, altogether 22 major enterprises worth millions of dollars.
"Hal was the visionary, more the gambler of the two. He had more business ideas per day than most have in a year. Charlie was the more grounded, quieter of the two. His counsel helped keep Hal from many a business mistake.
"So when Hal had the idea to build a hospital in Kerrville – a grand idea which seemed impossible – and Charlie supported the idea, they began to make it happen.
"They “put the big pot in the little one” with the project. Hal Peterson only had one regret about the project, wishing they’d named it after both of their parents, calling it the Sid and Myrta Peterson Hospital."
While the community was grateful to the brothers when they announced their plans, there was also a lot of disagreement where the hospital should be built. Some favored sites on the edge of town, and other sites were discussed. Most of the discussion was ill-informed.
The story goes that Hal Peterson got tired of listening to all of the suggestions and bluntly decided to build the hospital on land the brothers owned, even if it was right in the middle of downtown Kerrville.
And so the hospital was built on the corner of Sidney Baker and Water Streets, where it stayed until the new hospital, renamed the Peterson Regional Medical Center, opened in 2008.
Even though the 1949 hospital building is gone, along with the numerous additions and buildings which came to be part of its campus, the kindness and care are still here.
I'm thankful we have such a good hospital in our community.
Until next week, all the best.

Joe Herring Jr. is a Kerrville native who was born in the old Sid Peterson Memorial Hospital quite a few decades ago. This column originally appeared in the Kerrville Daily Times April 1, 2017.

Three Kerrville Heroes.
From left to right: Francisco Lemos, Earl Garrett, Sidney Baker
Click on image to enlarge

Last Thursday, April 6th, marked the 100th anniversary of Congress declaring war on Germany, and the United States joining World War I, the "war to end all wars." In Kerr County, that war caused many changes and hardships, and though only a hundred years have passed, many of the sacrifices made here and abroad have been forgotten.
President Woodrow Wilson worked to keep America out of the war, but in early 1917 Germany resumed attacking ships headed to Great Britain, including American ships. In March, 1917, the Zimmerman Telegram was confirmed as genuine, a telegram in which Germany offered to help Mexico regain territories lost to the United States. These events pushed American opinion to support entering the war.
Even though many of our neighboring communities were founded by German settlers, and German was a common language spoken here, local sentiment in Kerr County favored entering the war against Germany. Surviving newspapers from April 1917 have stories in support of the declaration of war.
In Kerr County, when we remember World War I, we tend to think of three young men, Francisco Lemos, Victor Earl Garrett, and Sidney Baker, because they each were honored by having a street named after them. Visiting the Kerr County War Memorial, found on the grounds of the county courthouse, you'll discover the names of nineteen local men who died in that war, including the three we remember.
Consider William Edmond Caddell, whose name is listed on the memorial. He was 22 when war was declared, and was described as tall and slender, with light blue eyes and light colored hair. He was single, a farmer, and registered for the military from Ingram on June 5, 1917. He died in France on October 20, 1918, reportedly of emphysema.
Or Harvey Merritt, who hailed from Pebble, Texas, a little community on the south fork of the Guadalupe in Kerr County, west of Hunt. He was a stock-farmer with gray eyes and black hair, who was tall and of medium build. He registered in June of 1917, married Lillian Blevins in October 1917. He was 25 when he died in France on October 10, 1918, having been in France for only a few weeks. The war ended 31 days later.
In 1920, Merritt's body was shipped back to Kerr County, along with the body of another Kerr County man, Grover Holloman. Both are buried at Nichols Cemetery between Kerrville and Ingram.
Grover Holloman died in France eight days before Merritt. Before the war he farmed with his father. He registered his home address as Kerrville, and was 28 when he died in France.
I've looked at many of the fallen soldiers' registration cards. They were so very young when they registered. I noticed something on Francisco Lemos's registration card: he signed with an 'X,' meaning he could not write his name.
Almost all of the draft registration cards were dated June 5, 1917, about 2 months after war was declared.
By early September, 1917, Company D, First Texas Infantry had been organized. The men of Company D had been recruited by Capt. Charles S. Seeber, and came from Kerr and surrounding counties.
A news account exists of Company D leaving Kerrville; it was written by Rev. S. W. Kemerer, who was the pastor of Kerrville's Methodist church.
"Probably the largest number of people that ever assembled at the Aransas Pass depot in Kerrville gathered Wednesday afternoon to bid farewell to Company D, which departed for new training quarters at Camp Bowie, Fort Worth."
Three of the men listed on the Kerr County War Memorial, Francisco Lemos, Sidney Baker, and Leonard Denton, found themselves at Camp Bowie near Fort Worth were among those who left Kerrville that day. I have an old poster listing the members of Company D of the First Texas Infantry, including these three. Its headline reads "German-American War, 1917." Leonard Denton never left Camp Bowie; he died there in April, 1918, and is buried in the Turtle Creek Cemetery.
Rev. Kemerer writes: "As Company D goes forth from our midst to fight for country and humanity, the heart of Kerrville and entire surroundings is with them."
One hundred three men answered roll call at the train depot, which today is the home of Rails, a popular restarant on Schreiner Street between Clay and Sidney Baker streets.
"That was a memorable sight at the station," Rev. Kemerer writes, "when Kerrville gathered to tell the boys good-bye, and bid them God-speed on their first lap to the front -- to Somewhere in France.
"The train was making up, and the engine puffed and rang its bell sharply while performing its indispensable part in this gigantic tragedy of all time. A great throng was grouped about the station and lined up along the tracks. There were fathers and mothers, brothers and sisters, sweethearts and loved ones, friends and neighbors... We heard kindly greetings and brief jokes and repartee, but somehow they sounded a little forced and lacked spontaneity. There were no loud calls or shouts. A deeper note was sweeping the hearts of both the soldiers and the gathered throng. But there was the warm handclasp and low spoken well wishes, and sometimes only a look of blessing and farewell. God knew that many mothers' hearts were torn, that many fathers' hearts were too full for words, and that tears streamed from many eyes, so God also wept in the tender rain that fell, for He looked on and understood and loved.
"Then the bugle sounded, and the boys lined up. Captain Seeber uttered brief short orders. Each line became straight, every form erect. An orderly called the names crisply. What a response! It sounded short and sharp like the crack of a gun -- 'Here,''Here,''Here,' -- until every man had made answer....
"They were a noble company. They answered like men who had measured the task and were eager to engage in its accomplishment.
"So the train moved away, the engine with two flags fluttering at its headlight, the bell sounding ceaselessly, the soldier boys leaning far from the windows waving farewell. And the great throng waved farewell, and the lovely hills of Kerrville threw farewell kisses, and the clouds wept farewell."
Francisco Lemos died September 15, 1918. His friend from Kerrville, Emmitt Rodriguez, was injured by the same shell that killed Lemos. Lemos was 30. Before the war, Lemos was a farm and ranch laborer, and worked for the Schreiner Cattle & Sheep Comany.
Sidney Baker died October 16, 1918, in the Argonne Forest in France. "Private Baker was crossing an open space and was directly exposed to the enemy's fire," according to a history by his regiment. He died about a month after his 22nd birthday, and is buried at the Meuse-Argonne American Cemetery and Memorial in Lorraine, France.
First Lieutenant Victor Earl Garrett died November 4, 1918, a week before the war ended. He is buried in the same cemetery as Sidney Baker, the Meuse-Argonne American Cemetery and Memorial. Before the war he was a law student, and volunteered as a student for officer training Camp Funston in Leon Springs. He was 24 when he was killed.
The other sixteen men listed on the Kerr County War Memorial are Eddie Burleson, Edmund Caddell, J. A. Cowden, Randolph Davis, Leonard Denton, Monroe Dowdy, Albert Feller, Louis Floyd, Grover Hollomon, Randolph D. Johanessen, Edwin Kaiser, Jeff Leavell, Harvey Merritt, William M. Reeves, Robert Spicer, and George Wells.

This story appeared on the front page of the Kerrville Daily Times April 6, 2017. I'm thankful to Lisa Walter, the managing editor of the newspaper, for asking me to write this story.

The road over Medina Mountain, taken by Starr Bryden, probably in the 1920s.
The road was built in 1914. I think this photo was taken on the
Medina side of the mountain -- facing north-ish toward Kerrville.

If you've ever traveled south of Kerrville on Highway 16 to Medina, you've crossed over a steep hill we locals call Medina Mountain.
The road there attacks the hill with a series of S-curves, crosses over the divide between watersheds, and then descends into the Medina River valley. It is a scenic section of roadway, and I recently found the story of its original construction in the Kerr County Album, which was published in 1986 by the Kerr County Historical Commission.
An article from the March 2, 1914 issue of the Kerrville Mountain Sun was paraphrased and reprinted in the book.
"Building good roads on paper has for many years been a delightful task to promoters and writers throughout the country, but few of these boosters for better thoroughfares ever take part in the actual, practical task of building the roads.
"The present roadwork that is going forward under the direction of Commissioner Arthur Real in Precinct One of Kerr County is a fine practical demonstration of modern road building."
I imagine the author of the article is J. E. Grinstead, though the book does not say. Grinstead was the publisher of the Mountain Sun at the time.
"For a distance of about 8 miles from the city," the article continues, "the roads have been graded, and modern culverts have been put in. The grading crew is under the management of Henry Barton, and has moved camp to a point on Brushy Creek and is now pushing the work of grading and filling and putting in drains from that point forward to Lamb's Creek.
"At the head of Lamb's Creek where the great Medina Hill confronts the traveler, and causes him to wonder if the road must go through a tunnel, or becoming discouraged turn around and go back, the first evidence of the ability of Capt. Jack Gibbens, the road builder is found. Those who have been over this perilous piece of road in the past will remember it practically impossible for an automobile to pass, or for any but the heaviest teams to pull even a light load over it."
Grinstead describes "an army of men" under the direction of Capt. Gibbens.
"As if some magic wand had been waved in the still cloisters of nature among the age-old hills, the stones have disappeared from the roadway. Gently the climb is begun over a grade as smooth as the streets of a city."
The men camped at the base of the hill, along Lamb's Creek.
"Camp hospitality of the heartiest kind is dispensed, and several hours spent visiting the work, watching the great blasts tear away the mountain and make room for the march of modern progress by linking the upper Medina country to Kerrville...."
The report continues with a description of the camp, which featured great food and music played by one of the workmen. At night, the men slept in tents on cots with white sheets. "As they went to bed, one of the men said 'This canyon is so deep and rough, you'd have to look straight up to see a hootey owl."
The first real automobile road over Medina Mountain was completed in 1914, and it was built without the heavy equipment which would be used today.
On his visit, Grinstead "stepped from boulder to boulder, clinging to the side of the mountain, stumbling over picks, shovels, crowbars, powder cans, windlasses and derricks...where the men have literally hewn a road out of the solid limestone of the mountain sides."
Much of that original work still exists, if underneath modern paving, railings and signage.
Until next week, all the best.

Joe Herring Jr. is a Kerrville native who has always enjoyed driving over Medina Mountain. This column originally appeared in the Kerrville Daily Times April 8, 2017.

A Kerrville Christmas Eve -- 1885

Saturday Link Pack (and a photo of Pampell's)

The Six-Letter Mystery

A New Year

The Kerr County collection

Over 65 Million Years Old

Do You Remember Seeing “Irene?”

Saturday Link Pack

History from a cloudless sky

A heart breaker named Silver Queen

Surprises found in an old book

Immigrants in Kerr County

A young Charles Schreiner

The Blue Bonnet Hotel in downtown Kerrville

It doesn't look a day over 79

Saturday Link Pack

Climate Cooling, Wiretapping and Unrealistic Postcards

The Story of Sid Peterson Memorial Hospital

Lest we forget

The road over Medina Mountain