Joe Herring Jr.

A lonely cemetery in the middle of a plowed field.
Click on any image below to enlarge.

It took me two trips to find the grave of Jack Hardy, and when I finally saw the pair of headstones in the middle of a plowed field, I wondered how I'd ever determine who was buried there. The headstones were visible from the road, but were too far away to read. I don't cross fences and trespass, even if I want to solve a mystery.

The grave markers

ack Hardy is the African-American man who was captured by a Comanche raiding party in the early 1870s, when he was just a teenager, and lived to tell about it.

Jack Hardy’s story can be found in Andrew Jackson Sowell’s book “Early Settlers and Indian Fighters of Southwest Texas,” which was published in 1900.

“After the Civil War, when all the slaves were freed, Jack lived near Comfort, below Center Point. On one occasion, when he was about 12 or 13 years of age, he was sent to the mill with a turn of corn, and it was then the Indians got him.”

The grave of Jack Hardy

Because some of the Indian riders wore hats, Hardy thought they were settlers, and he continued on his way home from the mill unconcerned. “Up to this time he had never seen Indians,” Sowell reports. There were around 15 riders, with long hair, shields, bows and arrows. They captured Hardy, and initiated him to captivity among the Comanche “with a severe whipping with a live oak stick, the scars of which are still to be seen on Jack’s head.”

At night they'd stake young Hardy to the ground, and during one cold night it began to sleet. Hardy nudged his hat to cover his face, the only protection he had from the weather.

During his time with the Indians, Hardy saw many violent scenes. The raiding party seemed to be unconcerned with they'd be captured or even pursued.

Hardy eventually escaped through a brave act of deception while most of the raiders were involved in stealing a herd of cattle; he was saved by a kind rancher, John Dickson, who took the young man to his house, gave him warm clothes and plenty to eat, and saw to it he returned home safely.

The grave of Mary Jane Moore

Jack Hardy survived because he kept calm and avoided the ire of the warriors, and was exceptionally brave each time the Indians threatened to kill him.

I wanted to know more about Jack Hardy, especially what happened to him after his return home.

Jack Hardy married Hannah Edmonds in 1878, just a few years after his return. The 1900 Federal Census says they had 4 children together, though two had already died by the time of that census.

In 1900, Jack and Hannah Hardy owned their own place, free and clear, where they farmed, along with their eighteen-year-old son. They had an aunt who lived with them, Mary J. Moore, a woman who was 66 years old in 1900, much older than Jack or his wife Hannah. Mary Moore was born in 1833 in Kentucky; on the 1900 census she is listed as a widow. The Hardy's place was in Justice's Precinct 8 of Kerr County, and their immediate neighbors were all German immigrants. There were other black families nearby: the Edmunds, Hamiltons, and the Stokes families, who, like the Hardys, owned their own farms, free and clear.

The grave of James Wesley

According to the 1880 agricultural schedule, which was part of the census, Jack and Hannah farmed 160 acres, with 40 being tilled and 120 being unimproved woodland. They ran livestock, and did most of the work on the farm themselves as a family.

Their son, also named Jack, was born at 'Cherry Creek, Kerr County, Texas,' in 1882, according to an official document. Cherry Creek runs roughly parallel to Lane Valley Road at the spot where I spotted the grave markers, and borders the field where the grave markers stand.

I know there are two cemeteries on Lane Valley Road, which is in between Center Point and Comfort, off of Highway 27. I never did find the second cemetery, which is supposed to be about 3 miles farther down Lane Valley Road than the first.

According to several sources these two cemeteries are the resting place of several pioneer African-American families in Kerr County, including Jack Hardy (later spelled Hardee), Martha and Sylvestor Edmonds, who were Jack Hardy's in-laws, a member of the Blanks family, a woman named Mary Jane Moore, and a man named James Wesley.

The mystery of the lonely tombstones might never have been solved had it not been for Raymond Hardee, a descendent of Jack Hardy, and a long-time friend. He came by the print shop with some photographs he'd taken of the grave markers in that field.

Buried there in that plowed field are Jack Hardy, Mary Jane Moore, and James Wesley. I can find no information on Wesley, but Hardy and Aunt Mary both died in 1907, several months apart.

Jack's wife Hannah died much later, in 1945. Some sources say she is buried beside her parents in the second cemetery on Lane Valley Road, the cemetery I could not find.

I think Jack Hardy is buried on land he once owned and worked as a farmer. It's a beautiful spot, with rich soil and with lots of frontage on the Guadalupe River. All he built -- his house, his livestock pens, the fields he cared for -- is probably gone. What remains, though, is much more significant: his family continues to be an important part of our community.

Until next week, all the best.

Buy Now!

Joe Herring Jr. is a Kerrville native who wanders around trying to find things that others have forgotten. This column originally appeared in the Kerrville Daily Times February 29, 2020.

I have two books available, both filled with historic photographs of Kerr County. Both books are available at Wolfmueller's Books, Herring Printing Company, and online by clicking HERE.

Florence Butt and an unidentified customer, Kerrville, around 1910 or so.
"Mrs. F. T. Butt, Staples and Fancy Groceries" opened in Kerrville in November, 1905.
Today the company is known as the H. E. Butt Grocery Company, or H-E-B.
Click on any image to enlarge.

I had a telephone call a few weeks ago from a kind person at H-E-B corporate offices, inviting me to a groundbreaking ceremony here for the new Kerrville store, to be held on March 6.
I was flattered, but confused. “Are you in San Antonio?” I teased. “The ground for the store here has been broken for quite a while.” At the time, a large hole had been dug, roughly where Hays Street once was, while a small mountain of dirt had grown on a portion of the store’s parking lot. Large equipment was working, rain or shine, and the project looked well underway.

The site of Florence Butt's
first grocery store,
800 block of Main Street,
Kerrville

Like many here, I am a loyal customer of H-E-B, in part because of the people who work at our local store. There’s another reason, though: H-E-B has been loyal to Kerrville, too. Few companies have been as generous to Kerrville as has the little grocery store which started here in 1905. It’s a loyalty that flows both ways.
Through this first part of construction, with the closing of a block of Hays Street, improvements to infrastructure on lower Hays, the demolition of the H-E-B gas station, making room for more parking, and the general chaos a large project like this engenders – through all of this, I’ve wondered several times what Florence Butt might make of the store building under construction.
Her first store was tiny, taking up the bottom floor of a 20 x 38 foot building, around 760 square feet of commercial space. The family lived upstairs, over the store. Florence Butt’s husband, Charles C. Butt, was ill with tuberculosis. The rent on that building was 9 dollars per month, and I’m sure even that rent was a stretch for the Butt family’s budget.

Florence Butt, her sons, and
early employees of her
grocery store, around 1915;
from the Richeson collection.

From what I’ve read in this newspaper, the new store building will be 106,000 square feet in size, or almost 140 times larger than Florence Butt’s first store. It’s possible almost every commercial establishment in Kerrville in 1905 – every saddle shop, confectionary, bank, and clothing store – might fit inside the new store building currently under construction.
The size of the building alone would boggle anyone from 1905 Kerrville.
And then there are all of the choices within the new store building. While Florence Butt was proud of her little store’s inventory, calling her store “Mrs. F. T. Butt, Staples & Fancy Groceries,” customers had few choices. There was probably only one brand of canned green beans, for instance, and only a very few brands of coffee or flour. Fitting a great variety of each product in a 760 square foot building would have been impossible.
Today almost every item presents the shopper with options. Sometimes, too many options. This old shopper clogs up the aisles looking at the labels of cans, trying to find the exact item requested by Ms. Carolyn on her shopping list.
Lastly, I wonder what Florence Butt might think of the volume of business the new store will produce.

Florence Butt,
around 1936

In 1936, Florence Butt wrote about her first store’s sales. “The first month we sold $56 worth. One day, not a penny's worth was sold. Several days, only 5 and 10 cents worth of merchandise was sold. But the responsibility was there, and it had to make good. You can see the stock $60 would place on your shelves, but I had such good friends to advise and help me out.”
I cannot imagine the volume of business the entire chain of H-E-B stores must do on a monthly basis; I have no idea what the local H-E-B stores produce. However, I can safely bet it’s a little more than the $56 sold that very first month, in November 1905.
There are two parts of Florence Butt’s story that have been forgotten or overlooked. She opened her store because her family was in dire financial straits. Her husband could not work; he was too ill. They had three young sons at home. A few years after her store opened, her husband died. Not too long after this her eldest son also died, also from tuberculosis. She suffered losses which few remember today.
The second part of Florence Butt’s story which has been overlooked is her faith. She was a woman of faith, and she acted on her faith with generosity and charity.
In her 1936 article, she wrote “In preparing the little grocery store, a small Bible was found on a shelf. A good omen, it was kept there. So, on the morning of November 26, 1905, the store opened. Before the front door was opened, the little Bible was read. Then a prayer for the Great Father and Giver of all things to be the Partner to lead and guide: then the front door was opened.”
I’m sure, if Florence Butt could attend the opening of the new store here in a few months, that part of the story would be exactly the same. The little Bible would be read; a prayer would be whispered, and the front door would be opened.
Until next week, all the best.

Click here for
FREE shipping

Joe Herring Jr. is a Kerrville native who admires Florence Butt’s story. This column originally appeared in the Kerrville Daily Times March 7, 2020.

I have two books available, both filled with historic photographs of Kerr County. Both books are available at Wolfmueller's Books, Herring Printing Company, and online by clicking HERE.

Our Lady of Guadalupe School, at the intersection of
Jefferson and Lemos Streets in downtown Kerrville.
Click on any image to enlarge.

Today's news, with the constant stories of the Covid-19 pandemic, remind me this is not the first pandemic our community has faced. The story of that earlier time, in 1918, is a story of heroism, kindness, and charity. Even in calamity our community has deep reserves of hope.
All during the late summer and early autumn of 1918, Kerr County received news about the Spanish Influenza epidemic, dispatches which mainly brought the sad news that another of its sons, fighting in World War I, had died of the disease. In fact, of the men listed on the Kerr County War Memorial as lost in World War I, most succumbed to illnesses, mainly complications due to influenza, which swept through the military forces all over the world.
In 1918 the epidemic, which seemed so far away, finally arrived here, in Kerr County.
According to the October 11, 1918 edition of the Kerrville Mountain Sun, a young man serving in the Navy was sent home to Kerrville because his ship had an "epidemic" of Spanish Influenza, "and a number of the boys were sent home, hoping they would escape it." The young man "is thought to be in no immediate danger and will likely soon be up. This is the first case of influenza reported here." The young man survived.

The front page of the same newspaper offered this advice about the "Spanish Influenza," from the National Red Cross: "Wash your hands frequently. Consult the family physician at the first onset of symptoms...." This sounds very familiar.
A large portion of the second page was devoted to "Uncle Sam's Advice on the Flu," which concluded with a couplet: "Cover up each cough and sneeze/ If you don't you'll spread disease."
In the next issue, October 18, 1918, the president of the Kerrville school board, T. C. Johnston, informed readers there was "no intention of closing the public schools as yet on account of the few cases of influenza in the community. Mr. Johnson stated that the board would leave the matter entirely in the hands of the City Health Officer, Dr. Palmer, and when Dr. Palmer advised that the Schools be closed, his wishes would be promptly complied with."
"With proper precaution on the part of the affected," the story continued, "and due consideration given the rules laid down for the prevention of the ailment, it is not thought we will be seriously affected. At least we may hope for the best."

Dr. E. E. Palmer

The schools would later close.
By October 25, 1918, the Mountain Sun reported the first death in the epidemic; the victim was a young man working for the government in Kentucky, who fell ill and was sent home to Kerrville. He died just three days after arriving home.
By November, when the community was celebrating the signing of the Armistice, it was also "in the throes of the most malignant epidemic of Spanish Influenza," according to an article by Father Henry Kemper, priest of Kerrville's Notre Dame Catholic Church, published years later, in the Kerrville Times of September 28, 1933.
"Within a few days, and sub-freezing snowy days at that, Father Kemper buried from Our Lady of Guadalupe parish" six victims of the disease. Dr. Palmer identified three dozen additional cases in the parish.
"At once the Guadalupe School was converted into a free hospital regardless of sex or creed. A rigid quarantine was established, with paid police at all street entrances in to the [neighborhood]. Father Kemper stripped the Rectory of beds and linens; used his Buick as an ambulance; contributed several hundred dollars to furnish groceries for a thousand isolated parishioners in the danger zone; and despite the shortage of nurses in that never-to-be forgotten month, he secured two skilled nurses from Santa Rosa Hospital [in San Antonio], Sisters Irma and Ladislaus, who as by miracle at once turned the tide of one of the greatest dangers that threatened our city in the last quarter of a century.

Dr. Palmer's office,
623 Water Street, Kerrville

"The thirty-three men, women and children whose life seemed doomed in the Guadalupe School at once showed signs of recovery. No new cases arose in the neighborhood. After ten days and nights of anxious watching, the two Sisters of Charity of the Incarnate Word were able to dismiss the last flu patients, and to let their fellow-nuns resume class work as soon as the public schools were permitted to open."
The mayor of Kerrville at the time, H.C. Geddie, wrote a letter to the Reverend Mother General of the order:
"I share the belief of the health officer, Dr Ernest E. Palmer, that the Sisters by their self-sacrificing and painstaking devotion to the sick, both night and day, saved many a patient from death, and helped to safeguard our vicinity from an imminent and grave peril.
"For this assistance in our hour of need, permit me to express the debt of gratitude that the City of Kerrville owes to the Sisters of Charity of the Incarnate Word."
Others praised in the 1933 article were Dr. Palmer, who "will probably remember this as one of his busiest weeks in half a century of medical practice," and Mrs. Louis A. [Mae] Schreiner, "an angel of mercy ministering among the lowliest of God's stricken children", and "who has since joined the choir invisible and has heard the assurance "What thou has done for the least of My little ones thou has done for Me."
In today's pandemic, may we hope for the best, and remember to be kind, generous, and helpful.
Until next week, all the best.

Shop Now

Joe Herring Jr. is a Kerrville native who believes in prayer -- and also in carefully washing one's hands. This column originally appeared in the Kerrville Daily Times March 14, 2020.

Two books available, filled with historic photographs of Kerr County. Both books are available at Wolfmueller's Books, Herring Printing Company, and online by clicking HERE.

Community gathered together: dedication of the
Butt-Holdsworth Memorial Library, Kerrville, 1967.
► To hear Joe read a portion of this column and see a slide show, click here.
Click on any image below to enlarge.

Over the past week, as continual news updates about the COVID-19 pandemic flooded into my brain, I got nostalgic for something I generally avoid: crowds.

Community Picnic,
Louise Hays Park, 1960s.

We won’t see crowds here for some time. Gathering together is being discouraged not only by our government, but also in the glances of folks met in the aisles of grocery stores, along sidewalks, in our neighborhoods. I understand the science behind this “social distancing” – an attempt to slow the transmission of the virus, in hopes the number of new cases doesn’t overwhelm our health care system – but in the days ahead, standing strong together means shutting ourselves away in isolation. Being apart seems the opposite of being united.

Kerrville Chalk Festival, 2015

The steady announcements of emergencies from our city, state, and nation are like a flood warning, where heavy rains have fallen on the Divide above Hunt and Mountain Home. We’ve been warned: we can see the dark clouds in the distance, even though it’s not raining in town, yet.

Nimitz Day in Kerrville, 1945

The difference is this flood warning came weeks and weeks ago. We know the flood is coming, but we don’t know how high the water might be, or who among us might be stuck on a low-water crossing at the wrong time.

Kerrville Urban Trail System
dinner, November 2018

This week, for solace, I turned to my collection of historic Kerrville and Kerr County photographs, asking to see “crowds.” It helped to see our community gathered together in days past, because it reminded me we will gather together again in days to come.
One thing our town loves is a good parade, and taking photographs of that parade. I have almost 100 photos of the big 1956 Kerr County centennial parade, a bright event in the history of our community.

Saengerfest, 1896, Kerrville

The earliest downtown Kerrville parade for which I have photographs happened in 1896, when three groups of singers slowly marched toward the intersection of Water and Earl Garrett streets, in a regional event called a Saengerfest. Only a few of the buildings in the photographs are still here.

Louise Hays Park
dedication, 1950

I’m lucky enough to have in my collection photographs of downtown pep rallies held by Tivy students – many different rallies from many different decades. They show young people, marching in the band, or part of the Golden Girls, Antlerettes, cheerleaders and twirlers, gathered together at that same intersection of Earl Garrett and Water Streets. I was a part of this during my time at Tivy, as were thousands before and after me. Sometimes history is like a circle that follows itself around the days of the year, repeating events with new faces each year.

Pep Rally, downtown Kerrville

When World War II ended, Fleet Admiral Chester Nimitz visited Kerrville, the town where he was raised and went through public school. Huge crowds came out to greet him, some remembering him as a boy whose nickname was “Cotton,” because of his light-colored hair.
Then there are photographs of community events, like the dedication of the Butt-Holdsworth Memorial Library in 1967 – that was a big day in Kerrville’s story. Hundreds of folks showed up for the celebration, even though it was a blisteringly hot day. Lady Bird Johnson, who was First Lady then, spoke at the dedication, and a big reception was held inside after the speeches. I noticed a common element in the faces of those in the photographs – they are so excited, so happy to be part of the event.

Fish Rodeo, Kerrville, 1970s

Other community events are represented by photographs in my collection. I have several of the dedication of Louise Hays Park. I have a few photographs of a charming dinner held under the night sky among the plants of the Plant Haus II, a fundraising dinner for the Kerrville Urban Trail System. I have photographs of sports events, of fishing rodeos, of school classes, of graduations.
Looking through these helped me. I know our community has faced hardships and pandemics in the past. We will again in the future.
After the current crisis, there will come a day when we can join together again, to be in community together again, and when we do, I want someone there to take a lot of photographs.
Until next week, all the best.

Filled with photos.
Click here to learn more.

Joe Herring Jr. is a Kerrville native who collects historic photographs of the Texas Hill Country. This column originally appeared in the Kerrville Daily Times March 21, 2020.

Two Kerr County history books available, filled with historic photographs of Kerr County. Both books are available at Wolfmueller's Books, Herring Printing Company, and online by clicking HERE.

Lehmann's Luncheonette, downtown Kerrville, 1960s

Trying times demand creative responses, and this pandemic is providing opportunities for all of us to be thoughtful, kind, and generous. As of Thursday evening, no cases of COVID-19 have been reported in Kerr County, yet many here are very stressed, worrying about their loved ones, their own health, their jobs, childcare, and how to pay their bills.
The new normal is very stressful.

Nurses, Kerrville
State Sanatorium,
1950s

Healthcare professionals – doctors and nurses, ambulance crews, all of the support crew at healthcare facilities – face special problems I cannot even imagine. Others are facing economic uncertainty because their once-crowded workplaces have been ordered closed by public health authorities. Some, like those working at grocery stores or pharmacies, are facing unprecedented workloads. Hard-working parents are scrambling to arrange childcare now that all local schools are closed. Beloved community events are being canceled or postponed.
In the midst of all of this turmoil, what can we do – other than lock the doors, lower the blinds, and turn on the television? There are ways to help – some without even leaving home. Here are some ideas:
The easiest way to help your neighbors during this time is to simply ask them how you can help. Be willing to help, and let them know. Most of us would never ask a neighbor for help, but having a neighbor ask us how they can help is different.

Nurse, Salvation Army,
Kerrville, 1960s

If things go poorly over the next few weeks, health care workers will work very long hours without rest. Ask them how you can help. Perhaps you can run errands, walk their dog, mow their lawn, or make them a casserole, even if you have to leave it on their porch. The key point: ask how you can help.
Many local small businesses, especially restaurants, are being closed by decree, which means they are shouldering unexpected economic losses in a statewide effort to help keep the rest of us healthy. Their forced closure supports a healthy community; our community should likewise support them.

Grocery worker, Evans Foodway,
Kerrville, 1960s

If you have a place you like to eat, consider buying a gift certificate from the restaurant, to be redeemed later this summer, when (hopefully) things are back to normal. In effect you are offering an interest-free loan to the restaurant which might help it stay in business. And if you’re hungry right now, and don’t want to wait until summer, many restaurants are now scrambling to offer curbside and to-go food, and many have started taking orders online. (I’ve checked, and several will allow you to order a gift certificate online, as well.)
Likewise, the wait staff at any restaurant relies on your tips to pay their bills. If you can, now is the time to be extra generous when tipping. Tip more than usual, if you can afford to do so. Every little bit will help.
Others who rely on large groups are also facing money problems. Musicians have had their gigs canceled; event photographers have no events to photograph. If there are local musicians you like, perhaps you can find their music online – and you can purchase their album for your collection. Some local photographers also sell prints of their work online. Seek out a way to support these people, too. I’m sure a lot of them would be happy to accept a donation. Our community will be diminished if we no longer have artists.

Children at the newly-built
Butt-Holdsworth Memorial Library,
1967

At the grocery store there are several ways to help. The most obvious way: only buy what you need. Crazy unexpected demand means empty shelves; the supply chain is strong and should self-correct if we don’t panic. But there’s an even easier way to help grocers: be nice. Tell the employees thank you. If you can’t find your favorite brand of an item, either be patient or be brave and try something new. Or both.
Lastly some ideas about children at home because schools are closed. If you’ve ever had children in your home, it’s possible you still have some of the books they’ve left behind. Students, especially young students who are early readers, need books to read during this prolonged school holiday. I’m not suggesting you loan the books – I’m suggesting you give the books away. That means not sharing heirlooms or books that have special meaning to your family. Likewise, old magazines (I’m looking at you, stacks of National Geographic magazines) could be used for all sorts of “school at home” projects. Don’t lend them. Give them away. Photos can be cut from the magazines and used for all sorts of learning projects. As with any of the above ideas, it is always best just to ask the parents how you can help.
These few ideas are meant to inspire you to create your own ways to help. I’ve been amazed by some of the stories of community you’ve shared with me during this time. We’ll get past these hard days, and we’ll get through them together.
Until next week, all the best.

Buy now.
Free shipping.

Joe Herring Jr. is a Kerrville native who is proud to be a part of this community. This column originally appeared in the Kerrville Daily Times March 28, 2020.

Two Kerr County history books available, filled with historic photographs of Kerr County. Both books are available at Wolfmueller's Books, Herring Printing Company, and online by clicking HERE.

Potter Brown, resting in his hammock after a bit of gardening, probably 1930s.
Potter Brown was the youngest son of Joshua and Sarah Brown, the founders of Kerrville.
Click on any image to enlarge.

This past Wednesday afternoon, when the sun was warm and bright, I went to visit my long-time friend Trena Cullins at the Plant Haus 2. The gardening store was busy, but people were being careful to leave space between themselves and others, following the “New Normal” rules in the midst of this pandemic.

Sunflowers, ca 1940s,
photo by Starr Bryden

The local news was particularly bleak Wednesday, as reports of the virus finally finding its way here were published that morning. All across town people stopped and said a prayer for that first person here who tested positive, hoping their case is mild and they are restored to health soon.
The national news that day was also difficult, though each day has been difficult. I find myself frequently refreshing the news website open on my computer; it takes a focused effort to quit clicking that darned button. With each new story, it seems, comes a new layer of dread. And then I refresh the page, again.
Like you, though, I’ve noticed most of the earth has not read the news. The weeds grow tall in my yard, oblivious to the pandemic. Birds visit our feeders, unaware of my anxiety. Our dog sits with us in the backyard, happy to hang out with us, as we recline and share the stories of our day.
I may not know what the next few weeks may hold, but I do know it’s time to plant my garden. The season wobbles forward, the ground urges me to scrape away weeds, turn the soil, get dirt under my nails, and carefully place plants in neat rows, just as I have done every year, right at this time. To garden is to act – in the hope of things to come.

L. A. Mosty display, 1914,
West Texas Fair

I was not alone Wednesday. Those of us milling around the tables of plants at the Plant Haus were seeing the future in each plant – how it would grow to yield something we value – how caring for it might be a balm for our concerns about tomorrow.
My kind sister made the first plant run a week earlier, buying tomatoes and peppers. She even bought a packet of Silver Queen corn for me to plant.
Silver Queen corn is a beautiful plant, and it produces beautiful ears of pale corn. The very first year I planted Silver Queen it produced beautifully. We had so many ears of corn we were giving away our extra, with instructions to put a pot of water on the stove to boil before we picked the corn, rushing the freshly-cut ears from our house to theirs before the sugars had a chance to convert to starch.
That crop was beginner’s luck, of course.

From my garden, 2018

The very next year the crop was flattened by high winds. A later year saw the stalks fail because the ground was too wet. Other years it was too hot, or too dry, or too something else. One year the garden was too acidic.
Silver Queen tried to break this old gardener’s heart, but I kept coming back, planting it again and again.
Trena Cullins patiently offered advice, various potions for the soil, and hints of all kinds. The fault with Silver Queen was, of course, my own. Yet I was too stubborn to quit.
And then, last year, the few stalks of Silver Queen I planted were beautiful and abundant. I had been timid in the number of seeds I planted, and so our crop was paltry. I suppose I’d predicted failure for the Silver Queen in my heart, and had not wished to devote a lot of space to her.
What I love best from our garden are tomatoes, small cherry tomatoes you can pop in your mouth as you pick, tomatoes warm from the sunshine, dusty from rain and dirt, bright red and flavorful. Sometimes I eat more during picking than I bring inside to Ms. Carolyn, though I think she knows. Next to tomatoes, I love peppers, though I tire of them just as they really start to produce.
What about Silver Queen corn, you might ask? I can’t eat corn because of a silly allergy, and so I’ve never tasted a single kernel. I plant it for the beauty it brings to our small kitchen garden, and for the happiness it brings others. And because I’m very stubborn.
Until next week, all the best.

Joe Herring Jr. is a Kerrville native who has a contest each year with a co-worker, racing to produce the first tomato. She’s well ahead of me this year. This column originally appeared in the Kerrville Daily Times April 4, 2020.

Sidney, Leroy, Claude, Frank and Iva Baker from Kerrville, photo from about 1917.
Click on any image to enlarge.

A little over a century ago, around 1917, five young American soldiers had their portraits made. One is shown in a jaunty pose, arms akimbo, with an engaging smile on his face. Three others are in a group, standing awkwardly together. The last is standing alone, in a slightly more formal pose.

If it wasn't for the writing on the back of the photograph I'd have no idea about their identities, or even if they were from Kerr County. Even with the writing, I'm not completely certain who the young men are, but I have a strong guess. There's a good chance all five are brothers.

The photograph is not in great condition, but is still clear -- even though it was taken around 1918. The soldiers in the photograph are very young, as soldiers so often are. They could be any group of American Doughboys from World War I.

A handwritten clue.

It's a clue on the back, however, that really intrigued me. Though the writing has faded, and in some places the paper is torn or is missing, I can make out a name: "Mr. B. F. Baker"

The next line seems to say "...way street east of Lake Side Park." The rest of the lines are notes to the photographer, telling him how to color the photograph. In those days, black and white photographs were often slightly tinted by hand, mainly eye color or hair color. In this case, the color of the uniforms.

There was a Benjamin F. Baker who lived in Kerrville with his wife, Elizabeth Baker, at the time the photograph was taken. He was a farmer and carpenter.

In 1882 he and his wife moved to Kerrville for the first time, then moved back here again in 1904. If I'm counting right, they had twelve children, including eight sons. Of the sons, I learned at least five of the Baker brothers served in the military.

All eight Baker brothers, from
the Kerr County Album

One was Iva Wright Baker, who was born in 1890. According to the Kerr County Album, he was "in AEF, WWI in France." Another was Benjamin F. Baker, Jr., born in 1894, who was "drafted in World War I." Claude Peterson Baker served in both World War I and II; he was born in 1900. And there was also Leroy Clyde Peterson, born in 1898.

There was another Baker brother who served in World War I: Sidney Walter Baker. It was for this soldier, who died in battle during the last month of World War I, for whom one of Kerrville's streets was named. We've said his name thousands of times, and sometimes it's easy to forget "Sidney Baker" was actually a young person who lived here long ago.

Sidney Baker signed up for the Army on the advice of his brothers, Frank and Iva, joining the new Company D of the First Texas Infantry, which was formed here in Kerrville in 1917.

Sidney Baker, 1917

Sidney Baker left New York in July, 1918 on the Finland, the same ship that carried Francisco Lemos to Europe. Baker was killed in the Argonne Forest in France on October 16, 1918. The street was named in his honor in 1919, his name replacing the street's former name, Tchoupitoulas Street.

Here's my guess on the names of the soldiers in the newly found photograph: the first soldier is Sidney Baker; the three soldiers together are Leroy, Claude, and Frank Baker Jr.; the fifth soldier is Iva Baker. All were brave soldiers who served our country.

However, take a look at the image of Sidney Baker, the lanky young man with a winning smile. If this image is actually of him, I think it makes his sacrifice even more poignant. The photo somehow makes him more relatable; it's not a stiff, formal portrait. In the image, Baker is seems relaxed and outgoing. It's more of a snapshot than a portrait.

I'm thankful to the kind reader who shared this photograph with me.

Until next week, all the best.

Click here for FREE shipping

Joe Herring Jr. is a Kerrville native who collects old Kerrville and Kerr County photographs. This column originally appeared in the Kerrville Daily Times April 11, 2020 -- which happens to be my kid sister's birthday.

Two Kerr County history books available, filled with historic photographs of Kerr County. Both books are available at Wolfmueller's Books, Herring Printing Company, and online by clicking HERE.

Kerrville, April 1950, taken from south of the Guadalupe River.
The two tall buildings downtown: Sid Peterson Memorial Hospital, and
the Blue Bonnet Hotel.
The land between the plowed field and downtown is the site of the Louise Hays Park.
Click on any image to enlarge.

On Sunday, April 26, Louise Hays Park turns 70 years old.
On that date in 1950, our community came together to build a park in a single day. Today the whole community is joined together in a new effort.

Robert and Louise Hays

The Hays family, Robert and Louise, gave the city the land for the park. The tract is now surrounded by Kerrville, but in 1950 there was very little development south of the river. The land for the park was part of the Hays' ranch. State Highway 16 crossed the river, as it does now, traveling through the Hays property. There was a road to the state hospital connected to the highway, today's Thompson Drive. Aerial photographs of the site show plowed fields above the flood plain; near the river, a jumble of trees and brush.

Louise, Bobby, and
Robert Hays

As far as ranch land goes, the site was not optimal. But as the site for the park, the land was brilliant. Each year, as Kerrville grew in population and area, having a park in the center of town with river frontage grew more and more perfect.
I've often wondered what motivated Kerrville citizens in 1950 to attempt to build a park in a single day. I thought it was perhaps a clever tactic by the Hays family; then, as now, our community takes forever to finish a project, always finding the time to squabble about each decision made along the way.

April 26, 1950 - the big day.

However, the truth is probably closer to a 1950 quote from Camilla Salter, as reported in the Dallas Morning News: "We didn’t have enough money in town to build the kind of park we wanted, but we decided we could if we could get everybody to donate one day’s work – get everyone to give one day’s time."
Mrs. Salter was the owner and publisher of the Kerrville Mountain Sun, and very dedicated to any project advancing Kerrville. "From the day that Mr. and Mrs. Hays announced their gift, she has plugged hard day in and day out for the realization of the park project.” Building the park in a single day may have been her clever idea.

Louise Hays breaks ground
for the park

“Some 600 men, using machines in a race against time,” the Dallas Morning News reported on April 23, 1950, “will attempt to turn thirty-five timbered acres into a finished playground park between dawn and dusk.
“An Army of men, manning more than 100 trucks, tractors, bulldozers and rollers, will rumble into the river-bank acreage at 7 a.m.
“Twelve hours later Louise Hays Park should be finished, even to its name cut into the native stone entrance archway.”
The date for work to begin (and be finished) was April 26, 1950, which happened to be the 94th anniversary of the founding of Kerr County.
The volunteers made the ‘park in a day’ happen. The Houston Chronicle called the completed park the “Miracle on the Guadalupe,” in an April 27, 1950 story:
“A thousand men have made a gift grow into a lovely park in a day…. The gift was a tract of 35 acres along the river from Mr. and Mrs. Robert S. Hays. Their only stipulation was that the city beautify and make it a public park and that it be named the Louise Hays Park in honor of the wife of the donor.”
My entire life I've enjoyed time spent at Louise Hays Park, as have my children. I'm so grateful for the gift to our community from the Hays family, and I'm thankful for the clever leadership of folks like Camilla Salter.

* * *

Louise Hays Park, during
2020 Pandemic, 04-2020

I visited Louise Hays Park last weekend. There were quite a few folks there, enjoying the beautiful weather. They were being careful to stay at least six feet apart, practicing 'social distancing.'
A large sign greeted park visitors at each entrance: "Avoid Any Social Gathering," it read, in huge white letters on a bright red background.

"Avoid any Social Gathering...."

This is the current community effort, even at Louise Hays Park, the place where we have come together as a community for the past 70 years. By staying apart we are protecting the most vulnerable among us. This project will take all of us making wise decisions. This project will be enormously expensive, especially to those who've lost their jobs, and for most small businesses.
Staying apart, though, means we can someday come together again -- hopefully in huge crowds at our community's beautiful Louise Hays Park.
I'm sure the city government would have celebrated the 70th birthday of Louise Hays Park had circumstances allowed. The son of Louise and Robert Hays, Bob Hays, was planning on visiting Kerrville for the occasion. He was just a boy when the park was built, and he hoped to bring his family here for the 70th anniversary celebration.
Here's hoping health comes quickly back to our land -- and we can be together again to celebrate the park's 75th birthday in 2025.
Until next week, all the best.

Joe Herring Jr. is a Kerrville native who needs to spend more time in the sunshine. This column originally appeared in the Kerrville Daily Times April 25, 2020.

Two Kerr County history books available, filled with historic photographs of Kerr County. Both books are available at Wolfmueller's Books, Herring Printing Company, and online by clicking HERE.

Bachelor Mountain, between Lane Valley and Elm Pass Roads, 1896 ft in height

Before the world was turned upside down by a pandemic, a kind man showed my son and me a historic site on private property near Lane Valley Road, between Center Point and Comfort. In those days one did things like that – hopped in the truck, met by a ranch gate, shook hands, and investigated a history mystery. It was so long ago: March 12, 2020. Seven weeks.

The man’s name is Tom. He and his brother own land on Cherry Creek, land their parents purchased years ago. I’d never met him, but was introduced to him by a customer at the print shop, who lived near Tom. That customer, Chad, read my column about the graves of Jack Hardee and two others which can be seen from Lane Valley Road.

Jack Hardee was captured by Comanche raiders as a young man, walking home from the mill in Center Point, and only survived because of his brave responses to their taunts. He was a former slave, previously owned by James Crispin Nowlin, the first physician in Kerr County. I was particularly interested in Jack Hardee’s story because I graduated from Tivy High School with one of his descendants, Todd Hardee.

When I learned Jack Hardee was buried near Lane Valley Road, I drove out there to find the grave. It’s on private property, but visible at a distance from the road. Not wanting to trespass, I took photographs of the tombstones from the road.

Sylvester Edmonds
received a patent on
160 acres in 1874,

Lane Valley Road starts at Highway 27 and heads roughly south, after first crossing a shallow stretch of the Guadalupe River, then disappearing into a line of hills in the distance. It’s about as beautiful a stretch of land as you can find in Kerr County, and for generations it has attracted farmers and ranchmen. Cherry Creek runs near the road, meandering this way and that, finally forking into two smaller branches.

Researching the gravesite of Jack Hardee, I learned he was buried at what is called Lane Valley Cemetery No. 1. There is also a Lane Valley Cemetery No. 2 listed in several places, but it is not shown on any map. Lane Valley Cemetery No. 2 was a mystery.

I knew it was the resting place of Jack Hardee’s in-laws, Sylvester and Martha Edmonds, the parents of Jack’s wife, Hannah Edmonds Hardee.

In my story about Jack Hardee’s grave, I mentioned that I could not find Lane Valley Cemetery No. 2. That’s when things got interesting.

The grave of
Sylvester Edmonds

A kind reader named Aurora sent me photographs of a tombstone near Lane Valley Road she and her husband had restored and cleaned up – the marker for a toddler named Uzilla Johns who died in May, 1880. It was a homemade grave marker, a slab of limestone shaped and smoothed, with little Uzilla’s details scratched into the stone. As far as anyone could tell there were no other graves nearby. This looked like a gravesite other than Lane Valley Cemetery No. 2.

Soon after, Chad, who I knew from the print shop, said he’d ask around the neighbors out there to see if anyone knew of a cemetery on their land.

That’s when Tom called and invited me to come see the graves on his family’s land. It was Lane Valley Cemetery No. 2.

The grave of
Martha Edmonds

While there is evidence of other graves at the site, from indentions in the earth and a solitary wooden plank in the earth, worn away by time and weather until whatever writing it once held are no longer visible, there are three stone markers there: one each for Sylvester Edmonds and Martha Edmonds, and the third, for Agnes Blanks.

We met Tom at his gate, and followed in our truck across the pastures. Horses met us at the first gate and ran beside our truck to the second gate. Joe 3 and I were delighted to see them frolic beside us in the bright sunshine. (We’re townies, after all.) Tom led the way to a small rise in the center of the property where an ancient live oak stood guard. The graves were in the shade of the oak tree, surrounded by fencing to keep the livestock out.

The grave of Agnes Blanks

I busily took photographs of the headstones and other features of the site, while Joe 3 and I visited with Tom. After finishing with the photographs, we three stood quiet for a moment in the shade of the old tree, enjoying the view of the farm below us. A welcome breeze comforted us.

I’ve been to cemeteries all over the world, from fancy national cemeteries to humble graveyards beside centuries-old churches. I’ve read the names on tombs in cathedrals and marveled at the statues and carvings honoring the dead.

I’ll tell you this, though: I have never visited a more peaceful resting place than that of Sylvester and Martha Edmonds, and young Agnes Blanks, the three of them buried on a little knoll overlooking the 160 acres of land the Edmonds owned and farmed themselves. You can see their fields, the fork of Cherry Creek which ran through the property, and the green-blue hills which surround and protect the property.

I’m thankful to all of those who helped solve the mystery: Aurora, Chad, and especially Tom, who was our kind guide that day. The site is on private property. Please do not visit it without permission.

Until next week, all the best.

Click here for more info.

Joe Herring Jr. is a Kerr County native who hopes to be able to hop in his truck again soon, meet new folks, shake their hands, and go exploring. This column originally appeared in the Kerrville Daily Times May 2, 2020.

Two Kerr County history books available, filled with historic photographs of Kerr County. Both books are available at Wolfmueller's Books, Herring Printing Company, and online by clicking HERE.

Detail, map of Whitte-Smith Expedition of 1849

I read a true Texas tale of peril and bravery this week, told by José Policarpo Rodriguez, who was there, and who recorded the events in his autobiography. It happened in 1849 and it changed history even though it happened in the middle of the desert wilderness and only a few people were there.
Rodriguez’s book, “The Old Guide,” was originally published in 1898 by the publishing house of the Methodist Episcopal Church, South, in Nashville, Tennessee. My copy is a reprint, and was given to me by the late Raul Arreola, a great-grandson of Policarpo Rodriguez.

Policarpo Rodriguez,
late in life

Many will recognize Policarpo Rodriguez’s name: not only does he have many descendants living in our area, he had a long and fruitful life right here in the Texas hill country. In his early days he was a guide and tracker; later he became a preacher, and built by hand a stone church building on Privilege Creek in Bandera County, now called “Polly’s Chapel.” It’s one of the most peaceful chapels in the world, rustic and simple, in a motte of live oaks beside a clear creek, and faithfully cared for by Rodriguez’s descendants.
In 1849 Rodriguez joined an expedition led by Lt. W. H. C. Whiting to establish a road from San Antonio to El Paso, and to find locations for forts along the route. While the expedition was led by two U. S. Army lieutenants, the remaining 15 members of the group were all civilians, and included a mule packer from Mexico and a Delaware Indian. Rodriguez was only 20 years old, and his role in the group was to scout ahead, looking for water and hunting for game to feed the men.
Rodriguez was invited to join the group on the recommendation of a surveyor named Dick Howard, with whom he worked on other surveying expeditions. When Lt. Whiting offered a spot on the team to Howard, he replied “Well, if I go, I want this boy to go, too.”
“What can he do?” asked Whiting.
“Why he can do more than I can. He can hunt and he can find water. He’s my guide; can do most anything in the woods. He would be very useful to us on the trip.”
Rodriguez did prove very useful.

Polly's Chapel, still standing
near Privilege Creek
in Bandera County

“This boy Policarpo,” Whiting wrote in his diary on the journey, “is one of the most valuable members of my party – a patient and untiring hunter, an unerring trailer, with all the instinct of the Indian combined with the practical part of surveying which he has learned from Howard; moreover, a capital hand with the mules. I don’t know of any person whom I would rather have in the woods.”
The trip west was marked by severe deprivation suffered by the group; they often had to travel days without water. If you’ve traveled on IH10 from San Antonio to El Paso, you know the country. It’s a long, hot journey in an automobile. Imagine traveling the route on mules, and managing a string of mules carrying supplies and equipment.
Somewhere west of the Pecos River, and north of the Rio Grande, in the “Limpio Mountains,” the party came suddenly upon “an old gray Indian with four or five squaws and a boy,” Rodriguez writes.
“We were right upon them before either party saw the other. The boy ran off into the bushes as wild as a scared buck. The squaws stood still, with their mouths open as if struck dumb and paralyzed. We were looking at them. The old Indian commenced muttering and turning around as if making some incantations. He lifted an old blanket on two ramrods and waved it back and forth, all the time muttering. He then stooped down and gathered handfuls of dust and rubbed it on his breast, talking to the boy who held his little bow and arrows, and to the squaws. He bellowed like a bull. I thought I would speak to him in Spanish, and I said: “Don’t be afraid; we will not hurt you.”
Imagine the scene, somewhere between present-day Fort Davis and El Paso. It’s 1849, and you and 16 other men are on an expedition trying to find a route west – a southern route that will connect the country together, which will be traveled by thousands and thousands of people, protected by a line of forts. You crest a small hill and find a vulnerable group of Indians. Some members of your group suggest killing the Indians right then, and continuing on. One young man tells them no harm will come to them.
The next moments are very tense, and the decisions made will have big consequences. I’ll tell you about them next week.
Until then, all the best.

Click here for FREE Shipping

Joe Herring Jr. is a Kerrville native who enjoys time spent in the Davis Mountains with his family. What a magical place. This column first appeared in the Kerrville Daily Times May 9, 2020.

For your enjoyment, I have two Kerr County history books available, filled with historic photographs of Kerr County. Both books are available at Wolfmueller's Books, Herring Printing Company, and online by clicking HERE.

Detail, Whitig-Smith Expedition map.
Click on any image to enlarge.

The more I learn about the Whitig-Smith Expedition in 1849, the more amazed I am by the story. If it were not a true Texas tale, with several eyewitness accounts, I would not believe it actually happened.
Last week I told you a little bit about the 17 men who set out from San Antonio to find a route to El Paso. The expedition was led by two young West Point graduates, Lieutenants William Henry Chase Whiting and William Farrar Smith. Their orders were plain: find a route for a road, and find sites for U. S. Army forts along the way. The recent Mexican War focused the attention of the U. S. Government on the southwest, and routes to newly acquired territories, as well as trade routes to California, became a national priority.

Whitig, 1860s

The two young officers had a problem, though. They knew nothing about surviving in the deserts of West Texas. Both men were engineers – one taught mathematics at West Point – and neither was an outdoorsman. They needed help if they hoped to survive the journey.
Richard Austin Howard, who had attended West Point, but did not graduate, was a former classmate of Whitig’s. He had been active in Texas as a surveyor and scout, helping a variety of folks, including John O. Meusebach, of Gillespie County, in his attempt to secure the Fisher-Miller Grant for the German colonists. Howard also surveyed the tract for the future Fort Mason, and lands near Corpus Christi.
Most importantly, Howard had survived the Hays-Highsmith expedition of 1848, an effort to find a ‘practical wagon route from San Antonio to El Paso’ – which almost ended in disaster when the group got lost and nearly starved.
It was while Howard was surveying near Corpus Christi he was approached by his old classmate Whitig, and asked to join Whitig’s expedition to explore a route from San Antonio to El Paso.
Howard agreed to go on Whitig’s expedition only if José Policarpo Rodriguez would come along, too. Howard relied on Rodriguez’s talent as a scout, hunter – and as a person who could find water, even in the desert.

Smith, 1860s

The group left San Antonio in January, 1849, traveling first to Fredericksburg, and then heading for the Llano River. (They did not stop in Kerrville because, in 1849, there was no Kerrville, other than a few men at a camp making shingles from the abundant cypress trees here.)
In March, 1849, somewhere in the “Limpio Mountains,” near present-day Fort Davis, the group suddenly came face to face with a small band of Apaches, “an old gray Indian with four or five squaws and a boy,” Rodriguez writes in his autobiography, “The Old Guide,” published in 1898.
The old Indian man began dance and make incantations. He rubbed dust on his chest and hair. The entire group of Indians was very agitated.
Finally ‘Polly’ Rodriguez spoke to the old man in Spanish: “Don’t be afraid, we will not hurt you.”
You might be surprised by the answer.
“I do not know and never knew what fear is,” the old Indian said in ‘good Spanish,’ according to Rodriguez. “What do you want here? This is our country; what are you here after?”
One of the men in the expedition replied, in English: “Let’s kill that old fool and these old squaws and go on.”
Whitig replied “No. We will not hurt them. The old man is making no attempt to hurt us, and we will let them alone. My orders are not to fire first on any Indian.”
“Orders? What are orders here in these wilds? I say let’s kill them.”
“I obey orders everywhere,” Whitig replied. “These Indians will not be hurt.”
The old Indian had an understanding of what was being said, and suspected his end was near.
“You can kill us, but you will soon be ground to dust. These mountains are as full of Indians as my hand of dust, and they’ll make dust and powder of you.”
The scene was tense. ‘Polly’ Rodriguez spoke again, in Spanish, to the old man.
“Don’t you see we are not after you nor your people. You are going from one camp to another, just as we are, and we do not mean to harm you.”
The old man believed Polly, and came a little closer. “Do you have any tobacco?” And he and the squaws were given tobacco. During this exchange, the men noticed one of the squaws had set the prairie on fire – a signal.
That’s when the real trouble began. About the fire, the old man told Polly, “it is to call the Indians here, and then you’ll tell what you are after.”
Indeed. I’ll share more of this crazy but true story next week. I’m not sure the expedition is going to make it.
Until then, all the best.

Free Shipping

Joe Herring Jr. is a Kerrville native who finds facemasks uncomfortable but wears them anyway. This column originally appeared in the Kerrville Daily TimesMay 16, 2020.

Two Kerr County history books available, filled with historic photographs of Kerr County. Both books are available at Wolfmueller's Books, Herring Printing Company, and online by clicking HERE.

Lightning, Davis Mountains, 2014.
Click on any image to enlarge.

In 1849 a group of 17 men left San Antonio on a mission to find a practical wagon route between San Antonio and El Paso. The mission was vitally important to the interests of the nation after the end of the Mexican War; not only would such a route connect the new territories of the United States, but the route would also open up trade with California.

Led by Lieutenants W. H. C. Whitig and William Smith, the party left San Antonio in early 1849. José Policarpo Rodriguez, famous in our part of the hill country, was a member of the group, and told the following tale in his autobiography, “The Old Scout,” published in 1898.

Painted Mescalero boy,
around 1885

Sometime in March, in the “Limpio Mountains,” near present-day Fort Davis, Texas, the expedition crested a hill and came upon a small, vulnerable group: an “old gray Indian with four or five squaws and a boy.” Some members of the expedition, after hearing the defiant words of the old man, wanted to kill the Indians and move on.

It was Policarpo Rodriguez who first spoke to the old man: “Don’t be afraid; we will not hurt you,” he said. Those eight words would later mean life – or death – for the members of the expedition.

During the verbal confrontation that followed, one of the Indian women lit a fire – a signal – which, according to the old man, would “call the Indians here, and then you’ll tell what you are after.” The old man wanted to know why the expedition was on Indian lands.

The two groups parted peacefully, and the expedition continued on its mission.

“We left them and went on our course, [one of the men] cursing because [the Indians] were not shot. It was about ten in the morning. About twelve o’clock we saw a great dust rising before us some miles away. Some of the men said: ‘Look, what a drove of antelopes yonder.’”

If you’ve ever visited the Davis Mountains in far West Texas, you know how beautiful and stark they are. We’ve seen groups of pronghorn antelopes out there, but only a few here and there. I’m not sure what the expedition members thought they were seeing.

Gorgonia, a Mescalero Apache,
around 1885

“That’s not antelopes,” Polly Rodriguez told the men, “it’s Indians. Look behind us.” Another large group of Indians were pursuing them.

“We were in mortal peril,” Rodriguez writes. “We dismounted and tied our mules together neck to neck, and formed a ring around them and awaited the Indians. Those behind came up first. As they drew near enough to be heard they began calling to us in Spanish: ‘No tiren, El capitán viene atrás!’ [Don’t shoot, our captain comes behind.]

“‘Stand off’, we said. ‘Don’t come up.’

“They kept calling out ‘Don’t shoot, the chief is coming, and wants to talk to you.’

“In the meantime they were dividing out and forming a ring around us, but keeping out of range. In a short time the chief came up. It was Chino Huero (‘Blonde Curls,’ so called because his hair was light and inclined to curl).”

Gentle Reader, you might be surprised to whom Chino Huero was related: the old man the expedition encountered earlier was his father; one of the women was his wife; the young boy was his son.

Just as Chino Huero arrived, so did the other group of Indians, the ones approaching from the front. “There must have been 300 of them,” Rodriguez writes.

Two Mescalero Apache women stand in their camp,
in New Mexico, around 1900

Among this larger group of Indians “was one man mounted on a beautiful horse with a Mexican saddle and bridle. He wore a Mexican sombrero and a short jacket, and looked like a Mexican, except he was very dark. His only weapon was a long, slender lance which he rested on the ground.

“He stood apart from the rest, taking no part in the conversation. Those who were calling to us did not speak Spanish distinctly, and I, thinking the silent man could speak Spanish, called to them and asked that they get that man (pointing to him) to interpret for them.

“He spoke up sternly in good Spanish: ‘I am interpreter for nobody.’

“There was in our party a man who understood the Indian dialect and knew this man, and he said to me: ‘That is Gomez, the head chief, and you have almost insulted him.’

Gomez was a chief of a band of the Mescalero Apache tribe, and appears several times in the historical record of the region. He controlled the Davis Mountain region of Texas for many years.

Gomez stood to one side, looking menacing. Chino Huero“exerted himself to keep his men back from us. They were eager to press on us and finish us in short order.”

The expedition was surrounded, caught in the dry, cold mountains of West Texas, far from help, alone and outnumbered. No friend could hear their cries, no cavalry would ride over the hill to save them.

[Next week’s installment is going to be very tense.]

Until then, all the best.

Free Shipping!

Joe Herring Jr. is a Kerrville native who hopes this serial offers a gentle diversion during a season of worry. Strike that; you should worry about the members of the expedition. This column originally appeared in the Kerrville Daily Times May 23, 2020.

Here’s a talk I gave to the Kerrville Noon Rotary Club this past week — remembering the men from Kerr County who died in World War I. It seemed appropriate to share it today, on Memorial Day. (Apologies for the poor sound quality... I’ll get better at this, eventually.)

Here’s the direct YouTube link: https://youtu.be/Wh5oRAgWE54

Pictograph, Jeff Davis County, Texas, photographed 2011.
While these pictographs predate the expedition (and likely the Mescalero Apache),
they are part of the historic landscape of the Davis Mountains of Texas.
Click on any image to enlarge.

Today one can hop in a car in San Antonio, head west, drive an incredibly long time, and arrive (as a weary husk of your former self) in El Paso del Norte in less than a day.
In 1849, however, there was no known practical route from San Antonio to El Paso. Two young U. S. Army lieutenants, W. H. C. Whitig and William Farrar Smith, were ordered to find a route for wagons to travel between the two cities, and to scout for sites for army forts along the way. They chose 15 men to go with them, including José Policarpo Rodriguez, who tells about the journey in his autobiography, “The Old Scout,” published in 1898.

The Rockpile, site of
prehistoric pictographs
near Fort Davis

Today travel between San Antonio and El Paso is a journey. In 1849, it was an expedition.
Near present-day Fort Davis, in far west Texas, the expedition unexpectedly encountered a vulnerable group of Native Americans: an old man, three or four women, and a young boy. There were some strong words expressed by the old man and at least one member of the expedition; some members of the expedition were in favor of killing the Indians and proceeding.
“Don’t be afraid,” Policarpo said in Spanish to the old man, “we will not hurt you.”
After a few tense moment the two groups separated in peace, and the expedition continued westward. In only a few hours they were surrounded by hundreds of Indian warriors – from a group which overtook them from behind, and a separate group which confronted them from ahead.

Another pictograph there

The group which overtook them was led by Chino Huero, which translates to ‘Blonde Curls.’ It turned out the old man the expedition spared was his father; one of the women, his wife; and the boy was his son.
The group which confronted them was led by Gomez, a chief with the Mescalero Apache, who controlled the area of the Davis Mountains. The group he led was called Tsebekinéndé, the Limpia Mescaleros. Later in life Gomez was known as Negoyani – “Old Man of Wisdom.”

Hand stencils, on the ceiling

Chief Gomez was not happy to find an expedition crossing his territory, and his warriors surrounded the expedition men, careful to stay just out of range.
The expedition men were surrounded, out-numbered, and far from help.
“This is no place to talk,” Gomez called out in Spanish, “these men must go to my camp.”
Policarpo translated this to the Whitig, adding, “if we do, they will kill us.”
“We will not go,” Whitig replied. “We will do our talking here.”
Hearing this translated, Gomez said “Not go? We’ll make you go; we’ll drag you there!”
Rodriguez writes: “The words shot from him like an arrow. His whole bearing changed instantly; his eyes flashed, and he wheeled toward his men and in Indian dialect began to issue his commands. They rushed towards us and formed a circle around us just beyond Chino Huero’s men. Then another circle outside of that was formed, and we were soon surrounded by three circles of Indians, every one eager to pounce upon us. The Indians all dismounted from their ponies, some of them stripped almost naked, and were pressing upon us. Some were piling up rocks before them to shoot.”

The Davis Mountains
near Ft. Davis

Just then Chino Huero rushed to Gomez, and began talking to him very “energetically and earnestly. He looked as if he was pleading a case with the greatest of earnestness.
“He was repeating the story of our meeting his father in the morning and sparing the whole party when they were in our power. He declared his purpose to defend those who had spared his father, wife, and child. He told Gomez he had always been his friend, but if he harmed these people their friendship would not only end, but Gomez would have to pass over his dead body, and those of his men, to reach his victims.
“Gomez appeared morose and unmoved. Chino Huero began again. The spirit and energy of his every movement were most admirable. He was tall and lithe, and he pleaded his cause with skill and force.”
In March, 1849, in a valley deep in the Davis Mountains, several hundred heavily armed men waited for Gomez to answer, and the men in the innermost circle, an expedition of 17 men seeking a route from San Antonio to El Paso, understood least of all what was happening.
The expedition had been guided to that spot by a compass and sextant, and orders written on a piece of paper; others there that day were guided by honor; and still others by power and tradition. One man, Gomez, the leader of the Tsebekinéndé, would decide the fate of them all.
Until next week, all the best.

Click here for
more information

Joe Herring Jr. is a Kerrville native who has used a chainsaw a lot this week. This column originally appeared in the Kerrville Daily Times May 30, 2020.

I have two Kerr County history books available, filled with historic photographs of Kerr County. Both books are available at Wolfmueller's Books, Herring Printing Company, and online by clicking HERE.

Moon over Davis Mountains, near Fort Davis, Texas, 2011

"The Old Guide,"
published 1898

In 1849 there was no wagon route from San Antonio to El Paso. In the years just after the Mexican-American War of 1846, when the United States had won vast new territories in the American southwest, such a route was suddenly of national importance. Two young U. S. Army lieutenants, W. H. C. Whitig and William Farrar Smith, were ordered to find a route for wagons to travel between the two cities, and to scout for sites for army forts along the way. They chose as their guide José Policarpo Rodriguez, who tells about the journey in his autobiography, “The Old Scout,” published in 1898.

The group traveled without much incident from February 1849 until mid-March 1849. One day, near present-day Fort Davis in the Davis Mountains, they crossed paths with a small group of Indians: an old man, three or four women, and a small boy. There were some strong words expressed by the old man and at least one member of the expedition; some members of the expedition were in favor of killing the Indians and proceeding.

“Don’t be afraid,” Policarpo said in Spanish to the old man, “we will not hurt you.”

Davis Mountains

And so the small group of Indians, members of the Mescalero Apache tribes, passed safely on their way, and the Whitig-Smith expedition continued safely on theirs, but only after a signal fire had been lit by one of the women.

About the fire, the old man told Polly, “it is to call the Indians here, and then you’ll tell what you are after.”

His words were very true: within only a few hours the expedition was encircled by two bands of Apache warriors – a smaller circle, led by Chino Huero, who happened to be the son of the old Indian man spared by the expedition, the husband of one of the women, and the father of the young boy.

The larger group of warriors was led by Gomez, a fierce chief who controlled the Davis Mountain area of Texas (and Mexico). Gomez was not subtle: he intended to kill every member of the expedition.

Chino Huero plead with Gomez and promised “if he harmed these people their friendship would not only end, but Gomez would have to pass over his dead body, and those of his men, to reach his victims.”

All eyes were on Gomez, who, after a very long pause, called together a council of the chiefs.

“Three or four other chiefs came forward,” writes Rodriguez. “They took the goatskins off their saddles and spread them on the ground together. They then retired a little way and took off their moccasins, walked barefoot to their places, seated themselves in a ring, faces inward, and began their deliberations. Lt. Whitig, Dick Howard, and I were taken into the council. They lighted a pipe and passed it.”

Davis Mountains

Policarpo Rodriguez tells how he felt at that moment: “I recollect I raised my heart to God and said “My last day is come; God help me die like a brave man.” He looked over the Indians around him, picking his first target. “I had fully resolved to kill Gomez the first man.”

“The council listened as Chino Huero spoke. Finally, he won even against the head chief.”

Quickly the chief mounted his horse and rode in a circle around the expedition, shouting instructions to his warriors, riding three times very rapidly, “talking all the time to his men. Then he went round twice more much more slowly and talking much more deliberately.”

José Policarpo Rodriguez,
around 1898

The chief had decided to spare them “on condition we not disturb them. They wanted to remain in that country, even if it was barren. It would be of no use to us, but they could live on grass and roots.”

The chief then commanded that the expedition join him at his camp for a meal, and the expedition joined him there and spent a restless night in the Indian camp. It was obvious Gomez was having difficulty keeping his men from harming the expedition members.

The next day the expedition headed west, on their journey to El Paso. But that night the expedition did something clever.

They made a big show of setting up camp, building camp fires, and setting up tents. They knew they were being watched by many eyes from the rims of the surrounding hills. As darkness fell they kept the fires burning brightly, but quietly loaded all of their gear on their mules and silently slipped away, leaving the illusion of a quiet sleeping camp behind them.

They marched all night and the next day, too, hoping to put as much distance between themselves and Gomez and his warriors as they could.

And that’s how José Policarpo Rodriguez and the other men of the expedition lived to tell the tale.

This and many other tales of early Texas can be found in Rodriguez’s book, “The Old Guide,” which can be read online for free: click HERE

Until next week, all the best.

Click Here to learn more

Joe Herring Jr. is a Kerrville native who can't imagine the difficulties the men of the Whitig-Smith Expedition endured. This column originally appeared in the Kerrville Daily Times June 6, 2020.

The August Braeutigam Blacksmith Shop, around 1895,
which was at the east corner of Water and Quinlan streets.

Years ago I received an email asking if I had a photograph in my collection of an old Kerrville blacksmith shop. The sender was kind enough to send along a scan of an article Herbert E. Oehler wrote for this newspaper on July 12, 1976, with the title “Son of a Pioneer,” about August Braeutigam.

August Braeutigam

Braeutigam opened a blacksmith shop here in Kerrville at the east corner of Water and Quinlan streets in 1885. The blacksmith shop site is part of the parking lot of Entertainmart today, just across Water Street from the library campus.

Unfortunately, I’d never seen the image he wanted, though I wished I could help. I filed the request in my rusty mental file cabinet, knowing photographs taken before 1900 were quite rare in Kerrville, and there was little hope in finding the image.

That changed this week when some friends at Wells-Fargo came across a stack of old Kerrville photographs, and shared them with me. Among the images was the photograph of the old blacksmith shop.

Herbert Oehler wrote the story this way:

“When August Braeutigam established his blacksmith shop at the corner of Water and Quinlan Streets in 1885, he was no amateur in that craft. He had practiced his trade since 1869, and had owned shops at three other locations in Texas and one in California before coming here.”

Nellie Braeutigam

The family lived next door to the shop, “and Mr. L. A. Schreiner and A. C. Schreiner lived across the street,” according to a family history I received. The family lived and worked there for another thirty years.

August and his wife Nellie had one child, a daughter named Annie. She married J. L. Pampell, the founder of Pampell’s, which was on the corner of Water and Sidney Baker streets. Pampell’s was a drug store with an old-fashioned soda fountain when I was a child. Like most people my age, I have very fond memories of Pampell’s, of the Hood family who owned it when I was young; of Emmie Kneese, who made the world’s best milkshakes; and of Virgie Morris who kept my favorite chocolate bars in stock in gleaming glass cases near the front door.

“Milton Pampell, August’s grandson,” the family history says, “recalls days when as a young boy he would watch his grandfather at work. Milton was given a small leather apron to wear and never was allowed to come into the shop without shoes on in order to protect him from the sparks wile forging the iron and the cinders that might be found on the ground.

Annie Braeutigam
Pampell

“Mr. B. L. Enderle remembers well when he grew up in Kerrville how the freight wagons would stop at the Braeutigam blacksmith shop. ‘Mr. Braeutigam, a beloved gentleman, would service and repair the wagons while a hired hand would shoe the horses.’”

August Braeutigam was elected an alderman to one of the first Kerrville city councils, back in 1890 – 1893.

The photograph of the old blacksmith shop is quite interesting, and the quality of the image is surprisingly good, given how old it is. August Braeutigam can be seen leaning against the topped-off tree, wearing a leather apron. I particularly like the advertisement above his right arm which reads “Wagons/ Studebaker/ Carriages.” My best guess is the photograph was taken in the 1890s, though the fire hydrant on which one of the other fellows is sitting might suggest a later date.

“Tire Shrinking/ Horse-shoeing/ Plow and Wagon Work” is painted in large high-contrast letters on the side of the building, on the side toward the Town Creek bridge. This is notable because that’s the direction from which wagon freight traffic would have passed on its way to the downtown Kerrville area. By the time Braeutigam opened his blacksmith shop, freight to and from San Antonio traveled by rail. But all freight west – to Ingram, Hunt, Mountain Home, Junction, or Rocksprings – would pass directly in front of Braeutigam’s shop.

August Braeutigam died in 1916; his wife Nellie in 1942. Both are buried here in Kerrville, at Glen Rest Cemetery.

Thanks again to the kind folks at Wells Fargo who shared this photo with all of us. Yes, I’ve sent a copy on to the Braeutigam family member who requested it years ago.

Until next week, all the best.

Joe Herring Jr. is a Kerrville native who loves old photographs of Kerrville. If you have one you’d care to share with him, he will be happy to scan the image and give you back the original. This column originally appeared in the Kerrville Daily Times June 13, 2020.

Nelson's Store -- where and when was this photograph taken?

Last week some kind folks at Wells-Fargo came across some old historic Kerr County photographs and they were nice enough to share them with me – and I’m happy to share some of them here with you.
One was of an old store. I’d never seen the photograph before, and I had no idea where the photograph was taken. Fortunately there were several clues on the building in the photograph.
The biggest clue, of course, was the big sign near the top of the façade – “Nelson’s” it proudly reads. I started looking through old newspapers, hoping to find a reference to the store in a local newspaper, but I couldn’t. The oldest Kerr County newspapers in the online service I use start around 1900, and they’re often very faint and hard to read.
Not to worry, the photo held other clues. The building is covered with advertisements: Butterick Patterns, Moline Plow Goods, Plano Manufacturing Company, and Ellwood Fences.
Butterick Patterns is still around, but it started in 1867. So the photo has to date later than 1867.
Likewise, the Moline Plow Goods company started in the 1870s, so the date of the photo has to be later than then, but it closed in 1923, and the company emerged later, but with a different name.
Ellwood Fences manufactured many types of wire fencing, from woven fences for chickens and livestock, to two-strand barbed wire.
The Plano Manufacturing Company also made farming implements, mainly horse-drawn harvesters. However, it only operated under that name from about 1891-1902. Of the advertising signs, this seems to be the narrowest range, meaning the photograph probably dates from that time period.
The biggest clue, however, is not one of the advertising signs, but a meeting-place sign below the “Nelson’s” sign – it’s faint, but I can barely read “W W Camp 435.” This sign, I believe, signified the meeting place of Camp 435 of Woodmen of the World, a fraternal order. Finding the location of that ‘camp’ was relatively easy: it was in Center Point, Texas. (That same exact sign would also be placed on the Woolls Building, sometime after 1902.)

San Antonio Street, Center Point, Texas, around 1905

I have an old postcard showing San Antonio Street in Center Point, published around the turn of the last century by “Chas. Apelt, Comfort, Texas.” He published a wide assortment of hill country postcards, most from 1905-1910, though it’s hard to get an exact date of publication. These were printed in Germany, which caused a Kerrville printer, J. E. Grinstead, to publish a line of postcards with the cutline “NOT printed in Germany. Printed in Kerrville, Texas.” Grinstead was quite a character. He was also the publisher of the Kerrville Mountain Sun, starting around 1900. Later he retired from the newspaper business, published a small magazine, and wrote pulp Westerns.
In Apelt’s postcard of Center Point, I think I’ve located Nelson’s store, or at least the building which once housed the store. It’s the second building on the left side of the postcard; that building has the same balcony/awning and the same number of windows.
If that’s the old Nelson’s Store building, I’m sad to report the building is no longer there. I think it once stood on San Antonio Street in Center Point, between Kelly and Skyline streets. The building between Nelson’s and Kelly Street is still there, on the corner.
Judging from the farming equipment sold there, plus the Butterick’s Patterns sign, and noticing the china on display in the store’s window, I imagine Nelson’s catered to farmers and the families of farmers.
There’s a chance the store was owned by Frank C. Nelson, who came to Center Point as a young man of 20 in 1891. The Kerrville Mountain Sun wrote in his obituary, “He was at one time one of the leading merchants of the community and was a charter member of the Woodmen of the World.” Frank Nelson died in 1952, and is buried in Center Point.
If you know more of the history of the store, I would enjoy learning more about it.
Until next week, all the best.

Joe Herring Jr. is a Kerrville native who likes solving mysteries about Kerr County photographs. If you have an old photo of our county, I’d certainly like to see it. This column originally appeared in the Kerrville Daily Times June 20, 2020.

I have two hardcover books available with tons of historic Kerr County photographs and selected history columns. Click HERE for more information. Free shipping to U.S. addresses.

First State Bank, in the 800 block of Water Street, downtown Kerrville, sometime in the 1920s.
Click on any image below to enlarge.

In 1907, a group of eleven Kerrville citizens started a new bank. This was a bold move in a small town which already had a strong bank, the Charles Schreiner Bank, owned by one of the most successful families in our region. Consider that for a moment: they were going to compete against Charles Schreiner, and later his son, Louis Schreiner. Bold, indeed.
The new banking group included a former Texas state senator and his son, two medical doctors, several merchants, one woman, and some ranchers. They met on May 25, 1907 to organize the First State Bank, and subscribed $25,000 in capital, which was paid in full and placed in the hands of the bank's trustee.

1950s

Recently, some friends at Wells Fargo Bank found some historic Kerr County photographs which I've been sharing here over the past few weeks. Among those photographs were several of the First State Bank, taken when it was located in the 800 block of Water Street, and showing several of the buildings through the years that housed the bank.
It makes sense Wells Fargo Bank had some of the old photographs. First State Bank (1907) became First National Bank (1959), keeping that name through several owners; until it was sold and became a part of Norwest Bank (1994); which later became a part of Wells Fargo Bank (1999).
In 1907, First State Bank was located at the corner of Water and Sidney Baker streets. During a recent renovation of 631 Water Street, when the original foundations were exposed, the outline of the old bank safe foundation could still be seen. That site is currently the home of Wellborn Engineering & Surveying. No photograph has been found (yet) of that building when it was in use as a bank.
In 1909 the bank moved to a new location in the 800 block of Water Street. It was built on a small lot purchased from George Walther, and it was a one-story building wedged between other commercial buildings there. In 1926 that building was enlarged.

Late 1950s

In 1953 the bank combined and remodeled two adjoining buildings and purchased complete new fixtures. The façade from that renovation still exists, in part, at 804 Water Street, in a building housing several businesses, including Fore Premier Properties and Yeo Bo’s Café.
That site saw further changes when, in 1959, the bank received its national charter and became First National Bank. I remember visiting there as a child in the late 1960s and opening up my very first bank account there, with the help of my father.
In 1973, when Ben Low was president of the bank, a new bank building was constructed at 301 Junction Highway. “We are very proud of this addition to the Hill Country area,” Low said at the time. “We wanted a modern building with the capability of expansion. We believe what we have will serve this community and area for many decades to come.”

1960s

My own memory of the new bank building of 1973 was watching armed men riding in loaded pickups and trailers as items were transferred from the old building in the 800 block of Water to the new site on Junction Highway, a strange parade which passed right in front of our print shop.
In researching the very beginnings of the First State Bank, I noticed something which spoke of the times in which was created. In the minutes for the board of directors’ July 20, 1908, meeting, it was decided “that no loan be made for less than twenty-five cents.”
While the bank which had its start nearby in the 600 block of Water Street has undergone a lot of changes and is no longer locally owned, the men and women who worked at those banks over the decades have helped thousands of businesses and even more families with their banking needs – and in providing capital and liquidity have helped our community grow.
Perhaps some of these photographs will bring back memories for you, too.
Until next week, all the best.

Joe Herring Jr. is a Kerrville native who appreciates the good a strong bank can do for a community. This column originally appeared in the Kerrville Daily Times June 27, 2020.

I have two hardcover books available with tons of historic Kerr County photographs and selected history columns. Click HERE for more information. Free shipping to U.S. addresses.

July 4th Rodeo Parade, 800 block of Water Street, Kerrville, 1950s.
Click on any image to enlarge.

In 1856, the year Kerr County was formed, the United States celebrated its 80th Independence Day. The country was still new when Kerr County was formed.
There is no record of how Kerr County celebrated its first July 4th, but one should remember there were very few people in the county at the time. In 1856, the largest town in Kerr County was Comfort (which was in our county at the time, before Kendall County was created). Center Point had more folks than Kerrville, too.

Kerrville Hose Co. No. 1,
in front of the St Charles Hotel,
around 1900.

Kerrville only had four or five houses in 1856, and was at the edge of the Texas frontier. Center Point and Comfort were more established, but had small populations. If the communities in the county celebrated that first year, the details have been lost to time.
The earliest record I found of Independence Day celebrations came from a 1902 issue of the Kerrville Mountain Sun.
“Good time had at Ingram,” the headline read. “The picnic and barbecue at this place yesterday was a pronounced success. Plenty of everything to eat was in evidence. Candidates were on the grounds in greatest profusion, bragging on pretty babies, predicting abundant rains, and otherwise acting pleasant. The people were all happy, handshaking and good cheer was the order of the day, and all considered it one well spent.”
In the same issue, events marking the Fourth of July in Kerrville were reported.
“Great Success. The Fire Boys done Themselves Proud Yesterday,” the headline reads.

July 4 barbecue, around 1900

“Kerrville’s big barbecue goes into history as one of the most successful entertainments the town has ever given — 2,500 people stood at the big tables — Prince and Nabob, Peasant and Plebeian elbow to elbow eating barbecue and drinking black coffee, joking and laughing and enjoying the dinner in the fullest sense.”
The event was a fundraiser for “Kerrville Hose Company No. 1.” The firemen were described as “Brau and Bonnie laddies as ever reared a ladder, or held a nozzle.”
2,500 is a large number of people to feed, and if accurate, would have been greater than the population of Kerrville in 1900, which was around 1,400.
“All had an abundance of barbecued meats, bread, pickles and black coffee, and half as many more could have been fed on what was left from the feast. The entertainment was good, in every way, and all passed off without fiction. Hon. Jno. Coleman of Houston delivered an address at 2 p.m. That was short, timely, and befitting the occasion.”

A rodeo in Ingram, 1930s

That evening the ‘Kerrville Dramatic Company’ presented ‘Rip Van Winkle’ as a benefit for the Kerrville Hose Company at Pampell’s Opera House. “Mr. Morrison, as ‘Rip’ was a pronounced success. The other members of the company were supposed by show goers…to be professionals rather than amateurs.”
Community barbecues continued for decades. In 1905, the Sun reported a Fourth of July picnic “near Frank Moore’s crossing of the Guadalupe, 3 1/2 miles above Kerrville. The picnic will be under the auspices of the Farmer’s Union…Let everybody turn out and make this entertainment break the picnic record of Texas.”
In 1935, a new July 4th tradition began in Kerr County: a big rodeo, produced the Kerrville Jaycees. These rodeos included parades, beauty contests, dances, and the big rodeo itself, which was held at “Antler Field.”
That meant the rodeo was held on the Tivy High School football field.

Pampell's, July 4, 1952

For many its first seven years, the rodeo was held on the football field at the intersection of College and Third streets. When present-day Antler Stadium was completed in 1941, the rodeo moved to the new location.
In 1955, a square dance jamboree was added to the annual rodeo, which included a performance by ‘the nationally famous Texas Starlets of San Antonio.’
By 1961 it appears the Jaycees dropped the rodeo in favor of a big air show.
By 1990 the festivities were held at Louise Hays Park, and featured live music. “From 7:30 to ‘dark thirty’ the Kerr Pops will hold a concert which will be the last scheduled event before the fireworks display, which is set to begin at exactly 9:37 pm.” Fireworks that year were sponsored by the Tipton-Carson Distributing Company and the Women’s Division of the Kerrville Area Chamber of Commerce.
This format continued for many years, with a pops concert followed by a fireworks display at dark thirty. Parades were rare.
In 2012 a new format was introduced for the community celebrations: "Kerrville's 4th on the River." This new idea has taken several forms, including making the event one where admission was charged. One year the celebration was not actually on July 4, and attendance was poor. Another year the event faced the obstacle of having Louis Hays Park closed for renovations.
In 2012 the performers were John Wolfe, Monte Montgomery, JB & the Moonshine Band, Stoney LaRue, and the New Buddy Holly Band.
In 2013, Robert Earl Keen joined the lineup, and for several years has been the headline act for the celebration. For many years Mamacita’s Restaurant has sponsored the community’s fireworks display.
This year's “Kerrville’s 4th on the River” celebration has been canceled, due to the pandemic. Several of the musical performers who were scheduled to appear will broadcast their music online that evening. For the first time in many years our community, and especially Louise Hays Park, will be quiet on the Fourth of July, and our park will be mostly empty.
Kerr County has celebrated the Fourth of July in many different ways, during times of economic hardship, war, and political division. Coming together as a community has been a line one can trace all of the way back to the very first days of Kerr County. This year, of course, is very different.
Until next week, all the best.

Joe Herring Jr. is a Kerrville native who wishes each of you a very happy and safe Fourth of July this year. This column originally appeared in the Kerrville Daily Times July 4, 2020.

I have two hardcover books available with tons of historic Kerr County photographs and selected history columns. Click HERE for more information. Free shipping to U.S. addresses.

How has downtown Kerrville changed since 1880?
Click on any image below to enlarge.

If you could travel back in time, would you?
Such a journey would be dangerous for so many reasons. (We’ve all seen the movies.) Worse, there would be no guarantee you could make it back to our time, to your family and friends.

A closer look will
solve a riddle.

Fortunately, the Kerr Arts & Cultural Center, on the corner of Earl Garrett and Main streets in downtown Kerrville, has a way for you to time-travel without the risk.
A few months ago they asked if I would curate a show about downtown Kerrville and how it’s changed over time. The result is a museum-quality display of historic downtown Kerrville photographs and items which will allow you to time travel from the 1880s through the mid-1950s, seeing the people and streets of Kerrville during those eras, to see how much has changed, and how much has stayed the same.
I’m very thankful for the crew at the KACC – for their kind invitation, of course, but also for their hard work as they installed the show in the little Derby Gallery right at the front of the center.
As you walk through the display, with over 30 historic photographs, some images will seem very familiar, but some images will be completely foreign. Some of the buildings in the photographs were gone before any of us arrived on the scene. Almost all of the people, too. Even the street names have changed since those earliest photographs.

Meet her?

The show’s title, “Before You Got Here,” was a playful way to say downtown Kerrville is constantly changing – and has been changing since its earliest days.
If you stop by the exhibit, there are a few things I hope you’ll take time to really study.
On the far wall you’ll find two panoramic shots of downtown Kerrville, taken from a hill just southwest of downtown, across the Guadalupe River. Nestled between them is a small photograph taken from the same spot.

The panoramas, 1940 on top,
the little 1903,
and the 1970s on bottom

The small photograph was taken in 1903. Downtown Kerrville was tiny. Of the buildings captured on film that day, only a few remain; several others have undergone such extensive renovations they’re hard to recognize. See if you can find the Weston Building, which today is the home of Francisco’s Restaurant, in that little photograph. Mark that spot in your mind, because that will be a helpful reference as you explore the two panoramic photos.
The panoramic image hanging above the little photograph dates from around 1940; the clue is the football stadium, which appears to be under construction in the upper part of the photograph. Find the Francisco’s Restaurant building in the photo, and from there you can navigate your way around the rest of downtown. Many people who have seen this photograph think, at first, that the tall building in the photograph is the Sid Peterson Memorial Hospital, but it’s not. SPMH was built in 1949; the tall building in the photograph is the Blue Bonnet Hotel, an eight-story beauty which once stood in the middle of the downtown area.

Some artifacts.

The smaller panoramic photograph displayed below is from the mid-1970s. I know, it’s really too recent to be included in this show, but I thought it might help viewers interpret the older photographs presented above. (And this time, you’d be right: the tall building in that photograph is the old Sid Peterson Memorial Hospital.)
The oldest photograph on display was lent to the show by my longtime friend, Lanza Teague. This photo, from around 1880, shows the Gregory House Hotel, which was operated by some of her ancestors, William and Julia Gregory. Parts of that old building formed the basis of what later became Pampell’s, today the home of the Humble Fork Restaurant, at the corner of Water and Sidney Baker streets.
For me the photograph with the most unanswered questions is that of a cowboy pedestrian diagonally crossing the intersection of Water and Earl Garrett streets. He is wearing a western hat and has on a vest, decorated with a shiny watch chain. He looks like an old-west movie character, puffing on a cigar as he strides toward the camera. Then you notice he’s carrying a roll of printed materials in his right hand, possibly newspapers. And then you notice his boots. They look impeccably clean, even as he crosses the dusty, unpaved street; they’re just not the condition of footwear you’d expect to find on a trail hand. I have no idea who he is.
The Kerr Arts & Cultural Center is at 228 Earl Garrett Street in downtown Kerrville. Admission is free. The center is open Tuesday-Saturday, 10 am – 4 pm.
There are also two shows of art by local artists currently on display in the larger galleries – for a welcome rest after your time travels.
Until next week, all the best.

Joe Herring Jr. is a Kerrville native who would not like to time travel. However, if you make such a trip, he’d certainly like to hear about your journey. Be sure to take a lot of photographs. This column originally appeared in the Kerrville Daily Times July 11, 2020.

I have two books available -- each is full of historic photographs and stories about Kerr County. For more information, click HERE.

A lonely Kerr County cemetery in the middle of a plowed field. Who's buried there?

Florence Butt and Kerrville's new H-E-B store

Autumn 1918 Pandemic, and five forgotten Kerrville heroes

Gray skies are going to clear up

What you can do to help. (Even from home.)

To garden is to act – in the hope of things to come

Five Brothers, Soldiers from Kerrville, 1917

The two community efforts of Louise Hays Park

Solving a history mystery with lots of help

Part One: A true Texas tale, told by José Policarpo Rodriguez

Part Two: Peril in the Limpio Mountains of Texas

Part Three: The men of the expedition are surrounded

Remembering the Kerr County Heroes of 1918

Part Four: An Unlikely Ally

Part Five: By the Skin of Their Teeth

The case of the missing blacksmith shop photo

The mystery photograph of Nelson’s Store -- where was it?

The story of Kerrville's First State Bank

July 4th in Kerr County over the years

Join me for some local time travel -- free admission