Joe Herring Jr.

From the Kerrville Daily Times website.
photo by Tom Holden/Times Photo Editor, photo@daily times.com

This past week saw a kerfuffle over the razing of an old Kerrville house; the Garrett house was built in 1912 by a prominent Kerrville family, and torn down last week by another prominent family.
The house stood at the intersection of Main and Broadway streets, pointing toward town. According to research by my friend Deborah Gaudier, "The San Antonio Express for Feb. 12, 1912, reported on the construction of this house. Described as a 'five-room cottage at the junction of Broadway and Main Street,' this lovely house was erected for Mary and William Gray Garrett, Jr. in advance of their marriage June 9, 1912. At the time of his death, Garrett was treasurer of the Schreiner Company. He was a brother of Earl Garrett for whom the street is named. The contractor was W. L. Council, a prominent businessman, builder, and developer in Kerrville. The Garrett and Council families live in Kerrville today."
The property is owned by the Cailloux Foundation, which had the house torn down. I exchanged emails with a member of the foundation prior to the house coming down, and was told moving the house was not feasible (it was too tall to pass through town unless the roof was removed), and, after "extensive asbestos remediation," the structure was no longer safe.
I replied that I certainly understand, because I do. My family owns an old structure in town with similar problems, and I inquired about the person doing the demolition work for them, thinking they might be a resource for my family.
What happened this week demonstrates a dilemma many property owners face, especially when faced with the special challenges of old structures: when is it feasible to maintain and restore a building, and when is it best to knock it down? And what constitutes a historic structure?
The fate of any building is in the hands of its owners. In Texas we believe (rather strongly) in property rights. Many of us also believe in historic preservation, when possible. I certainly don't fault the foundation for exercising its rights as owner of the Garrett house, and they did look into the feasibility of moving the house from the site. It sounds to me like they investigated preserving the old home.
But it's still a dilemma.
Take, for example, the property owned by my family at the eastern corner of Francisco Lemos and Herzog streets, a green building of four apartments.
These were built in 1935, and called the "Rose Garden Apartments." They were built by George and Clara Neuschafer. Clara was the daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Nathan Herzog; Mr. Herzog was a long-time employee of Captain Charles Schreiner, and served on the very first Kerrville City Council. Clara was also the granddaughter of Mr. and Mrs. Christian Dietert, one of the first families to settle in Kerrville.
George and Clara were interesting folks: they met in New York, and after a six year acquaintance, they were married in Buenos Aires, Argentina. Clara graduated from the Cincinnati Conservatory of Music; George, a native of Worms, Germany, was a chemical engineer, spoke several languages, and was an avid photographer. They moved to Kerrville from South America in the late 1920s, and developed some of the land owned by the Herzog family, including the construction of the "Rose Garden Apartments."
By the time my family purchased the land in the late 1980s, the apartments were in structural decay, and the wisest course would be to have them torn down.
But twice we've contracted with individuals who indicated a desire to move the buildings or at least repurpose the materials elsewhere. We offered the structure at no cost in both cases, provided it was moved off of our lot.
In both cases the individuals were not able to complete the contract for reasons having nothing to do with the work. And so the old apartments are still standing there. (Our offer still stands, by the way.)
Historic preservation must be coupled with feasibility. And there are degrees of historic value; not all old buildings are equally historic.
While it would be easy to blame the foundation (in this case), or the city government (in general), for the lack of historic preservation, in truth the problem is more nuanced than it seems. Until the community agrees on what constitutes historic preservation, and governments and organizations can provide incentives for appropriate preservation without penalizing property owners, more such kerfuffles will occur.
Until next week, all the best.

Joe Herring Jr. is a Kerrville native who first heard the heartbeats of each of his children in the Garrett house, back when it was a physician's office in the mid-1980s. This column originally appeared in the Kerrville Daily Times January 30, 2016

Stevie Smith

My family was reminded this week how fragile life can be as we traveled to Sonora to attend the funeral of my cousin's 14-year-old daughter. The teenager had been a passenger in a truck which was involved in an accident; she was the only one to perish. Her name was Stevie Smith. It was a sad day, and it felt as if most of the little town of Sonora mourned with my cousin and her family.
Traveling west on IH10, through the rough hills of Kimble County, to Sonora -- and on such a heavy errand -- gave me plenty of time to think, to look at the land passing by, and to wonder about the lives we pursue here in what many would call a harsh country, and of the lives of those who came to these hills before us.
If you look past the highway, and the power lines which now jog alongside, it's not hard to imagine how this area looked a century ago. The dry hills looked very similar to how they look today, the few water-filled creeks looked just as lovely then.
Those settlers who first came here saw opportunity. You and I might see a unforgiving landscape, with few amenities. They saw something more. The land over which we drove Wednesday has seen many travelers, and for many centuries; how different it must have looked in different times. For the most part, the land has not changed, but how we see it has changed. A century ago, aside from differences in vegetation, it probably looked the same. While few may have ever considered it a paradise, many saw hope and a future there.
What's different, of course, is how much easier life is today than it was a hundred years ago. The hundred-mile journey from Kerrville to Sonora took about ninety minutes, and we were fairly comfortable the whole trip. The four of us sat quietly together in the car, each lost in heavy thoughts. The miles passed by quickly, eighty per hour, but the journey felt long.
What's not different from a century ago is the sorrow one feels when losing a relative, especially one so young. And while it's rarer these days than a century ago for a young person to pass away, the hurt is just the same. A century ago it was not uncommon for a family to lose several children before they reached adulthood. I know it must have hurt just as much then as it does now.
My cousin married into a ranching family that has been a part of Sutton county for generations. They're good folks, and I've never heard an unpleasant thing from any of them. They have ranched there and made a success after much hard work and dedication. They have contributed much to the story of that place.
I couldn't help but wonder as we drove along the interstate how many other stories I was passing. That old house in front of the bluff: who lived there when it was new? What had they hoped when they built the place? Did children long ago call that house home?
I saw a rock fence and wondered about the hands that built it. I saw a windmill and speculated how many generations had been working on it to keep it running, to repair it after storms, to patch its worn parts.
Passing Roosevelt I saw a building that looked like a church or a school. (It was the Roosevelt Presbyterian Church, built in 1941.) Plenty of stories at that place.
We tarry here only briefly. The stories we make and the stories we live help make sense of it all. I suppose that's one of the reasons I like history so much.
If you're the praying kind, I'd appreciate a prayer or two for the Smith family of Sonora. They're strong and have lots of help, but the days ahead will be hard.
Until next week, all the best.

Joe Herring Jr. is a Kerrville native. This column originally appeared in the Kerrville Daily Times February 6, 2016.

Students at Kerrville's Scofield School, around 1910. The building is in danger of being demolished.
Thanks to the Neunhoffer family for sharing photographs of the old school.

Given the news story this week of the proposed senior housing development south of Kerrville which includes what was once the Scofield School, I thought I'd share this story from my files. It is a shame, really, that our community cannot come together and form a plan for preserving some of the historic structures that have survived a century or more here. The plan would, of course, need to take into consideration the property owners. And not all old structures are historic. I leave it to you, Gentle Reader, to determine if the Scofield School deserves preservation.

...

Here's the story of the Scofield School:
Overlooking town from a hill south of the river, above Riverhills Automotive Center on highway 173, is an old school building, barely visible from the highway. I hear it's in pretty poor shape now, though I haven't visited the place for a number of years.
But at one time that old building was quite special.
In October 1909, when Miss Sarah Scofield opened her "Scofield School for Girls," it was front-page news. The little town of Kerrville was delighted to have the new school here. The building was new, and the faculty was exceptional. It was a big deal.
Miss Scofield was an educator from San Antonio, and had been the principal of the San Antonio High School. She would own the new school in Kerrville, serve as its principal, and also teach history and English.
Joining her were Miss Minette Leichmueller, graduate of the Chicago School of Art, who would teach German and art. Miss Elizabeth Gillmore, graduate of Stanford University, would teach physical culture, mathematics, and natural science. Miss Clara Herzog, graduate of the Cincinnati Conservatory of Music, would teach music and voice culture. The story lists some of her roles with various companies, both in the U.S. and in Europe. Miss Ethel Keller, graduate of the University of Tennessee, would lead the primary department, and also domestic science. Miss Marie Lapton would teach a class of dramatic expression.
The editor of the Kerrville Mountain Sun, J. E. Grinstead, did not spare praise in his story:
"No more worthy enterprise has been inaugurated in Kerrville since its founding than this school. It is not only a source of satisfaction and pride to the people of Kerrville, but is a boon to parents who desire to place their daughters in a high-class, select school for girls, where they have every advantage of study and training that is offered by any school of this class, and at the same time have thrown around them the spirit of wholesome home life."
Earlier in the year he'd written the Scofield School "will meet the requirements of a great number of ranchmen who desire to place their daughters in a school of the first class, but at the same time have them nearby."
Ads for the Scofield School, in the following years, described its mission as "a select school for girls, the purpose of which is to fit young women for their place in life. This school combines healthfulness of location, excellent curriculum, and home training."
I know of one student of the school who is still among us: Clarabelle Snodgrass, the community's premier historian, who attended Scofield School in the 1920s. There may be other former students of the school still living, but I am not aware of any in our area.
In my collection of Kerr County historical items, I have several from the Scofield School: photographs, generously provided by several families, including the Neunhoffer family. I also have the embosser which would apply the school's seal to its diplomas, which a kind lady in another state sent to me -- knowing it should remain here in Kerrville.
It's sad, really, if the old building has fallen into disrepair. During my last visit there it was in decent shape, though it would have taken some money to fully repair the old structure.
And it's especially sad that the school, which one writer considered the most worthy enterprise since the founding of Kerrville, is now mostly forgotten, and is threatened with demolition.
Until next week, all the best.

Joe Herring Jr. is a Kerrville native who will share photographs of the old school, and some of its early students, on his website, joeherringjr.com, later this week.

The Scofield School for Girls, taken around a century ago.

This week, in my Kerrville Daily Times column, I promised to post some photos from my collection of the Scofield School for Girls.
For those who have not heard, the old building is in danger of being torn down to make way for a new housing development for senior citizens. Because the building is privately owned, on private property, the owners can (obviously) do what they want with the old building.
The building itself is in pretty bad shape, according to those who've seen it. Renovation or restoration would probably cost a fortune.
I don't know if the building should be preserved -- or if it even can be preserved.

Here are the links to many images (and stories) about the Scofield School. Click on any link below.

Photos of the school and its faculty

Students at Scofield's School for Girls

A comparison of an old photo and a newer photo of the Scofield School

A diploma embosser from the Scofield School for Girls

A brief history of the Scofield School

Feel free to share these links with your Facebook or email friends.

A few weeks ago, I mentioned to a friend that I'd been writing a column for this newspaper for over twenty years.
He responded with surprise: "How could you write about something as small as Kerrville for twenty years?"
Good question.
(My friend can be forgiven as his heart still resides in his previous home, a city far away, and with centuries of history. He may never let that place go. To his credit, he did apologize.)
So why write about such an obscure place for so long?
I suppose the honest answer is because the history of this place interests me. I enjoy finding new facts about our community's past. I hope my research (and my collection) will someday form the basis of a museum focused on Kerr County's history. I hope my writing will inspire our community to come up with a plan for historic preservation.
I don't have a personal connection to the founding of this community; our family arrived in Kerrville only a few weeks before I was born. To my knowledge I am related to none of the early settlers of this community. Since my family arrived here we have been very active in community affairs and may have contributed a paragraph or two of our community's history. Prior to 1961, however, our story was written in other parts of Texas.
So my interest in the history of Kerrville and Kerr county is not in building a memorial to my great-uncle Henry who came here with Joshua Brown. I have no great-uncle Henry. When Kerrville and Kerr County were founded, my family was engaged elsewhere.

* * *

This column has had some successes in nudging property owners to preserve historic buildings, but none of which I'd care to report. Most felt they came to the right choice on preservation without any nudging at all, and I'm happy for them to take credit themselves. Success has many fathers, you know.
Every time a bulldozer appears next to an old structure in Kerrville people wring their hands and bemoan our community's lack of vision. Comparisons to Fredericksburg are bandied about, comparisons which favor our neighbor to the north.
In my opinion, comparing Fredericksburg and Kerrville is like comparing a baseball and a boot. Each has found a way to profit from a unique advantage lacking elsewhere. When I was a boy, Fredericksburg's "Sunday houses" were falling apart in neglect, and could be purchased cheaply. When I was a boy, none of Kerrville's businesses faced the river. Both communities are now focusing on their strengths, and, if one looks at sales tax collections, one might be surprised which community's economy has grown more over the past few decades.
I hope the loss of the Garrett house, and the potential loss of the Scofield School allows our community to at least have a discussion about historic preservation.
Such a discussion might yield a plan which
•protects the rights of the property owners
•provides funded incentives for preservation
•helps identify historic structures based upon sound criteria
•helps identify said historic structures which are in imminent danger of demolition, or in danger of rotting away
Right now we seem to have no coherent plan, nor any indication such a plan is desired. Every time an old structure disappears, we say something should be done.
If not now, when?
Until next week, all the best.

Joe Herring Jr. is a Kerrville native who wrote his first newspaper column, in the Kerrville Mountain Sun, when he was a teenager. It's kind of what he does. This column originally appeared in the Kerrville Daily Times February 20, 2016.

At Clarabelle's 101st birthday party, at the Turtle Creek School,
which she attended as a child.

Clarabelle Barton Snodgrass, who passed away February 29th, was dedicated to the preservation of local history. Even at 102 years old, her memory was as sharp as a tack. She knew more about the history of this place than anyone else I know.
Mrs. Snodgrass was the foremost historian of our county. Among her many accomplishments were the publication of the Kerr County Album, which so many of us have used as a resource; spearheading the effort to save the original Tivy School building, which is now the home of the Kerrville Independent School District's administrative offices; working tirelessly to get state historical markers throughout the county; and authoring many interesting articles and books about our local history.
Her most recent book, "The Last Bale of Hay," was published in 2012 and tells the story of her early years here in Kerr County, and of her family, especially her parents. The attractive book has 202 pages of very useful information about our community, including rare Kerr County photographs, many published there for the very first time. I believe the book is available at Wolfmueller's Books on Earl Garrett Street, across from the Kerr Arts and Cultural Center.
I was always very impressed by Mrs. Snodgrass' memory -- she could remember where everything was, who worked where, who lived where, and even what happened when.
And the stories she told! A whole parade of Kerr County characters pass through the pages of her last book. Her family, of course, but also others like several of the Schreiners, Starr Bryden, John Leavell, the family of Florence Butt, the Bernhards making sausage around a table, stories about Pampell's, about her neighbors in town, about schools and the price wars between the H. Noll Grocery Company and a little store called Mrs. Brown's.
Mrs. Snodgrass attended the Turtle Creek School, starting in the winter of 1921, when she finished first grade there. Her teacher was Miss Hattie James. While there she was promoted from second to fourth grade. The old Turtle Creek School still stands, and was the site of a recent birthday party for Mrs. Snodgrass.
During her fifth grade year, Kerr County lacked the funds to pay a teacher for a full school term at Turtle Creek, so young Clarabelle attended the Scofield School for Girls for several months. That school was on the hill where highways 16 and 173 split south of town, one heading to Medina, the other to Bandera. The old school building is still there, though I hear it is in sad disrepair, and its future is uncertain. It has been in the news, lately.
She attended Tivy in 1926, and graduated in 1930.
She got her driver's license at 13, given special permission to drive so young since she needed to travel from Turtle Creek to Tivy to attend school, driving a Ford coupe with one seat inside and a rumble seat outside in the back.
Her memories of life in the 1920s and 1930s in Kerr County are quite remarkable. Though her childhood was really not that long ago, life was so very different then. Her family's ties to agriculture -- both in ranching, farming, and in the bountiful gardens they raised -- gave young Clarabelle so many happy memories. The stories of neighbors, both in the country and in town, reflect a simpler time, when neighbors spent time with each other, and joined in working together.
I'm thankful Mrs. Snodgrass took the time to write down her memories of life in Kerr County, and I'm sure people will be reading her books, and enjoying her stories, for many years to come.
I know this about Mrs. Snodgrass: she would encourage everyone to write down their history. If you don't record the story of your life, and the stories of the communities you remember, so many important stories will be lost. I hope you'll get out paper and pen and write down your history; Clarabelle would have liked that.
Until next week, all the best.

Joe Herring Jr. is a Kerrville native who will certainly miss Clarabelle Snodgrass. This column originally appeared in the Kerrville Daily Times March 5, 2016

Split Rock, Kerrville, around 1905.
Photo by J. E. Grinstead; the young man is his son, Doyle

Split Rock as it appeared in 2011, when I finally found it,
thanks to Ruth and Frank Keil

It doesn't look like much today, and could easily be overlooked since it resembles any of a thousand boulders which lounge beside the Guadalupe River between Kerrville and Center Point. But there was a time when any schoolchild in Kerrville would have known exactly where the old pile of limestone stood. It was a landmark. Postcards were made showing its image and hundreds of photographs were taken there -- often showing groups of people posing while standing atop the boulder. It was a place people visited, where they had picnics, where they snapped photos.
Today it is in the way of progress, and could possibly find its way onto the asset ledger of the Martin Marietta company, recorded there as several tons of limestone to be processed and sold. Progress seldom stops for old landmarks.
The "Split Rock" property which has been so much in the news lately, where an out-of-town company proposes to build a sand and gravel pit over numerous objections, was actually named for an old rock which, as the name suggests, features a large split. There once was a tree that grew in the split, a live oak. People thought the tree split the rock, though I think an acorn would have found purchase much easier in a pre-existing split.
It was a landmark for two reasons: because of the split (of course), but also because it marked where to cross the river.
Before there were roads, there were trails. River crossings needed markers. Split Rock served that purpose.
I have a theory about our local highways: Many of them follow, roughly, the roads used by our area's early settlers. The settlers often traveled roads used by those who came before them, utilizing routes used by Mexican and Spanish colonists. And those colonists often followed trails used by those who came before them, the various Native American tribes who passed through our area. It just makes sense to travel from Point A to Point B along the easiest route, and if a trail had been blazed, why make a new one?
If my theory is correct, the old Split Rock may have been used as a landmark for a very long time since it marks a spot where the road crosses from the north bank of the Guadalupe to the south. It could have been used before there were settlers in our area.
Even when the railroad came to Kerrville, Split Rock was important, giving its name to a stop on the line.
Why then has it been forgotten?
The engineers who built Texas Highway 27 chose not to cross the river near Split Rock, moving the highway nearer to the old rails of the San Antonio and Aransas Pass Railroad, and about 1500 feet uphill from the landmark. The road which once passed Split Rock is no more, but the road across the river remains -- Wharton Road. A cut into the north side of the river bank still exists, though faintly. Its gentle slope points to Wharton Road. Wharton Road ties into the Center Point Road, which crosses the river again downstream as it connects to Center Point.
It's my opinion that was the route taken by travelers between Kerrville and Center Point many years ago; if so, all travelers into Kerrville from Comfort (or San Antonio) would have traveled the same route, and all would have passed by Split Rock.
In the first decade of the 1900s, when automobiles became popular, and cameras became more common, excursions to nearby points became popular. Split Rock was one of those popular places.
The rock must have seen a lot of traffic, too, because many of the early photographs show the rock covered with advertising, as well as the names of many of those who visited the site.
I don't know what plans the Martin Marietta company might have for the old boulder, or even if it's included in the land they hope to monetize.
There are few who would miss Split Rock, because only a few know where it is, or what it once was. But I'll miss it if it's destroyed. Perhaps only because it was so hard to find. Perhaps because of the photographs of the old rock I have in my collection. Maybe because of the smiles of the folks in those photographs.
Until next week, all the best.

Joe Herring Jr. is a Kerrville native who is too nostalgic over things no one cares about. This column originally appeared in the Kerrville Daily Times March 12, 2016.

Kerr County postal map, 1907.
Click to enlarge.

I enjoy studying old maps, especially when they contain a surprise or two.
Recently, I came across several old maps of Kerr County which noted a few things I wasn't expecting: town names for places which no longer exist.
These aren't maps from the 1800s, either -- they range in age from 1907 to the 1940s, so they're fairly recent. They're certainly recent enough to expect similarities to the places we know from current maps.
Take the community of Eura, for instance. That community still exists in the upper middle portion of the county. However, it goes by a different name now: Mountain Home. In most maps, including the 1907 map I found, it's called Mountain Home (or Mountainhome), but in a map from 1925, it is labeled Eura.
On several post office maps show other community names which no longer exist. Most of the post office maps were created, I suppose, to show where post offices were located.
If so, our county had several post offices which are now gone.

Kerr County map from the 1920s.
Click to enlarge

Take Pebble, for example. As I've reported earlier, "According to the Kerr County Album, 'the Pebble Post office was established in 1905. The location was the Sam Taylor property and it was situated between Camp Heart O' the Hills and Camp Mystic. A small room was enclosed on the end of the front porch. Ms. Emma Taylor was the postmistress. Mr. Cleve Griffin carried the mail on a horse called 'Ole Blue' and Mr. B. F. Merritt carried the mail on a horse called "Old Streeter." The horse pulled a buggy most of the time; It took all day to make the trip to Ingram and back to the Pebble post office.'
"There is some disagreement as to the exact location of the Pebble post office; some say between Heart o' The Hills and Camp Mystic; others near present-day Crider's. I really don't know where Pebble was. Perhaps a member of the Merritt family can help solve the mystery."
One of the early maps does show the exact location of Pebble, but unfortunately that portion of the map is obscured by a crease and a tear. With some patience, though, the mystery could be solved. It was on the south fork of the Guadalupe. Pebble appears in maps as late as the 1940s.
There was also a post office at Vix, which was about 10 miles west of Hunt on the north fork of the Guadalupe, in the mid-1880s. I haven't seen much information about Vix, but if it was 10 miles from Hunt on the north fork, it was between Camp Waldemar and Mo-Ranch.
Japonica was a community near Hunt, according to one map. Hunt is shown on the 1907 post office map, and just a little bit north, Japonica.
A different map, from 1920, shows two communities between Kerrville and Center Point: Parson and Split Rock. Parson was about where the Veterans Administration hospital stands today, and Split Rock was just past where the Kerrville Municipal airport is today. Parson could have been named for Dr. George Parsons, an early physician here who started the very first tuberculosis clinic, but I'm not sure; it could have been named for the Presbyterian Encampment which once stood where Schreiner University now stands. I think these were both train stops back when the old San Antonio and Aransas Pass Railroad ran between Kerrville and San Antonio.

Kerr County Map from the 1940s.
Click to enlarge.

In a 1940s map, the name Parson has been changed to Legion, and a new spot has been added between Kerrville and Legion -- Schreiner. I'm guessing it was Schreiner Institute, which may have had its own post office, and also had a stop on the rail line. As late as the 1940s Split Rock was shown on the map. I'm old enough to remember when the area near the V A Hospital was called Legion -- after the American Legion, who first built a hospital for veterans there in the 1920s.
There is one other place name I found on a 1908 map: Ganahl, which the map places between Center Point and Kerrville. I have a copy of a plat for Ganahl, on which lots and streets were designated. I don't think Ganahl ever got off the ground, though.
It was likely named for Dr. Charles Ganahl, who represented Kerr County in the secession convention just before Texas joined the Confederacy. He also happened to own the greatest number of slaves in the county in 1860 (24), which was almost half the slaves held here (49). His plan to use slave labor to grow cotton here obviously failed for several reasons, but the scheme to create a new community didn't fare much better.
A lot of the old maps misspell Camp Verde as Camp Verda. Even printers make mistakes sometimes.
Until next week, all the best.

Joe Herring Jr. is a Kerrville native who can get lost with or without a map. This column originally appeared in the Kerrville Daily Times March19, 2016.

I think this Internet thing might prove to be useful, especially to those of us who enjoy researching local history. While visiting the website of the Library of Congress (www.loc.gov), I found quite a few items about Kerrville and Kerr County. There are several oral histories there, and I found one by Ed Bell to be quite entertaining and interesting.
Ed Bell was born in Redrock, Bastrop County, Texas on January 5, 1857. His father was a farmer and a ranchman.
Ed started out early as a cowboy. "I have been working stock since I could sit on a horse," he writes.
“I was born in a little two-room log house with a hall between, and I have been riding regular after cattle since I was seven. When I was nine years old, I was out helping my father with the cattle and we had a stampede. They run right by our house and almost scared my mother to death. I guess there was about a thousand head. My father finally got hold of a red flag and run in ahead of them and got them checked. However there were several head killed.
“I went up the trail when I was 18 years old with a herd of cattle for Jim Allison. We had a pretty nice trip this time. It took us about four and a-half months to make the trip. We had a few little runs but our trip was a pleasant one."
"I went to the trail again to the territory in '89 after I was married. With an outfit for [Captain Charles] Schreiner of about 3,000 head of two-year-old steers. We didn't have any trouble with runs but we had a hard trip, it was so dry and grass and water was scarce. One time we had to drive two days and nights without stopping and without water. Part of the boys would sleep a little in the wagon while the others were drifting with the herd. Some of the cattle died for the want of water. When we reached Pease River, we lost quite a few in the quicksand.
But we didn't lose as many as the herds ahead of us. One man lost three-hundred head in one place. He sent word back to us to let the fence down and go on the other side of this quicksand.
"Well, the owner of this pasture caught us pretty quick after we went over this fence into his pasture. That man was some mad when he caught us in his pasture with those cattle. He threatened to have us arrested. While he was raving and was so mad when he found us in his pasture, Old Man Hen Baker who was with our outfit wanted me to let him kill the [landowner] and throw him in the quicksand."
The Pease River is a tributary of the Red River, and since they were driving the cattle to the "territory," I'm guessing they were headed to Oklahoma. The incident above probably took place near Quanah, Texas, and Vernon, Texas.
I've seen photographs of the Pease River, and quicksand was very likely a problem for cattle herds being driven north.
Hen Baker, mentioned above, was quite a character. According to Haley's "Charles Schreiner, General Merchandise," Mr. Baker killed more than a few men, though he escaped the noose every time. He was finally sent to prison for killing his son-in-law, an unfortunate man named Dudley Laurie, who was killed in downtown Kerrville. I'm guessing, had Ed Bell consented, the landowner along the Pease River would have met with an unfortunate accident.
Ed Bell continues his story: "“When we got the cattle to water, we turned then a-loose. I guess it was our old Irish cook that saved the day. He was cooking for the outfit and he kept telling Irish stories till he got the [landowner] in a good humor and finally he got down off his horse and ate a little. I was foreman of the outfit and after he quieted down and got in a good humor I asked him how much we owed him. He said about fifty dollars so I wrote him out a check for seventy-five
dollars and we parted good friends.
“I remember on that trip we found watermelons growing right out on the sand hills in the pasture, in the woods. We ate all we wanted and so did the cattle."
There are many stories about our part of the world available on the Library of Congress website, and I hope you have as much fun reading them as I have.
Until next week, all the best.

Joe Herring Jr. is a Kerrville native who knows every trail in the Lone Star State (from riding the range in a Ford V-8). This column originally appeared in the Kerrville Daily Times March 26, 2016.

I enjoy poking around on the Library of Congress website, looking up things about Kerrville and Kerr County. Recently I ran across Ella Cox's story, as recorded by a writer with the Works Progress Administration in 1936, under the heading "Range Lore."
Mrs. Cox was born in 1855, and when she was 17 married James Monroe Cox in Washington County near Brenham, Texas.
"All the hardships of pioneer days did not consist of fighting Indians," according to Mrs. Cox.
A few years after they married she and her husband moved to Kerrville, probably around 1875 to 1880. "This long, long trip was made in wagons, one drawn by oxen and the others by horses. A boy drove our milk cows. We passed through San Antonio which was then very small and dirty."
The couple sold a farm near Brenham before moving to Kerrville.
"When we got to Kerrville, Mr. Cox unloaded our stuff in the house and started the next day to San Antonio to take the men who had helped us move back that far as he had promised to do when we left Washington County. My husband left me with $1500, as he did not want to take it with him. I didn't know what to do with that money. I put it first one place, then another, and finally at night put it in my shoe. Then in the night I thought that rats or mice might get it, so I held it in my hands all night, and was thankful I didn't have any more."
Imagine her dilemma -- most of their capital, in paper money -- and she was alone in a house, worried about the responsibility of keeping it safe. I'm surprised she slept at all.
"When Mr. Cox came back, he went to work for Captain Schreiner who at that time owned nearly everything in that country. Captain Schreiner was a fine man, always helped everybody in any way he could.
"Our place at Kerrville was on the Guadalupe River. One side of the cow pen was the bank of the river. We had a windlass to let a bucket down into the river and drew up our water that way. I used to milk the cows in that pen and in those days when I was young and silly, I used to wish that all the cows would fall over that bluff into the river. I was afraid to leave the children in the house, so would bring them out and let them stay on the fenced side of the pen."
Her description of the place "on the Guadalupe River," with a bluff directly over the river, sure sounds like it could be somewhere between the 800 to 1000 block of Water Street, though at the time I think the Christian Dieterts owned most of that area. Perhaps, Gentle Reader, you have a better idea where they could have lived, on a lot which meets those criteria. Bluffs over water "at Kerrville" are not that common.
The Cox family moved to the San Angelo area in 1886. "The soldiers were here in the fort (Fort Concho), and there was very little town. We lived in a tent on our place north of town until we could get lumber hauled from Abilene to build a house.
"I was glad when things were more settled. I have never objected to taxes for we have so much better roads and other comforts. I have always enjoyed train trips. I liked the long one when I went to California several years ago. I like to ride fast in an automobile, and may ride some day in an aeroplane," she said, ending the report.
I liked the part about Captain Schreiner, describing him as fine and helpful. I'm sure he was. And I'm intrigued about the location of their home in Kerrville.
The Library of Congress has many resources available online; the website address is www.loc.gov
Until next week, all the best.

Joe Herring Jr. is a Kerrville native who likes to read local histories, especially those written in the words of those who lived here long ago. This column originally appeared in the Kerrville Daily Times April 9, 2016.

I've been watching a television series from the BBC, and wondered if the same idea could be applied to our part of Texas. Could a similar series be produced about the settlers of the Texas Hill Country?
Please don't judge me, but the name of the series is "Tudor Monastery Farm," which originally aired in 2013, and is available on YouTube.
Yes, you can begin the jokes now. Yes, I understand I'm likely the only one in our community who would find this series interesting.
However, watching the series, which shows farming practices as they were in Tudor England, around the time of Henry VII, about 1500 AD, it soon became obvious that many of the farming and cooking methods shown would not have been so foreign to the practice of Kerr County's earliest settlers.
The earliest settlers arrived here around 1846; the first permanent settlement came about 2 years later, in 1848. Although the hills and river would have been recognizable to a modern time traveler, almost nothing else would have been like what Kerr County is today.
Of course, there would many fewer structures, and no roads. As late as 1857, a year after Kerr County was organized, and a year after Kerrville was named its county seat, there were only "five small log huts, of one or two rooms, a wilderness of trees, and grass as high as a man, with Indians skulking through," according to Rosalie Dietert. She and her husband, Christian Dietert, built the sixth house in Kerrville.
In 1931, Ms. Dietert helped a grandchild with a school history report, and her memories were published in a booklet, along with the stories of other early settlers.
"Your grandfather built the sixth house," Mrs. Dietert said. "It had three rooms and was built of cypress timbers cut on the saw mill he set up at the place where the ice plant now stands." The remains of that ice plant still stand, at One Schreiner Center, along the bluff by the river at the end of Washington Street.
Rosalie Dietert started housekeeping with a skillet and a small dutch oven, "which was a small round iron pot with three legs and a dented-in lid to hold live coals." She also had a brass kettle holding about one gallon, for cooking utensils.
"Meat there was always plenty, venison, wild turkey, fish, occasionally bear, and later beef. In the beginning there were practically no vegetables. They made a salad of wild parsley and tea from a variety of the small prairie sage, and greens from the 'lamb's quarters' or 'land squatters.'"
J. Marvin Hunter, who was a roving newspaperman and established Frontier Times museum in Bandera, wrote about the fare found in typical hill country homes:
“Near us lived an old couple, Grandpa and Grandma Murray, early settlers on the frontier. They lived in a very small house, and Grandma Murray cooked on the open fireplace, as she did not have a cooking stove.”
Grandpa Murray was a freighter, hauling goods to Menardsville from Austin, a distance of about 160 miles. The round trip would take about three weeks. While he was gone, Grandma Murray often invited young Hunter to stay with her.
“At meal time she would prepare the best she had, which was usually bread, coffee, bacon and [black] sorghum molasses…. She had a large Dutch oven in which she cooked her bread, and a smaller skillet in which she fried the bacon. She would rake the coals of the fire out on the hearth and place the Dutch oven on these coals. Then she would slice strips of bacon and place them in the skillet, which she placed on the fire, and as soon as the grease had been fried out of the bacon she lifted the skillet and placed it on the hearth. She made up the dough for her bread, sometimes it was of cornmeal and sometimes it was of flour. After kneading the dough well, she would make it into one big patty, or pone, and after greasing the inside of the Dutch oven, she would place the patty in it, then taking a long iron rod which was crooked at one end she would lift the oven lid from the fire where it had been heating and place it on top of the oven. Then taking a shovel of live coals she heaped them up on the oven’s lid, taking care to get just the right heat… During this the big coffee pot was simmering on the coals at the left side of the hearth.”
A hunk of the ‘pone’ was served with coffee and fried bacon; ‘grease gravy,’ made from the drippings of the bacon without flour, just grease, really; and the molasses.
“Bub,” Grandma Murray would say, “do you want some sorghum?” and I would say “Yessum, Grandma,” and she would pour out a great quantity of the blackstrap molasses onto my plate, and add to it a generous portion of the ‘grease gravy,’ and I would set to, with a man’s appetite, and when my plate was emptied clean she would fill it again.”
From watching the series, the only real difference might be the dutch oven and some of the ingredients used in meals.
Until next week, all the best.

Joe Herring Jr. is a Kerrville native who watches documentaries few others would care to see. This column originally appeared in the Kerrville Daily Times April 16, 2016.

If you follow local politics, you'll notice we're in the entertaining part of the Kerrville city election, that period when unusual things happen.
The election for two Kerrville city council positions and the Kerrville mayor takes place May 7, and early voting begins April 25. The campaigns are now in their final stretch.
My favorite section of the newspaper, the letters to the editor, is apparently being used strategically by several of the campaigns, and there have been some interesting news stories, as well.
One news item, about one candidate's yard signs not meeting the letter of the law, is pretty clever. Allegedly, the letters of one word on the signs are about 3/16" too short; 3/16" is about the height of 3 stacked pennies. I pity the poor printer who prepared the proof on that project. Mistakes like that are surprisingly easy to make. (It wasn't me, at least this time.)
I think over the next few weeks we'll continue to see such stories, and find some entertainment in the letters written to the editor. Soon enough, thankfully, the municipal election will be over, and hopefully the candidates who win will be able to work together and make Kerrville a better place. Frankly, I just hope people vote. And I hope your candidates win.
If you think this current election shows a tough side of politics, consider an event from 100 years ago right here in Kerrville.
Reading the March 18, 1916 issue of the Kerrville Mountain Sun I noticed a story on the front page: "Entire School Board Resigns."
The members of the outgoing Kerrville school board include some names you might recognize: J. E. Grinstead, who was a former mayor and publisher of the newspaper; D. H. Comparette, who organized and ran the Kerrville Telephone Company; Ally Beitel, a prominent builder. The rest of the board were Frederic Nyc, A. A. Roberts, R. S. Newman, and W. G. Peterson.
All seemed to be going smoothly for that board of education. The board president, Grinstead, had never had to cast a deciding vote, and "no complaint against any teacher or other person employed in said schools was ever brought to [the notice of the board]."
That is, until March 10, 1916, when a petition was presented to the board, signed by 98 members of the public.
"This petition was a request that J. G. Chapman be not reelected superintendent of Kerrville Public Schools," according to the news story published in Grinstead's newspaper. "This petition was not considered because said J. G. Chapman had stated to the board some time prior to that date that he would not accept the position if elected."
Although that petition is lost to the sands of time, it appears the petitioners were concerned with the superintendent's lack of credentials in the state of Texas. He apparently had teaching certification in another state, but not here.
A span of 6 days separates the presentation of the petition to the resignation of the entire school board. The outgoing board had been threatened with legal action, which would be withdrawn provided they all resigned.
During those six days a lot of gossip was traded in Kerrville, and little of it kind. The outgoing board was suspected of all sorts of wrongdoing, though a careful examination of the accounts demonstrated the books of the school district were in order.
On Thursday morning, March 16, a new school board "took charge of the schools." The new board was made up of T. C. Johnston, A.W. Henke, W. A. Fawcett, J. E. Palmer, J. H. Ward, E. Galbraith, and R. B. Everette. Johnston was elected board president.
In less than one week the entire school board was ousted and replaced. Now that's some rough politics.
Some of those board members forced to resign never fully recovered. Grinstead eventually sold his newspaper, though he continued to publish magazines about the hill country and also wrote a number of pulp westerns.
And what of the Tivy Class of 1916? Among the graduates that year were Rosita Holdsworth (Hollar), who became a teacher, despite the chaos of her senior year, and Louis Comparette, who was probably the son of one of the ousted board members. Tivy graduated 18 students that year.
As we endure the municipal election, just remember: it could be a lot worse.
Until next week, all the best.

Joe Herring Jr. is a Kerrville native who, years ago, placed his name on several municipal ballots. Please vote in the upcoming elections -- I don't care which candidate you support, but I encourage you to vote. This column originally appeared in the Kerrville Daily Times April 23, 2016.

First site of the grocery company which became H-E-B.
This photo was taken much later, after the grocery company had moved elsewhere in Kerrville.

With its recent historical marker dedication, H-E-B has gotten well-deserved recognition for its long service to our community, and to so many communities across Texas, Mexico, and our entire region.
The company got its start in Kerrville in 1905, in the 800 block of Main Street, about where the Hill Country Cafe is today, and a Texas historical marker about H-E-B was dedicated last Tuesday.
While preparing for my part of that ceremony, I spent a lot of time going through my files on the company, and also my files on Florence Butt and her family.
That's when I noticed something.
Whenever the history of the company is in the news, there is often a photograph of the original store building which accompanies the article. One photo has automobiles in front of the store, and another one has the front of the store clear, but an automobile parked next door.
Those photos are both from the 1930s, judging from the automobiles in the photographs, meaning the photographs show the building long after the first H-E-B had moved to another location. In one photo, the front window bears the name "Kerrville Electric Co," painted by hand. In the other photo, a workman on a ladder is working on that same window. Perhaps he's the sign painter.
I think most people publishing this photo have been clear as they describe the image; it's of the building which housed the grocery company which would later become H-E-B, but it's a photograph taken much later than the period when the store was there.
That fact, however, is not what I noticed.

H-E-B trademark, used more than
a decade ago. Note awning.

A decade or more ago the H. E. Butt Grocery Company used a logo which had an image of the first store, along with the words "A Texas Tradition since 1905."
Here's the thing: a prominent feature of the building in the photographs is a second story balcony facing Main Street. I imagined this balcony was useful when the Butt family lived above the store, especially to Florence Butt's husband, Charles, who suffered from tuberculosis.
In those days, it was thought plenty of fresh air would help cure tuberculosis. I doubt it did much good, but it probably didn't hurt. Perhaps it provided hope.
There are many Kerrville families who can trace their arrival in Kerrville back to a family member who was stricken with tuberculosis. Sometimes the patient got better, and lived many years. Often they did not. Some families stayed in the area after their loved one had departed, and others moved back to wherever they came from.
The Butt family stayed after Charles Butt passed away; his son (also named Charles) also died from the disease a few years later.
Looking at the old company logo, showing the building and the slogan, there is no balcony facing Main Street. There is an awning in the drawing, covering the sidewalk in front of the store, but there is no balcony. Above the awning are two windows, evenly spaced along the front wall of the second story, and each window has a set of shutters.
The photograph of the building shows the balcony, with the two windows and a door allowing access to the balcony; the logo has no balcony, but only an awning attached to the first story.
Which is correct? The photo or the logo?
I'll let you know next week. Until then, all the best.

Joe Herring Jr. is a Kerrville native who pays too much attention to trivial details. This column appeared in the Kerrville Daily Times April 30, 2016.

The oft-published photo of the original store

Whenever the origin story of the H-E-B Grocery Company is in the news, a photo of the first store building is often published. Most of the time it's made clear the photo of the building was taken much later than the period when Florence Butt operated a grocery store in that building. Judging from the automobiles in the photo, it was taken in the 1930s. I'm pretty sure the store moved from that structure around 20 years earlier.

That photo shows a balcony on the second floor, a balcony which would have been useful to the Butt family when they lived there, above the store. They'd moved to Kerrville because Florence Butt's husband, Charles, suffered from tuberculosis. In those days, plenty of rest and fresh air was prescribed for TB patients; the balcony would have afforded opportunities for both.

An old logo for H-E-B

As I was working on my part of the ceremony dedicating H-E-B's first historical marker, I ran across an old logo which pictured the original store building. I noticed the drawing lacked the second story balcony.

Which, I wondered, was a correct depiction of the original store?

The answer, it turns out, came from George Leland Richeson, Jr., whose father was the first employee of Florence Butt's grocery store, and who was often a business partner with Howard Butt, Florence's son. I correspond with Mr. Richeson Jr. by email, and he sent along a scan of a photo which solves the mystery.

As a collector of Kerrville and Kerr County historical photographs, I'm thankful for generous people like Mr. Richeson who share photographs with me (and with you, Gentle Reader).

I'm also thankful for snow. And floods. And parades. And picnics.

Here's why: Taking photographs in the early part of the last century was hard work and expensive, and more so in Kerrville, which was isolated from photographic supplies. However, if it snowed, or flooded, or there was a good parade or picnic, those early photographers often got out their Kodaks and snapped a photo. Many of those photos have found their way to my collection, or to the collections of others.

You see, the photos Mr. Richeson Jr. shared with me are of a snowball fight, probably around 1915 or 1916. His father is in many of the photographs, as well as Florence Butt's three sons, Charles, Eugene, and Howard. They are engaged in a snowball war in the front yard of the house where the Butts lived, a house which faced Main Street, looking northeast. (The house itself has been moved and preserved, and is now part of the H-E-B Partner Lodge in the Turtle Creek area of Kerr County. It originally stood in the middle of the 800 block of Main Street, about in line with the back door of today's Wolfmueller's Books.)

While the subject of the photo is the snowball fight, there just happens to be a building in the background, across Main Street. That building is a two-story frame structure. It lacks a 2nd story balcony. It is the building which housed Florence Butt's first grocery store.

So the logo is correct. The balcony pictured in most of the photographs of the old building I've seen must have been added later, after the grocery store had moved to a different building, and after the Butt family had moved across the street.

A snowball fight, Kerrville, around 1916.
Note the building behind telephone pole in center of photo.

Also, I'm pretty sure the photographer was Florence Butt herself. (Everyone else is in the photo.) So the best photo of the original H-E-B store building that I've seen may have been taken when Florence Butt took snapshots of her family playing in the snow.

Annotated aerial view of Kerrville, around 1935.
Perhaps this will help readers place the sites mentioned in this story.
Click photo to enlarge.

I like the thought of that: a photo snapped of young men playing in the snow. You can almost hear their laughter. That the photo included the building where Florence Butt started a grocery company was purely incidental.

Thanks Mr. Richeson, for sharing the photo with all of us.

Until next week, all the best.

Joe Herring Jr. is a Kerrville native who remembers a few Kerrville snows. But there have only been a few in the last half-century. And yes, we took photos of each. This column originally appeared in the Kerrville Daily Times May 7, 2016.

Kerrville's Rialto Theater, in the 600 block of Water Street.
"Virginia City" was released in March 1940, so the photo is from around that time.

In the parking lot between our print shop and Grape Juice there once stood a movie theater called the Rialto.
A few weeks ago a kind person gave me some photographs of Kerrville and Kerr County, and among them were three photographs of the Rialto Theater. I'd only ever seen three other photographs of the Rialto, so now I know of six different photos of the place.
The Rialto opened on February 11, 1938, and showed "Hollywood Hotel," starring Dick Powell and Frances Langford as its first feature.
A front-page story in the February 10, 1938 Kerrville Mountain Sun offered this schedule for the theater: "One-day runs will be shown on Saturdays, and the theatre will offer four bills each week, three of them on two-day schedules. The first of a regular series of Saturday night matinees is set for 11:30 pm Saturday."
I checked up on that late time -- 11:30 -- and it appears to be accurate. I thought Kerrville, in the late 1930s, would be all buttoned up and asleep at that time, but I was wrong.
The Rialto was owned by Hall Industries, headed up by Henry W. Hall of Beeville, which also owned the Arcadia Theater a block away on Water Street, and the Rio Theater, one block farther. (The Rio Theater was originally named the Rialto, but when the new Rialto in the 600 block of Water Street opened, its name was changed to Rio. This Rialto/Rio theater was in the 800 block of Water Street. Another theater was there before the Rialto/Rio: The Dixie Theater.)
I believe Henry W. Hall is from the same family of Halls which own the Rio 10 Theater in Kerrville today. (Yes, I noticed today's movie theater has the same name as one from the 1930s.)
There were a lot of movie theaters here in the late 1930s!
In fact, the businesses in the 600 block of Water Street took out an ad to celebrate the new Rialto Theater. "The Theatre District is Extended into the 600 Block on Water Street. The following firms Welcome the Modern, New Rialto Theater: F. F. Nyc (public accountant), Miesch Optical Co., Norge Appliance Co., Roland Insurance, Campbell's Lunch Room, the Modern Beauty Salon, Kerr County Motor Co., the Cone Car Co. (and service station), the Sunshine Laundry, and Peterson's Garage (and service station)."
I mention this because the 600 block was once filled with businesses. Now it's just us two, really: Grape Juice and Herring Printing.
Some remnants of the Rialto Theater still exist. Grape Juice's northwest wall (the wall closest to the print shop) is actually a wall of the theater. If you stand in the parking lot and look at the Grape Juice wall, you'll see several smooth places in the plaster: these are hints of the stairway to the movie theater balcony, and the risers of the theater's balcony.
Likewise, some remnants of the other businesses in our block also remain: our print shop offices are in the building that once housed the "Modern Beauty Salon," and a sign for "Campbell's Lunch Room," which was originally painted on an exterior wall, is now an interior wall in our building. I think the Voelkel's building might have been the Cone Car Co., or perhaps its service station.
The three photographs new to my collection have movie names on the Rialto marquee: "Edison the Man,""Virginia City," and "Northwest Passage." All three were released in 1940, and from the amount of promotional signage, apparently during the heyday of the Rialto.
The Rialto was empty for many years, though for a brief time in the late 1960s it was a sort of dance/ music venue called the Casket. My memories of the building are from this period, when it was empty. We neighborhood children found a way to get inside the place and explore; it was dark and spooky in there.
The Rialto Theater was eventually torn down in the 1970s by the Charles Schreiner Bank, and the land was used to construct a parking lot. In 1990, my family purchased the parking lot from what was left of the Charles Schreiner Bank after it failed.
I'm thankful to the kind person who shared these photographs with me (and with you, Gentle Reader).
Until next week, all the best.

Joe Herring Jr. is a Kerrville native who is said to have once locked his sister in the empty Rialto Theater, or at least that's what she remembers. This column originally appeared in the Kerrville Daily Times May 14, 2016.

Joseph Sidney Wheless, from
his time in the Texas Legislature, around 1900

Many street names around town were named in honor of someone. Sidney Baker, Francisco Lemos, and Earl Garrett streets were all named for young men from Kerr County who died in battle at the very end of World War I.
Other streets come to mind, too: Rodriguez Street was named for a church pastor; Schreiner Street, for the family which developed the land; Lewis Street, for a family who had a dairy farm there.
Tivy Street was named for the man who gave Kerrville the land for its first public school; Captain Joseph Tivy also lent his name to our high school, and to a hilltop where he, his wife, his sister, and his wife's cat are buried.
Most of those names, however, are quite obvious. Other street names are less so.
When Ms. Carolyn and I moved to Kerrville from Austin, in early 1983, we bought a small house on Wheless Avenue. I've often wondered about the name of that street.
I noticed there was a local photographer with a similar name, Wheelus, but the spelling was wrong. I'll admit I didn't pursue it further until recently, several decades after we'd moved away from Wheless Avenue to another part of town.
It turns out Wheless Avenue was named in honor of Joseph Sidney Wheless by the developers of the Hillcrest Addition, where the street is located.
Wheless was a native of Mississippi, and a graduate of the University of Kentucky. He got his law degree from the University of Mississippi.
He married Miss Bertha Fishback in a ceremony at the governor's mansion in Little Rock, Arkansas. The bride's father happened to be the governor of Arkansas at the time.
The young couple made their first home in Galveston, Texas, where Wheless practiced law and engaged in politics. He was elected to the Legislature from the district which included Galveston.
Then came the storm of 1900 which just about wiped Galveston from the map. Wheless prudently moved his family inland, to Beaumont, where they stayed until around 1918.
In 1918 his health 'failed,' and he and his family moved to Kerrville, to a house on Earl Garrett Street. That word about his health may indicate Wheless suffered from tuberculosis, like many who moved here during the early years of the last century, when it was thought the climate of Kerr County was helpful in treating that disease.
In Wheless's case, it may have helped: he lived another 20 years here.
During that time he practiced law, played golf at the "Kerrville Country Club," which is now the Scott Schreiner municipal golf course (though reconfigured from its original layout).
"One of his favorite pastimes," according to his front-page obituary in January, 1939, "was listening to the World Series baseball games over the radio and staying with his favorite team, no matter what the score."
According to the same article, he was "interested for several years in real estate development and when the Hillcrest Addition to the city was opened for expansion of the city limits, one of the streets was named in his honor."
He was active in civic affairs, too. He was a member of the Rotary Club of Kerrville in the early days of its history here, a member of the chamber of commerce, and served as mayor of Kerrville in 1920-21, only two years after his arrival.
Joseph Sidney Wheless died in Kerrville at the age of 76 years, which is remarkable considering his trials with tuberculosis. He was obviously well-liked, and he served in each of the communities in which he lived, trying to make each a better place.
Until next week, all the best.

Joe Herring Jr. is a Kerrville native who enjoys small little mysteries, especially when he figures out how to solve them. This column originally appeared in the Kerrville Daily Times May 21, 2016.

I was saddened by the passing of Raye Haney this past week. Ms. Haney, along with her husband Dub, have been very involved in our community for many years.
I knew them from church; they joined First Baptist Church in Kerrville when I was in middle school, so it's hard for me to remember a time when I did not know the Haneys.
Along with her husband, Dub, Ms. Haney was a constant participant in community events. There were few events here which they didn't attend, and for many of those, Ms. Haney brought along her camera, taking photos she'd share with others. They were so involved in community affairs this newspaper named them Citizens of the Year in 1996.
Here are some of the organizations Ms. Haney helped as a volunteer: the Hill Country Cowboy Camp Meeting; the Kerrville Area Chamber of Commerce; the Texas State Arts and Crafts Fair; the Kerrville Senior Games; the Kerrville Centennial; both the Ingram and the Hunt garden clubs; the Christmas Tree Forest on the courthouse lawn; and the Kerr County Historical Commission. I'm sure I've left a few out by accident.
Here's the thing I'll always remember about Raye Haney: her smile. It was so genuine. Whenever I saw her, she had such a warm smile and greeting for me -- but I observed she greeted everyone that way, whether she'd had the pleasure of meeting them beforehand, or not. She was kind and friendly to everyone.
She was also a faithful visitor at area hospitals, stopping to let folks she knew who were patients there know she was praying for them. Her visits were welcome and thoughtful.
She often shared stories of Kerr County's history with me, and more than once she shared historic photographs with me. She often helped me identify people in photographs, and other details, such as when and where the photograph may have been taken.
One of the best known photographs in my collection is an interior shot of Pampell's, taken from the balcony above, looking down at the crowded soda fountain. For those of us of a certain age, it is a photograph that brings back many nostalgic memories of milk shakes and ice cream floats enjoyed there. She's the one who told me when the photograph was taken: after a big July 4th parade. After the parade passed by the crowd just surged into Pampell's, where it was cooler, and where ice cream and refreshments were available. You can see the happiness on so many of the faces in the photograph.
Though born in Fredericksburg, Ms. Haney most of her life was spent here, in Kerr County. Together with her husband, she made our community a better place. Her memorial service will be held Saturday, at 2 pm, at Trinity Baptist Church in Kerrville. While I know she is now in a better place, visiting with her long-time friend Pauline Mosty, I will certainly miss her. If you're the praying sort, I hope you'll say a prayer for her family -- and especially for Dub.
Until next week, all the best.

Joe Herring Jr. is a Kerrville native who remembers seeing Raye and Dub Haney at an important event in Austin: my wedding, where I finally tricked Ms. Carolyn into tying the knot. This column originally appeared in the Kerrville Daily Times May 28, 2016.

The tree to which young Howell Priour clung
for 23 hours during the 1932 Kerr County flood

On July 2, 1932, the skies opened as they'd never opened here before, and the Guadalupe River threw off its mask of green calm and became a charging, swirling bull of mud and debris.
When a big event happens in a community, it's noted in stories, photographs, and occasionally song, and while the facts of the stories don't always exactly coordinate, the theme, the stronger message, comes through loud and clear. The story of July 2, 1932 is a story of warning, and a story with heroes.
This is the story of Howell Priour, a 17 year old boy who was trapped in a cypress tree near where the dam in Louise Hays Park stands today. I remember the tree -- it was often pointed out to me when I was a boy -- and it was a huge thing, although later it was struck by lightning and left a hollow spot near the base of its trunk. I believe it was finally washed away in the floods of the late 1970's. I found the following story in the "Kerr County Album," in an article written by the late Clarabelle Snodgrass.
"Howell's family," reports Snodgrass, "lived where the Rio Robles Mobile Home Park is now. He had gone down to the river area in search of livestock to get out and on to higher ground before the river washed them away.
"The death dealing waters rose so swiftly that it caught him in the fast current and washed him downstream. He was able to catch onto a limb and go as high as he could in a large cypress just across from where the Blue Bonnet Hotel stood and is now where One Schreiner Center has been built.
"The young man was stranded there for twenty three hours and on account of the high swift water the attempts at rescue were practically an impossible thing to accomplish."
Remember, that this was before the Louise Hays Park had been built in a day (1950), and the river bank there was a tumble of trees. The old mill dam was still there, but it was completely submerged beneath the rolling Guadalupe.
The rescue of Howell Priour was costly.
"Two men," Snodgrass writes "lost their lives in the rescue efforts. Mike Odell, 24, of Houston, and Charles H. Greenleaf, 50, of Chicago both drowned in the efforts at trying to reach Howell.
"Ben Calderon was the first to try to brave the waters . . . The swift water carried him downstream more than a mile before he grasped a tree and later made his way out to safety. Then B. P. Roberts, a former sea captain, crossed in a small boat, but his frail craft was swamped just as he reached the goal and he landed in a small tree 50 feet away from Priour. Next was Homer Vivian, who was traveling from California to his home in Florida . . . He swam the river in a valiant effort, but was swept past the . . . tree, landing in another small tree near Roberts."
It was a young Kerrville resident who finally reached the boy.
"Cooper Fletcher, 19, . . . strapped food and medicine in a watertight box to his shoulders, was the first to reach the Priour boy. He gave food and coffee to Priour and . . . three hours later he helped Howell from the big tree and assisted by Roberts and Vivian the three men took the exhausted young man out across the river and to his home on the other side.
"This was a fearful time as people in town gathered on the bank back of the Blue Bonnet Hotel and watched all through the night. The fire department came and kept lights on Howell in the tree. People called and sang and prayed and watched the young man they feared might fall asleep and drown in the raging waters below."
I often wondered what happened to young Mr. Priour, and looked up the rest of the story this week. I found his obituary in the Kerrville Daily Times issue of January 25, 1990. He lived to be 75 years old, and was a retired carpenter.
And even though decades had passed, his obituary included the story of his spending the night in the tree, of the two men who died trying to save him, and of the heroism of Cooper Fletcher.

Joe Herring Jr. is a Kerrville native who remembers that lonely cypress tree, and the silent warning it offered. This week's storms have certainly reminded him of that warning. This column originally appeared in the Kerrville Daily Times June 4, 2016.

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With the recent election of Bonnie White as Kerrville mayor, who is the second woman to hold that office, I was reminded of the first woman to serve as Kerrville's mayor: Zelma Hardy. Hardy was mayor here from 1973 to 1976, serving two terms. Since its founding in 1889, Kerrville has only had two female mayors.
I researched Ms. Hardy's story, and found an excellent newspaper article written by my friend Michael Bowlin, which was published in this newspaper on January 31, 1991.
"Hardy moved to Kerrville in 1946," Bowlin wrote, "when her late husband, George, became chaplain at the local Veterans Administration hospital.
"'I took a position teaching English at Tivy High School which I continued to do until 1954. I then went to Alamo Heights High School where I taught for four years. I came back to Kerrville and taught English at Schreiner College from 1962-69, when I retired,' Hardy said."
She didn't "bask in her retirement," according to Bowlin. She sought a seat on the Kerrville City Council, and was elected in 1970.
Hardy was the first woman to serve on the council. It only took 81 years from the establishment of the municipal government here for that to happen. The second woman to serve on the city council, if I remember correctly, was Mindy Nicholson Wendele, who was elected in the late 1980s.
Zelma Hardy was on the council here for six years, and they were busy years.
"While I was on the council we made the first major improvements to the streets. We also upgraded the drainage system and the sewerage system and voted to build the two swimming pools (Kerrville Municipal Pool and Theodore Martin Pool) and the Singing Winds ballpark," Hardy is quoted as saying in Bowlin's article. During her time on the council, in 1972, a contract was awarded for the study of a proposed "River Walk," a very early precursor of today's "River Trail."
In those days the voters of Kerrville didn't directly elect who would serve as mayor; the voters chose five city council members, and then the five chose among themselves who would serve as mayor. Hardy was chosen by her fellow council members on April 11, 1973, and was chosen before she arrived at the meeting: a power outage had caused the clock to stop at her house, and she was late arriving to city hall that evening. On arriving, she found she'd already been elected mayor. The Kerrville Mountain Sun reported she "smoothly presided" over her first council meeting as mayor.
Hardy was a volunteer in our community, too, finding time to help out at the Dietert Claim, the Friends of the Library, with community education and literacy programs. She also tutored students on the subject of English, was a Sunday School teacher, and a board member of the First United Methodist Church.
"One of her pet projects," Bowlin wrote, "is the Good Books Group, which she formed at the Dietert Claim" in the late 1960s. (The Dietert Claim is now called the Dietert Center, and is in a different location.)
She was chosen as Citizen of the Year by this newspaper in 1978.
"While she enjoyed being part of the city's political scene, Hardy said her heart has always remained with education.
"'I enjoyed teaching. Even though I had difficulty with some students, as all teachers do, I really enjoyed being an educator. If I have any talent at all, it would be as a teacher,'" Bowlin reported her saying.
Zelma Hardy moved to Georgia in 1991 to live near her daughter; she passed away there in 2003.

Joe Herring Jr. is a Kerrville native who is a big fan of teachers, especially first-grade teachers, and of one of those in particular. This column originally appeared in the Kerrville Daily Times June 11, 2016.

Here it is the last weekend in June and I have yet to swim in the Guadalupe River this year -- a shame, certainly, and not in keeping with previous summers. There have been summers when I went swimming in the river almost every day, and not just behind my family's print shop in downtown Kerrville, but all over Kerr County.
I have so many happy memories of time in our river, and I hope to get in the water, soon.
The river behind the print shop has changed from my early childhood. In those days it was not unusual to see a fast boat pulling a water skier, though I'm not old enough to remember the water skiing shows produced Cotton Eldridge and others. (My parents were among those who skied that section of the river. To this day I'm uncertain how they got both boat and skier turned before sailing off the small dam in Louise Hays Park.)
The river was wilder then; there was no 'river trail,' as there is today. There were deer trails, and there was the river. No sidewalks as there are now. I'm thankful more people have access to what was a wild place.
In my childhood, Tranquility Island was just 'the island' in the middle of the river, a home to rabbits and water moccasins. The island's banks were heavily wooded, mainly with cypress trees, but its center was a field of rounded river stones, placed there by floodwaters over many decades. We swam to the island many times, thinking we were brave explorers.
The park was different, too. In addition to the ski boats racing through the park, there was a miniature golf course cut into the hillside, just below the site of the pavilion in the park. I spent a lot of time at the playgrounds near there, mostly with kids from church.
Later, when our family got a canoe, several of us discovered things upstream from the Francisco Lemos Street bridge. There were rapids, dotted with huge rocks, that tested our abilities, and a beach where we liked to stop to fish, mostly catching perch.
We also discovered deep pools away from and parallel to the main river channel, where the water was still and dark. In one we found the wreck of an old car, washed there decades earlier. It was rusted, missing its windows and tires, and pretty badly banged up, as if it had rolled there in high water. We hesitated to look inside, afraid of what we might find.
There another side pool in particular I remember: As you entered the pool, passing a cypress tree pushed by floodwaters to almost be almost parallel to the river's surface, water moccasins would fall, one by one, into the river below. They'd be on the long arm of the tree in the sunshine until we passed and frightened them into the river. Even though decades have passed, I can still hear the sound they made as they hit the water and disappeared below. It was more a 'splat' than a 'splash,' and it's not a sound easily forgotten; five to ten moccasins falling into the river near your passing canoe has a permanence in one's memory.
In more recent years, my favorite place to swim in the Guadalupe has been at Mo-Ranch, on the North Fork, where the water is clear and deep. I enjoy snorkeling there, and years ago Ms. Carolyn bought me an underwater camera to take photos of the various fish I ran across. It's amazing how clear the water is there. (I like to ride the sled into the water there, too.)
Mostly, though, I swim behind the shop at Louise Hays Park, usually between the bridge and the dam, floating in the middle of the river, so close to the bustle of the business district, and yet so far away, too. Usually I swim with my son, but occasionally the sweet Ms. Carolyn will join us there. There is something about the light as it finds its way through the cypress trees along the river bank, falling on the green river below.
Hopefully this week I will finally hop in the river again. It has been too long.
Until next week, all the best.

Joe Herring Jr. is a Kerrville native who wishes Mike Graxiola a happy retirement. Mike has been a great addition to our community as publisher of this newspaper, and I hope he thinks of the rest of us during his frequent visits to the golf course. This column originally appeared in the Kerrville Daily Times June 25, 2016.

The Garrett House

A hard journey

The Scofield School: in danger of being demolished

Links: Scofield School for Girls

Why I write about Kerr County history

Kerr County's foremost historian

The proposed gravel pit at Split Rock

Forgotten Kerr County towns

A Cowboy named Ed Bell

Kerrville, 1870s: $1500 cash, and no place to put it

A country lit only by fire

Local politics can be rough

First H-E-B: The case of the missing balcony

First H-E-B: the case of the missing balcony, solved

Kerrville's Rialto Theater

The mystery of street names

Remembering Raye Haney

1932 Flood: Trapped in a Tree

Zelma Hardy: Kerrville Pioneer

Memories of time in our river