The Price of Pecans

This is the first time I have posted anything written by another person on this blog.  This was written by Sharla McLaughlin Campbell, my niece. She is the daughter of my brother and his wife, Penny Jones McLaughlin.  Sharla wrote this about her mother, Penny.

I can stretch my rules enough to allow Sharla’s words to appear here because she was born and

raised in Lubbock.  Her father, my brother, lived his entire life in Lubbock.  I believe her mother,

 Penny, was born in Lubbock County, I’m not sure, but I do know she grew up on a farm between

 Idalou and  Lorenzo.  I copied this directly from Sharla’s Facebook post and resisted the urge to

 “correct” it.  I have not talent enough to improve this work and have not earned the right to edit it.

  Everything below was written by Sharla McLaughlin Campbell—I wish I had done it. 

 Jim McLaughlin

 

This is my favorite Christmas gift this year and probably one of my favorites I have or will ever receive.  These are pecans from my brother’s pecan tree in New Mexico that my Momma sent me.  A whole big quart container of them!  Anyone who has seen pecans in their natural state know that they do not look like this when they fall off the tree.  They are covered in a thick husk with sharp points that peel back from the ripe nut and sometimes fall away naturally.  Once that is removed by hand you get to the nut.  The nut itself is in a hard, beautifully variegated brown & black shell that must be cracked open with a nut cracker using great hand strength—but not too much—in order to extract the two whole halves of the pecan meat.  See how beautifully intact and perfect mine are?  Now that the nut meat is extracted, they must be picked free of the remaining bitter encasement that protects the nut in the shell.  Unlike other nuts, pecan are then ready to eat..a perfect food, very high in good fat, protein and antioxidants not to mention sweet and delicious right off the tree…even better after they dehydrate a bit.  They are known for their cancer & other degenerative disease preventive properties as they knock down free radicals, are anti-inflammatory preventing cell damage, and are rich in the nutrients that prevent strokes, migraines and arteriosclerosis.

But that is not why she sent them to me.  She sent them to me for a few reasons…1) She knows how much I love them, would use them and that I eat nuts daily now.  2) She is on a very tight, fixed budget most of which goes for her medical needs and it is something she could afford to do.  3)  She is from a generation that wastes nothing and to watch them just lay on the ground in abundance and ignored is not her way of doing things.

Here is what makes them so precious to me.  Most of you know my mom struggles with degenerative disc disease in her spine and has had 7+ surgeries in her spine to keep her mobile.  She lives with a pain pump to assist with the crushing pain of neuropathy, poor function, and compressed nerves.  What most of you do NOT know is that she is also suffering from a very progressive and aggressive arthritis particularly in her fingers, shoulders, knees and toes which is keeping these joints inflamed, tender, swollen and is deforming her hands and feet quickly and painfully now.  She probably won’t like it that I told you.  Tough.

When I think of my sweet little mother out gathering those pecans, bending and sorting those nuts into a basket and carrying them to the porch, where she sat for hours to shell and pick them with her hurty, gnarled hands, selecting only the most perfect ones for me…for this gift - I am just devastated and overwhelmed with her love for me.  The tenderness and care she took to keep them mostly whole is so like my mother…so much like she raised my brother and me.  I wonder what she thought about as she sat there with her little dog all that time painfully making my gift…did she relive moments with us, with my dad, did she miss him like she has for these 25 years he has been gone, think about the book she is reading, think about the stress all around her in frustration and helplessness, think about me and who I would feed with these nuts, or was she just content, like Momma is most of the time?...I am gonna ask her.

She is in her golden years and I don’t know who determined these years are golden but yes, she is growing old and it ain’t golden or easy on her.  I have her with me right now and these pecans are precious like she is.  I treasure them and her.  (If I ever say I treasure something..that is a VERY BIG DEAL…)

I made a pecan pie last night with 2 cups of them along with the Steen’s Cane syrup My Own Sweet Uncle Jim introduced me to (but that is a different story).  I ate a piece for breakfast with my first cup of black coffee and served Roger one in bed with a latte and he felt very special.  I savored every full of love decadent forkful.

In a culture that values huge, showy Christmas gifts of vehicles, high end techie toys, designer duds and fragrances, expensive jewelry, frivolous home goods and epicurean foods, I will take this plastic tub of pecans from my Momma and consider myself the most blessed of all.  Now go hug your Mom if she is still here or nurturer of choice if she is not…that is important…

Borders of Texas--Conclusion

A valley in Colorado near the source of the Rio Grande, the original western border of Texas. 

     Due to the efforts of Coronado and other Conquistadors, Spain was a super power by 1550.  For the next 200 years, the Spanish enjoyed a dominant world position, which began to erode by the mid 1700s.  Wars, revolutions, extravagance, inept rulers, and internal strife all depleted the vast fortune the nation had amassed.

     In 1788, Charles (Carlos) IV ascended to the Spanish throne, a job he didn’t particularly care for.  Consequently, he spent his days hunting, leaving the operation of the government to his wife and his trusted friend, the prime minister.  The queen and the prime minister dabbled in affairs of state and affairs with each other, and Spain continued to decay. Napoleon posed a growing threat, and outright rebellion was feared in the western colonies.  These external pressures, continued civil unrest, and the fear of bankruptcy forced the government into drastic action.

    Spain ceded Louisiana to France in 1800 to settle debts and escape conquest by Napoleon.  At that time, there was no clear border between Texas and Louisiana.  Spain owned everything west of the Mississippi River, and a large part of everything south of the Ohio River, making internal borders unnecessary.  Spain was weak and in a poor position to negotiate, and Napoleon promised never to allow the territory to fall into the control of any English-speaking nation, so a deal was struck.  Not one to allow a promise to interfere with a profit, three years later Bonaparte sold the whole thing to the United States for $12 million dollars.  All of a sudden, in 1803, the untrustworthy Anglos were next door neighbors and financially troubled Spain was forced to define and defend her borders.  

      General Andrew Jackson, sensing the Spanish weakness, obtained the Florida Territory simply by occupying it, then saying “Let’s talk.”  The talks resulted in the Adams-Onis treaty of 1819, which gave America all of Florida, all of West Florida, (which included southern sections of present day Alabama and Mississippi), and territory in the Pacific Northwest containing the current states of Washington and Oregon. In return for this territory, America paid $5 million compensation for property damage caused by American citizens who rebelled in Florida, and agreed to recognize the boundaries of Mexico and Texas.

     Even with the generous terms of the treaty, landowners in the south were furious.  They felt that the Texas border should have been pushed west to the Rio Grande.  With that simple change, Texas would have been included in the Louisiana Purchase, and the southerners would gain access to its rich cotton land.

      Jackson, however, was pleased with the outcome of his bluff.  When he was president, he sent his friend Sam Houston to Texas to attempt a similar ploy with the Mexicans.

     An important aspect of the Adams-Onis Treaty was the definition of the border between New Spain (Mexico/Texas) and the United States.  According to this treaty, the Mexico/Texas border followed the Sabine River from the Gulf of Mexico north to its source, and continued north to the Red River, and then west along that river to its intersection with 100W longitude.  The border turned north and followed the 100W line to its intersection with the Arkansas River, where it turned west along that river to its source in present day Colorado.  From the source of the Arkansas, the border went due north to 42 N latitude and then west along that line to the Pacific Ocean.  Spain owned outright this vast territory which eventually became ten western states.

     The Texas border, in 1819, followed the route of the Mexican border on the east and north sides, with the Gulf of Mexico on the south, and the Rio Grande River from the Gulf to its source on the west, dividing Texas from the rest of Mexico. At the source of the Rio Grande, the Texas border continued due north, across present day Colorado and into Wyoming where it terminated at the 42 N latitude.

     In 1821, Mexico gained its independence from a beleaguered Spain, took control of all this territory, and continued foolhardy efforts to establish American colonies in Texas.  The Mexicans wanted Anglo colonists to provide a buffer zone between the dreaded Comanche and good Mexican citizens.  That plan didn’t work out very well.

     Colonists from America believed they carried inalienable rights with them when they crossed into Texas—the Mexican government had no patience with such strange Anglo notions.  The ruling class in Mexico made the rules and the peons abided by them.  Discussion was not allowed.  A revolution was not only predictable, it was inevitable.

     When Texas won its independence from Mexico in 1836, Texas claimed its southern and western border was the Rio Grande River, while Mexico insisted the Nueces River was the border.  In 1841, during Mirabeau Lamar’s tenure as Texas President, he sent an expedition to Santa Fe to proclaim New Mexico the property of Texas.  Under the less than inspired leadership of Colonel Hugh McLeod, the expedition was captured and imprisoned in Mexico.  Texas claimed New Mexico as its territory, but lacked the military strength to enforce that claim.  Mexico still claimed Texas, and planned to take it back, just as soon as it got its stuff together.

      The United States and the Republic of Texas reached an agreement, and Texas became the twenty-eighth state on December 29, 1845.  Two weeks after the admission of Texas to the Union, U. S. President James Polk sent troops under the command of Zachary Taylor to South Texas.  America had the will and the military strength to insure the border of Texas was set at the Rio Grande.  Polk realized a war with Mexico could be the cheapest way to fulfill America’s “Manifest Destiny.”

      Hostilities started in the summer of 1846, and ended in 1848 with the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo.  With this treaty, our old friend Santa Anna sold the United States all Mexican holdings north of the Rio Grande to the Pacific Ocean for the sum of $18.25 million.  America now stretched from sea to shining sea.

     The current borders of the State of Texas were finally established, oddly enough, by the Compromise of 1850, an agreement made in the U.S. Congress between the slave states and the abolitionists.   This agreement postponed the Civil War for a few years, and addressed the borders of Texas.  Cash-strapped Texas ceded its claim to half of New Mexico, one third of Colorado, and parts of Kansas, Wyoming, and Oklahoma for a total payment of ten million dollars.   After heated debate, the U. S. Senate determined the boundaries between Texas and the adjoining states. The panhandle of Oklahoma, which separated Texas from Kansas, was disputed territory for a period of time, but was eventually awarded to Oklahoma.

      Two years later, in 1852, the North Fork of the Red River was discovered and, of course, Texans claimed the border followed that fork and planned to add another county to Texas.  Okies screamed like smashed panthers and the U.S. Supreme Court placed the border along the South Fork of the river and awarded the disputed territory to Oklahoma.

      Texas could have used better lawyers. They lost every single border dispute with Oklahoma, and, because the whole area is covered with oil wells, there were many.  Continuous border disputes between Texas and Oklahoma have been resolved by the courts, and the border is now officially along the south bank of the Red River, which the courts say is the more stable bank.  That solution places the capricious river, and all the oil under it, in Oklahoma.  The last border dispute with Oklahoma was finally settled in August of 2000, and signed by Texas Governor George W. Bush.  This settlement placed the border as it crossed Lake Texhoma nearer to the southern shore.  Surprise, surprise!   

 

The Establishment of the Exterior Borders of the Great State of Texas Part One

 

Francisco Vasquez de Coronado, before his ill-fated journey.

 

 
       No discussion of Texas borders can begin without considering Mexico, and Mexico cannot be discussed without touching upon its relationship with Spain.  The Mexican people speak a variation of the Spanish language, and many carry Spanish blood in their veins.

     For seven hundred years, the Moors ruled Spain, until 1492, when King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella's army finally managed to drive them out by conquering the Muslim stronghold at Granada.  That same year the queen sponsored an Italian sailor named Columbus in a silly attempt to discover a shorter route to India by sailing west.  It was a good year for Spain, except, after the Moors were defeated, a lot of soldiers were left with nothing to do.

     Leftover soldiers are typically young, ambitious, unattached, and looking for adventure, wealth, and female companionship, not necessarily in that order.  Many of them headed west to the mysterious, newly discovered continents in search of fame and fortune.  For the next several generations, the Spanish explored, conquered, claimed, and otherwise acquired new territories in the name of the King of Spain and the Holy Church of Rome.

     Spanish soldiers-of-fortune became known as Conquistadors (conquerors) and explored and conquered new lands, primarily in search of gold, with the secondary purpose of saving the souls of the local populace and leading them to truth, light and involuntary servitude through the Holy Church of Rome.  The Conquistadors were brutal, ruthless, driven men with no mercy for the people they conquered, or the troops they commanded.  Thousands of natives died during this period, many in battle, and many more from exposure to European disease.  In my youth, I studied about these conquerors, but failed to realize their relationship to each other, and did not understand the timing of their journeys.  The Texas we know and love evolved from their efforts.

     A talented leftover soldier named Juan Ponce de Leon accompanied Columbus on his second voyage to the Americas in 1493, and was so attracted to Puerto Rico that he returned and established residence there.  He “discovered” and named Florida in April of 1513, and immediately claimed it for the King of Spain and the Holy Church of Rome. (No mention of his search for the Fountain of Youth occurs until long after his death, when a historian surmised De Leon was looking for the “Waters of Bimini” to cure his aging. This idea is a bit troublesome--de Leon was thirty-nine at the time, and the island of Bimini is east of Florida in the Bahamas.)

     Six months after the discovery of Florida, in late September of 1513, Vasco Nunez de Balboa “discovered” the South Sea and claimed it and all the land it touched for the King of Spain and the Holy Church of Rome.  He called it the South Sea because he crossed what became Panama by heading due south.  Balboa, a smooth talker who stowed away on a freighter to escape debt collectors in Santa Domingo, had a talented young officer in his company named Francisco Pizarro, a distant cousin of Hernan Cortes who conquered the Aztecs.  Pizarro moved up in the ranks by arresting his former commander and turning him over to political enemies.   Balboa was tried, convicted, and beheaded in January of 1519.  Spain kept its claim to the South Sea which Magellan explored in 1520, re-naming it the Pacific Ocean.

     Meanwhile, Francisco Pizarro was busy in what would become South America, conquering native people, enslaving them, and forcing them to mine gold and silver.  In 1535 he established a Spanish capital city in Peru, named it Lima and began shipping tons of gold and silver back to Spain. One of Pizarro’s young captains, Hernando de Soto became wealthy with his share of precious metals liberated from the locals. He returned to Spain and sought permission to explore and colonize North America, in the name of the King of Spain and the Holy Church of Rome.

     In 1539 de Soto landed on the west coast of Florida with 620 men and tons of armor and provisions.  For the next three years he and his men wandered through the future states of Florida, Georgia, South Carolina, North Carolina, Tennessee, Alabama, Mississippi, Arkansas, Oklahoma, Louisiana, and Texas.  They crossed the Mississippi River near present day Memphis, and, or course, claimed it, its drainage area, and everything else they saw for the King of Spain and the Holy Church of Rome, including the sacred American Indian site known as the Valley of the Vapors—now called Hot Springs, Arkansas.

      De Soto died of fever in May of 1542, on the west side of the Mississippi River in present day Arkansas or Louisiana.  His troops buried him in an unmarked grave and tried, unsuccessfully, to go back to Mexico City overland, through Texas.  After much hardship, the few that survived returned to the Mississippi River, cut down trees, built boats, and made their way back to Mexico by sailing down the river and along the Gulf Coast of Texas.

     At the same time de Soto was tramping through the piney woods of the Deep South, Francisco Vasquez de Coronado was following a dark-skinned Indian guide called “Turk” across the Llano Estacado in search of the Seven Cities of Gold.

A depiction by Fredrick Remington of Coronado's Expedition, following the Turk across the Llano Estacado

 

     Coronado and his soldiers entered unexplored territory north of Mexico along the present Arizona/New Mexico line in 1540 and made their way north to the Acoma Pueblo, which, at that time, had been home to the Zunis for over five hundred years.  The soldier’s first view of the pueblo on the mesa was from the west, and the setting sun gave the mesa and the mud huts on top a golden glow.  It is said that an Indian guide pointed and said, “See. The City of Gold.” Coronado, expecting streets of gold and lacking a sense of humor, had the man’s head chopped off.

     Coronado sent patrols in all directions to explore while he recuperated from an injury suffered as he slaughtered Zuni Indians for refusing to share their meager food.  His men were the first Europeans to see the Grand Canyon and they explored what would become Arizona and parts of the Colorado River.   During the winter of 1540-41, they moved east to the Rio Grande River where they wiped out the Tiguex pueblos and a tribe of uncooperative Navajo, and set up a base of operations near present day Bernalillo, New Mexico.  From this camp, they explored the Rio Grande upriver to the Taos Pueblo, and downstream to the vicinity of present day Las Cruces. Of course they claimed everything they saw for the King of Spain and the Holy Church of Rome.

     In the spring of 1541, Coronado’s lust for gold led him to follow the Turk (so named because of his dark complexion) across the Llano Estacado and on to Kansas.  Coronado and his men were nervous and uneasy on the high plains—absolutely flat terrain, no trees, no landmarks, no rivers—it was as if they had been swallowed up by a sea of grass. The expedition moved into what would become central Kansas before Coronado lost patience and had the Turk choked to death.  They returned to winter in their base camp on the Rio Grande, and started back to Mexico in April of 1542.  Two priests were left to minister to the Indians, but otherwise the expedition accomplished little of value, except to strengthen Spain’s claim to territory in the New World.

     Because they found no gold, Coronado was ruined financially, and he and his field master were charged with war crimes committed during the expedition.  Coronado, penniless, remained in Mexico City and died of an infection in 1554.

To be continued…..




Sunrise from the front porch of "Lonesome," Davis Ford's place on the Llano Estacado.  It is easy for a man to feel insignificent in a setting like this.  Photo by R.G. Box.

      I do not typically do book reviews in this blog, so this will be an exception.  A special book, well done and appropriate for anyone interested in the history of the Llano Estacado will soon be available.  The book, “Son of the Llano Estacado,” is the biography of my classmate, Davis Lee Ford, written by his long-time associate, Pam Arthur.

     I have been aware that Ms. Arthur was working on the book for the last two years, and expected a well-written, but dry,  recitation of facts about the life and times of Dr. Davis L. Ford, PhD, PE.  When I got an advance copy, I was blown away.  The book adequately covers the lifetime of Davis and his family, but it is so much more.  Pam Arthur has written a history of the High Plains and the Panhandle of Texas and some of the pioneers who first survived, then prospered in that harsh environment.

     The book traces the lives of quiet, gritty men who struggled with the elements in the Llano Estacado.  By sheer determination and force of will, they raised cattle and wrestled crops from the parched dirt of dry-land farms.  They fought and won against all odds—drought, insects, blizzards, real estate promoters, and Dallas bankers.

     My favorite parts of the book have to do with the women who worked at the sides of these men.  These ladies were beautiful, well-educated, genteel and far ahead of their times.  They were deceptively quiet, supportive, strong-willed, and ambitious.  I’ve read of an “iron fist in a velvet glove.”  Pam Arthur, in her depictions of these women, put faces to that phrase.

     The book is a must-read for anyone who grew up on the High Plains in the fifties.  Outside the history, the lifetime of my boyhood friend, Davis Lee Ford is worth the read.  I have known Davis for sixty years, but I had no idea all he has accomplished.  The book covered his career and, to the author’s credit, even made Civil Engineering interesting. 

     For those of you with reading problems, hundreds of pictures are included, so reading the book is not necessary.  The pictures tell the story in wonderful detail.  Several pages are devoted to Lubbock High School snapshots.  We were a good-looking bunch back then!

     According to the last information from the printers, the book should be ready in mid-December.  Copies can be ordered from:  pamarthur@gmail.com  Cost is $20.00 per book, which includes all taxes, handling, and shipping.

Dr. Davis Lee Ford, Phd, P.E., on the front porch of his Swankenda at "Lonesome."  Looking at this, it is easy to see why we perfer the view of the sunrise.   By the way, that's me on the left--the one who does not look like a Phd.  Photo by R.G. Box.

 

I love Country Music

It is not black and it is not a Torpedo model, but otherwise, it is exactly like Dad's "Black Beauty"

 

      In the summer of 1941, when I was five years old, my parents went to a dance at the Hotel Lubbock.  I don’t know the occasion, but it was not a usual thing for my parents to go to a dance, much less one held in a fancy hotel.  Dry land dirt farmers just didn’t have that kind of money. 

     My job, for the evening, was to watch over my little brother and sister, and make sure they stayed in the car.  We had no baby sitter, probably for economic reasons, so the three of us stayed in the back seat of the car, parked across a brick side street from the hotel.  Mother came out every thirty minutes or so to check on us.  The evening was pleasant and the car windows were rolled down.  Jerry and Carol were asleep, but I was awake—I had a job to do.  Besides, I was too excited to sleep.  I could hear the music from the balcony of the hotel and see fancy people up there, dancing, talking, smoking, and laughing.

       For the first time in my life, I listened to real music performed by a live band and not shrunk down and squeezed through a squeaky little radio.  The “Sons of the Pioneers” were playing and I remember Along the Navajo Trail, Cool Water, and Tumbling Tumbleweeds, all wafting down on the warm, summer air for my entertainment.  That was over seventy years ago and I still remember the clear, silky voice of Bob Nolan singing those classic lyrics and perfectly enunciating every word.  When the others joined him for choruses, the harmony was flawless.  I will be forever thankful I didn’t have to stay home that night.

       About three years later, Dad got a new car—at least it was new to us—a 1941 black Pontiac, two-door “Torpedo” style with a built-in factory radio and wide chrome stripes down the middle.  Cars were important to Dad—he named this one “Black Beauty.”  One night, as we were driving, we listened to music on the radio.  At the time, radio stations played programs, not records, so I’m sure we were hearing the Grand Ole Opry.  It could have been the Louisiana Hayride.  I think it was the Opry because Eddy Arnold sang a song and I don’t remember him singing on the Hayride.  When he finished, I remember Mom saying, “There will never be another Eddy Arnold.” Another wasn't needed.  Eddy Arnold was a fixture on the landscape of Country Music for over sixty years, releasing hit songs in every decade through the nineties.

     Country Music had character back then.  The music was earthy, plaintive, and passionate--the lyrics were simple, honest, and heartfelt.  The stories were about life and life was hard in the country during and after the depression.  These songs were sung by farm boys, fresh from the fields and close to the soil.   Names like Webb Pierce, Lefty Frizzel, Hank Thompson, Slim Whitman, Don Gibson, Furlin Husky, Carl Smith and Jim Reeves joined Eddy Arnold and Hank Williams on the radio, singing songs such as Back Street Affair, More, More, More of Your Kisses, The Wild Side of Life, and Don’t Let the Stars get in your Eyes.  In 1952, Kitty Wells became the first female solo artist to top the country charts.  Miss Kitty's song, It Wasn’t God who Made Honky-Tonk Angels, answered and rebuked Hank Thompson’s Wild Side of Life.

     I can write reams about this subject, and I will, but not here and not now.  This began as a lead-in to my thoughts on the CMA Award Show I watched last night.  What those people did may have been music, but it was not country.      

     The show originated in Nashville.  It was dark, so it was difficult to tell, but the concert must have taken place in an NFL Stadium strung with high intensity strobe lights, and mined with explosive devices.  For whatever reason, the male singers were kept in near-darkness, with a tiny spot flashing on the side, or sometimes the back of their head.  When these guys reached a dramatic point in their songs, fireworks exploded, strobe lights flashed and steam blew out hidden vents, obscuring everything onstage. Any music that might accidentally have been played was lost in the confusion.

     The female singers were, by contrast, well lighted; otherwise we could not have seen their fantastic anatomies.  Most were almost dressed in something short and tight and low cut, and I loved it, but it wasn’t country.  The skirts were so short that the beautiful ladies could not possibly hit a high note without exposing their assets.  Wardrobe malfunctions were not necessary--the blouses were cut so the top, the bottom, and most of the rest of their breasts were out there in full view.  Only the points of interest were concealed.

     The climax of the evening seemed to be a performance by a new country duo—the Florida-Georgia Line or some such silly name. A guy with a muscle shirt, long shaggy hair, and grotesque jailhouse tattoos (of which he seemed inordinately proud) beat on the face of an electric guitar, jumped around, and screamed something untranslatable into the mike.  An insane drummer with matching unkempt locks went nuts in the flashing, strobe-lighted, white-smoked foreground.  As the camera panned the crowd during this performance, it was easy to see that George Strait was visibly shaken.   So was I.

     As you may have guessed, I came from a more conservative group of country fans.  I think Brooks and Dunn or the Everly Brothers are proper names for Country Duos and the Florida-Georgia Line is geography.  I think Willie Nelson, on a stool with a worn out guitar, singing songs from his And Then I Wrote album is a wonderful concert. I think Dolly Parton, in a cowboy shirt stuffed absolutely full of boobies, is plenty sexy.  I think Hank Williams, Willie Nelson, Dolly Parton, and Kris Kristofferson are on a poetic level with Shakespeare.  I think Hank, Johnny Horton, Buddy Holly, Patsy Cline, Elvis Presley and Jim Reeves all died too young. 

     As is obvious from the CMA Awards Show, Country Music is no longer confined to remote honky-tonks filled with lonesome people feeling the joys and struggling with the pains of life.  It is no longer beer joint music, created and performed by and for beer joint people.  Madison Avenue has discovered Country Music and a mob of marketing gurus have descended to capitalize on this un-tapped resource, and show these bumpkins how to peddle their product.

     Country Music, as I know and love it, is on the way out.  It is changing and becoming unrecognizable.  It has gone the way of shiny black torpedo-shaped cars, with lots of chrome.  Our world is not a better place because of this progress.   

     Long ago, Hank Williams stood on the stage of the Ryman Auditorium with just his guitar.  He wore a white cowboy hat, sequined western suit, polished cowboy boots.   He pushed back his hat, touched his guitar and, with a shy grin, sang, The silence of a falling star lights up a purple sky….and as I wonder where you are, I’m so lonesome I could cry.

     Me to, Hank.  I could just cry.

Hank burned himself out, feeling guilty because music was easy for him and other folks had to work so hard just to get by.  He died in the back seat of a '52 Cadallic at age 29.

More Loose Ends at San Jacinto and Elsewhere in Texas

 

David G. Burnet, the Interim President of Texas from March until October of 1836.  He was very articulate but made a series of  disastrous mistakes.  He hung around Texas politics for thirty more years, mostly taking up space and proving that a complete idiot who talks a good game can survive in politics.

      History changes depending on who is telling the story.  Honest historians tell an imperfect story because they don’t know any better.  They spend years researching a subject, then publish their findings as historical fact and are to be commended for their efforts, even if some of their “facts” are a bit skewed.  Further research and new information always reveals flaws in their work and history is re-written to fit a new set of “facts.”

      Less-than-honest historians, for reasons of their own, slant a story to fit their personal agenda, whether or not it is factual.  News commentators have also been known to do this.  Dan Rather comes to mind.

       It would be nice if mankind was always motivated to take the moral high ground, but experience tells us this is not the case.  It would be nice if Democrats and Republicans were always on the side of honor, truth and justice, but don't hold your breath. Evil people exist.  Humans have needs, and some people are programmed to service their own needs without regard for others.

      That’s about as far down that road as I wish to go, so let me get to the point.  I found several discrepancies in the works I used for research in my studies on the Texas Revolution.  They are mostly variations in detail, and don’t present any great problem, but I want to clear the air and expose some contradictions.

     I found Houston’s friend, Chief Bowles of the Cherokees, listed as Chief Bowles, Chief Bowl, Chief Boles, and in one reference, simply as The Bowl.  I prefer “The Bowl” and wonder if it was not the proper translation of his Indian name.  Historian are tempted to “correct” a name like that.

     Weeks before the battle at San Jacinto, Houston put Sidney Sherman and all his men under the command of Burleson’s First Volunteers. When the army grew, Sherman was promoted and put in charge of an entirely new regiment, the Second Volunteers.  He kept his cavalry until the day before the battle when Houston stripped him of that and assigned it to Lamar.  As for "discrepancies," I noticed several references to Sherman and his “Kentuckians,” who were listed on the far left end of Houston’s skirmish line.  Sherman’s Kentuckians were centered in the line with Burleson and Sherman was on the far left, leading a new group of volunteers.

     In more than one account, Sidney Sherman is credited with initiating the cries, “Remember the Alamo,” and “Remember Goliad!”  According to a reliable source,  Secretary of War Thomas Rusk, “Remember Goliad” was not a battle cry at San Jacinto, because, at the time, Goliad was known as La Bahia.  Houston's troops yelled, "Remember the Alamo," and "Remember, La Bahia."

      The glove that Private James A. Sylvester attached to the shaft of the Miss Liberty Flag was described as red in some accounts and white in others.  All described a long glove that was presented to Sylvester by the daughter of the host of a going-off-to-war dance in Cincinnati, but they disagreed as to the color.  (For what its worth, I choose to believe the glove was red.  White would be a natural assumption, and I feel that some researcher along the way made that assumption.)

The story of the glove was more important than its color.  I wondered if the young beauty gave the glove to James, and if so, under what circumstances.  Young women sometimes bestoy precious gifts on departing soldiers.  Then again, perhaps she lost the glove and he found it and made up the story. Soldiers do that.  Imagination does wonderful things for a lonely young man.

     James Sylvester was a well-respected soldier, so he may have told the truth.  I found him listed as Second Sergeant for Captain William Wood’s “A” Company, in Burleson’s First Volunteer Infantry, so he gained several promotions after leaving Kentucky as a private.  He was, a bit surprisingly because of his rank, listed as “flag-bearer.”  I suppose he retained that position  because he wanted to keep the glove near and sniff it every now and then.

     The complete rout of the Mexicans can be inferred from the fact that Sylvester was not wounded in the battle.  Flag bearers were favored targets, and he would have been front and center with the Miss Liberty flag.  Further evidence that he was a good soldier is provided.  He was listed as one of the patrol which captured Santa Anna on the day after the battle.  I find no other reference to him, so, for me at least, he is lost to history.

     Conflicting stories abound as to the appearance of Miss Liberty on the flag.  Some had her bare to the waist and others said she was completely covered.  Some covered her with transparent fabric. These riddles were answered when the flag was put on display in 1933, and the lady had one lovely breast exposed. (My bias is showing—that’s the story I wanted to believe.)

A replica of the Dodson Flag, which most likely flew over the Alamo.  Santa Anna  took the Alamo flag back to Mexico and put it in a museum, where it remains despite all efforts to have it returned to Texas.

     Historians place other flags at San Jacinto—T. R. Fehrenbach, in his consummate history of Texas, Lone Star, described the Troutman Flag as being carried there.   Houston did send Miss Troutman a place setting—an oversized fork and spoon--from Santa Anna’s silver chest as a thank-you gift for her flag, but all evidence shows that flag was destroyed at Goliad.  
    
      Captain Hugh McLeod, who brought the Troutman Flag to Texas, supposedly fought at San Jacinto, but I could not find him listed on any roster.  I have since discovered that he was delayed on his trip to Texas and stayed at Nacogdoches helping prepare for the defense of the city until after the battle at San Jacinto, when  he immediately joined Burnet and Lamar in Galveston.  Lamar took McLeod under his wing and they became close friends and dedicated enemies of Sam Houston.  

     The Miss Liberty flag was returned to Mrs. Sidney Sherman and the ladies of Newport four months after the battle.  In an attached note, Alexander Somerville testifies that the flag flew over the fight at San Jacinto.  This note is proof enough that the Miss Liberty Flag was the dominate flag of the Texians at the battle.  It is likely other flags were carried that day—most military units carry colors of some sort—and there is no evidence that only one flag was present. 

     Speaking of Alexander Somerville, I found him called “Somervall,” “Somervell,” and “Somervill.”  I used “Somerville” because that’s the way he spelled his name in the note to Mrs. Sherman.  At the time of that letter, in August 1836, David G. Burnet was still interim president of Texas.  He served just over seven months and negotiated both Treaties of Velasco with Santa Anna.  He otherwise busied himself writing thank-you notes, rewarding friends with political appointments, and plotting against Sam Houston. 

     Robert Potter, a friend that Burnet appointed Secretary of the Texas Navy, is listed in some journals as having fought at San Jacinto, but he remained at Galveston, along with Burnet and DeZavala, during the battle.  The three immediately left Galveston and went to San Jacinto after the victory.  They were furious to find Houston had used funds from Santa Anna’s captured war chest to pay his troops, instead of turning the money over to them and the provisional government as Burnet had ordered.

     Over the next thirty years, David G. Burnet took up space in the Rebublic and the State of Texas, but contributed little to the overall good.   His greatest contribution to Texas came from his brother  Isaac, who was mayor of Cincinnati when that city voted to donate the Twin Sisters to the Texas cause.

Loose Ends at the Battle of San Jacinto--A Family Affair

The red-headed fire eater, Mirabeau Bonaparte Lamar

     When General Houston decided to fight at San Jacinto, he was on the verge of losing his command to mutiny.  Several of his officers were actively speaking out, questioning his leadership.  Sidney Sherman, Alexander Somerville, Mirabeau B. Lamar, and John Wharton were all critical of Houston.  Wiley Martin and Mosely Baker had decided to follow him only if he fought.  Officers loyal to Houston included Henry Millard, Edward Burleson, and Thomas J. Rusk, the Secretary of War for the Republic.  Houston kept his his plans to himself and only shared his thoughts with Secretary Rusk.

     Around noontime on the 21^st, Houston, fed up with second-guessing subordinates, told Wharton, “Fight and be damned.” Houston knew his poorly trained troops were ill-prepared for battle, but he also knew their best opportunity for victory was immediate action.  The rank and file were lusting for a fight, the enemy was just across a pasture, and Houston had seen an eagle drifting above when he awoke that morning.  The eagle--Houston's Indian Totem--was a good omen and its message was not lost on Houston--it was time to fight.

      Houston prepared his men for battle.  Starting on the left and facing the enemy, Sidney Sherman’s infantry from the Second Volunteer Regiment was spread out next to the swamp.  Mosely Baker and his men were next in line, then the steadfast Edward Burleson’s First Volunteer Regiment which contained Sherman’s original Newport volunteers. The “Twin Sisters” from Cincinnati stood in the center of the line.  Col. Henry Millard’s A and B Regiments of Volunteers completed the line to the right with Mirabeau B. Lamar’s cavalry on the far right, to protect that flank and prevent the enemy from escaping across the open prairie.

      Whether or not it was intentional, this arrangement separated Houston’s adversaries and grouped his friends at his back, in the center of the file.  Lamar’s Cavalry protected the far right flank and cut off enemy escape.  Sherman’s infantry filled in on the far left and the swamp protected that flank.  Separation of these two dissenters may have been coincidental, or it may have been keen insight on the part of Sam Houston. 

      At three-thirty that afternoon, Houston drew his sword, the drummer and fifer struck up Come to the Bower, the flag-bearer (Second Sergeant James A. Sylvester) moved Miss Liberty forward, and the unwieldy line stepped off toward the Mexican fortifications.

      Among the soldiers in that skirmish line were two young men named McLaughlin.  Private Robert McLaughlin lined up with the First Regular Texian Volunteer Infantry, commanded by Col. Edward Burleson.  Robert was in Company F, under Captain Heard, and near the center of the line, immediately behind one of the Twin Sisters.  His company was near General Houston and the Miss Liberty Flag.  On the far right, at the end of the line, First Sergeant Stephen McLaughlin took his place, riding with Lamar’s Calvary. 

      No documentation shows the relationship of these two men, but it is probable that they were related and that they came to Texas with Sidney Sherman.  Sherman’s original Newport Volunteers were put under the command of Colonel Edward Burleson, but the Cavalry stayed under Sherman’s command until the day before the battle, when Houston replaced him with Mirabeau B. Lamar.  

     During a clash with the enemy on the morning of April 20th, Lamar exhibited coolness under fire, extreme bravery, and superb horsemanship while saving the life of acting Secretary of War Rusk.   Col. Sidney Sherman demonstrated lack of experience and a tendency for rash judgment in the same engagement.  Houston immediately promoted Private Lamar to Lt. Colonel and put him in charge of the Cavalry.

     Eight miles away, two other young McLaughlin men were camped across the bayou from Harrisburg.  For greater mobility, Houston left his sick and wounded in a makeshift hospital there, under the command and protection of Major Robert McNutt.  James McLaughlin and William Henry McLaughlin were listed in Logan's Platoon under “Camp Guards, Special Detail, or Sick.”  I know these men were brothers because James was my great-great grandfather.  Family lore says Henry was sick and James asked to remain with him as part of the guard detail. 
 
     It is likely all these McLaughlins were related.  America had few McLaughlins at the time, and, although they might not have known each other, it is possible they were cousins.
 



The flag as it was originally done.  It was reversed, under glass, for display in the Texas House of Represenatives, which toned the colors to more pastel hues.  Other versions have the entire bust area covered, which makes for a pretty boring Miss Liberty.  The artist must have sensed these troops needed something to stir their souls, for it is obvious he spent a lot more time detailing the breast than he did on the face.

      Four months after the battle, in August of 1836, the Provisional Texas Government returned the Miss Liberty Flag to Mrs. Sidney Sherman with the following note:

     “Velasco, August 5, 1836, War Department.  This stand of colors, presented by the ladies of Newport, Kentucky, to Captain Sidney Sherman, is the same which triumphantly waved on the memorable field of San Jacinto, and is by the government presented to the lady of Colonel Sidney Sherman as a testimonial of his gallant conduct on that occasion.  A. Somerville (signed) Secretary of War.  Approved: David G. Burnet”

      The probability that Sherman and Burnet were friends in Cincinnati may have contributed to this "testimonial of his gallant conduct."  Nothing in his conduct during the battle warrents this praise.  He was competent, but not outstanding.

     The Sherman Family kept the flag for many years.  In 1933 a ceremony was held in the Texas House of Representatives, and the flag was given over to the custody of the Daughters of the Texas Revolution.  It was displayed, back side out under glass, behind the Speaker’s platform in the Texas House.

     Houston’s Fife and Drum Corps chose to play Come to the Bower as they moved across the prairie to attack the Mexican Army.

                                       Will you come to the bower I have shaded for you?

                                       Our bed shall be roses all spangled with dew.

                                      There under the bower on roses you’ll lie

                                     With a blush on your cheek but a smile in your eye!

     These words are certainly not that risqué in today’s world, but consider the circumstances.  Houston’s troops knew full well that they might die during this battle.  They were prepared for it.  Who can blame them if they chose to imagine their sweethearts in a brush arbor, lying nude on a pallet covered with rose-petals?  They were dreaming about different ways to put “a blush on her cheek and a smile in her eye.”  Young soldiers dream those same dreams today.

Loose Ends at the Battle of San Jacinto--A Series--The Texian Flag

                

Col. Sidney Sherman, Soldier and Statesman of early Texas.  The first steam locomotive in Texas was named "General Sherman," after this man, not after the yankee general, as many assumed.

      One of the company commanders at San Jacinto, Colonel Sidney Sherman, was born in Massachusetts in 1805, orphaned at age twelve, worked his way to New York City, then on to Cincinnati, and finally across the Ohio River to Newport, Kentucky.  He built a prosperous business there and married a twenty-year-old Southern Belle, Catherine Isabel Cox, in April, 1835.  

      Sherman, along with other Cincinnati friends and acquaintenances, suffered from "Texas Fever."  Cincinnati was a hotbed of Texas sympathisers, filled with men who saw possibilities for untold wealth in the Mexican territory.

      A rally for the Texas Revolution was held there in November, 1835.  Sherman attended and pledged his support for the young, would-be republic.  The citizens of Cincinnati, at the urging of Mayor Isaac Burnet, voted to donate the “Twin Sisters,” two small cannon, to the Texians.  Sidney Sherman asked for volunteers to join him for an expedition to help the Texas patriots secure their freedom.

     Such volunteer groups sprang up all over the South, stirred by the letters of William Barret Travis, Sam Houston, and others commissioned by the Texas government to enlist volunteers.   The Texas rebellion became “the” war for this generation of young Southerners.  Too young for the Revolutionary War or the War of 1812, these young men longed for the romance of a conflict to prove their merit.  The Texas Revolution, viewed as a righteous fight of American patriots against Mexican despots, was made to order for their needs.     

      Sherman's new bride must have approved of his marching off to Texas, for he sold his business and used the money to arm and outfit fifty-two young adventurers, known variously as the “Newport Volunteers,” “ Kentucky Riflemen,” or “Sherman’s Newport Volunteers.” 

     In late December, 1835, at a going-away party for his troops, Sherman’s new bride presented him with a battle flag made by the “Ladies of Newport” for the Volunteers.  This flag depicted Miss Liberty, with her perfectly shaped left breast exposed, holding a sword with the banner, “Liberty or Death.”  Private James A. Sylvester added a lady’s long glove to the flagstaff as a talisman.  The glove had been presented to him by a lovely Southern Belle at the off-to-war dance in Cincinnati.  The flag, with the lady’s glove, was proudly carried to Texas by the Newport Volunteers.

     The Alabama Red Rovers, the Mobile Grays, and several groups from New Orleans were already on the road to Texas. Sherman’s group hurried to get there while there were still enough Mexicans to go around.

      Sherman's Newport Volunteers went directly to San Felipe, planning to move on to San Antonio and join Travis at the Alamo.  The acting governor, Henry Smith, saved their lives when he directed them instead to Gonzales to report to General Houston for orders.  Though disappointed and spoiling for a fight, they obeyed the governor.

      Sherman and his troops joined the Texian army at Gonzales in late February, 1836,  to await the arrival of General Houston.  Houston merged them with the First Volunteer Regiment, under the command of Col. Edward Burleson, and placed Lt. Col. Sherman second in Command.  By the time they reached San Jacinto, the army had grown so large that a Second Volunteer Regiment was formed.  Despite his lack of military experience, Sherman was made a full colonel and put in charge of the new regiment.

     Sam Houston knew the importance of symbolism to the morale of an army, and especially to his ragged little group.   As he prepared for the most important battle of his life, he searched desperately for any symbol to rally his troops.  TheTexian army had no flag, no marching band, nothing to signify and maintain unity. 

     Sherman’s original fifty-two troops had the only real uniforms, so Houston put them near the center of his skirmish line, along with the rest of Burleson’s First Volunteer Regiment.  He noticed the Newport Volunteer's flag and insisted it be moved to the center.  Lady Liberty, with her perky breast displayed prominently, and the lovely Cincinnati Belle’s long glove hanging from the shaft, took front and center, between the Twin Sisters. 

Miss Liberty as carried by the Heros of San Jacinto and sewn by the Ladies of Newport, Kentucky.  This is the reverse side of the flag as it is displayed behind the Speaker's platform in the Texas House of Representatives.




 

      Houston’s call for music was answered by a free black man with a drum and a German boy who played a fife.  Two others joined them with unknown instruments, perhaps a fiddle or something homemade, and to Houston's delight, they played the only song all four of them knew—a ribald saloon ditty considered risqué at the time—Come to the Bower. 

     With nine hundred men lined up in a skirmish line 1,000 yards long, a flag in the center and a makeshift band to keep time, Houston's troops were ready for battle.  At three-thirty in the afternoon, Houston mounted his great white horse Saracen, drew his sword and started his troops across a mile of pastureland for an eighteen-minute battle that would change the history of the world.

To Be Continued….

Big Mike Brown at the World Championship Barbeque Cookoff

One of Jim Goode's Barbeque Pits on the way to the Houston Cookoff, back in the day.

                          

     I passed another milestone yesterday.  On September 15, 2013, I became seventy-seven years old.  I don’t really celebrate birthdays anymore, but I do notice them.  One of the good things about having a lot of birthdays is that a long life gives you time enough to meet and get to know a lot of interesting people.  I have many friends because I have lived a long time and I like people and I like to hear what they have to say and laugh with them about this funny world we live in.  My only rule about friends is “Please don’t bore me.”

     “Stormin’ Norman” Hanks, “Big Mike” Brown, and Bob “Booger” Poland were among the friends I used to work the Barbeque circuits with.  We talked and we laughed and we cooked Barbeque together.  None of these guys could ever get near being boring.  When you’re seventy-seven, you think back and remember.  This is one of my memories:

      The Houston Livestock Show committeeman came by to enforce the rule prohibiting private vehicles at the team locations for the World Championship Barbeque Cookoff.   Mike Brown explained what appeared to be a pickup parked next to our area, was actually not a pickup, but a UFO.

     “Well now, I admit, in this light, it does sort of look like a white GMC pick-up.  But when it came down and landed, it was shaped like one of them discuses they throw in the Olympics.  Silver colored.  You shoulda seen it.  We watched them three olive drab fellas get out of it without opening the door.  Just stepped right out on the pavement through the side of the machine, like they wasn’t nothing even there.  Then one turned around and pointed at it and it quit being a silver discus-looking thing and started looking like a white pickup truck.”

     “Tell him what them green varmits did to ole Smokey Rawlings, Mike.  Tell him what happened to ole Smokey.”  Stormin’ Norman enjoyed adding reinforcement to Mike’s tales, even though Mike didn’t need any help.

     “You know Smokey, don’t you?  He was our committeeman.”  Mike drawled.  “Well, ole Smokey come up on them guys and told them to move that truck.  Like you, he thought it was a pickup, parked in the pedestrian zone.  One of them green dudes pointed at Smokey and lighting flashed out the end of his finger and ole Smokey went ‘pop’ and disappeared.  All is left is that oily spot on the pavement over there.  See the light shining off it, right there next to our front gate?”

     “Now wait a minute, Mike. He didn’t go ‘pop’.  It was more of a ‘poof.’  Smokey went ‘poof’ ‘fore he disappeared.”  Norman corrected.

      “You trying to tell me a little green man went ‘poof’ and Smokey disappeared?  What you all been drinking?  Smokey must weight two-eighty-five.  He’da left a bigger spot.  Which finger that fella use to do all that pointin’ with, anyway?” The committeeman was getting into Mike’s story.  He didn’t believe it, but was curious.  He wondered where it might go.  Mike was playing him like a trophy bass on a light-weight fly rod.

     “Why, he used his long finger.  Only had two on each hand, and one was a foot long.  His thumbs were short, though.  All of Smokey didn’t settle down on the street in that one spot, neither.  Most of him went up in smoke and drifted over there towards the supper tent.  People smelled it.  You could tell.  They’d get a whiff and look over here.  Pretty soon everybody was looking over here. I really liked Smokey—gonna miss him.” Mike’s story was taking on a life of its own. 

      Mike Brown prided himself on his ability to create Prime B.S. out of thin air.  He had decided that he was not going to move his truck.  The truck came in handy in a lot of ways, and all he had to do to keep it was B. S. a couple of committeemen into overlooking a silly rule.  That was no step for a stepper.  Mike was a salesman—he made a good living passing out Grade A B.S. 

      As the evening progressed, the team-members started to place bets on the action.  Odds were running eight to five Mike would succeed and leave his truck parked there for the duration of the cookoff.  Only ones that bet against Big Mike didn’t know him.

     “Ah’ll tell you what Ah’m gonna do.  Ah’ll take a turn around the grounds and be back here in about a hour.  Ah hope that truck is gone when Ah gets back.  Ah’d hate to have it towed.”  The official walked through our entry and out onto the street.  He carefully stepped around the oily spot.

      Mike fired a parting shot as the committeeman left. “O.K., sir, but I’m afraid to touch that UFO.  Ain’t no telling what might happen if them green dudes rigged it someway.  They can do anything—they made it look just like a pickup.  I wouldn’t get too close if I was you.” 

     The official passed near the truck and lifted his hand to pat the hood, hesitated, then stuffed his hand in his pocket and hurriedly strolled away.  No sense tempting fate.

      About two hours and several beers later, the committeeman strolled triumphantly back into our assigned space, with Smokey Rawlings in tow.  “Looka here who Ah found.  Now, let’s hear that bunch of crap again.  Start over at the part where Smokey went “poof.”

     “Oh My God, it’s a miracle!  A miracle!  Are you OK, Smokey?  You look good, considering.  Where’d them alien bastards send you?  Did separating all your molecules hurt?”  Mike was genuinely concerned.

     “They ain’t nobody done nothing with me.  I ain’t been nowhere, ‘cept here and over yonder, doing my job.”  Smokey’s porch light was on, but it was pretty dim.

     “Norman, get over here—it’s worse than we thought.  They hit him with a Amnesia Ray.  He don’t remember nothing.”  Brown was talking fast, constantly ad-libbing, letting his instincts guide.

      Norm, wide-eyed, said,  ”You don’t remember telling that chartreuse fellow to move that truck and him giggling and zapping you with that long finger?”

     “Nothing like that never happened—I’d remember getting zapped by a green dude.”  Smokey’s porch light flickered.

     Brown moved in for the kill.  “Not if they hit you with a Amnesia Ray.  I bet you don’t even remember how you turned on Miss Lake Jackson so much, she French-kissed you in the ear?  Do you remember that?  If you don’t, it was the A-Ray for sure.”

     “Miss Lake Jackson sure is purty, but she didn’t kiss me in the ear.  I know I’d remember that.  You sure that happened?” Smokey was glowing, remembering Miss Lake Jackson and hoping she had kissed him.  He rubbed his ear.

     “She told me she was just overcome with emotion while you was looking down the front of her dress, and she couldn’t help herself.  She just hauled off and planted her tongue in your left ear.  Who knows what it takes to turn on a woman like that?  Smokey dang sure found the way to her heart.  Look at that lipstick on his ear.  He needs a memory jolt.”  Big Mike was rolling.

     “Miss Lake Jackson says for you to go hang around the committee tent and she’ll be over later, when she can control herself.  She don’t know why, but when you stare at her with those little close-together eyes, she just has all these chemical reactions happening inside.  She said she’ll be by around midnight, if that’s all right with you?”

     The next morning, Mike Brown drove the truck into Houston, picked up 300 pounds of crushed ice and four dozen Shipley’s donuts, and waved at the security guard as he drove back in.  He parked in the same spot, right next to our space.  A truck comes in real handy at a barbeque cookoff.